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Solkar supposed it was his own fault.
After all, he was the one who had neglected to impart the truth. He was the one who had not warned humanity about how the gesture humans referred to as a handshake would be perceived among Vulcans who were unfamiliar with human cultural norms. He was the one who had elided over that awkward conversation altogether in favor of establishing a positive first impression.
To be completely fair to himself, it was a conversation that no respectable Vulcan ever wanted to have. The unique sensitivity of Vulcan hands, when made known to other species in the past, had resulted in a plethora of invasive questions regarding Vulcan sexual practices. And no shortage of extremely crude, culturally insensitive xeno-pornography.
Also, to his credit, Solkar’s decision to shake Zefram Cochrane’s hand had precipitated tremendous results. First Contact had proceeded without incident. And it appeared, after having spent several weeks on the peculiar little blue planet, interacting pleasantly with its natives, that Human-Vulcan relations were off to an extremely favorable start.
However, if Solkar had somehow been able to explain to Zefram Cochrane beforehand what shaking hands would look like from his people’s perspective, without negatively impacting the relationship between their peoples, he would have done it. Because that way, he could have avoided the predicament he was in now.
He had been unsuccessful in his attempts over the past few days to sever the accidental bond he had forged between himself and Zefram Cochrane. The bond was astonishingly resilient, despite being—as far as Solkar could tell—unreciprocated. So resilient, in fact, that it would need to be delicately removed by a talented specialist on Vulcan—an appointment Solkar was reluctant to schedule, given that it would be an admission of failure.
And now, as Solkar sat in the captain’s chair on the T’Plana-Hath, trying to ignore the hazy impressions of Zefram Cochrane’s moods being transmitted across the bond, one of his officers was delivering disturbing news.
“You mean to tell me that you obtained a video recording of Vulcan-Human first contact from one of the humans who was present in the crowd, and sent it to Vulcan High Command three days ago without my express permission?” Solkar asked.
He rose up from his seat to attain his full height, and stared with cold disapproval down at his first officer, T’Shonra. She had served alongside him on his survey ship for fifteen years, and as such he trusted that her intentions in sending the video had not been malicious. But that was hardly any excuse to ignore the standard protocols.
“You appeared to be diligently engaged in your duties, and I assumed they would want to be appraised of your progress, sir,” T’Shonra answered, as if her reasoning had been perfectly logical.
Solkar resisted the urge to sigh. Of course she thought her logic was impeccable. Every Vulcan was inclined to believe that regarding their own actions. But that did not make it so.
“Did you even consider how the action I performed in order to further diplomacy might be misconstrued by Vulcan High Command without appropriate context?” Solkar asked.
T’Shonra raised an eyebrow, momentarily puzzled. Then, realizing what Solkar was referring to, she made a rapid recovery. “I informed them of the human cultural significance of the gesture you performed in a short document I attached to the video.”
Solkar felt a brief rush of relief course through his body after hearing this. That was certainly preferrable to having sent the video on its own, with absolutely no explanation for why one of Vulcan’s most esteemed exploratory scientists and diplomats had engaged in such an intimate act with an off-worlder he was meeting for the first time.
However, Solkar still maintained that T’Shonra should not have sent the video at all. It had probably circulated to every member of Vulcan High Command by now. And Solkar could easily imagine their reactions.
Solkar closed his eyes and suppressed the urge to cringe. By the time he returned home, the video would probably have been shared across half the planet. And despite all his efforts to act with relative propriety since that night, his reputation would be utterly ruined.
“You do realize there are some individuals on Vulcan who will still misinterpret what happened, correct? Assume that I partook in the handshake for prurient reasons. Assume that I… took pleasure in it.”
Solkar attempted to convey, to the best of his ability, that this was a negative outcome. That it would be absolutely terrible if the Vulcans back home assumed he was some kind of… sexually uninhibited pervert.
But to his increasing distress, the woman in front of him did not appear to comprehend why this was an issue. In fact, she tilted her head, evidently perplexed.
“Did you… not derive pleasure from it?” T’Shonra asked hesitantly.
Blood rushed immediately to Solkar’s cheeks, staining them a deep viridian. That was not the point!
“I fail to see how that is relevant,” Solkar said stiffly while straining to return his face to a normal color.
Of course, he had enjoyed it. How could he not when there were more than eight-thousand nerve endings concentrated in each fingertip of a Vulcan hand alone, and he’d used all five at once?
Vulcan hands were extremely sensitive—both to facilitate proper mind-melding techniques, and to make certain types of physical contact highly pleasurable. Traditionally, Vulcan mates only lightly pressed the tips of two fingers together to express affection in public, in a gesture known as the ozh’esta. But what Solkar had done that night, in full view of a large crowd, was the sort of behavior Vulcans usually only conducted in the bedroom.
So yes, he had enjoyed it. Thoroughly. Pondering it even now made his spine tingle and his fingers ache for more. Zefram Cochrane had such lovely callouses. And a firm, commanding grip that made Solkar want to fall onto his back and beg to be claimed.
