Archive of Our Own

T’Pring kept her eyes downcast as the shuttle prepared for docking affecting interest in the writing padd in her lap, even though there was no work on it. She was a member of the party by her own request but she was well aware that she was the odd one out and that she was unwelcome, in part because of who she was.

Lady Amanda did not approve of her as a bondmate for Spock. No, that was perhaps incorrect. More precisely, she had not wanted her son tied to anyone at such a young age, apparently irrevocably, before he - before either of them when it came to that - had fully become aware of who they were as people. T’Pring’s presence was uncomfortable.

Nor was she a diplomat, although for the manifesto she was listed as Lady Amanda's aide. She studied laws. At a stretch, it was relevant, just. But this conference was beyond her level. The fact that Ambassador Sarek represented Vulcan made that clear. Coridan's admission to the Federation was a highly controversial subject and Vulcan was bringing out its best, and not above using other’s emotional reactions to win the result they wanted.

“We will be entering shuttlebay in one minute.” The piloting crews’ voice came over the speakers and she carefully placed the padd back into her  satchel to keep it safe. She moved the satchel away, making it clear that it was baggage. They had been told that once they had disembarked, the crew would take their belongings to their assigned quarters.

The outside of the windows changed to grey as they entered the shuttlebay, and after a slight rock backwards settled onto the floor.

“Repressurising shuttle bay.” That wasn’t the crew, the female voice must be the ship’s computer. “Shuttlebay repressurized.”

Ambassador Sarek rose to his feet, followed Lady Amanda and his aides. She rose last, positioning herself at the back of the queue to leave. As she stepped out there was nothing significant about the ship which caught her attention except the line of red-shirted crewmen who marked one side of the path they were to take. At the door she saw a figure in gold green welcoming the Ambassador forwards into the airlock.

Her sharp ears just about picked up Vulcan ritual words for the situation, spoken in Standard and by Spock. There was a long moment of silence, and when Sarek did respond he appeared to address the captain rather than his son. She saw Amanda sigh ever so slightly, the hoped-for reunion was not to be achieved so easily by this family. But as she took her place behind Sarek's aides, allowing herself to be automatically included and dismissed as just one of the group rather than requiring a separate introduction, she was pleased.

Spock had not transferred out. She would be able to meet with him and make her proposition. The rest… logically that would depend on which way he chose.

Three days later she found herself startled at her naivety and considering all sorts of school equations to compute that the remainder of the voyage could not possibly be as disaster prone as it's beginning. First, there had been the dispute with the Tellarite ambassador, pushing into Ambassador Sarek as was his wont, then said ambassador had been found murdered, neck broken in the style of Tal-shaya.

Sarek had collapsed with a heart condition, only being saved by the ship’s chief medical officer and his son. Lady Amanda had been ricocheting between icy calm, what appeared to be hysterical tears, and fury. Sometimes T’Pring was convinced she had seen the woman switch between all three in a matter of seconds. Now as she strode down the ship’s ubiquitously bland and grey corridors she was sincerely glad of her better emotional controls. T’Pring  controlled her emotions, not the other way around. As if on cue, she spotted the number plate by one of the doors on the wall, stepped closer to it and pressed the door chime.

The door slid back, revealing a utilitarian working space of the same grey colour as most of the ship, with cupboards, desk and attached console. Behind a latticed screen which covered three-quarters of the back of the room, however she could see the more familiar reds and oranges of home. Spock rose from his chair, setting down his Lyrette in a hurry.

“Greetings Spock.”

“T’Pring..." He gestured to the room at large. “Will you sit?”

She inclined her head slightly, and he crossed into the sleeping section to retrieve a stool, placing it opposite his desk chair before resuming his seat. She seated herself and deliberately took a formal position before speaking; straightened her back, folded her hands on her lap.

“Spock, I wish to seek your consent for the severing of our bond.”

He barely hesitated before nodding almost sharply. “It is logical… You have my agreement.” He turned away from her slightly so his face was in profile, facing his work screen and hiding most of any expression. “I am gratified that it could be agreed mutually, rather than by another method.”

Kal-i-fee . It pained her that she might have had to resort to exactly that expedient if the Enterprise hadn’t been assigned to stop at Vulcan. The ship was so far out it was almost impossible to get private transmissions to it.

Kal-i-fee was ancient, and a coward’s way out in her mind. To put males in that position, where there was no choice for them but to fight, was not fair. Just because Spock did not appeal to her as a mate, she did not wish him dead.

“You do not wish to know my reasons, Spock?”

