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On the whole Vulcans are a psychic race, this is well known. Not as strong as the mind reading Betazoids or image sending Cairn but still with their own strengths and extra sensory perceptions. Unlike Betazoids, Vulcan psychic abilities did not appear to diminish when mixed with other species. This meant despite being half human, both Connor and Richard were more aware than their psy-null colleagues.
Still this did not explain why in the middle of their mandated lunch Connor felt peculiar notion that something was amiss.
He put down the report and fork he had been holding before glancing around the mess hall. Nothing appeared out of place. Several crew members ate throughout the large room including Captain Anderson one table over who was glaring at the large salad in front of him. Richard must have caught the movement as he put down his schematics and placed hands gently on the table. When Connor was facing his brother again Richard raised one eyebrow in question. He briefly considered sharing what he felt but remained silent. With his brother's full attention the impulse seemed foolish. Still he was surprised when instead of ignoring him or questioning Richard's eyes narrowed suddenly and he began to scan the mess hall as well.
“You?" Connor asked curtly. They hadn't had to communicate in full sentences since their youth, much to the annoyance of those around them.
“Yes," Richard responded slowly. There was a slight twitch down at the corners of his mouth. “Why?"
“Oh, so you guys felt that too?" The brothers head's snapped over to the Captain's table. “Thank fuck you aren't oblivious."
“That language is not condoned by the federation-“ “We are not oblivious unlike-“ Richard and Connor said over each other. They both stopped abruptly at their personal points of contention and instead decided to stare at the Captain as a unified force.
“Explain," Richard said flatly.
Captain Anderson let out an unbecoming snort for a man of his rank. “Well not with that attitude," he said with smile.
“Please." Connor said equally flat.
Richard briefly glared at Connor hoping to convey his mild disappointment and willingness to placate the old human. Connor for his part remained unmoved.
The Captain however let out a loud snort of laughter. Why, neither brother was certain. “Feel like something is wrong but don't know why? Right?”
This time Connor looked at Richard when he glanced over. They both nodded slowly.
“You're having a cat/kid reaction," Captain Anderson's smile grew, “a gift usually bestowed on parents and pet owners. The uncanny ability to suddenly know when it goes from quiet to too quiet."
“I don't understand why we would be experiencing this. Neither of us is in the possession of an animal or charge," Connor replied.
“Yeah," the Captain's smile remained, “but you two have Ona."
As if on cue the lights in the mess switched to red and a shrill alarm sounded throughout the ship. The computer called out red alert and food was immediately abandoned as crew members ran for the exits.
“Huh, guess she's back early with the way team," Captain Anderson shouted but sounded otherwise undisturbed. “Guess that means I'll have to eat something more portable." And with that he abandoned his salad and grabbed a hamburger abandoned by a crew member rushing to their station. There had already been a bite taken out of it. “See you boys later!"
Connor and Richard glanced each other as they both stood. A cat would have been less stressful.