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Chapter Text

The strange, red alien sun warmed his cool skin. There was something lifeless about this otherwise alive planet. He wondered if rescue was on its way. He certainly hoped so… for his captain. The human had saved his life yet again. But this time, thankfully, he had not broken the prime directive. Admiral Pike would not have a reason to reprimand them this time. But just then he remembered. Admiral Pike was dead. Killed by a criminal. His captain… he had been killed too. No, he would not think about that. But he couldn’t remember the name of the criminal. Something was jamming his memory. Something was....

“Get up, Spock,” Hamid’s gentle voice roused him. “We have to leave in less than an hour. Your students are waiting and I have to get to the clinic. We have more refugees arriving from Orion today.”

Spock opened his eyes. The sun shone on his face from the window, warming up the otherwise cool November morning. But this was real, unlike the superficial light of the sun in his dream. He got up and made his way to the bathroom. He had overslept again. Normally, he was very precise about waking up at a certain hour. But these days, he spent long hours in the molecular chemistry lab and often, he came back home way past midnight.

But things were normal, peaceful. It had been four years since his return from Fardour. He had dreaded coming back to his apartment after that, afraid that his other flat mates, Damien and Mike would make life tough for him even after everything he had gone through. But mercifully, he had been allowed to keep his rank and despite continuing as a student in the command track, he had been allotted an apartment in the officers housing area on Captain Pike’s recommendation.

He had graduated a year ago. And Hamid had finished a few weeks ago. They were both Starfleet officers now. Spock had been promoted to Lieutenant Commander soon after accepting a research and faculty position in the academy. Hamid was a part of the Starfleet medical corps in the trauma and triage division.

Today, his first class was with the second year students. Interestingly, Gaila was in this batch too. Advanced Interspecies Ethics. An elective course.

He finished shaving and liberally splashed aftershave on his cheeks. His mother had insisted on gifting him an entire box of Armani's grooming products. He had sighed inwardly at his mother’s annoying (and endearing) human tendency to shower him with gifts. But even he had to admit that this particular aftershave, Armani Pinomeiro, did smell refreshingly earthy.

“BREAKFAST’S ON THE TABLE, SPOCK,” Hamid called out from the other room.

Spock quickly took a sonic shower and changed into his black instructor’s uniform. A few minutes later, he sat opposite Hamid to eat breakfast.

“I still can’t believe they allowed us an apartment together,” the doctor said through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “I mean, you are my superior.”

Spock simply quirked an eyebrow at that and continued to eat his toast in silence.

“How do you eat dry toast?” Hamid asked him yet again. “At least put some margarine on it.”

“I prefer my toast dry,” Spock said. “The oleaginous sensation generated by the consumption of margarine is most uncomfortable against the back of my throat cavity.”

Hamid shook his head and continued to eat. But he could not hide his amused smile. Even after all this time, he found Spock’s way of talking funny and adorable at the same time. He didn’t say anything and the rest of the meal passed in silence.

XXXXX

Spock was still getting used to being addressed as ‘Professor.’ As a commissioned officer, he wasn’t tenured faculty. But in terms of academic seniority, he was the equivalent of an assistant professor. He didn’t quite understand why human students insisted on calling all the teachers ‘professor’ despite that fact that all of them were not full professors yet and wouldn’t be for another two decades.

He had heard good things about the second year class. And considering how strict his requirements were for students who wanted to take his elective course in Ethics, he was fairly confident that the class would be serious, intelligent, and resourceful. Last year, he had had to deal with an extremely tiresome group of boys from the command track who had taken a special interest in making his life difficult. They had often pinned up copies of the horrible articles that had been written about him after Fardour, on the student notice board which was normally used only to display artwork. One time, they had crossed all limits by drawing and circulating a very insensitive cartoon of him and a woman that was presumably T’Amun in a compromising position.

Needless to say, he had ultimately turned them out of his class and they were now repeating the first year because his class on Social Xenodiversity had been worth four credit hours of coursework and two credit hours of project work.

He was reasonably certain that this new group would be nothing like the hooligans from the last batch. Besides, this was a sophomore class. They had all been in the xenodiversity course as well. And even though that had been a large class of 200 students, they had all been made aware of his disciplinary standards, particularly after the cartoon incident.

He entered the lecture hall to find that the 18 students who had made it through his requirements were all seated already with their PADDs ready for note taking.

“Good morning, Cadets,” he said. After all these years, he knew a little about human courtesies and tried to use them effectively. “Welcome to the Interspecies Ethics course. I am Assistant Professor Spock. I specialize in Xenoanthropology, Applied Research Methodology, and Advanced Scientific Programming. Before we begin the lecture, I expect each one of you to stand up and introduce yourselves briefly. Name, track, and your reasons for selecting this course will be sufficient.”

The students stood up one by one to introduce themselves.