He kept his face turned away from her, but his voice was far calmer rather than tightly controlled “I would not intrude in that manner. Your life, your thoughts are your own. I would not commit the insult of assuming it was because you have chosen another.”

Although if you have, please do not let it be Stonn.

A small noise of derision slipped from her as the thought flowed into her mind. “Surak defend me from that.”

He had already twisted back to look at her, eyebrow rising very much like his indomitable clan-mother, and she saw the realisation that their proximity and discussion had nudged the bond into an active form, she had heard what he intended for himself.

She reformed her cool Vulcan composure, as anyone would expect her to.

“Still, I will grant you my reasons, S'chn T'gai Spock. They are simple. It has come to my attention that while we are not, at a basic level, incompatible mentally…” She turned her gaze to the floor. It was logical to be honest, to the point of bluntness, but she couldn’t look at him when she spoke. “You are not of the right gender to attract me.” It was said. She looked back at Spock, letting respect flow into her voice as she continued, “And seeing what I have between you and Captain Kirk, I would not consider getting in the way.”

Spock blinked “There is nothing between me and the Captain but professional loyalty.”

He had said it with such a defensive formality that a devilish part of her was tempted to call him on it. But she ignored the little le-matya, letting Spock’s comment go past her without any change. Let him think she believed it.

She rose to her feet, offering a silent ta’al “I will leave you to your music...perhaps you will outclass your father this time.”

She had turned away and was almost at the door before he spoke again “T’Pring,” She turned to look back at him, choosing to accept the flicker of emotion in his eyes “It is illogical, but… I thank you for this action.”

This time she allowed her nod to become a slight bow. “It was logical.”

“I will inform my parents of our agreement....” His lip twitched slightly. “I would warn you to beware of a hug. My mother’s emotional behaviour controls have been known to lapse under certain conditions.”

By all the blessings of Surak, Lady Amanda did not hug her. But the Lady’s behaviour became instantly much more open and friendly in manner than she had been before. T’Pring found herself as a second in reality rather than paperwork to explain why she was at special diplomatic talks. And it was in this capacity that she found herself walking along at the Lady’s shoulder as an ensign led them through the corridors and turbo lifts to the Communications Section.

“Here we are, Ma'am.” The ensign pressed the key and the doors parted to reveal a room full of work units and several tables, upon which redshirted crew members of all description were working.

There was a wave of motion across the room as the crew looked towards the door, noticed their entrance and leapt to their feet in pell-mell groups, the noise of feet accompanied by a loud clatter, a containment box being knocked from one of the desks to judge by the quick muttered hiss and downward glances which came from the direction. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on Lady Amanda, and T’Pring felt she finally understood that strange expression regarding eyes starting out of people’s heads. Several of the people present appeared at risk from the affliction, even those who were by their rank braid and age the seniors of the section.

“Oh do sit down, sit down everyone and carry on with your work. Don’t mind us.” The tone of the words made her glance at Amanda to see the human woman looking rather surprised as she waved a hand to the assembled group.

The crew sat, but although they turned their eyes to the screens of their consoles or work books, they kept shooting glances in their direction, and T’Pring was certain that very little productive work would go on.

During the disturbance the Ensign had crossed the room and now returned, leading a woman of about Amanda’s height.

“Our Department Head, Lieutenant Uhura, Ma’am.”

Uhura raised her hand in a perfect Ta’al “ Dif tor heh smusma, Lady Amanda, Lady T’Pring.”

They returned it, and according to rank, T’Pring let Amanda speak.

“Live Long and Prosper, Uhura.” Amanda glanced around at the room. “I apologise for causing a disruption....”

The woman shook her head slightly “A little disruption is a small price to pay for having a legend like you here, Lady Amanda.”

“ Asante.”

T’Pring let the conversation briefly switch into Swahili, seeing the delight in the lady’s eyes.

Even when they returned to Standard she dropped back slightly as Lt. Uhura began to lead Amanda around the section, alternating between introductions, explanation of the work and discussions on linguistics. Linguistics wasn’t her area of work, although she was a polyglot, as were most Vulcans. Instead, she watched the crew. Nobody had quite abandoned their work, but they were all keeping their greater attention on Lady Amanda’s progression around the room. Even Lt. Uhura, although she was doing an excellent effort to remain professional, had a rather awestruck look in her brown eyes.

T’sai has underestimated her standing among these people.

“T’Pring,” Amanda called.

She stepped up to Amanda’s shoulder, where the other woman was bent at one of the tables, reading one of the crew members work.  

