Amanda: "Can we continue the tour? It is Sarek's wish."

Kirk: "It seems more like an order."

Amanda (smiling): "Of course. He is Vulcan, and I am his wife."

This brief passage from Journey to Babel prompts a broader reflection.

We see Amanda visibly delighted to be with fellow Earthlings. One would expect that she can enjoy herself and do as she pleases. But not at all. Sarek orders her to continue the tour that Kirk had started for him, as he is keen on computers. However, there is no indication that Amanda has ever been interested in computers or even possesses any skills in that area.

Even more strange, it is Amanda who insists on continuing this tour, which she probably has no interest in. It's almost as if she were replacing her husband in his absence or somehow acting as his representative. One could even imagine that after this tour, Sarek might perform a mind meld and go through the tour vicariously by reading his wife's memories.

In this situation, Amanda would thus be, in a sense, an tool of her husband. Jim is visibly troubled but in response to his discomfort, she says it is perfectly normal for her to obey.

What can we deduce from this enlightening exchange?

Personally, I believe this passage indicates that Vulcan wives are bound by certain duties to their husbands and obeying them.

Indeed, asking someone for something implies that the person is free to refuse, but giving an order suggests that the other is obliged to comply. Generally, one can obtain someone's obedience in three ways: through threat, as in a master-slave relationship; through incentives, often financial, such as in a boss-employee relationship; or when the person obeys out of duty.

Given what we know, the Vulcans' unwavering loyalty suggests that the aspect of duty is the most important. This would best explain Amanda's behavior and attitude. Therefore, it is legitimate to assume that duty is an essential component of Vulcan relashionship.

This interesting aspect will now be explored further.

The elevator doors opened on the officers' floor, and Jo, as dirty as ever, stepped out into the corridor carrying her tray of food. At this time of personnel rotation, it was crowded, and she lowered her head to ignore the disdainful glances from the senior officers. It was clear they disapproved of a third-class maintenance mechanic among them. Especially since she had demolished the first officer's quarters. It was something that had amused the techs' entire floor but seemed like an unforgivable crime in the high society.

As always when she walked through this damned corridor, she wanted to yell at all these assholes that not only did she not give a damn about their snobbish faces but that she would have preferred not to be there at all. Except, of course, she had nothing to say since she was the intruder. The best she could do was to hunch her shoulders and disappear as quickly as possible into the shitty commander's quarters.

She hoped, with some luck, he wouldn't be there. It had been three days since she last saw him. At first, he had tried to stick around, but after receiving a staggering number of objects thrown at him, he made sure to be absent whenever she was around. The first good thing she gave him as a husband.

So, she was quite disappointed when she opened the door and saw him working at his desk. She made a sour face and sighed as he looked up at her.

"Good evening" he said calmly.

She shot him a contemptuous glance, tossing her work belt over a pile of tools and clothes strewn on the floor. There was plenty to choose from. Similar piles had multiplied in record time, turning the room into a mess that rivaled the chaos that had always reigned in her tiny cabin.

"What are you doing here?" she grumbled.

"I came to have a discussion with you," He said, folding his hands behind his back.

"Wow, how exciting!" she said sarcastically, placing the tray on the small table she had reserved in the farthest corner from his.

"It turns out that—"

"I'm going to take a shower, so it'll have to wait," she interrupted him rudely.

Without even looking at him, she went into the bathroom and took a shower. She emerged, dripping wet, water pooling in her wake. Ignoring his presence entirely, she tossed her grimy jumpsuit into a corner and went to the bedroom to get dressed. She came out, completely ignoring him, and sat at her table to eat. Spock waited for her to give him any attention, but in vain. He had to get up and approach her table to get even the slightest acknowledgment.

"Mrs. Stone, please, we need to talk," he insisted.

"Yeah, yeah. What do you want?" she said, in a foul mood.

"Your personal belongings cannot remain on the floor. You need to put them away because it reduces the available space," he said logically.

She shrugged indifferently.