“Helena Foster. Operations Track, specializing in intergalactic law. I joined this class because I want to be a law officer on a science vessel.”

“Diane Felmann. Science Track, specializing in genetics. I joined your class because my research interest in genetic engineering and synthetics.”

“Ramesh Krishanan. Science Track, undeclared specialization. I want to learn more about interspecies ethics in general because I hope to be a science officer on a ship some day.”

“Rubaya Khatun. Command Track, specializing in diplomacy. I think everyone in Starfleet should have a thorough training in ethics. Since I am aiming to be a diplomat, I want to have detailed training in the customs and norms of various federation worlds.”

“Sarmiss Gaila Alhoyn-Amden but I go by Gaila. Operations track, specializing in administrative programming. Joined your class because I’m curious about you.”

At that, the entire class turned around to look at her. For a tiny moment, Spock didn’t react. His first instinct was to reprimand her but then he realized she was probably serious. He did ask the students to state their reasons for joining his course. And if hers was curiosity, it wasn’t something he could fault her for. He had seen that many humans tended to not say what was actually on their minds. And he had come to expect the same for almost all other species except for Vulcans.

It was refreshing to have someone in his class who was obviously not like other humans. He should have known. This was G’Ahaila after all.

“Next person, please,” he said to get the class back on track.

“Nyota Uhura, Operations track, specializing in communications…”

But he wasn't listening any more. A mini shockwave went through him as he took in her appearance. This student. This dark-haired, dark-skinned student looked like T’Amun. The same long, braided hair. The same strong features. The same dark, piercing eyes.

He missed Nyota's explanation of why she was in his class. The next student had already stood up to introduce himself.

Spock chided himself for not paying complete attention to his class. From that moment, he concentrated fully on each student.

XXXXX

“Oh my god, he’s so cute,” Nyota Uhura said as she left the lecture hall. “Damn, Gaila, you actually said you’re taking his class because you’re curious?”

“Vulcans are honest,” Gaila answered. “I think he likes my honesty. And he’s not cute. He’s hot. H-A-W-T- sex-on-a-stick hot.”

“Eeeew, Gaila. Sex on a stick ?… that even sounds gross.”

“Meh, prude. I’m hungry.”

“Sure, wanna get some lunch? You know the cafeteria serves a pretty lit buffalo wings pizza.”

“You eat the buffalo whatever… I want the bull.”

“Gaila, stop.”

“A girl can dream. But yeah, let’s do the pizza for now.”

Unfortunately, the freshly baked pizzas were already gone and they had to choose between fresh sandwiches and replicated pizzas.

“Fresh sandwiches.” Gaila said gloomily. “Once we are up there, replicated cardboard is going to be it. As they say, make hay while the sun shines.”

“Or make marinara while the tomatoes are ripe…” Uhura added, feeling completely ridiculous but having fun nonetheless.

“I thought the lecture was pretty good,” Nyota said as she placed her bag on the seat next to her. “He seems so smart. But he’s a little intimidating, don’t you think?”

“He’s really nice though,” Gaila answered without thinking.

“How do you know that?” Nyota asked conversationally, taking a small bite of her tuna sandwich.

“Erm… he has been around for a while,” Gaila said, trying to answer the question without giving away her entire personal story. “He was on the same ship that brought me and a bunch of other refugees to Earth. But we didn’t get much of a chance to interact.”

“You were on a SHIP with him?” Uhura asked, her eyes wide as saucers. “Damn, girl. You should have said something. Does he know you like him?

“Who said anything about liking him?,” Gaila said with a smile. “I am curious about him. I’d love to know him a little better. He’s hot, good looking, whatever, but I don’t really see him that way. He’s not my type.”

“You have a type, huh?” Uhura teased her friend, visibly relaxed that Gaila was not seriously interested in Spock. But again, she knew how stupid that thought was. They were students. It wasn’t as if she could actually pursue Spock just because her roommate was not interested in him.

“I can help you get him, though,” Gaila said, cutting off Uhura’s wonderings. “He does seem your type. Strong, silent, sexy… in a nerdy way.”

“I don’t like nerds. What gave you that idea?”

“But you like him. Admit it. He’s yours.”

Uhura blushed furiously at that. She hadn’t thought of Spock as hers yet. But she couldn’t deny that it sounded wonderful. Well, if her Orion roommate couldn’t help her get to the Vulcan, no one could.

“Let’s do it,” she said at last. “Professor Spock is mine.”

Gaila grinned. This was going to be challenging. But oh, so much fun.

XXXXX

Amanda was waiting to call her son. She had received a box of assorted liqueur chocolates from an a Belgian Chocolatier based in San Francisco. Spock had remembered her birthday. She smiled to herself. Leave it to her son to go gift hunting for his mother and send a note like this along with it.

