Vulcan culture, with its unique and often baffling traditions, offers much to analyze. So far, we've explored a few of its key aspects.
Their view on hybrid species, which is generally frowned upon due to the differences (physical, biological, psychological, emotional, etc.) that are perceived as too extreme between humans and Vulcans. These differences culminate in a certain Vulcan mistrust of human common sense.
Vulcan romance, essentially non-existent, is rooted in strict logic rather than emotional connection.
Vulcan gender relation, which is characterized by a pronounced patriarchy, which many might interpret as deeply ingrained sexism.
And Vulcan marriage, with divorce protocols that add another layer to the already overt phallocentricism.
However, when it comes to the latter, Vulcan males don't seem to use their privileges without a degree of discernment, as their absolute power over females appears to be tempered by moral considerations.
Taking all of this into account, how might the first day of marriage between our favorite Vulcan and his far-from-charming wife go? Let's find out in this chapter.
Jo regained consciousness in the small bed in the infirmary. She felt someone brushing her hair and noticed a blonde woman hovering over her. Squinting to focus, she recognized the nurse who had already done her routine medical checkup—Miss Chapel. The nurse noticed that her patient was waking up and stopped brushing to stare at her.
"How do you feel, Mrs. Spock?" she asked, her tone anything but friendly.
Jo's spine stiffened as she suddenly remembered why she was there, and she let out an unintelligible growl.
"Pardon?" asked the nurse, who hadn't understood a thing.
The young woman cleared her throat, coughing and spitting.
"My name is Stone! Not Spock!"
Though she still felt dizzy, she couldn't miss the murderous glare from the nurse. What the hell was her problem, looking at her with a pissed-off turkey face?
The problem was that the Vulcan whom Christine Chapel had been in love with for years had just gotten married. Christine was an intelligent, kind, and reasonable woman, but this situation still deeply unsettled her.
It didn't take a genius to see that the bride was a complete disaster. She had only seen her for the routine examination two months earlier, and that was enough to know she was crude, plain and a real brute. She wasn't even beautiful. Anyone could see she wasn't the type of wife suited for her beloved Vulcan. He needed someone smart. Someone with class and refinement. In fact, he needed someone like her. And losing the man she loved to this low-class excuse of a woman broke her heart.
Christine couldn't help but think that the sophisticated Vulcan hairstyle she had painstakingly removed, which looked ridiculous on Stone, would have suited her perfectly. She would have loved to wear it. She would have also loved to be at the arm of that exceptional man, to have a deep, unique relationship with him, to matter to him, to be loved by him...
And he married this stupid mecanic. A commoner who didn't even want to take his name. And worst of all, she was pregnant with his child. How could he have been intimate with her? Christine held back a grimace of disgust and forced herself to maintain a professional attitude.
"Mrs. Stone, I'll fetch Dr. McCoy," she said coldly.
She left under Jo's puzzled gaze, who couldn't quite figure out why the nurse seemed to want to gouge her eyes out. McCoy entered the dormitory almost immediately and approached her with an expression nearly as strange as the nurse's.
"Mrs. Spock, how are you feeling?"
" It's Stone," Jo snapped. " Don't call me Spock."
"Ah. Excuse me," McCoy said, looking surprised. "So, how are you feeling?"
"Fine, fine," she grumbled.
She looked at him with utmost seriousness.
"Doctor, I want an abortion. Right now."
McCoy gave a tight smile, as if what he feared was finally happening.
"Yes... uh, well, unfortunately, there's a slight problem."
"What? Did I lose it?" she asked hopefully.
"No. The child is fine."
"Ugh, so what is it then?" she said, disappointed.
Bones looked at her gravely, unsure how to break the news.
Thirty minutes earlier, when he rushed into the transporter room with Nurse Chapel and saw her unconscious in Spock's arm, his first thought was that she looked like some kind of unfamiliar and particularly repulsive creature. Like an alien with a dripping face and a Christmas tree on its head. Then, to his surprise, he recognized the mechanic.