"If you don't like it, you can put them away yourself. I don't care," she said, chewing on an orange cube.

"I insist that you at least put your tools in the designated place."

"No, I don't feel like it," she said, poking a green cube into her already full mouth.

"These are your belongings," he pointed out.

"It's my room too, and I like the mess. You should have thought of that before forcing me to live with you," she said with her mouth full.

He frowned, looking stern.

"Put your tools away immediately," he ordered.

"Who the hell do you think you are, barking orders at me like that?" she said, spitting out multicolored crumbs.

"For your husband. We are married, and your duty is to obey me."

That's what you'd call having the gift of persuasion. She stopped chewing to look at him with wide eyes.

"Obey you? Because we're married? … You've got to be kidding. Right?" she said with hamster cheeks.

"In no case."

She froze and stared at him with an expression he recognized immediately. She was about to attack. He figured the most likely scenario was that she'd throw her glass of minerals and vitamins at him. The damage from the projectile would be minimal, but the interest would come from the liquid properties of the contents. Moreover, the red tint of the substance would remain visible on his uniform, an extra satisfaction.

But after sizing him up for a moment, Jo burst out laughing with a sound that pierced his eardrums. Showing her half-chewed cubes, she laughed long enough for her eyes to tear up.

"Because we're married, I have to obey you? No kidding," she said cheerfully. "I think we've just found your ultimate fantasy. You know what? With this, you'll have plenty to jerk off to while we're stuck together. Isn't that great?"

"Obedience is part of the marriage vows," he reminded her.

"What's this bullshit? You're throwing that at me all of a sudden. I've never heard of it," she said, finally swallowing her last bite.

"The order in which we present things is important to humans. I thought it best to introduce some aspects secondarily."

"Good idea, wait another century or two. We'll talk about it then," she said, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.

"No. It's time for you to understand your duties as a wife."

"Yeah, that's not going to work. I'm terribly sorry," she said with not a shred of sincerity.

"You made a commitment," he specified.

"First of all, I didn't have a choice in making the commitment, and second, what are you going to do? Call security to haul off your nasty female?"

"No, but you will be a bad wife."

She looked at him with a dazzled expression.

"Commander, did you really think that I, Johann Stone, could be a good wife? You can't be that stupid."

He looked at her seriously.

"It's your duty."

"Well, I think we've just discovered your second fantasy: that I'll someday become a good wife. You'll have plenty to keep you busy whacking your meat. In fact, you'll have so much, be careful not to chafe," she said with a sly smile.

"This language is inappropriate," he said, raising a blasé eyebrow.

The glass of minerals and vitamins hit him in the middle of the chest, and the liquid splashed all over the left side of his uniform. Of course, he could have tried to avoid the projectile, but he was starting to understand that when she managed to hit him, her disposition was less aggressive afterward. Indeed, Jo smiled.

"Now that's something truly inappropriate. Do you have any other comments?"

"This is childish," he said, as the liquid dripped to the floor.

"Exactly. It's a surprise test to see how you'd handle a kid. By the way, I'd like to congratulate you, Commander. Your reaction is excellent."

They stared at each other, and Jo shrugged.

"Anyway, you're forced to love me, so..."

"No. I am not 'forced,'" he said, removing his shirt.

"Hey, was that your pitch. After the wedding, you turn into Risa's greatest charmer. By the way, that's bullshit. You're a real asshole, and even worse than before."

He calmly wiped himself with the garment and dropped it into the cleaning chute.

"For now, the attachment I have shown you has been rejected, while 67% of the interactions we've had have ended in verbal or physical aggression on your part," he said, removing his pants. "You even insist on using a formal adress with me" he added in a tone that clearly implied how inappropriate it was.

Jo looked at him mockingly.

"Alright, I'll make an effort. Let's try to communicate. Explain to me what you expect when you order me to obey you. Am I supposed to swoon over your caveman Vulcan delusions?"

"I expect you to take your role as a wife with a minimum of seriousness," he said, choosing a shirt from the closet.