“T’sai?”

Amanda gestured at the table of scattered notepadds. “This might interest you.”

She also bent down at the table, reading the document over the woman’s shoulder. “So that principle was established… a century before it was believed to be?”

The ensign nodded. “Judging by the style of writing and the phrasing, it’s older than we had first realised. It puts an interesting light further back in their culture.”

“Laws are a key part of civilisation in all ways, and logically they also express what is important for that culture.”

“All the laws in societies to prevent the adulteration of food, the various moral snarls over marriages...It does become amusing when they forget to tidy the statute books.”

The Lieutenant  had turned back and was laughing lightly at them, her teeth glinting and eyes dancing.

T’Pring blinked and looked for Amanda to explain exactly what the connection was between laws and this. But the lieutenant took pity on her. “There have been occasions where very odd things have remained technically illegal or legal. Mince pies are our famous one, in England.”

She shook her head. “Illogical.”

“Oh illogical, but very human and fun.” Uhura’s eyes glinted even more, more with amusement and warmth than outright laughter at her.

Yes, so very human to leave such irrelevant things laying about in their law books and not bother to see that they all confined, leaving a complicated tangle of existence and cancelling out so that the legal state was undefined. She wanted to say most of what flew through her head but realised that it would only cause an argument - humans were both predictable and unusually stubborn in defending their point of view. Instead she straightened up and inclined her head gracefully. “My thanks, Ensign.”

The tour moved on, but she found herself occupying only part of her mind with it. Something about the teasing and the laugh would not leave her alone.

“Might I sit here?”

T'Pring turned her head to see the Lt, Uhura who had guided them through the linguistic standing by one of the three empty chairs at the table she sat at, her posture being even more obvious than her words that she hoped for a positive answer.

T'Pring inclined her head.

The woman sat down gracefully, setting the replicator tray she carried in front of herself. "Thank you."

"Given the occupation of most other tables this area for the consumption of food, it would have been illogical to refuse.” She took a quick sideways dart at the other's tray. No meat, replicated or dry store. Humans, she had already discovered, had a distinct preference for the disgusting stuff. Necessary for  their nutrition, apparently but still. Moreover they seemed oblivious that it was distasteful to others, the Captain and other senior officers being a notable exception. But given their familiarity with Spock, that was quite logical. Lt. Uhura appeared to be more perceptive, and more willing to alter her normal behaviour to suit those who surrounded her.

“I trust you enjoyed your visit to the linguistics department?”

“I do not recall expressing any form of displeasure when I was there.”

Something made her glance up in time to see a sharp shift in Uhura’s face, and too late she realised that the comment had been an effort at the strange thing which humans called small talk.

It felt significant to attempt to mend matters “It is not custom on Vulcan to talk while eating, it is conducive to neither conversation nor digestion.” She turned her attention back to her plate, carefully stabbing the next stalk on her plate.

When both their dishes were empty, fit only to go back into the replicator to be broken down to molecular components for reconstitution, she shifted her body , turning towards the other woman, hoping Uhura would understand it as an opening for the conversation which had been abruptly terminated earlier.

“Might we speak in Vulcan?”

“It would be most logical,” T’Pring replied,switching to her native language.

“I gather that every Vulcan has a specialisation, to some degree. Which is yours?"

“I study the laws of our planet, the clauses. Everyone knows the simplified forms, but there are smaller pieces underneath them. It is often those smaller pieces which have the significance when it comes down to a decision.” She would have used that talent to build herself a niche to live in according to their laws had this opportunity not come up and proved successful for her.

“You dismissed the Ensign’s comments on our laws….and you looked for a split second as if you wanted to argue further? Does Vulcan really have no odd traditions left over from another time?To be capable of completely purging and rebuilding society… It wouldn't be logical.” She paused for a split second and T’Pring waited, gauging from her expression that the Lieutenant was searching through her mind. “And there are still words and expressions which clearly come from before Surak, surely they aren’t just there even when they are obsolete.”

“I did not say that we have no traditions… Only that there are none which are so contradictory as the one the ensign pointed out,” At least none she could tell an outsider about. “Were you to visit a house on Vulcan, you would immediately be offered a drink, with the highest ranked given water. f you are not then you must have committed some great offense.”

She raised a eyebrow, signalling what she hoped was a challenge for the other woman to provide the answer behind the tradition.

After a moment, Uhura answered her. “Vulcan is a desert planet. With water scarce it is a key resource and therefore liquid is a signifier of welcome and peace. Water is saved for the highest ranks because even with all your technology it is still very precious and to be conserved.”