"But that's Stone! What happened?!" he'd shouted, rushing over to her.
"I suspect heatstroke," the Vulcan had informed him, setting Jo down in a chair.
A suspicion confirmed by the tricorder.
She's dehydrated. Get her under the ion blanket," he'd told Christine, who quickly took the young woman away.
McCoy, incredulous, had looked at his impassive colleague.
"What is she wearing?"
"It's a wedding dress."
Bones had stared at him, unsure what to think, except that it was probably the ugliest bride he'd ever seen.
"Married? To whom?"
"To me."
Bones' eyes had nearly popped out of his head.
" Married to you?!"
"Yes," Spock had said, raising an eyebrow, as if he couldn't see who else it could possibly be.
McCoy still couldn't believe it. Those two together? Impossible.
"Well... congratulations, I guess," he'd said, bewildered.
"Thank you, Doctor."
"In that case, I suppose you'd like to accompany me to see your... well, your wife," he'd said, gesturing to the door.
"It's unnecessary."
He'd stared at Spock, stunned.
"You don't want to make sure she's okay?"
"I don't see how my presence is required. The medical team is perfectly capable," Spock had said, as if he found it odd to have to remind him.
"However, I should inform you that Johann might request an abortion."
"Ah," McCoy had said, even more stunned.
"If that is the case, I must inform you that a termination is now illegal without my consent."
Bones had rarely heard something so shocking.
"You have no right over this procedure, Spock!"
"Terran laws no longer apply to Johann. She is now subject to Vulcan law, and under those laws, my wife is under my authority. If such a procedure were undertaken without my consultation, it could result in legal repercussions."
"What's the meaning of this!?" McCoy exclaimed indignantly.
"It means you could be prosecuted under Vulcan civil code in a Federation court," Spock replied calmly.
McCoy's eyes flashed with anger.
"Perhaps you've forgotten that under the laws of this ship, I'm the sole judge of what medical interventions are appropriate for my patients!" he thundered furiously.
"I have not forgotten, Doctor. But even if Johann's life were at risk, you must consult me before performing an abortion. It's my right."
They stared at each other for a moment.
"Fine. You will be consulted," McCoy said icily. "Since it's your 'right'."
"Thank you, Doctor. If you need me, I'll be in my quarters. I have some arrangements to make."
McCoy watched him leave the transport room with the certainty that this was going to end very badly. He'd always known Spock had some serious issues, but he never thought he'd lose all sense by marrying someone like Stone.
Looking at the unamused young woman lying in the infirmary bed, McCoy thought she would probably end up chopping the Vulcan to pieces someday.
"Mrs. Stone," he began again, "this is a somewhat delicate situation. So… uh, I'll call Mr. Spock. He'll explain."
"No! I don't want to see him. I want an abortion, Doctor. Right now!"
"Actually, it's more complicated than that," he said, cursing the Vulcan inwardly.
"Goddamn it! What the fuck is going on!?" she yelled, furious.
McCoy stared at her, stunned, not used to being cursed at. He cleared his throat to regain composure, but he could understand that, in this case, the cursing was warranted.
"It's an exceptional situation," Bones said, still struggling to tell her something so outrageous.
"What situation?"
At this exact moment, Spock stepping into the room as if he'd been alerted to her waking up.
"Ah. Just in time," McCoy said, incredibly relieved.
Spock approached, unruffled.
"Your wife has requested an abortion," McCoy said, giving Spock a stern look. "So I'll leave it to you to explain the situation."
He nearly fled the room, leaving the Vulcan to deal with his barbaric privileges. Spock moved closer to the young woman, who glared at him with hostility.
"What the hell is going on!? What's happening!?"
"I have forbidden the doctor from performing an abortion on you."
"What do you mean forbidden? Go screw yourself! I don't want your damn Kircan, Commander! Don't piss me off, or I swear you'll regret it. It's my right!"