"And you, do you have to obey me?"

"No. You belong to me," he said, putting on the uniform.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but slavery is banned among humans, so I think you're screwed with your fucking ideas."

"Slavery does not exist among Vulcans. You are not my slave; you are my wife," he said, choosing a pair of pants.

"Not at all. If I belong to you and I have to obey you, but you don't have to obey me, by definition, I'm a goddamn slave."

"In no case," he denied, putting on his pants.

"Well, enlighten me because I don't see any difference," she said with a mocking tone.

"It's your duty," he repeated as if that was all the explanation needed.

"Fuck me! It's also a slave's duty to obey their master, so where's your damn difference?"

"Your obedience is voluntary," he said, returning to his position in front of her.

"Wow. That's really deep. And do I look willing to obey you, do you think?"

"No," he admitted.

"So … logically, what do you deduce?" she said, staring at him as if he were a complete imbecile.

"That you do not understand what your duties are," he said, putting his arms behind his back again.

"No, logically, you deduce that if I'm not willing to obey you, I don't have to obey you. That's it."

- You're my wife, he insisted.

"You're a fucking moron." she assured.

"I am logical."

"Logical, huh? And how is it logical to obey you? Because you have a dick? That's a hell of a good reason."

"It's simply how things must work."

"You know what? Vulcans make terrible spouses. Vulcans are fucking garbage, and you can jerk off until your pathetic fantasies rot, you psycho prick! Damn, it's like the stone age! Commander … seriously, I think the best thing would be to separate right now. Like, before I break your face."

"We can separate after five years of marriage," he said, indifferent to her threats.

"Five years?!"

"You are human, and Vulcan authorities have established a minimum period."

Jo shook her head in exasperation.

"You've gotta be shitting me … Well, here's what we'll do. You'll drop me off at a base somewhere and leave me there. In five years, we'll separate and that's that."

"Yes, that's a possibility."

Jo smiled brightly at him.

"See, when you want to!" she said, leaning back in her chair.

"It will be possible in three hundred forty-five Earth days. Vulcan newlyweds must live together for a full year."

Jo sighed, rolling her eyes.

"What is this? A law?"

"It's tradition."

"But it's not a law, right?"

"It's a custom we respect."

"Do whatever you want, but I don't give a crap about your bloody traditions. You're going to drop me off somewhere, and that's the end of it."

"No. That is out of the question," he said firmly.

"I'm going to kill you. Seriously," she said, threatening him with her finger.

Spock looked at her, unimpressed.

"The issue is that you do not understand what your duties are," he said again.

"I say it's more that you don't understand what YOUR duties are. You have human obligation toward me. HUMAN!" she said, leaning forward from her seat.

Spock looked up as if, for the first time, an insult had hit home. Uncomfortable, he looked away as if realizing he had gotten himself into a mess.

"And do you know what you'll need to do?"

He looked up and remained silent, as if admitting ignorance on this point was unpleasant to him.

"You'll have to develop a relationship with me. An emotional relationship. Emotional."

Spock remained silent, appearing troubled, and understanding that she had finally found a crack in his facade, Jo took a calmer tone.

"To develop this relationship, the emotions I have for you need to be positive. Do you agree? But the opposite is happening. Since you're a fucking idiot, let's take an easy example: you've surely noticed that your duty of obedience provokes very negative emotions in me, making the relationship impossible. Therefore, you'll need to abandon this goddamn crazy shit."

It couldn't be more logical, and Spock remained impassive, head slightly bowed as if thinking.

"Perhaps mating would put you in a more positive disposition."

"Fuck … are you stupid or what?" Jo spat, not seeing the connection.

"At the beginning of a human relationship, the average is between 1.2 and 0.9 matings per forty-eight hours over a year. We have not mated since the marriage, and we are therefore below average."

Jo blinked at him, then closed her eyes and rubbed her eyelids in a discouraged manner.

"Commander, listen to me very carefully. There is no 'beginning of a relationship' between us," she said, looking at him. "We don't have a relationship at all."