She nodded “Precisely.” This one was sharp.

“I know the reason that Lady Amanda was tucked at the back of the group and introduced last. Vulcan society is matriarchal - if she is at the back, she is in the safest position in that instance. And naming her last was a mark of significance.”

Very sharp - she had picked up from others who had been off planet that some less enlightened factions saw them as misogynistic, because women were kept behind their mates and named last. But it meant that the name was the last heard was the most significant.

“They are all very logical, still, Lady T’Pring.”

“It is our defining feature, as I’m sure you are aware.”

Uhura smiled, a small laugh hiding underneath it. “Oh yes, I’m aware… But outward perceptions aren’t the whole truth, are they?”

“For humans it may not be so, but for Vulcans guile and concealment would not be logical except in extreme circumstances."

“Hence your habit of being brutally honest and giving a literal answer to a question.”

“Perhaps it would save time if we were all direct.”

“Yes, but then there wouldn't be the beauty of allusions or guessing games.”

T’pring tilted her head, only partially faking confusion. “Why would you want to guess at something?”

Uhura gestured as she spoke, creating a beautiful picture in the air, “To build the suspense, to laugh at the wrong answers… Taboo becomes very interesting when you're allowed to use multiple languages.” The last was said almost as a private joke.

And Uhura smiled, a great beaming smile. T’Pring had never understood the use of the word in that context before.

The quarters she had been given were silent, and from the lack of noise to her left side she knew that Lady Amanda must be in sick bay with her recovering husband. She sat down at the desk and drew out one precious roll of creamy paper. Now was a time for her to draw, and this time for some strange reason, she was not content with the thought of using her padd and stylus as a material. No, for this one, whatever it happened to be, she was willing to use the paper and Charr sticks. They would make a dreadful mess of her fingers but whatever wished to be created seemed to suit that medium.

She didn't need to concentrate to draw, that was the beauty of it; if she gave her mind the chance the images in her mind seemed to flow directly from there to the paper. She could concentrate if she wanted, as Spock did with his music with his music but by the same analogy it was for feeling, to not think. She let the Charr sticks glide over the paper; lines here and shading there, as the picture formed itself.

In an instant there was both a ping and a knock on the door. T’Pring rose with haste and placed the drawing out of sight under papers nearby. She did not want anyone else to see this. Only when it was hidden did she turn to press the door release.

Amanda entered. “T’Pring, it is dinner time. We wondered where you were.”

T’Pring almost had to stop herself glancing at the clock. That was the one small deficiency she had - that when she was working on anything, time would slip away and her inner clock seemed irrelevant or irreverent to what else was going on, failing in its reminders.

She rose to her feet and nodded, “I will be there momentarily.” She thought for a moment Amanda was going to give her a smile but the lady simply returned the nod and glided back out again. T'Pring rescued the picture, relieved to see it had not smudged, and regarded it. A decent likeness, all told.

But then she looked again, no, she had not done Lt. Uhura justice, the sparkle in the eyes wasn't there, the smile was flat. She slipped it into a covering sheet, and tucked it in with other printed readouts, feeling unvulcanly cross at her failure in that capture, especially when there was something about the human which wouldn't leave her mind. Perhaps she would be at the dinner and T’Pring would have another chance to observe...

The communications officer was at the dinner, at the other end of the table and fully occupied in conversation with diplomatic aides, in two radically unrelated languages at once ... from what T'Pring could focus on without appearing to be too interested and attracting attention to herself. She did not want attention, in the slightest.

As the dinner broke up into groups of discussion though she found herself tucked at the edge of the room, not  suiting any groups you could identify to join. She wasn't a diplomat in anyone's reckoning, and while the talk wasn't diplomatic, by order of the captain, there were groups who had known each other for years. Ambassador Sarek, as well befitted his history was one of them. His aides were too. Spock; he who had been ever the outsider when they were children, the victim of shunning even though it went against every edict of Surak they were learning... even he was more confident and at ease in this maelstrom of people and differences. He had a role which defined him and gave him a bolster to stand against or retreat into. She didn't.

Uhura ran her eyes over the room, slightly glad to break away from the Athosians. Their language was difficult, and as she spoke it very fluently she was the liaison, as Kirk was for the Vulcans. But bless them, they were rather overpowering in their wish to talk to her. Against all the group's a single figure on their own stood out like a signal beacon. She wove her way across the room to T'Pring's side.

"I trust that the offer of company is logical?"

The Vulcan woman turned to her, face as expressionless as ever. "And amenable too."