“Celebrating the anniversary of one’s birth is illogical. However, I believe I am quite content to simply celebrate the fact of your birth and commemorate your continued presence in my life. I hope you will find the chocolates satisfactory.”

She shook her head and punched in the code for her son’s personal comm. unit.

A few seconds later, Spock answered the call.

“Oh, it is so good to hear your voice,” she said, unable to keep the emotion out of her voice. But she didn’t care. She had no appearances to keep in front of her son. “How are you? And thank you so much for the chocolates. They are perfect. I didn’t realize you remembered I like Kahlua-filled truffles.”

“Mother, Vulcans have eidetic memory,” Spock said, unwilling to admit that most other Vulcans would simply not care to act upon such information even if they did remember it.

“Whatever makes you happy, son,” she said fondly. “You will never change, will you?”

“No, mother, I do not intend to,” he said good naturedly.

“How is your friend, Hamid?”

“He is adequate.”

“And are you going with him to Aleppo next summer? He has invited you so many times.”

“I have not yet made any travel plans for the summer.”

“Okay, but what about the upcoming break? Auntie Marrion will be glad to see you for Thanksgiving.”

“Mother, we have had this conversation before," He said almost tersely.

“Spock, she is my sister," Amanda said, almost pleading. "We have finally started talking to each other after 20 years of silence. She has told me umpteen number of times that she wants to meet you. She has changed over all these years.”

“It is getting late, mother.”

“Spock, if I can forgive her and her husband, why can’t you?”

Amanda’s question was logical.

Spock had been no more than six when he had visited Earth with his mother. But that time, aunt Marrion had taken one look at him and called him “Satan’s Spawn.” Her children had shied away from him and ultimately, the youngest one had started crying because his pointed ears were scary. Finally, her husband, Uncle Phil had asked her to take him away. There was no place in their household for little freaks like her son.

"You having a kid with that Vulcan is no better than a bitch mating with a gorilla. We disowned you the day you ran away with that thing. Your poor father died because he couldn't believe his eldest daughter was such a slut, humping things that are not even human! Don't ever come back here."

It was illogical to hold grudges from early childhood. But such harsh, taunting words could not be forgotten so easily.

And the rejection, the coldness… it was too close to what he had endured at the hands of his peers and teachers on Vulcan and then on Fardour. It was hard for him to accept the same treatment from someone of his own blood. He wanted to respect his mother’s wish. But he just didn’t have the courage.

“At least try,” Amanda said softly, sensing her son’s turmoil. 

“I will, mother,” Spock said and hung up.

Chapter Text

Spock really did not want to go turkey shopping. In fact, he wasn’t even supposed to. But Zoya had insisted on taking him along despite knowing he was vegetarian.

Captain Pike had invited him and the entire bridge crew and their families of the Enterprise for Thanksgiving, provided they were not visiting family elsewhere. Even though the ship’s official service had ended with its destruction in Farhannsu space, the captain insisted the crew was still family. The new flagship of the federation was going to be called the Enterprise- A, but in all likelihood, none of the old crew except for the captain and Dr. Puri would be on it. Zoya had been assigned to the research vessel, USS Fujiwara as the head of the communications and linguistics unit. Commander Tabitha Owens had taken up a faculty position with the academy. The rest of the crew had been assigned to the USS Bradbury.

They had all been invited

And because Hamid lived with Spock, he had been invited too. But right now, he was at home, making preparations for his famous pistachio baklava for dessert. And so, Spock was stuck with Zoya who had given him no choice but to join her for turkey shopping.

“Everyone should shop for a turkey at least once in their life,” she said as she looked at the large-sized turkeys. “Also, aren’t you responsible for the green beans and those amazing slow-cooked lentils your mom taught you to make?”

“I am,” Spock answered, annoyance obvious in his voice. “However, if I do not return to my residence in 30.2 minutes, the lentils will not be served in time tomorrow. They must be simmered overnight after being seasoned and soaked for six hours.”

“Oh come on,” Zoya scoffed. “You’re Vulcan. Everything works faster with you. If you give your stove a death glare, it will cook everything within seconds. And please, don’t forget to put mustard on the beans this time. They were very bland last year.”

Mustard. Spock hated mustard. He couldn’t for the life of him understand why these humans insisted that the beans needed to be covered in mustard as well. Why wasn’t olive oil and lemon juice enough?

For the last three years, they had been criticizing his beans. Well, there wasn’t going to be any mustard on them this time either. Next year, he would put his foot down and refuse to do the beans. Humans obviously had a strange palate that he could not effectively comprehend or please.

“I shall see what I can do,” he said vaguely and watched in disgust as the shopkeeper packed the obscenely large turkey.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Zoya said dreamily.

“That,” Spock answered, maintaining his poker face with great difficulty. “Is a matter of perspective.”

