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It was, Spock reflected, as different from his previous V’Shal dinner as night from day.
That the dinner was happening at all was somewhat unexpected. It had come about at Spock’s mother’s request. Though Spock’s relationship with Sarek was on better terms than it had been in years, they still had their moments of disharmony, and Spock’s engagement to a Human male had not improved things. Amanda had thought that a gesture towards Spock’s Vulcan heritage would be well received by her husband, and so, a V’Shal dinner had been planned aboard the Enterprise.
The only problem was that while both of Spock’s parents still lived, James Kirk’s parents had both passed away some years beforehand.
“I need to invite the man and woman I’m closest to?” he’d asked Spock.
“Quite so. Blood relatives are preferred, but not essential.”
“You do know what that means, right, Spock?”
“I do,” Spock had said, and allowed himself a smile.
The Enterprise had been passing Vulcan anyway, so it was easy enough to rendezvous with Spock’s parents and bring them aboard.
Jim greeted Sarek and Amanda with all suitable formality. In fact, Spock reflected, it was rather more suitable than his own greeting to T’Pring’s parents had been when he had briefly been a Human all those years previously.
Spock turned to Jim’s chosen family, who were both grinning ear to ear.
“You gonna welcome me aboard, Spock?” Leonard McCoy said.
Uhura elbowed him. “Take it seriously!” she said.
“Welcome,” Spock intoned. He noticed that McCoy was wearing his hated dress uniform. Jim must have insisted on it.
He was starting to see the appeal of the V’Shal dinner.
One difficulty he and Jim had experienced was the heterosexist nature of the ritual. It was the role of the future son in law to serve tea to his future parents in law. With two sons to choose from, it wasn’t clear who should do what.
“Listen, Spock,” Jim had said, “this is about impressing your father. And your family tea is complicated. I don’t think I’m going to be able to get it right, not without burning myself or… I don’t know, messing it up in some other way. How about you can be the gentleman, and I’ll be the lady on this occasion?”
“That would spare you from having to mind-meld with Dr McCoy,” Spock had replied. “Which you might have found difficult.”
Spock’s polite enquiry to McCoy on his preferred variety of tea had been met with a sharp “with whiskey in it!” Luckily, Uhura had been more obliging.
So Spock was now tasked with preparing a perfect pot of Kenyan purple tea, which Uhura’s cousins still grew in the foothills of Mount Kenya. Earth tea varieties being much hardier than Vulcan ones, Spock felt on safe ground.
“It’s perfect,” Uhura assured him.
“And delicious!” Amanda exclaimed, taking a sip. “Lieutenant, do you know if this is ever exported to Vulcan?”
“I can find out,” Uhura replied.
“It is healthy, too, mother,” Spock said. “It is known for its high concentration of anthocyanins.”
“It is a little more bitter than Vulcan tea,” Sarek observed, “but not unpleasant.”
Spock and Jim exchanged fond glances. It was a compliment, by Sarek’s standards.
“Now we move on to the Ritual of Awakening,” Jim said once they had all finished their tea. “In this ritual –”
“I’ve been looking forward to this bit,” McCoy interrupted, grinning.
Jim gave him a look. “In this ritual,” he continued, “the representatives from each family take it in turns to, well, tell us what we need to improve about ourselves. It’s timed, so you can’t go on for too long, Bones – no matter how much you might want to. And Sarek and Amanda will go first, anyway.”
It was odd for Spock to sit by Jim’s side on the modest sofa in Jim’s quarters, straight-backed and attentive. They had spent so much time together on that sofa, looking over reports, reading books, having a drink together and catching up on how the day had been. It was not a location that Spock naturally associated with Vulcan engagement rituals. Yet here they were.
“Captain Kirk,” Sarek began, “you are often reckless. As a Human, you will already have a shorter lifespan than Spock; it is highly likely that he will outlive you. Do not take so many chances with your life, and leave my son a widower.”
Though it didn’t come naturally to him, Spock reached out and gave Jim’s hand a discreet squeeze. Humans, he had learned from long experience, valued such gestures.
“My dear,” Amanda began. She had always been fond of Jim. “Do take care, as my husband says. And you – you could use a haircut.”
Jim’s eyes crinkled into a smile. “Ma’am, I’ll get right on it.”