She sought for a safe subject, avoiding diplomacy "Would you tell me more about Vulcan?"

"You have not visited?"

Only Shi’Kahr and that was during my time at the Academy. And it's different, seeing it as an outsider, to seeing it as your home. "

There was a brief pause, then T'Pring began to talk and she simply listened. “Then you have missed much. While Shi’Kahr is the capital, and holds the Academy, it is only a small part of Vulcan. One city in one part of the planet. It has aesthetically pleasing features, and they are a tribute to our greatest architects… The land is harsh yes, but not always.” There was a moment of silence and when T’Pring spoke again her tone was as close as Uhura had ever heard to wistful  "Daran is on the far side of the Forge from Shi’Kahr, beyond the Athana mountains. The light of the sun coming over them at dawn, the way it silhouettes and refracts around the rocks. It is…. It seemed logical to be up before the sun every morning just to be able to study it further.”

The more T’Pring talked the more Uhura had picked up slight pronunciation and grammatical changes to the Vulcan which she knew. “You grew up there, in Daran?

“Until I reached the age of seven then we moved to Shi’Kahr. My father thought it logical that I be closer to my eventual bondmate as is customary and sensible. The Ambassador and Lady Amanda made their home in ShiKar when they were on planet.”

"Do you miss it?"

T’Pring’s eyes swung to focus her, suddenly sharp “To miss inanimate things is overly emotional, and you forget … we have perfect memories.”

“Forgive me."

“Forgiven.” But it seemed as if a wall had formed, and T'Pring was once more a very formal, cool, outsider’s perception of what a Vulcan should be.

She took that as a dismissal, aware that the diplomats were gesturing frantically for her to rejoin them .“It was satisfactory to exercise my language skills. I offer you my gratitude.”

“Gratitude over such a thing is illogical.”

She dropped the mask she habitually assumed when speaking Vulcan. “Humans are illogical, T’Pring... I thought you would have figured that out by now.” She allowed herself to show a smile as she turned away, walking back towards the diplomats who were gesticulating frantically in their way for her to return to them.

T’Pring watched her go, forcibly reminding herself that wishing was illogical, even as she wished that she had not become frightened by her own reminiscences and clamped down on all her emotions.

She spent the night in restless meditation, which did nothing to soothe her thoughts, but everything in sorting them. By the time it would be considered by human standards a reasonable hour to call on people, she had the first step in her plan. She crossed the room and buzzed the connecting suite doors.

“Come in, T’Pring.”

She entered  to see Amanda sitting on the chair in the living quarters, book in hand as usual “Good Morning. Is there something I can assist with?”

“Yes. How does one court a human?”

To her surprise Amanda actually laughed aloud. Then she fell abruptly quiet and T'Pring realised that to those sharp eyes her sudden discomfort at the reaction had shown.

“Forgive me T'pring, I found it amusing because the only boyfriends I had before Sarek were my study books. I'm hardly the person to ask about human courtship."

“But as a human female, how would you logically deduce that someone wanted you for a life partner?”

Amanda tilted her head sideways at what appeared to be a most uncomfortable angle as she considered the question “Generally humans start with friendships then they build on from there. “Talk to the person, build a rapport, get to know them. After that, little gifts, spending time together…A lot depends on the people.” She shook her head “I regret that I’m being very little use to you.”

T’Pring stood still, allowing her mind to process the information “On the contrary, you have been most useful. What sort of things would a human consider acceptable gifts?"

“Flowers, traditional, although not exactly applicable in this situation, on the ship. Favourite foods or sweet things, little trinkety gifts to be worn. A lot depends on the person and the culture too, we’re still very separated compared to Vulcans, in spite of Standard language. For example I would have different tastes in some ways to say … Lt. Uhura, and she would have different ones to another lady” Amanda set her feet, suddenly becoming a much sturdier figure than she had throughout the meandering discussion “Start with conversation and go from there. Humans aren’t exactly quiet regarding their likes and dislikes, you’ll pick it up.”

Start with conversation. Easily said, logically advised… But illogically impossible to do. She was a Vulcan, one who revered emotional control, and by coming along on this mission, even though she wasn't a diplomat, the other diplomats would see her as a representative of her people.  Yet those handful of times she was with Lt Uhura, her control wobbled and threatened to break, and yet she resented re-imposing it. It was out of the question.

Flowers, gifts. Flowers were possible, in spite of what Amanda had said. Four days wandering the ship had led to her finding all sorts of permitted places, including the arboretum. Her mind settled from its whirl, a logical pattern of action establishing itself.