XXXXX

“Spock, the lentils are delicious,” Tabitha complimented him. “I never knew lentils, of all things, could taste so good.”

“Thank you,” Spock said and continued to sip his wine. True to his word, Captain Pike had made him try a number of different wines, including the cannabis wine, before he decided his preferred ones. The one in his glass was a Barefoot Pink Moscato. He had been surprised at the complex flavor of the wine. It had reminded him of clementines and jasmines. Apparently, it went well with meat as well, which is why the captain had served it along with the meal.

“The lentils are great but the beans are again bland,” Zoya complained, piling bottled mustard over her beans.

Hamid looked on with revulsion. Like Spock, he didn’t get this love for mustard either.

“Erm… Zoya, that is mustard sauce, the stuff you put on hot dogs,” he said. “Maybe use some paprika to flavor the beans but that stuff is just… eew!”

Everyone else wisely stayed out of this discussion. Also, it was getting too old. They did this every damn year.

“How is your new class?” Tabitha asked Spock, in a bid to change the topic. “I hope they aren’t trouble makers as well.”

“They are not,” Spock answered. “However, I have started teaching them only recently. I do not have sufficient information to accurately judge their behavioral tendencies.”

“Are you enjoying teaching them?”

“Vulcans do not ‘enjoy,’ but I cannot deny they exhibit potential.”

Captain Pike watched this exchange intently. He had been in awe of Spock since the beginning of the Fardour mission. Granted, he had had his misgivings during the mission because of the terrible events that took place in those ten short weeks. But then, they had come back to Earth and he had seen Spock grow and blossom… and heal.

He had been awarded the Captain George Kirk Medal for his bravery and selfless service. A few months later, he had been awarded the Madame Marie Curie Prize for saving an entire planet from certain destruction-- one of the highest honors the United Earth government could confer on him. Finally, the federation had awarded him the Sulqua Medal for Loyalty and Courage, an honor reserved only for the very highly deserving.

Sometimes, he saw through the pain and hurt Spock still carried inside him. But mostly, he saw hope and promise. Spock was going places.

As was the loud-mouthed cadet he had recruited last year. James T. Kirk. Rule breaker extraordinaire. Charming when he wanted to be. Arrogant. Sometimes disrespectful. But mostly, a genius who would have been wasted on the Kirk farmhouse in Riverside, Iowa.

He was as different as could be from Spock. Where the Vulcan valued rules and regulations, Kirk believed they were solely made to be broken. While Spock’s brilliance was precise, mathematical, and methodical, Kirk’s was cunning, creative, and completely unorthodox. Where there were things Spock would never do for the sake of his principles, Kirk would first find out the stakes and then find a way around the moral roadblocks.

They would be either a legendary command team or a completely disastrous one. He smiled at that thought. In all likelihood, they would probably never even serve on the same ship. Spock would eventually choose a science or a rescue service vessel. He had made that very clear to everyone. He had no desire to rise up the ranks of the military arm of the fleet. And any promotions he would accept would be purely administrative, based on his years of service.

Kirk, on the other hand, would hopefully change the future of the fleet. He would prove to be his father’s son. He would take risks. He would show his middle finger to the admiralty if he didn’t agree with them. And he would not be controlled by the PR policies of the higher-ups.

He would do exactly what would be needed. Nothing less. And hopefully, nothing more.

XXXXX

Aparna Puri had already had two helpings of the bland green beans and the thick lentils. Each time, she had complimented Professor Spock on his culinary skills. And he had thanked her politely but nothing more.

For the last three years, he had been tutoring her in math and science. Now, in tenth grade, she was much better at these subjects than she had been as a 12-year-old. Trigonometry, which had once given her nightmares, was now her best friend.

She fondly remembered her first lesson with him.

He had been blunt and rude and… absolutely wonderful. She had immediately developed a gigantic crush on him.

Of course, she had cried when he clearly told her dad that she had “no aptitude for the pursuit of objective disciplines focused on logical reasoning and problem solving.” She even remembered his hurtful words verbatim.

But her dad had requested him to give her another chance.

The next lesson had been slightly better. He had tried to be more polite and she had tried harder to keep her terror in check. That afternoon, for the first time in her life, she had found numbers and those meaningless greek symbols somewhat conquerable.

“The variables mean whatever the problem at hand demands them to mean,” he had said to her at the end of their lesson. “To be scared of hidden facts is illogical. They may be hidden but they exist. That is why they are mathematical facts-- objective, verifiable, simple truths. Therefore, they can be found.”

And from that moment onwards, she had lost her fear of math. Her father had asked Professor Spock to tutor her so that she’d do well enough in her college entrance exams to get into a good pre-med program. But now, after three years of studying under the enigmatic, wonderful Vulcan teacher, she wanted to follow in his footsteps.

She would become a scientist. And she was going to study physics at college.

Maybe then, Spock would like her too.