"No. You no longer have that right. This procedure now requires my consent."
"I don't give a damn! I'm human."
"According to Vulcan law, both spouses are equally responsible for the unborn child," he said, his hands behind his back. "The Federation respects the laws of its members' nations, and there is no doubt that in this case, Vulcan law applies. The Federation court would reach the same conclusion in the event of a dispute."
Jo's glare hit Spock like a punch to the gut.
"Sir, you said it was my choice. You said it was my decision whether or not to keep the kid. Do you remember?"
"I also said that if I could, I would prevent this abortion."
"You said, and I quote, that if we married and I wanted to abort, it wouldn't concern you! Remember!?"
"Actually, I said, 'It would not be my concern,' as you seem surprised that I wouldn't be bothered if you decided to abort."
"Exactly!"
"I'm not bothered," he said matter-of-factly.
"FOR FUCK'S SAKE! Why are you doing this to me!?" she screamed, at the end of her rope. "I saved your life and your family's too, even your mother said so! I sacrificed myself for you! You owe me the respect of letting me make my own choice!"
"Yes, and I will. However, you are impulsive and allow your emotions to dominate you. I estimate you are requesting an abortion for illogical reasons—negative emotion or a desire for revenge after this forced marriage," he said, his tone suggesting he wasn't a fool.
"So what? If I want an abortion with the right attitude, you'll shut up and leave me alone?"
"I will respect your choice as long as it is motivated by reason."
"Oh yeah? And how am I supposed to convince you of that?"
"I reserve the right to evaluate your motivations in this matter."
"Jesus, You really think you're hot shit, don't you?... Have you become a fucking psychiatrist or something?"
"In almost all cases, your motivations are spontaneous and expressive enough to be quite clear. Besides, I selected you mainly for these traits."
"So in the end, you're the one who decides what I'm allowed to do," she said, looking down on him.
"No. That choice is yours, and I give you my word that I will remain objective. I will not force you to keep the child, provided your reasons for not wanting it are logical."
"And not wanting it because I hate you—is that a logical reason?"
He raised his eyebrows, as if he'd never considered that possibility.
"I suppose so. As long as it's not an emotion but an intrinsic aversion motivating you. However, in that case, I think even you'd agree that you're not currently in the best state of mind."
"When I look at you, something tells me that this state of mind is here to stay," she assured him.
"That is an assumption that will need to be proven before it can be taken into consideration."
Jo nodded as if she approved.
"And you're aware that you could lose your balls because of this demonstration?"
Spock ignored the threat.
"That gives you a window of 114 days according to Earth laws that apply to pregnancy terminations."
"So what? Now Earth law applies?"
"Yes. The Vulcan regulations are irrelevant in this case. They assume a request for abortion would be motivated solely by logic.
Damn, this piece of shit was unbearable. He had a stick so far up his ass... he could use it to brush his teeth.
"I hate you," she growled. "Seriously. You have what it takes to side with those fucking anti-choice control freaks."
"That assumption is illogical. I am not against the interruption of pregnancy. And I certainly shouldn't side with an over-emotional party."
"So why do you care if I get an abortion, you shitty asshole?! ... Is it because it's a Kircan? Is that it?"
Surprised, he seemed somewhat uncomfortable.
"Kir'kan," he couldn't help but correct.
"Yeah, that. The filthy bastard you're forcing me to carry."
"Yes. That is the reason," he said gravely.
"So what? If it were a normal kid, you wouldn't say anything?"
"No," he admitted.
She looked at him incredulously.
"And you would have wanted to marry me?"
He stared at her in silence.
"No."
"What's up with this kid? Why is he so important, huh? Even the priestess didn't want to marry us until I told her about the Kircan, and then, magically, she agreed. So what the hell is this thing?!"
"It is not necessary for you to know."
"It concerns me!"
"This information is of no use to you," he repeated.
