Chapter Text
“She’s lovely, Mr. Spock.”
It was with those words that Uhura’s life would change, though she did not yet know the significance of the events that they heralded. The face on the viewscreen of the Enterprise was poised, displaying the neutral expression of a follower of Surak. The silver that highlighted her upswept brows and the iridescent pearls that were threaded through her hair added to the regal air that surrounded her, though Uhura was sure that without the decoration she would appear no less stately.
“Who is she?”
There was a pause before Spock spoke.
“She is T’pring,” he answered, “my wife.”
Ah. His wife. Nyota blinked in surprise. She knew the half-Vulcan science officer was a very private man, but she had known him for three years now. She would have thought they were good enough friends for him to at least mention having a wife. Though, to be fair, Spock rarely spoke of home. If the Captain’s reaction to his first officer’s words was any indication, he hadn’t known either, and Uhura knew how close they were. Her momentary worries about misconstruing the closeness of their relationship vanished as soon as Spock again spoke.
“Miss Uhura, I request that you join us in beaming down to the planet’s surface.”
She turned away from the viewscreen to look at him. “I’d be honored, Mr. Spock.”
~~~
The sparkle of the transporter beam faded away to reveal a rocky, reddish-brown planet with a sky the color of flame. Spock immediately began to stride along the narrow bridge formed by the cliffs they had beamed onto, towards a kind of circular arena. Kirk, McCoy and Uhura followed suit. The hot air of the Vulcan desert slowed their steps, along with the higher-than-ship’s-standard gravity. A sort of hazy atmosphere seemed to hang around them, imbuing everything with an alien mysticism.
“This is the land of my family. It has been held by us for more than…” Spock trailed off, counting an estimate, “two thousand Earth years. This is our place of koon-ut-kalifee.”
The Universal Translator did not convert the Vulcan words to Federation Standard. Uhura parsed the phrase in her head, doing her best to remember what she could of the language. She was distracted by the strange landscape and what seemed to be copper wind chimes hung around the ritual place. What was their cultural significance? What an honor, seeing such an intimate part of an alien culture! The part of herself that had spurred her to first study xenoanthropology and then xenolinguistics was jumping for joy right now.
“He called it koon-ut-what?” McCoy asked, his Southern accent seeping into the vowels of the alien word.
“I believe it translates to marriage or challenge,” Uhura replied. She glanced over at Spock. He had stepped down into the circular clearing and approached what appeared to be a gong made out of the same green copper as the wind chimes and cast in the same hexagonal shape.
“He described it to me as a kind of ancient ritual. In the distant past, Vulcan killed to win their mates,” Kirk explained.
“And they still go mad at this time,” mused McCoy, “perhaps the price they pay for having no emotions the rest of the time.”
Kirk’s glance shifted uncomfortably at this, and he seemed to decide now was an appropriate time to change the subject.
“Lovely breeze, I just wish it were cooler.”
“Mm, hot as Vulcan, now I understand what that phrase means,” McCoy agreed. “I wonder when his T’Pring arrives…”
McCoy’s sentence was interrupted by the sound of the gong. Spock had struck it with some sort of mallet. The crashed note reverberated off the cliffs and through the desert air.
“The marriage party approaches,” Spock stated, “I can hear them.”
“Marriage party?” Kirk asked incredulously, “I thought you said T’pring was your wife?”
“She is my wife by our parents’ arrangement. A marriage ceremony while we were but seven years of age… less than a marriage but more than a betrothal. One touches the other, in order to feel the other’s thoughts. In this way, our minds were locked together, so that, at the proper time, we would both be drawn to the koon-ut-kalifee.”
His three human companions nodded at the explanation, with varying degrees of interest and confusion discernible on their faces. Spock went again to strike the gong. The rattle of bells was audible by now, accompanied by the marching footsteps of a ceremonial procession. Two tall Vulcans clad in armor stepped through an arch at the opposite side of the arena. They were followed by two more armor-wearers carrying an ancient-looking woman on a litter. Her flowing robes and severe expression reminded Uhura of an old Earth emperor from one of her childhood history books. Hold on—she seemed almost familiar—was that—? The communications officer’s train of thought was cut off by an exclamation from her Captain.
“Uhura, Bones, do you know who that is?” Kirk’s expression was positively awed. Uhura turned and met his eyes.
“T’Pau,” she said.
Kirk nodded. “The only person to ever turn down a seat on the Federation council.”
“T’Pau? Officiating at Spock’s wedding?” Bones’ voice was disbelieving.
“He never mentioned his family was this important,” Kirk said with a self-satisfied smile.
“He never mentioned his family much at all,” Uhura specified. She glanced over the procession. Her eyes caught those of T’Pring. She quickly glanced away.
T’Pau was by now seated on a small scaffold. She raised her left hand in the ta’al. Spock approached her, reciprocating the greeting. He knelt down, allowing her to place her hand near his ear. The humans watched this display fixedly. Having only really interacted with Vulcan culture within the context of the wider Federation, the telepathic ritual seemed very alien. After a few moments of complete silence, the matriarch withdrew her hand and Spock got back up to his feet.
Finally, T’Pau spoke.
“Spock, are our ceremonies for outworlders?”
Her words carried the accent of speakers of Vulcan, unfiltered through the Universal Translator. She was deliberately speaking in Standard. Uhura shifted uncomfortably on her feet at this acknowledgement of the unconventionality of their presence. Kirk and McCoy shared a glance. All three waited for Spock’s answer.
“They are not outworlders. They are my friends.”
T’Pau seemed unconvinced.
“I am permitted this.”
Spock seemed to be assuring himself of his words, as well as T’Pau. She beckoned for the humans to approach.
“This is Kirk.”
“Ma’am,” was the Captain’s polite self-introduction, which he accompanied with a small bow.
T’Pau gave him a once-over before turning to the other two.
“And ye are called… ?”
“Leonard McCoy and Nyota Uhura, ma’am,” the doctor answered for the both of them. They each gave a small bow, in the same fashion Kirk had done.
“Thee names these outworlders friends. How does thee pledge their behavior?”
Spock did not hesitate in his reply.
“With my life, T’Pau.”
Now even the Vulcans looked slightly shocked. Uhura guessed that this was not exactly following the standard proceedings of a traditional koon-ut-kalifee. T’Pau,
however, appeared to accept Spock’s answer.
“What thee are about to see comes down from the time of the beginning, without change. This is the Vulcan heart. This is the Vulcan soul. This is our way.”
T’Pau raised her hand towards the sky. The bell-rattlers started up a faster beat.
“Kah-if-farr!”
Uhura recognized the words of T’Pau’s declaration: “it is time”. This, whatever this was, had begun. The other Vulcans present had begun to move towards the edges of the arena, and the three humans did the same. Something in the air seemed to change. The rattling of the bells, the heat, the bells! Spock turned away from T’Pau and was about to strike the gong for a third time when suddenly, T’Pring ran up to the center of the arena. She held up her hand to keep him from doing so, and declared:
“Kalifee!”
Uhura translated the word in her mind. T’Pring had chosen the challenge.