“You have remained at your current rank for some time,” Sarek continued. “Consider whether your ambition has been lacking. Is it not time that someone of your experience was promoted to admiral? Is there some defect in your character or qualifications that prevents you from taking the logical next step in your Starfleet career?”
“I’ll consider that, thank you,” Jim replied, sounding more amused than offended.
“Furthermore –” Sarek said, and then saw that the sand timer had run out. He inclined his head. “Very well. I cede to Dr McCoy and Lieutenant Uhura.”
McCoy looked like the cat that got the cream. “Mr Spock,” he began.
“Bones –” Jim warned.
“The ritual must proceed uninterrupted,” Sarek said.
“There have been times when you’ve been too cautious of your feelings, Spock,” Uhura said, surprising them all. “Do remember that your future husband is human. We need to be told when people care about us, good and often. Don’t forget to tell him that you love him.”
“That is sage advice,” Spock said. Amanda was nodding too.
“And don’t you be working too late,” McCoy said. “Trouble is, when you work with the person you’re married to, it’s hard to separate out work from personal life. You gotta carve out a bit of you time. Take a holiday. That goes for both of you.”
“Thanks, Bones,” Jim said.
“And when you’re married, remember that the needs of the many don’t always outweigh the needs of the few, or whatever it is that you say,” McCoy continued. “Sometimes the needs of the husband is what’s got to come first –”
“Time’s up,” Jim said, with evident relief. Sarek was frowning at McCoy, but said nothing.
“Only the mind-meld remains,” Spock said. “Mother, father, with which of you would you prefer that I meld?”
“You may mind-meld with me, Spock,” Sarek said, to Spock’s considerable surprise.
He stretched his hand across the skin of his father’s face. Sarek closed his eyes, and chanted along with him: “My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts.”
Spock had melded with so many Humans, he was used to the feeling of a Human mind: a resistance, like two magnets repelling one another. But his father was a Vulcan of remarkable mental discipline. He slid into the meld like a knife over butter – and in an instant, he was viewing a scene from his childhood through his father’s eyes.
He was a small child – old enough to walk, but barely. It was a skill he had recently mastered, and was proud of. That was evident. He was young enough that no one was expecting him to conceal his emotions, even had he been wholly Vulcan. He had made his way over to the star chart that covered one wall of their home. It was stylised and not to scale, designed for beauty, not practicality. Still, Spock as a child waved his arm and asked, “where Vulcan?”
Sarek, in the memory, walked over and pointed it out, lifting Spock up to see the orange glow.
“Earth?” Spock asked next.
“Earth is a long way from Vulcan,” Sarek said. “Can you walk all the way over there?”
Spock nodded bravely. Sarek set him down on the floor, but he set off at too fast a speed, and fell over on the floor. He held back tears.
“Earth is a long way away,” Sarek said, “but it is your heritage just as much as Vulcan is, and it is worth braving this difficulty to get there.”
He scooped Spock up again, and pointed him at the blue planet with its white moon.
“Earth,” Spock said.
“Very good,” his father replied.
And just like that, Sarek severed the connection. Spock inclined his head to his father, who returned the gesture, his expression inscrutable even by Vulcan terms.
But Spock knew what the message of the memory was. It was a message of acceptance that Sarek could perhaps not bring himself to say aloud. Acceptance of who Spock was, and whom he was marrying.
“Well, Mr Sarek, Ms Grayson,” McCoy said. “Do you accept the match?”
“With great pleasure,” Amanda said.
Sarek merely nodded, but he was allowing himself a hint of a smile.
“We accept it too,” Uhura said.
“Hell yeah we do,” McCoy said. “So that’s done. You got any more of that tea?”
Spock busied himself with the pot, while his mother drew Jim in for a hug. “Just the wedding still to go.”
“So long as that goes better than Spock’s last wedding ceremony, I’ll be happy,” Jim replied.
“It feels like you’ve been part of the family for years, but we are looking forward to welcoming you formally,” Amanda said.
Sarek nodded. “As a son-in-law,” he said, “you are acceptable to us.”
Jim met Spock’s eyes again and beamed at him. And Spock, feeling an unexpected surge of emotion, had to put the teapot down for a moment to recover.