"Do you believe?" he said, surprised.

"I can swear that to you," she assured him confidently.

"We are connected, married, and living together," he reminded her. "Therefore, we have a couple's relationship."

Jo took a deep breath, trying to keep her calm.

"Maybe in theory, but in reality, I have no affection for you. … Or if you prefer," she added, seeing his stupid look, "I'm not attached to you. Not at all."

Spock raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"Really?"

"Yes. Really," she assured, leaning back against the chair.

"That's troublesome," he said, thoughtful.

"That's what I've been trying to explain to you," Jo said, surprised by his sudden insight.

"What would a human man do in this situation?"

"Are you kidding me?" she said, unable to believe he could be this dumb.

"Of course not."

"I just told you! First, give up on the idea that I'm ever going to obey you, let alone belong to you. That's really the first step."

"In that case, you wouldn't be my wife."

"I'm Terran! Terran women don't have to obey a damn husband and certainly don't belong to him, got it?" she said, crossing her arms.

"That contradicts Vulcan traditions."

"Well, guess what? If you wanted to play the backward patriarchal fucker, you should have married a Vulcan. I'm Terran, and I can't get attached to such an asshole. But damn, how do Vulcans woman put up with you?" she said, resting her elbows on the table to hold her head in her hands.

"They are logical. Leaving the leadership to one spouse makes the couple more stable and avoids conflicts," he explained. "The one with this responsibility is called pudor-tor'adun."

"And of course, oh surprise, the boss has to be the male."

"Not always, but it is generally the case. Male education is designed with this in mind."

"Wait a minute … does that mean it could be the woman in charge?"

"Yes."

"And in that case, you'd have to obey me?"

"That goes without saying."

"Well, that's perfect," she said with a radiant smile. "I want to be in charge."

Spock raised an astonished eyebrow.

"Since your start at Starfleet, you've shown no interest in command. Moreover, your psychological profile does not match that of human leaders, which indicates no real predisposition in that regard," he pointed out.

Jo grimaced with a smile.

"You don't understand humans at all. I guarantee I can give you orders."

Spock raised a blasé eyebrow.

"You're the one who doesn't understand Vulcans. The role of the pudor-tor'adun is not to give orders but to maintain the harmony of the couple."

"Okay, but if I'm the pudor-whatever and, for example, … I don't know, um … I ask you to put away my tools. Will you do it?"

"If it's logical to do it in your place, yes."

"And if I'd rather leave them lying around?"

"Such a decision would harm the harmony of the couple by minimizing the available space, and therefore, logically, you would not make it."

"Okay, so your Pudor-thing is just another kind of crap. I'd always have to think for you."

"You had to make sure we act according to our best interest. The entire balance of the couple rests on the pudor-tor'adun."

"But why should that be? Can't you just live your life and leave me alone?"

"That's not how marriage works."

"Not how marriage works, huh? Well, I'll sort that out in no time. Listen up, pointy ears: I'd rather die than obey you, and you can't do anything about it. End of discussion."

"In fact, in that case, you'll force me to be more strict."

Jo crossed her arms with a defiant look.

"Oh yeah?" she said, curious to see that.

"I would prefer not to have to resort to this. I'm asking you one last time to put away your tools."

"You know what? Tell someone who give a fuck!"

"Very well."

Spock lifted his hand and channeled all his willpower through the kon-ut-so'lik bond. Jo recoiled in her chair, feeling the Vulcan's mind overlaying hers, forcing her to obey. A pressing urge to follow his command flooded her. Instinctively, she braced herself with all her strength to resist him.

The sensation ceased, and horrified, she jumped from her seat and retreated to the farthest wall from him.

"What the hell is that?" she said, eyes wide.

"The nahan-pohkau," he said calmly.

The dazed look she gave him clearly indicated that it meant nothing to her.

"During its evolution, our species developed this type of incentive without which it would have been impossible to achieve stable couples. Surak's discipline has made these practices marginal, but they are necessary in this situation."