Not to mention the ecstasy that had been the brief collision of their minds…
But again, that was beside the point. Whether Solkar had thoroughly enjoyed shaking hands with Zefram Cochrane or not was completely irrelevant. So too, was the fact that, despite the knowledge that it would solidify their telepathic bond, he was currently pondering how best to suggest they repeat the experience behind closed doors….
“I fail to see how it is not relevant,” T’Shonra countered, interrupting his inappropriate thoughts.
Solkar closed his eyes for a moment to mask his frustration. Then opened them a second later.
“I recognize that the action I performed that night did appear obscene. However, I can assure you, and Vulcan High Command, and anyone else who is concerned, that I was only interested in assuring a peaceful and successful First Contact.”
Solkar hoped this would be a sufficient reply. He suspected T’Shonra might have further questions—after all, he commanded an exploratory science vessel, and he only recruited the most inquisitive minds to serve aboard it. But he did not anticipate her next statement at all.
“Your explanation is appreciated, but unnecessary. No one has raised concerns that you acted inappropriately. I only wish to ask one thing.”
Solkar was curious as to what this one thing could be. But at the same time, he was hesitant to allow her to ask her question, given all the uncomfortable inquiries he had already been subjected to. It was highly irregular to be discussing such things so openly.
In the end, his curiosity prevailed. “What is it that you wish to know?”
“When and where do you plan to conduct your wedding?”
Solkar’s eyes widened precipitously. “Our… our wedding?”
He was usually not so inarticulate. But he was at a genuine loss for words. Where exactly had T’Shonra gotten the idea that he and Zefram Cochrane were going to get married?
It was immaterial that by Vulcan law, they already were betrothed—nothing about Solkar’s public conduct should have suggested this outcome. At least nothing that Solkar could think of. Perhaps, in all the excitement that inevitably accompanied meeting a new species for the first time, and becoming accidentally bonded, that Solkar had simply not noticed any other lapses.
It was an uncomfortable thought. But it was, theoretically possible.
“Vulcan High Command should be notified of the time, date and location of your upcoming kal’i’farr,” T’Shonra explained matter-of-factly. “While Vulcan weddings are traditionally private affairs, given the implications for interstellar relations, in this case I suspect they will want to send a representative to witness the ceremony. They will also likely want to know if you intend to conduct a human marriage ceremony on Earth as well.”
Solkar blinked at this revelation. T’Shonra was already thinking ahead. Meanwhile, his head was still spinning, struggling to keep up. A wedding?
“…Vulcan High Command does not… disapprove of our union?” Solkar asked, struggling to comprehend it.
Vulcan High Command was not precisely known for their open-mindedness. And it had been primarily out of concern for their disapproval that Solkar had been laboring so diligently to eradicate his telepathic mating bond with Zefram Cochrane. Had it not been for them, Solkar might have seriously entertained the notion of keeping it.
Currently, Solkar had no other prospective mates. And a multitude of factors—not limited to, but including Zefram Cochrane’s proficiency at ozh’esta, the telepathic compatibility Solkar had sensed between them when they had touched, the current strength of their bond, and their shared affinity for space exploration—suggested Zefram Cochrane would make an eminently suitable mate.
“I do not know. I have not informed them yet,” T’Shonra confessed. “However, I am prepared to personally testify to the logic of this union if it does not meet with their approval.”
Solkar froze, suddenly unable to speak. He was impressed with her loyalty and willingness to contradict the Vulcan High Command on his behalf. But he was still baffled by this turn of events. Space exploration had prepared him to witness truly bizarre phenomena. But nothing could have prepared him for this.
“Are you unwell?” T’Shonra asked suddenly. “You do not appear to be functioning optimally.”
“I am in good health. This is simply… rather unexpected,” Solkar explained.
“Perhaps I should leave you to consider your marital arrangements,” T’Shonra suggested.
“I believe that would be prudent,” Solkar agreed.
T’Shonra gave a quick nod, and departed from the vessel, leaving Solkar alone on the bridge of his small ship again. As soon as the off-boarding door shut behind her, he sank down into his command chair. Then he pressed his fingers together in a meditative position, and began processing this new information.
While it was true that Solkar possessed no current plans to publicly wed Zefram Cochrane—and had in fact, been trying to privately divorce him without the man ever learning they had been joined—the idea of keeping their bond and actively strengthening it was enticing.
And if Vulcan High Command thought Solkar was depraved for it, then so be it.
After seeing that video of him shaking hands with Zefram Cochrane, they likely already believed that anyway, in spite of T’Shonra’s written addendum. And if his name was going to be slandered anyway, shouldn’t he reap the benefits as well?
When Solkar had believed he might be able to salvage his reputation, there had been a certain logic in attempting to distance himself from the human—no matter how enticing the idea of consummating their bond was to his primal instincts. But if all of Vulcan was going to label him a pervert with an alien-fetish, shouldn’t he get to have hot alien sex too?
Solkar surmised it was only fair. And fairness was logical.
So, with that in mind, Solkar rose from his command chair, exited his ship, and wandered around the local encampment in search of Zefram Cochrane. While Solkar had kept them deliberately short to avoid further attachment, their conversations over the past week had been intriguing and worthwhile.
But tonight, Solkar was not going to waste time with idle chatter.
Tonight, if all went well, they were going to mate.