“Come.”

Uhura stepped through the sliding door into the Vulcan officers’ quarters. “Mr Spock, I’m sorry to intrude.”

He inclined his head in negation, looking towards her where he sat at his desk, drawing his attention, at least in appearance if not in actuality, away from his work  “You are welcome here, Lieutenant.”

Uhura, unusually for her, came straight to the point. “How might one court a Vulcan?”

Spock rose to his feet, walking towards her with his hands tucked behind his back as he spoke “Courting is not customary among our people, Lieutenant, although that is not commonly known. I would suggest that you prove your suitability to your object of desire by to the best of your ability, adapting to our customs. I am well aware that it was said that is something my mother is commended on.”

"Thank you, Mr Spock.” He watched her go, wondering which of the three had drawn her attention. Weren’t Sepek and Sroll bonded already?

A yeoman crossed the recreation room to Uhura and Chapel’s table, arms filled with an awkwardly shaped brown packaged “Lt, these are for you.”

Uhura stood up, noting the  extra pin on his uniform marking him as one of the crew assigned postal duty this month as she relieved him of the package and placed it on the table “Thank you, Jeffries.”

She sat down again, facing Christine with a twitch of a smile “Help me open this.”

They both pulled at the paper, peeling away the wrapping to reveal seven beautiful orange- yellow roses, tied in a bunch and ready to be put in water.

She looked to Christine who was smiling playfully “Who’s sending you roses Uhura? We haven't picked up any new ensigns, so that counts out that group of admirers…”

”I’ve no idea...” She checked the paper spread out over the table., Nothing. Then she turned the roses over, but the only card identified their variety, Golden Sunset. No clues, not even kisses. It could have been anyone on board.

It would have been logical to be present at the delivery of the roses, but it had been while they were in crew recreation and it was not logical in the slightest to disturb them from the one piece of quiet away from the diplomats they had.

T’Pring ran her mind back over the decision. What she had read on Earth dating seemed to suggest roses as the predominant flower, and there had been a logic in the choice of the variety given the subject of their previous conversation. But Lady Amanda had stressed that Humans were far more disparate in their cultures than Vulcans, and she could not help but think that she may have erred in her choice of flora. Lt Uhura was not after all from a country where roses traditionally grew under natural conditions. It was very likely that her intentions would go astray.

She sat down at her desk, woke the computer terminal and began to search. It took some time, to gain access to the basic record and then the library for her research. After several hours she had the list she would use. The most significant she could establish and out of those the most aesthetically pleasing.

These, she thought, she would do with inks not charr sticks. Their colours were too crucial, too significant. And they would be worth every long hour she spent on them.

The door to her quarters chimed. When she opened the door another crew member stood there, a square package in his hands.

“Lieutenant, I'm sorry to disturb you, but this was left outside your door.“

She accepted the square,feeling the stiffness of a braced package as she did so.

"No sign of who left it?"

No ma’am but”, he looked slightly sheepish “I ran my med scanner over it and there is nothing toxic. I'm sorry to disturb you in down time."

“No apologies required. Thank you Ensign.” She let the door slide closed behind her, peeling the package open at her desk. Paintings spilled out, each one depicting a native Kenyan flower in full bloom. They were incredible, almost lifelike on the paper, every tiny detail present and clear. And then in the bottom right corner of each she noticed a small squiggle. Definitely Vulcan script, almost certainly a clan mark, but not one she'd seen before. She brushed her fingers on the edge of one of the paintings, marvelling again at the fine quality of the art.

She wanted to meet this person, who had such a knack she could draw even what they had almost certainly never seen in real life. She hoped it was T'Pring who had done these, the lady's descriptions had come from the mind of an artist. But it was unpardonably rude to question a Vulcan on private matters, and there was no open declaration with the paintings. Out of cultural courtesy, she would wait. Whoever was giving the gifts would have their reasons.