"If you use that against me, it makes you a goddams maniac!" she said, still in shock.

"In no way. Your behavior threatens the stability of our couple. I am therefore compelled to act in a way to restore balance. If you agree to obey me, this will not be necessary."

"GO FUCK YOURSELF SIDEWAYS!" she yelled, enraged.

"Please put away your tools," he requested again.

"You can wank your fucking dick off!" she spat.

"I ask once more that you put away your tools," he insisted.

"You're a fucking piece of shit!"

"In that case, you're forcing me to intervene," he said, resigned.

She looked around in a panic, searching for something to defend herself, but Spock did not give her time. As if the energy ribbon connecting them gave him direct access to his wife's mind, she perceived him taking control of her will with disconcerting ease. She immediately felt a visceral need to submit and obey. Yet something inside her forbade it, and her rebellious nature rose up, furious, to fight against the Vulcan's will.

Her desperate resistance triggered a sort of electric shock, and she recognized the same crazy energy she had felt during the badly executed mating where she had been half-electrocuted. Except this time, the electricity ran along her spine as if the spirit of that despicable bastard was trying to invade her nerves.

Perceiving the phenomenon, Spock ceased the nahan-pohkau induction and watched her gravely. She was huddled against the wall, trembling all over.

Fascinating.

He hadn't thought a human could resist him this much, but of course, Johann's capabilities defied the average in this regard—logical, as he had first chosen her, mainly because of that.

"Stop …," she begged, her voice breaking with sobs. "Stop it!"

Spock hesitated, seeing her so disturbed. A disturbance that seemed illogical to him. On Vulcan, all women obeyed their husbands. At Starfleet, everyone was subject to a superior. Even Romulans or Klingons submitted to their leaders. All his life, he had lived in a world where some commanded and others obeyed. That was how the universe worked.

It was evident that his wife did not understand very well this natural dominance-submission dynamic, and he felt a certain pity seeing her so scared.

"I regret, but for your own benefit, I must unfortunately insist," he said, trying to sound understanding. "Your discomfort comes from your resistance. You just need to stop."

"YOU'RE A FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!" she barked, her gaze oddly intense.

Spock had some reservations about inflicting this discipline on her, but logically, she would soon recognize the benefits of obeying him once she submitted and would immediately understand that he was right.

"You perceive your duties negatively, but I assure you that you will find satisfaction in obeying me," he explained to reassure her.

"I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU SICK BASTARD!" Jo screamed in panic.

Spock sighed, realizing that he couldn't convince her through discussion. She needed to experience her role first to understand it, and for that, she needed to submit to his will at least once.

"With regret, I must ask you again to put away your tools."

"I will never obey you. NEVER!" she yelled. "I'd rather die!"

Spock sighed and, confident he was acting in the best interest, focused his mind on controlling his wife's. Huddled against the wall, she gritted her teeth and resisted with all her might, but finally, he felt her give in. It was then that he experienced an emotion so intense it pierced through the tightly woven fabric of his mind. He suddenly felt that what he was doing was utterly unworthy. He immediately stopped, deeply concern.

Jo, terrified, her mind in tatters, pressed herself against the wall like a trapped animal. Spock began by mastering the emotion that had overwhelmed him, then dispelled the regrets it had left in its wake. Once this was done, he deduced that this feeling had been transmitted to him by his wife. Her impression was so negative that it clearly indicated that the nahan-pohkau did not yield good results on humans. This strategy, though perfectly logical, was, therefore, inappropriate.

He suddenly felt a terrible shock in his ribs. Jo leapt out of reach, looking at him with a dazed expression. A long, sharp screwdriver in her hand dripped with green blood. Spock calmly glanced at the wound.

"The heart is not located there for Vulcans," he said calmly.

The young woman had barely looked where she was striking, but fearing he might still be in a position to attack her, she quickly pressed the screwdriver under his jaw.

"And the brain? Is it in the same place?" she asked with a wild expression.