"I feel it every fucking second, and it's driving me crazy. So, what the hell is it?"
"You can block it out, just as you do with me," he said, deliberately ignoring her other question.
"I can block it out? And why are you telling me this? Huh? Because it serves your interests for me to perceive it, doesn't it?"
"No. In this context, that perception only annoys you, which will likely drive you to get rid of it. With practice, you should be able to ignore it," he assured her.
"It's not that which will encourage me to keep it, I can guarantee you that."
"Doctor McCoy will keep you under observation until this evening. Do you need anything?" he added in a detached tone.
Jo thought she did. She really needed him to die of cholera or some really nasty disease.
He nodded to her and then turned and left, leaving Jo with the urge to kill him until she got a nice green, slimy mush. She fumed for a moment in her covers and then realized she was damn dirty. A clean jumpsuit was folded nearby, and she grabbed it to head to the small shower adjacent to the dormitory. She dropped the wedding dress on the floor, thinking she never wanted to see that thing again. She took a shower, put on the jumpsuit, and finally felt like herself again.
"Miss Stone," Nurse Chapel said as she entered the room. "What are you doing?"
"I'm leaving," Jo replied as she close the mechanic suit with the belt.
"Doctor McCoy has ordered that you be kept under observation."
"Don't care. I refuse the treatment," she said, barely glancing at her.
She left without Christine attempting to stop her. As far as she was concerned, this crazy could have complications forever; she wouldn't shed a tear for her. She noticed the delicate Vulcan dress lying on the floor like a rag. She approached it to pick it up with reverence. She held it against her just to see and had to admit that if she had worn it, she would have made a magnificent bride; … unlike Stone.
Jo, on the other hand, went down to her cabin, needing some time alone to decompress after all the crap that had gone down. She opened the door, only to find an electrician standing there in his underwear, staring at her in surprise.
"Karim? What the hell are you doing in my room?"
"Uh… this is my room now."
She stepped back to check the number, but it was definitely T-112.
"What do you mean, your room?"
"Well, I got transferred here yesterday. I was at the top of the list for a cabin on this floor. Is there a problem?"
"Bloody hell!" she spat. "What is this nonsense now?"
She turned on her heel and headed down to the engine level, where she found White lounging in the little cafeteria. He looked up as she approached.
"Rick, care to explain why you gave my room to Karim?" she said angrily.
"Whoa, calm down."
"Sorry, it's just... I opened the door and there's this guy in underwear in my cabin. And it's been a hell of a day, so cut me some slack."
Rick gave her a cold look and sighed, checking his tablet.
"The heck...," he muttered, eyes wide.
"What?"
"You've been moved to the officers' floor," he said, looking at her in disbelief.
"You've got to be kidding me..." she said, horrified.
There was only one possible explanation: she was going to end up in the same room as that Vulcan bastard. Right on the officers' deck... Things just kept getting worse. Rick squinted at her.
"Look, Stone, nothing against you, but if you've been promoted to officer, I'll eat my tricorder."
Jo closed her eyes in frustration.
"Fuck…"
"Come on, spill it. What's going on with this mess?"
Jo sighed. It was going to come out anyway, so she might as well avoid the made-up gossip.
"I got married." she muttered.
"What?"
"I got married. To the commander. He probably wants me to stay with him. Happy now?!"
Rick looked at her like she'd just told him she was a Ferengi in disguise.
"You've got to be joking, right?"
"No," she said, suddenly realizing that everyone was going to flip, and she was only just getting started with the dumbfounded reactions.
"Wait, you married Commander Spock?"
"Yeah ...," she said, feeling somewhat ashamed.
"You? With Spock?" he asked in disbelief.
"Yeah, me. What's your problem? You disagree?"
"No, it's not that, but... um. I mean, you're a bit... And he's more... Ah, come on, you're messing with me. Admit it."
"If you don't believe me, you can go jerk off somewhere, for all I care," she snapped, out of patience.