Tonight, under Lady Amanda’s instruction, they were dining in the recreation room. Or rather, she and Sarek’s aides were. The S'chn T'gai family were all eating together in quarters after the first day of the conference. As it turned out, their dining time coincided with most of the alpha crew eating. T’Pring tried to keep her glances surreptitious and unnoticeable, but was all too aware that her eyes were being drawn back to Lt Uhura sitting at another table with far too high a frequency. Finally the final postal ensign of the day came around, and she saw the little package drop into the lieutenant’s hands. She took a bite of her dinner, hardly noticing it. Uhura's eyes lit up as she unwrapped the package with decorous haste.Then just as abruptly, her face went cold and blank, lifting out the hair clip and turning it over in a detached manner which showed no enthusiasm whatsoever. T'Pring stopped looking, returning her attention to her dinner, some form of vegetable lasagne, whatever it proved to be. She had tried to deny it to herself even when she had asked for courting advice but this was not just an exercise, she had become emotionally involved even… fallen in love, if she used the human expression, with Lt. Uhura. The non acceptance of her gift caused a sensation much like physical pain in her, even though she knew intellectually that none of the muscles had been hurt. Like a child, she had wanted the acceptance, had wanted the warmth of seeing that smile again, of perhaps being bold enough to catch Uhura’s eye and stop playing this guessing game... as fun as humans were supposed to find it. She made herself swallow the lasagne, holding up all her shields to conceal her expression. She would not shame herself with display of naked emotion, not here in the public eye.

In her quarters she poured over her possessions again, aware of her eyelids flickering away moisture. Being on the ship, confined to it even at Babel for conference security, caused such odd little problems. There was nothing here that she wanted to give up, even to the task of winning a bondmate. The flame-jewel clip had never suited her, unlike its blue-marked kin, but she had always carried the set whole, so that had been easy to give up. As if by some magic something cool found her hand, she lifted it out of the drawer and regarded the carved stone box. It's presence here was entirely illogical, she'd never wanted it in the first place. Stonn had pressed it on her when they met enroute to her work, she had been unable to reject it without causing a scene, had dropped it into her travel satchel, intending to get rid of it later, then become enthralled in her project. Next day she had picked up the satchel and boarded the shuttle which brought them to the Enterprise.

She studied it. A fine piece of craftsmanship as far as she could tell. A worthy final gift. She took a deep breath. This one, she would deliver herself.

She waited until it was only the two of them in the stretch of corridor, straining her ears for any sound of approaching feet or a turbo lift. Then she stepped out from the ladder alcove as if by chance. Immediately Uhura set eyes on her she saw the human’s face go studiously blank, her hand rise in Ta’al. “Lady T’Pring.”

She made the gesture only out of cultural habit, jerkily holding out the box with her other hand. “Lt Uhura… I would be honoured if you would accept this gift as a token of,” She still didn’t know how to phrase it. “My emotions towards you.”

Uhura took the box, her face relaxing into a rather startled smile "T'Pring, it is beautiful."

"I regret that you did not find my other gifts so much to your taste."

Uhura blinked at her. "But they were, they are all gorgeous, see." She twisted her head and T'Pring spotted the fine metal clasp in her hair, the flame jewel-glass corresponding exactly as she had hoped it would with the red uniform "Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Your reaction to receiving it did not confirm in any way to what I expected a human to react as such. I assumed it was restrained politeness rather than pleasure which permitted your acceptance of the gift.”

Uhura looked at her for another moment then put her head in her hands, laughing "Oh dear, dear aren't we a pair…” She uncovered her face. “T'Pring. I didn't react to the gift because I was trying to show acceptance and familiarity with your culture once I recognised Vulcan style. It was as Mr Spock advised, to avoid scaring you off by being overtly emotional.”

Understanding dawned. “I had gone to Amanda and asked for advice. It was she who suggested the conversation and the gifts.”

There was a supreme irony in the entire situation, that they had both been working towards the same goal, and both using at a basic level the same method to achieve it, and yet, where logically they should have met, they had very nearly ended up at complete cross purposes. T'Pring allowed herself a small smile at the situation.

Uhura stopped chuckling “I think we need to talk about this. Come along to my quarters, this isn't a conversation for a public corridor.”

“Most certainly not.” She fell into step with the other woman, letting her lead the way.

T'Pring hung back as they entered her quarters and Uhura realised that her eyes were fixed in the walls and rather wide, taking in all the hanging decorations and colour.

She smiled apologetically. "Officer rank and long duration mission perks mean that we get to decorate our quarters up to a point. I'm sorry if it is a bit much.”

T’pring’s face resumed its normal calmness, "It is not overwhelming, just unexpected. The rest of the ship is so plain. "

“Functional before fancy is the rule here, even in personal quarters. Please make yourself comfortable.” She gestured to the room at large.

T’Pring sat down at the desk chair, stiff as a poker and clearly no more comfortable. “I do not have the words to fully explain.”

Her heart was jumping but Uhura kept her voice calm and gentle “Then we’ll start at the beginning. You’ve been the one sending me the gifts: the roses, the paintings?”

T’Pring wouldn’t meet her eyes, staring at her hands “Yes.”