He was a lot older than her. She knew he had no idea of her secret crush. But he was so cute. And he was so much nicer than the boys at her high school.

“Cranberry Sauce, Aparna?” her father’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “That’s the last few spoons. I thought you’d want some.”

“Did Professor Spock have some?” she asked without thinking.

Dr. Puri looked at his daughter for a long moment with a knowing look in his eyes.

“No,” he answered. “He’s married, by the way.”

A jolt of electricity went through her at that.

“He is?” she murmured, dazed and upset.

“Yes, eat your potatoes,” her father said and smiled at her.

“I’ll have some cranberry sauce,” she said, her voice wobbly.

The doctor passed her the dish.

Poor Aparna faced her first heartbreak over a plate of cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes. Well, if she couldn’t have Spock, she could at least have the comfort food. She would have to find someone in her class for the junior prom. Her intended date was unavailable!

Permanently.

XXXXX

“This is the strangest Thanksgiving ever,” he drawled. Drunk out of his mind, this was almost a holiday ritual now.

“You said that about Halloween too,” Jim Kirk said to his friend, Dr. Leonard McCoy, also known as Bones, a nickname he hated but couldn’t get rid of.

“Well, it was the first time I didn’t go trick-or-treatin’ with my Jo,” He answered. “I wonder where Joss took her. Maybe to some uppity neighborhood with lawyer kids all running around dressed like their frickin’ dads.”

“Erm, why would be kids be dressed like their dads?”

“ ‘Cause what’s scarier than a couple o’ little lawyers running around the street askin’ for candy?”

“I dunno, Bones. Grown-up lawyers asking for your money?”

The older man laughed at that.

“You, Jimothy, gotta be a stand-up comic someplace.”

“Comedian, you mean! And don’t call me Jimothy.”

“Same difference. Damn! This is good stuff,” he said gesturing to the electric blue liquid in his glass. “What’s it, again?”

“Ferengi port,” Jim answered. “Contraband.”

“I can’t taste the disgusting replicated turkey anymore, at least. Thanks, kid!”

“Yes, sir.”

“You got class in the morning?”

“Yeah, with Ginsberg.”

“What he teach?”

“It’s a she. Teaches Federation History.”

“Boring stuff. I got my first in-clinic class tomorrow. My advisor's a guy called Puri.

“Ooooo! You finally get to so see alien junk. That’s worth another shot and two.” With that, Jim poured his friend another drink.

“I guess. Alien junk. Junk. Is that all you think about?”

“Pretty much! What’s life without junk?”

“A junkyard?”

Again, the two men burst into laughter.

And this continued the entire evening. Needless to say, the next morning brought giant hangovers for the two friends. But at least, they didn’t remember the taste of their cardboard turkey dinner!

XXXXX

It was late when they returned home.

“That was a lot of fun,” Hamid said, kicking off his shoes. Spock, as always, sat down at the edge of the bed and meticulously removed each shoe by hand.

“And I liked the beans,” he added. “Don’t let Zoya get to you. She was just kidding.”

“I am aware of Lt. Cmdr. Khan’s odd sense of humor,” Spock answered, a hint of amusement in his own voice. “However, I do not believe she has the authority to judge my culinary skills when her own are so severely lacking. The mushroom stew was overcooked and the applesauce was unnecessarily tart.”

Hamid didn’t say anything for a minute and then he started laughing.

“I hope you didn’t tell her this,” he chuckled.

“I did not say it to her in these precise terms,” Spock said. “However, I let her know that her skills are best applied to a communications console as opposed to a cooking range.”

“How did she not kill you for that?” the doctor asked with mock awe.

“She called me sexist. I countered her with the definition of sexism. Prejudice, stereotyping, or discrimination, typically against women, on the basis of sex. According to this explanation, to make a positive assumption about her culinary prowess would be sexist. Therefore, my honest judgment of her skills or their lack thereof, was entirely non-sexist.”

“And then?”

“She, I believe, ‘stomped away in anger.’”

“I am impressed, Spock,” Hamid said. “Didn’t know you had it in you to piss off a comm. Officer."

“I did not know I had it in myself either,” Spock said and went inside the bathroom while the doctor gaped at him, trying to work out if Spock had just made a joke or if he had been serious.

Chapter Text

He hated going to the staff room. It was noisy and smelly and more than a little annoying. A few times, he had been dragged there by various teachers but mostly, he was able to get away. Unfortunately, today he had no choice. Somehow, mysteriously, Professor Patricia Cleere had been made aware that he had a free hour in the afternoon and that he took his lunch alone in his office.

Patricia was a friend of his mother’s. And Spock knew it would be rude if he declined her invitation to eat with the other teachers in the staff room. And no, she did not care that he wasn’t  exactly like the other teachers, that he was a commissioned officer and that he would be even more awkward around the academic staff because he was Vulcan.

