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Solkar studied the extended hand in front of him, and the approaching person it was attached to, with mild puzzlement. He had not known what to anticipate when the human responsible for inventing humanity’s first warp-drive had been unable to execute the traditional Vulcan greeting. But he had not expected him to… immediately proposition him in such a brazen manner.
Solkar was not sure what he had done to warrant being kissed on sight. Not to mention why the human crossing the clearing to meet him was offering his full hand. Not even the publicly appropriate two-fingers. But the sight almost short-circuited Solkar’s brain.
Fortunately, there were still a few neurons firing—neurons which helpfully reminded Solkar, a second late, that this was not what it looked like. Information gathered from previous Vulcan surveys of the planet revealed that humans in this region of Earth clasped and shook hands as a form of casual greeting. So that was the most likely explanation for the human scientist’s behavior.
The fact that their casual method of greeting resembled an intimate gesture to Vulcans was entirely coincidental.
Solkar hesitated for a second as he looked down at the fingers in front of him, considering his options. Logic dictated that in order to facilitate friendly interactions between their species, that he should take the human’s hand. Logic also told him that, thanks to the high number of physically and telepathically sensitive nerve endings in his own digits, engaging in a handshake was sure to be a highly intimate and arousing experience.
Solkar’s face already felt hot just thinking about it. Which did not bode well for relations between their species.
Solkar tried to think fast of a solution to his predicament. But when the human stopped at arm’s-length, Solkar realized the time for deliberation was over. He had to act now. Either to offer a hasty explanation as to why he could not complete the gesture, which would risk offending the man, and damaging Vulcan-Human relations. Or to temporarily set aside his own notions of propriety, and embrace the human in front of a large gathering of human and Vulcan witnesses.
Unwilling to do anything that might have lasting negative consequences for billions of people, Solkar quickly suppressed his physical reactions as best as he could, and decided to go for it.
Gradually, he lowered his own hand to meet the other man’s. Solkar’s spine tingled with anticipation during the descent. And when their palms touched, the human’s fingers closed around Solkar’s, and squeezed firmly.
The second they touched, a frission of pleasure went straight from Solkar’s fingertips, up his arm into his shoulder, and directly into his brain. It was so overwhelming, that only sixty years of diligent practice in suppressing his emotions allowed him to endure the sensation without any outward reaction. And even then, Solkar was uncertain how long that tenuous control would last.
Along with the physical sensations, there were telepathic ones, too. Through their connected hands, Solkar could sense the friendly, warm, bright impression of the man’s mind. And perhaps, if he had not been so concentrated on trying keep a straight face, he could have resisted the instinctive allure of exploring further. But with so many strains already placed on his physiological and mental controls, he could not avoid it.
Their minds embraced, a flurry of intelligence and emotion. It only lasted a second, before Solkar realized what was happening, and did his best to erect his mental shields. But that second was long enough to gather the man’s name—Zefram Cochrane—and to discover that they were highly telepathically compatible.
Solkar felt heat flooding his cheeks and hoped against all logic that he was not turning visibly green. The steady pressure of another man’s fingers squeezing his, combined with the knowledge that their minds were well-suited for each other, was extremely erotic.
He had never felt anything quite like it. And the instincts he had inherited from his primal, Vulcan ancestors, clamored for him to secure this Zefram Cochrane as his mate, so he could feel it again and again.
Solkar tried to keep in mind that the other crewmembers of his survey ship were standing right behind him, watching him. He figured that was adequate incentive to behave himself. He did not wish to become the subject of prurient Vulcan gossip, after all. But the longer Zefram exerted that delicious pressure against his sensitive fingers, the further and further away they seemed.
It would be very simple for Solkar to establish a telepathic mating bond with Zefram Cochrane. Their minds were so eminently compatible, and they were already touching, so all it would take would be for Solkar to loosen his telepathic controls a little.,,,
Solkar took a moment to remind himself that, as much as he wanted to bond them, it was unlikely that Zefram Cochrane would appreciate the first off-worlder he ever met becoming engaged to him on the spot. And planned to use this reminder to shore up his controls.
Unfortunately, a moment later, Zefram said, “Thanks,” and smiled radiantly. And the beautiful sight was enough to cause Solkar’s control to falter.
It was only for a fraction of a second that Solkar lost grip on his telepathic abilities. But that was long enough for his mind to burrow into Zefram’s and establish a telepathic link. By the time Solkar reasserted control, the deed was already done.
According to Vulcan custom, they were engaged. Or more accurately, betrothed.
It was something Solkar knew would be difficult to quantify in human terms. Being linked in this way would not be considered a true marriage without consummation. But it was close enough to be a legally binding arrangement in a way that human engagements were not.
Although they were now betrothed, to Solkar’s relief, Zefram did not appear to be aware of what had happened. And accepted Solkar’s silent nod in answer. But it was becoming increasingly difficult for Solkar to maintain his emotionless façade. Their hands had been clasped tightly for what felt like an eternity—even though Solkar’s internal chronometer informed him it was, at most, fifteen seconds.