Rick gave her a reproachful look.
"No need to get mad. Come on, it's a bit surprising, you've got to admit," he said, appealing to her reason.
"Well... Yeah. No doubt about it," she had to agree.
"So, I'm talking to Mrs. Spock now?" he said with a sly smile.
"Don't call me that, damn it. It's Stone, and I'll screw over the first idiot who calls me anything else."
He looked at her, surprised by her sharp tone.
"I'm keeping my name," she said curtly.
Rick looked up as Scotty passed by the tanks.
"Mr. Scott!" Rick called out joyfully. "Care to join us for a minute?"
"Shit," Jo muttered under her breath, "what the hell are you doing?"
"Come on, you didn't think you could keep something like this to yourself, did you?"
"What's going on?" Scotty asked as he joined them.
"Mr. Scott, did you know that Jo here just got married?"
He looked at the young woman, who gave him a forced smile before lowering her eyes. Mr. Scott was probably a nice boss, but he was still a boss. He knew who she was because she had been taken with the shit tank, but other than that, the maintenance crew didn't often get his attention.
"Really? Why didn't anyone say anything!?" he said reproachfully.
"Well, let's just say it happened pretty quickly," she explained.
"And who's the lucky man?"
"It's Mr. Spock," Rick said with a smug grin.
Scotty looked at them like it was the dumbest joke he'd ever heard.
"No... you're pulling my leg," he said incredulously.
"Its true. We got married this morning," Jo said, cursing her boss.
Scotty's eyes nearly popped out of his head, while White crossed his arms, very proud of his little surprise. The chief engineer burst into loud laughter, slapping his thighs. He grabbed Jo by the shoulders and shook her good-naturedly.
"Well, lass, I'd say the commander's in for quite the ride," he said, laughing heartily.
"For sure, no doubt about it," said Jo, unable to stop smiling as Scotty's amusement was contagious. "But I'd say it's going to be mutual."
Scotty laughed again because honestly, imagining those two together… It was hilarious.
"And here I thought the only sparks flying around you were from faulty circuits! Guess I was wrong. We need to celebrate this!" the chief exclaimed with his good ol' Scottish sense. "White, go fetch me some proper booze and gather the others."
In no time, the cafeteria filled up with maintenance colleagues, as incredulous as they were shocked. Much to Jo's dismay, she had to confirm and reconfirm the news, but after a few drinks, she ended up laughing along with the others about this crazy marriage. Since Mr. Scott was present, the jokes stayed in good taste, and even better, they refrained from calling her AstroShit, the nickname she'd earned after her little stroll through the asteroids in a septic tank. But of course, she couldn't entirely escape it.
"Hey Jo, how's it going with the cuddling? Vulcans must have some kind of procedure for that, right?" CrapHead eventually asked.
"Yeah, you've got to massage their ears; apparently, that's the best way to get a Vulcan going!" Hilda informed them.
"And then you follow up with the Vulcan Wheelbarrow, where you have to do trigonometric calculations with the 'zob,'" extrapolated BigAss, who never missed a chance to crack a joke.
To illustrate, his buddy Marien leaned forward while BigAss got behind him to perform a ridiculous demonstration that, while not very convincing, had everyone roaring with laughter—even Mr. Scott.
Hell, this felt really good. She seriously needed to get drunk and have a good laugh after all that.
Nath, who had been working on the pipes, suddenly burst in like a whirlwind.
"Where is she? STONE! Tell me it's not true!"
Jo burst out laughing along with the others. Nath was hands down the commander's number-one fan, so it was no surprise she'd be dying of jealousy.
"Well, yeah, it's true," Jo confirmed, who would've gladly handed over the groom if she could.
"NO WAY!" screamed the groupie, who lunged at her, pretending to strangle her. "But damn, why you?!"
"I think he likes the scrappy, rough-and-tumble type," Jo said, offering a look of mock sympathy. "Sorry, sweetheart, but I'm afraid you're just too cute for him."