“You must be so lonely,” Professor Cleere said as she walked Spock out of his office. “And don’t give me any of that ‘Vulcans-don’t-get-lonely' BS, please. Your lot are a social people, just not talkative.”

“I would still insist that I do not wish to go to the staff room,” Spock tried again. “Spending the free hour in my office allows me to regain my composure after the three hours of continuous teaching.”

That made the older woman stop in her tracks.

“I… I guess I understand that,” she said slowly. “But you’re not hiding away, are you? We all know what happened wasn’t easy…”

“It has been more than three years since,” Spock said, cutting her off. “I assure you I am not experiencing unpleasant emotions nor am I ‘hiding away,’ as you put it.”

That came out a lot more curt than Spock had intended. But Professor Cleere got the message. She smiled pityingly and continued on her way, without asking Spock to come with her this time.

He sighed in relief but he knew he needed to be more polite with humans. He had been trying but sometimes, it just didn’t work. However, right now, he didn’t have the time to dwell on that thought. He had only 40 minutes of his free hour left. He went back to his office to finish his cup of tea and get ready for the next class. He still had the homework assignments of two students that needed to be graded. He had deliberately left these for the end.

G’Ahaila… no, Gaila… was talented, albeit a little unconventional. The topic of the assignment was to take a historical internal conflict from a Federation culture and analyze the sociological causes that had caused it. The exercise was meant to teach them to isolate cultural nuances that could have been adhered to by the conflicting parties, which would have in turn, averted the conflict. Gaila had chosen to write about the third major conflict between Bajor and Voluneia even though the requirement was to write about an internal conflict. Her argument was that it was more relevant to observe and analyze an interplanetary dispute. But Spock did not agree with that. If anything, from her own experiences, she should have known better. The Orion refugees on Earth had been displaced by the cruelty of their own people. Interestingly, Gaila had briefly touched upon that in her introduction, arguing that an internal conflict could not be solved by Starfleet. Sovereign planets could not be forced to follow the Federation’s directive.

Well, that was incorrect, theoretically. According to law, all Federation worlds were required to follow certain rules of civil, political, and social equality and the ethical treatment of all sentient creatures. But of course, it didn’t always work that way.

And that was the angle Gaila had taken in her paper. In a way, her approach to the assignment was a scathing, sarcastic, and subtle critique of the Federation’s powerlessness when it came to internal conflicts.

But, as much as he appreciated Gaila’s creative and critical way of thinking, she would need to mold herself differently if she wanted to serve in Starfleet.

Next, he started on Nyota Uhura’s assignment. Now this student was an absolute delight to teach. She was sharp, detail oriented, goal oriented, and methodical. And she had written about a little known terran conflict based on language in a region called Belgium. There had been bitter disagreement in that country from mid-20th century to early 21st century over the language divide between people. And that had driven them to an existential crisis which had almost led to the country’s division along linguistic lines.

Cadet Uhura had mentioned her desire to serve as communications officer on a ship someday. Well, she was certainly on the right track. Out of all the assignments he had marked, hers scored the highest marks. So far, the second year class was promising.

Gathering his things and instructional materials, he made his way to the lecture hall. His class was already waiting for him. Thanks to his eidetic memory, he knew their names and faces well already. And that is why, he noticed the absence of Cadet Uhura.

An unexpected pang of disappointment hit him. But he controlled it immediately, even though he was fairly horrified that he should be so enamored by a student. It was wrong. It was immoral. It was unbecoming of a Vulcan.

After Fardour, he had promised to himself to keep to his people’s ways. Considering what had happened to T’Amun because of him, he had no desire to entangle himself with any other woman. And mercifully, T’Pring had agreed to keep their bond. Of course, they were still shielding from each other. She still desired Stonn. But she wanted to do her duty by him, even if it was unpleasant to her.

Spock was not going to fight it.

He was fortunate that T’Pring was an honorable woman. She would be there for him during his Plak-Tow if it happened. And she would someday be the clan mother of the House of Surak. She would lie with him despite finding him repulsive.

No, he had strayed once. He wasn’t about to stray again. As a half-breed, his options were limited. It would be logical to stay with the decision that had been made for him as a child.

However, he still needed to know why Cadet Uhura was missing his class. This time, for purely official reasons. Missing class without giving prior notice to the instructor was considered a form of academic misconduct. Three unexcused absences were grounds for failing the course.

But he couldn’t ask the other students where she was. He decided to proceed with the lecture anyway. For close to an hour, he discussed the major themes of the previous assignment-- cultural rights vs. universal rights, diplomacy vs. legally-binding prerequisites for federation membership, normative political philosophy, and the dangers of anthropocentrism.