Finally, Zefram Cochrane released Solkar’s hand. And while he did not show it, Solkar felt torn. On the one hand, he was relieved the temptation was gone and that he would not humiliate himself any further in front of so many spectators. On the other hand, he missed the rough grip of Zefram’s firm callouses.
Who would have thought humans were so proficient at administering Vulcan kisses?
Or maybe that was just Zefram?
Solkar could not be sure without further research. As Zefram ran off, to turn on a machine he dubbed a “jukebox”, Solkar surveyed the crowd of humans gathered in front of him. And he briefly wondered if it would be prudent to conduct more experiments. Humans, after all, offered their hands so freely….
It was an inappropriate thought. One that ought to be quelled by logic. But after the salacious idea crossed Solkar’s mind, it was not logic that confronted him first. To his surprise it was… disgust.
He was bonded now. And while the physical sensations of shaking hands with other humans might prove… physically stimulating… Solkar found himself distinctly perturbed by the notion.
The only person he wanted to rub fingers with was his mate. His… Zefram Cochrane.
Solkar’s lips tightened marginally. He knew it was irrational. And furthermore, he knew that, as wonderful as it felt now, he and Zefram Cochrane could not remain bonded.
Solkar would not maintain the bond against the other party’s will. And it was astronomically unlikely that Zefram Cochrane would appreciate being his husband, especially given the sudden manner in which it had come about.
Even in the unlikely event that Zefram Cochrane could accept Solkar as his mate, a human could not hope to understand the burdens that accompanied being bonded to a Vulcan male. There was only a sparse amount of data on human physiology available from previous surveys. But there was enough to be certain they had nothing comparable to the Vulcan affliction of pon farr.
There was another factor to consider—the negative reaction Vulcan would have to such a union. Solkar was certain the Vulcan High Command would dismiss him from his position immediately if they discovered he had not only accidentally bonded with an off-worlder, but chosen to cultivate and consummate that bond, rather than allow it to naturally fade.
So, logically, the only course of action Solkar could take after his lapse of control was to do his best to correct it. Even if his gut curled with distaste and his heart ached at the thought.
I know that our minds felt compatible and the bond felt strong, but it cannot actually last, Solkar tried to remind himself. We are not the same species. It is not possible for us to form a truly life-long bond. I will have to isolate myself, to ensure our bond does not deepen. In time, without additional reinforcement, it should naturally decay.
Solkar did not relish the idea. Allowing a telepathic mating bond to wither and die was never pleasant. But it was the only option. He only hoped the process would be sped along by the fact that Zefram was an entirely different species.
As Solkar gradually adjusted to the idea of letting go, his musings were cut abruptly short, when a sudden stream of sound assaulted his pointed ears. He turned his gaze to follow the noise to its point of origin—a strange, multi-colored machine, which was most likely the “jukebox” Zefram Cocrhane had described earlier.
The sounds were obviously intended to be… music of some sort. But Solkar hesitated to describe them as such. The volume was painfully excessive, the tempo was aggressive, and the higher pitches made his ears ring.
In short, human music was an exercise in aural torture. Although, as one point in its favor, the tunes from the jukebox were slightly more tolerable than Klingon Opera—which Solkar had had the misfortune of listening to on his last alien encounter.
In an effort to foster greater cooperation between their species, Solkar made a staunch effort to ignore the pain, and walked slowly over toward the bar, where a crowd of humans was gathering in order to drink and dance. Following Solkar’s lead, gradually, the other Vulcans from the T’Plana-Hath began to hesitantly move in behind him and mingle with the human crowd.
Even as the humans began loosening their already lax inhibitions even further, the Vulcan officers still maintained a certain distance and decorum about them. And Solkar had every intention of doing the same.
But then, Zefram Cochrane sought him out, and flashed him one of his strangely disarming smiles. And that was when Solkar knew he was doomed for certain.
“Hey, I never caught your name,” Zefram pointed out. “Care to have a drink with me and get to know each other a little better?”
All logic dictated that Solkar should decline. Diplomacy had been satisfied. And spending any more time in the human’s presence was certain to only deepen their fledging bond. Which would only make its later removal even more painful.
But there was something about the Zefram Cochrane’s crooked smile that defied all logic. And Solkar quickly found his mind spinning to come up with rationalizations.
Would it be so disastrous to keep the bond for a few more days? Solkar wondered. As long as it remains unconsummated, it can still be removed. Therefore, there is no reason Vulcan High Command has to be informed….
Knowing quite well that he was most likely treading a dangerous path he would not be able to walk back from, Solkar decided to accept the invitation.
“I would be honored to join you,” he offered, while delivering a minute bow. “I am Commander S’Chn T’Gai Solkar—although you may refer to me as simply Solkar.”
“Solkar,” Zefram repeated, trying it out. “I like it. Nice to meet you.”
Zefram stuck his hand out again, in what was clearly an automatic gesture. With less hesitation than the first time, Solkar took it, and let the nerve endings in his fingers sing.
“It is a pleasure to meet you as well,” Solkar said. “And I very much look forward to becoming more acquainted.”