Nath had to down three shots in a row to console herself before she seemed to take things in stride.
"Listen, Jo, I need to know, and damn it, you owe me this. How's he built?" she asked conspiratorially.
"You mean…?"
"Yeah, exactly."
"Why do you want to know that?" Jo chuckled.
"Because I've fantasized about that guy for years, and since you're the one shagging him, I at least want to know if…" Nath leaned in to whisper. "Is it true he's got two… tips?"
Jo chukkle.
"Damn, where'd you hear that nonsense?"
"Well, that's the word."
"Sorry, but there's nothing special."
Nath gave her a disappointed look, and Jo raised her glass to her health. Both downed their drinks, each consoling herself over their respective disappointments.
"Sorry to interrupt your wee secret huddle, lassies," Scotty chimed in, "but it's high time the bride explained how this odd couple came to be without a soul catching wind of it!"
Everyone cheered enthusiastically, and Jo thought she'd better tread carefully. If she let anything sensitive slip, an army of hysterical Vulcans might show up on the Enterprise to tear her tongue out… Or her dumb husband would handle it himself.
"It's because of the whole sewer container thing that got lifted by the ants."
"Wait, you're together because of the crap tank?"
"Yep. Sort of."
"AstroShit, please tell me he proposed inside the tank," joked Yann.
Jo smiled, thinking the worst part was that would've been far more romantic than the reality.
"Unfortunately, no. But after that whole ordeal, we got closer. Since we were passing by Vulcan, he took me to meet his parents, and they said we had to get married. That's it," she evaded.
Hilda glanced at Phil, her best buddy, with a doubtful grimace.
"You get any of that?"
"Nope," the electrician confirmed.
"To be honest, I don't really get it either," Jo admitted with a shrug. "His mom told me it'd be simpler this way and that later, if I really wanted to throttle him, we could just separate," she explained vaguely.
The group's unsatisfied incredulity suggested the questions were about to pour in, and she'd better change the subject fast.
"But that's nothing. The craziest part was the wedding!" she exclaimed to divert their attention. "That was absolutely insane! I swear."
"Yeah, the commander was so emotional when he saw your ugly mug in a wedding dress, he raised an eyebrow," CrapHead suggested.
As her buddies burst into laughter, Jo thought it wasn't too far from the truth.
"Since he married you because of a shit tank… The cake, would you say it had a funny taste or…?" yelled Burk over the laughter.
"No, I know! The ceremony was, like, five hours of meditating on the mathematical probabilities of it going to hell," Mo added, not to be outdone.
"No. It's way, way dumber than that," Jo assured them.
Their curiosity finally piqued, they shut up long enough for Jo to explain how they'd rigged her up in a litter and paraded her through the town to the sound of damn bells. Eventually getting into the spirit, she had them laughing with her description of the funeral-like expressions on the faces all around, and the marketplace—hell, everyone had frozen stock-still. She had nearly crapped her pants because…
"To the groom!" Yan suddenly shouted.
Jo turned her head. Standing tall between the transformers was her dear husband himself, and she made a titanic effort not to let her disappointment show.
"Mr. Spock, congratulations to the newlywed!" Scotty said, raising his glass.
Spock remained stoic as the maintenance crew raised their glasses in toast. He studied them intently.
"Mr. Ratzwick, Miss Durand, you are currently on duty," he said sternly.
Both pulled contrite faces and disappeared without a word.
"It's a special day, Mr. Spock," Scotty said with an apologetic smile. "We have to mark the occasion."
"Johann is pregnant, so drinking alcohol is inappropriate."
Everybody looked surprised and glanced at Jo, who grimaced a smile.
"Yeah, that's right…," she said, sitting down as she threw back another drink. "But not for long, so…"
One thing was certain—keeping this quiet was impossible now, and gossip was bound to spread like wildfire across the Enterprise.