"Yes, but your weapon is not long enough to reach it," he replied unperturbed.

"What if I shove it into your eye?" she growled.

"That would be a better choice if you want to cause irreversible damage."

Jo gritted her teeth. It seemed as though being killed left him completely indifferent. He looked down at his wife, who was trembling with rage.

"I was wrong. You are not Vulcan, and the use of nahan-pohkau was inapropriate. I will not use it again. However, killing me will not change anything, and you would be guilty of murder. Besides, the wound you inflicted seems quite serious. If you wish to avoid penal colony, I suggest calling for a stretcher as soon as possible."

Jo's hand tightened around the screwdriver as if she still desperately wanted to use it, then she lowered her weapon with a sudden movement, looking at him with disgust. She walked over to the intercom.

"A stretcher to Commander Spock's quarters. It's an emergency," she spat.

"Understood."

She turned back to her husband and gave him a hateful look.

"I really hope you die."

"That is entirely possible," he said indifferently.

Jo looked at her bloody weapon and threw it away from her while Spock leaned against the desk, suddenly weak. She observed him, then sighed and grabbed a chair. She approached and placed it abruptly behind him. He sat down slowly, giving her a surprised look.

"It's just to help the medics. You weigh a ton, so it's a hassle to lift you if you're on the floor."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"That is very considerate of you."

"Mmm, consideration is all me."

He looked at her for a long moment, and a trace of respect surfaced in his gaze.

"Your stubbornness is irritating but remarkable," he said, his tone unexpectedly thoughtful.

Jo blinked, momentarily stunned, but quickly regained her composure.

"Well, you sure picked the right moment to be nice," she replied with a wry smile. "Just before dying..."

She shrugged as if to say it was really too bad, and a fleeting glimmer of amusement appeared in her husband's eyes.

"Should I take that to mean you might actually regret me?"

Jo looked at him seriously. He was bleeding heavily, and she suddenly realized he might really be dying. She was immediately seized by remorse. Damn, she hadn't really wanted to kill him, but he had pushed her so far with his psychic powers that she had gone crazy.

She swallowed nervously and walked quickly to the monitor.

"Are you going to get that stretcher or what? It's a emergency!"

She hurried to the bathroom, coming out with a towel that she folded and handed to the Vulcan so he could use it as a compress. Calmly, he pressed it against the wound while Jo, nervously, watched him, tapping her foot, unsure of how else to help.

The door finally opened, and the medics gasped at the sight of their commander bleeding out on a chair. They rushed in, and ten seconds later, the room was empty except for a large pool of blood and Jo, chewing on her nails.

Note

In the episode The Omega Glory, Spock takes control of a stranger's mind from a distance simply by looking at her and forces her to perform certain actions. It's easy to imagine that this ability could be amplified in the case of a couple already telepathically connected through the koon-ut-so'lik.

However, I understand that some might find these actions too extreme to be considered canon. To this, I would argue that in the film The Undiscovered Country, Spock performs a forced mind-meld on the Vulcan Valeris, a meld that seems quite violent as it makes her scream in a truly terrifying manner. So, in comparison, the process described here is more delicate. That said, I should point out that this scene divided fans, with some arguing that Spock's mind-meld was too aggressive to be considered in character. However, since this approach is canon, I took the liberty of using it to explore power dynamics.

From a Terran perspective, it is known that in traditional patriarchal societies, males consider it natural to beat their wives. In the most backward cultures, female rebellion can even be punished by death. In the same vein, it would be logical that primitive Vulcans would have developed means to ensure the submission of females, and it seems to me that a technique like the one described here could easily be a watered-down version of that.

This process might seem quite acceptable to contemporary Vulcans, as it is merely a matter of encouraging one's female-possession to act according to her logical duties. And it's easy to imagine that a Vulcan would not take it as badly as a wild Terran.

In this perspective, I think Spock might find it normal to use such an incentive with an incompetent wife like Jo, especially if he believes he is acting in their mutual best interest.