The students took copious notes and listened attentively, only interrupting him when something wasn’t explicitly clear to them or if they required a specific example to understand a relatively vague concept. This was not surprising. Diplomacy, in particular, was more about instinct than a vague list of dos and don’ts.

Halfway through the lecture, someone walked in.

Spock stopped mid-sentence and turned to see who had dared to interrupt his teaching. He wasn’t angry but he did not approve of cadets disobeying rules. And everyone knew he was one of the strictest teachers in the academy.

It was cadet Uhura.

“You will explain the cause of your lateness,” he said without preamble.

The young woman faced him with an air of confidence but he wasn’t fooled. The apprehension was clear in her eyes even if she was trying to hide it and succeeding partially.

“I apologize for my lateness, sir,” she said. “But an urgent task of a personal nature came up. I had not intended to miss class. But it was unavoidable. It won’t happen again.”

And by the concluding tone of her final sentence, Spock knew that was all she was going to say. Well, even if she didn’t want to let the other students know what had held her up, he needed to know in order to decide how this was going on her file. Normally, an unexcused absence was punished regardless of the reasons that may have caused it. But despite being strict and a stickler for the rules, Spock was fair. He would have to note her absence anyway. But knowing why she did it, would make sure that the record would not reflect undue negative judgment.

“You will report for an explanation in my office after the class,” he said. “You may take a seat now.”

Uhura nodded and went on to sit next to Gaila.

“Where were you?” Gaila whispered. “He looks really mad at you right now.”

“Long story,” Uhura answered. “I’ll tell you later.”

The rest of the lecture passed uneventfully. At last, the bell rang.

“If he chews me out, hold a nice funeral for me,” Uhura said morosely to Gaila as she put her PADD back into her bag.

“If he chews you out, make sure you’re tasty, lucky girl…”

And with that flirty little statement, Gaila walked out of the class with a naughty, suggestive grin on her face.

XXXXX

Spock was already sitting in his chair, and typing something on his computer when she knocked at his door.

“Come in, please,” he acknowledged and let her in.

For several minutes, he didn’t say anything. Uhura stood quietly in front of his desk, nervous and afraid.

“Cadet, you are aware that an unexcused absence will be recorded in your file,” he said, finally looking up.

“Yes, sir,” she answered shamefacedly.

“You are also aware that three unexcused absences will lead to an automatic failing grade in this class.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why, then, did you miss today’s lecture?”

“I didn’t want to miss it. That’s why I came. I was just late.”

“You will not receive any academic credit for coming late. Unprofessional behavior is unbecoming of Starfleet officers.”

“But sir, I told you it was unavoidable. I wasn’t off on a social outing of some sort.”

“Since I do not possess powers of divination, I have no way of knowing where you were. As your instructor, it is also not my concern. You took leave without approval, which flouts the rules of model conduct. Unless you are willing to disclose your reasons for the same, I cannot form an adequate judgment upon the motivations of your truancy.”

“It was a puppy, alright,” she mumbled.

“I do not understand,” Spock said, genuinely confused. “Please explain further.”

“A puppy... there was a puppy stuck in an abandoned house,” she said more clearly this time. “I was driving back to campus and I saw it stuck in the window. I couldn’t just leave it there. So I had to go and get it out. Took me too much time cause the windowpane was too small for him.”

Whatever Spock had been expecting her to say, it wasn’t this. He didn't know how to respond to that. In the end, he settled for a basic follow-up question.

“Where is the creature now?” he asked.

“In my car,” she answered. “But I can’t take it to my apartment. Pets are not allowed in the student housing. And no dog shelter will take him cause they’re all full. In fact, the only other thing that they can do is to put it down.  I checked while driving back. And that’s just awful. I can’t let that happen.”

“In that case, what do you intend to do with it?”

“I don’t know. I’m going to ask a few friends. But I’m not sure they’ll have him. Maybe I could move out of my apartment, get a place in the city where pets are allowed. But it’s pretty expensive and I can’t leave him in my car for all that time…”

Spock realized that now the cadet was talking more to herself than to him. And somehow, illogically, he found her concern for the poor animal endearing. Plus her worry was legitimate. Also, he knew she couldn’t keep the dog in her apartment.

But he could. He had always had a soft corner for animals. Of course, he had not revealed that to anyone. In fact, he denied it to himself as well. Vulcans did not have soft corners. Humans did. And he wasn't human. He was kind to animals only because it was logical.

And that is why, for the sake of logic, he offered to take the puppy in.

"Yeah, Right," his mother's voice spoke sarcastically in his head.

“You’ll adopt him?” Uhura asked incredulously. “Wow, sure, professor. Thank you so much.”

“Have you named him yet?” Spock asked her, unfazed by her surprise.

For a moment she just looked at him, relieved enormously.

And then she remembered he had asked her a question.

“Um, I was thinking of calling him Window,” she said sheepishly. “You know, like how much is that doggie in the window?”