"Come with me," Spock said, giving her a stern look.
"No. Later."
"That's an order," he insisted.
"Don't care."
"Stand up and follow me," he repeated.
"Screw you," she spat.
The techs exchanged stunned glances, and Scotty cleared his throat.
"Well, I think we'll leave you two to talk things over," he said, grabbing the bottle. "Commander, … ma'am."
Everyone stood up, and the cafeteria emptied in the blink of an eye.
"Ma'am… tsk. Damn, I don't know if I'll ever get used to that," Jo said with a grimace.
"Your behavior is unacceptable," Spock said, placing his hands behind his back. "You cannot undermine my authority in front of the crew."
"Easy. Don't give me orders, and you won't have any problems."
"You must obey orders from your superiors."
Jo pulled a face, then nodded.
"Now that we're married, the rule is, if you piss me off, that means I get to piss you off too."
"In no way," he said sternly. "I'm your Commander, and you have to obey me."
"We'll see about that," she challenged him.
"This is not an appropriate place for such a discussion."
Jo agreed.
"Probably not… but it's gonna make for some great gossip. And for the record, you're the one who came and fucked shit up."
"Stand up immediately," he ordered, his tone firm. "I'm asking for the last time."
Even though it was clear he wasn't in the best of moods, Jo couldn't care less. He had just ruined her life, forced her into the most miserable marriage imaginable, stopped her from getting an abortion, and confiscated her quarters. Worse, he didn't even have the decency to look guilty or uncomfortable about making her go through all this crap—or show even a hint of gratitude for her sacrifice. He was wrecking her party and acting like a complete jerk by throwing orders at her.
This asshole couldn't even let her have a single hour to herself before barging in to pile on more, and he was surprised at the result? She propped her boots up on the table, daring him to drag her up himself.
"As you wish," he said.
He turned and called out to the first tech walking by.
"Please have two security officers requested immediately," he ordered.
"Damn, you really know how to get the rumor mill going on a ship, don't you?" she laughed.
He remained impassive until the security officers arrived and stood at attention.
"Escort Johann Spock to the brig."
"Johann Stone!" she snapped, insulted.
Spock shot her an unreadable look.
"I insist," she said, glaring at him.
She stood up with a mocking smile.
"I can't believe you're throwing me in the brig on our wedding night," she said sarcastically. "Honestly, thanks. It beats being stuck with you."
She cast a loaded glance at her dear husband and let herself be led away without resistance.
Spock watched her disappear without showing any emotion. Scotty, who could hardly believe his eyes, stepped forward cautiously.
"Mr. Spock?" he asked. "Everything alright?"
"Yes. Everything is back in order," Spock said as if nothing had happened.
"Are you sure? You just… well," Scotty said, gesturing vaguely, unsure of how to describe the situation, "you just put your wife in the brig."
"Yes. That is standard procedure when one refuses to comply."
"The procedure, right. Of course…" Scotty muttered, still troubled.
"Mr. Scott."
The commander left to go about his duties, leaving the chief engineer standing in the middle of the cafeteria, stunned. He'd never seen anything like it, and if one thing was certain, it was that this was going to end very badly.
Note –
In fan circles, the Vulcan penis has always been a subject of speculation since the early days of Star Trek. For a comprehensive review of the entire history of these assumptions, this reference is sure to brighten your day : fanlorePOINTorg wiki Vulcan_Genitalia
The first hypothesis to set the fanfiction world ablaze was a member with a double head, to which this chapter pays a small tribute. This first theory was so popular that author Laura Goodwin felt compelled to critique the phenomenon with her essay: This Vulcan Penis Problem. One of the most delightful and hilarious pieces of Trekkie work the fandom has offered.
You can find it at webcitationPOINTorg
-Go to search
-In the Snapshot ID box, use the code : 6PmohmkDL
Or on fanlorePOINTorg wiki but the the layout is pretty atrocious.