But Spock only stared at her blankly.

It dawned upon her that he had no idea what she was talking about. Unable to control herself, she giggled.

“It’s a song,” she explained. “From mid-20th century. It goes like this:-

How much is that doggie in the window?
The one with the waggly tail
How much is that doggie in the window?
I do hope that doggie's for sale… ”

“I… I… I was not aware of that,” Spock said after almost a minute, suddenly experiencing a strong sense of deja vu. Cadet Uhura had a beautiful voice. And it too reminded him of T’Amun. He was troubled.

He needed to meditate and deal with these thoughts.

“She is not T’Amun. T’Amun has passed on…” he told himself sternly.

Oblivious to his inner turmoil, Uhura smiled at him.

“Well, it is a fun song, a classic vintage children’s song,” she said. “Anyway, coming back to the puppy I found, I can’t thank you enough for taking him in. And if you need any help caring for it, I’m willing to help. You know, like walking it, taking it to the vet for its shots, all that stuff.”

“Thank you,” Spock said. “I would appreciate your help. I do not have any other classes scheduled for today. Please let me know what would be a convenient time for you to release the dog into my care.”

“Actually, right now is a pretty good time,” she said. "I don’t have class for another two hours. And my car is parked just downstairs.”

A few minutes later, they reached the parking lot. Uhura’s car was a Mitsubishi Canzonetta painted silver, gold, and a vibrant cerulean blue. She saw him staring at it and knew instantly that he was more than a little curious about the unconventional color scheme.

“My sorority’s colors. Tri Delta. I was at Boston U for my undergrad.”

And then she opened the back door.

Out jumped the fluffiest, friskiest puppy one could imagine. Light brown with a short, curly coat, the little dog took to Spock immediately. He jumped up and gave a happy, little bark. And without realizing it, Spock knelt down to the animal’s level and petted it. It was so unlike his usual self. It was so unlike a Vulcan. But there was something impossibly pure and affectionate about the dog. Spock couldn't resist it.

He also knew why. The fur pattern and the big, wet eyes of the dog reminded him of a friend he had had for a very brief period of time as a child. Well, he just knew this dog was coming home with him. He was completely certain now. But before anything else, he needed to scan him. He reached for his tricorder and gently waved it in front of him.

A few seconds later, he read the results off the screen.

“Type: Toy Poodle and Bichon Frise hybrid, Sex: Male, Age: Four months and two days, No diseases, infections, or genetic abnormalities.”

He stood up and took the leash of the dog in his hands.

“Thank you, Cadet,” he said to Uhura. "I believe I can take it from here."

“You’re just going to take it home?" she asked, seemingly a little upset. But Spock couldn't guess why.

“Indeed," he answered and turned around to leave.

“But you don’t know what to do with him,” Uhura blurted out and then quickly placed both her hands on her mouth. "Uh Oh!"

Spock’s eyes widened. A part of him was appalled by the obvious disrespect implied by the cadet’s statement. But another part of him found it amusing. Well, he had a fairly good idea about caring for animals. He had looked after therapy sehlats and numerous other animals at Healer Sobik’s hospice during his adolescent years. But she didn't need to know about that. Already, the equation between himself and her had changed. He was not going to allow it to alter any further. She was his student. And he was her instructor. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“That will be all, Ms. Uhura,” he said sternly, ending the conversation right there. Without saying another word, he continued walking towards the officers’ housing area. And much to Nyota’s disappointment, the dog followed Spock happily without glancing at her again.

“I now see why men are called dogs,” she mumbled dejectedly and got into her car. There was still an hour and a half to go before her next class. She needed some retail therapy to get over Window’s betrayal.

Chapter Text

Hi Everyone,

I know you're probably either mad at me or thinking that I've forgotten about this story. That is not true. I have been sidetracked a little and I am suffering from a big writer's block. I started writing for an Indian fandom called Baahubali last month in the hopes that it would jump start my writing again. And it has worked. The next chapter has been ready for a few weeks now but I just haven't had the time to proofread, edit, and make sure it is consistent with everything. However, I am going to grab the bull by the horns and I will update this story on the 22nd of September no matter what. And after that, this story will be updated every 7-10 days. That is a promise. If you're stilling reading, please comment underneath and let me know.

Thank you. Love you all :)

Chapter Text

Okay, you can officially kill me now!
But I need to make this announcement.

I realized that the reason my Star Trek writing has been on hold, has been partially because I bit off far more than I could chew. I know many of you are reading my story Invisible and that you are emotionally invested in it. Since it has been updated more regularly over the last few months, I think it would be wiser if I completed that story before diving back into this one. I want to give it my all and right now, juggling multiple projects is not allowing that to happen. I hope to complete Invisible latest by the end of this year. And then, I will come back to this. I promise.

Please put this story on your alert list if you are still following it. Thank you :)