“And your logical object in this?”

“I wished to express my desire to bond with you, not just as you would call a friend but as telsu. I am no longer bonded to Spock, I find your company intellectually stimulating and my reactions to you try my emotional controls to the strongest level . I don’t want to have to hold those controls any more.”

Her heart was singing with joy as she leant forwards, trying to see the other woman’s eyes “T’Pring, are you saying that you are in love with me?”

Slowly the Vulcan nodded, eyes still downcast “You would phrase it such.”

“T’Pring, look at me.” Slowly the fine head lifted and those beautiful eyes, met hers.“It is nothing to be ashamed of.. In fact that’s a very good thing. Because I have to admit that I’ve fallen head over heels for you.”

T’Pring’s eyebrow quirked “How have you completed that gymnastic feat when you are still sitting in front of me in a chair, Uhura?”

There was such an innocence there, assumed or not that it made her smile. “It’s a figure of speech, T’Pring. It’s just something we say. And in simpler terms, it means I accept.” Cautiously she held out her first two fingers “This is correct, isn’t it?”

T’Pring nodded, crossing them with her own. "Exactly so, my bondmate-to-be."

The three weeks which followed were, to use a human phrase, idyllic. Uhura's company had been pleasing before, now she had to admit she found it incomparable. Her Telsu to be was so vibrant, so lively. Like the southern plains after a rain. She'd never quite understood what Ambassador Sarek had seen in Lady Amanda until now. Until they spent hours discussing cultures, combining their two different perspectives. Discovering how many different ways humans expressed all their emotions, and how aesthetically pleasing she found them,subject of many rough sketch drawings. They were both serious workers, but Nyota was also a counterweight, her singing cutting through whatever bothered them.

She woke to the awareness of an unusually warm beside her even as her eyes registered areas of lavender purple in front of her Uhura - no, Nyota, she had been granted that right - curled up next to her her hand resting on T’Pring’s heart, and using her arm as a pillow.

Date and time reasserted themselves in her mind  and she felt a heaviness which was wholly emotional rather than physical. Today Enterprise would fall into orbit around Vulcan, and the ambassador's party, including herself would leave.

But she didn't want to. Yes she had a job there, work which needed doing, and it was logical to return to that. Yet leaving Nyota…

She ran her fingertips lightly over Nyota’s cheeks.

Nyota stirred, her eyes fluttering open  “T’Pring?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

Uhura shifted settling herself more comfortably against T'Pring's arm “I wish you could stay." How like a normally illogical human, to come straight to the point at the time she would not have minded the emotional dodging.

“Although it could be considered illogical, I have the same desire." Carefully T’Pring moved her arm and pushed herself to a sitting position, swinging her legs down to the floor so she sat on the edge of the bed .“But it is not practical or logical. I have my ties at home and I must still inform my parents of our decision to bond.”

Behind her she heard Uhura rise to her knees, then felt a hand rest gently on the top of her arm.

“T’Pring, I will wait for you, have no fear of that.”

She opened her mouth to answer, but Nyota cut her off “And yes, I know that to fear such a thing is illogical.”

She held out two fingers, and Nyota matched them.

"Nyota, Live long and prosper."

Uhura swung abruptly to the left at that voice, raising the Ta'al in reaction to the phrase even as she registered who it was who stood next to her. "T'Pring! I did not expect to see you here."

"I understand that humans enjoy surprises of this kind, and I wished to make up for my lack of contact over these months... which was woefully neglectful of me."

Was there a very subtle nervousness, a tightness because of it in the speech?

“It is a distance to come alone, just for an apology.” She tried to make a jest of it, picking up more and more signs of nerves as she looked.

I did not come alone. My mother has a conference she wishes to attend.”

“Ahh... so I finally get to meet your parents.”

T'Pring gave a very curt nod. "I will take you to them."

She dropped in half a step behind as they entered the station corridor.

"Is there anything I should do to not offend?"

"If I were frank, Nyota, your existence and role in my life is an offense according to my Father's mind. It is highly unlikely that anything you do will alter that now." T'Pring glanced at her eyes,as soft as she had seen "I say that as no reflection on you ashaya. But simply to warn you." T'Pring pressed the button and the door opened to admit them both, T'Pring leading.

"Ko-mehk, Sa-mehk, this is she whom I will be bonding with - Nyota Uhura."

Uhura offered the ta'al as the Vulcan male who had had his back to them turned to regard her. As ever his face was inscrutable, but she still gained the distinct sense that she was being looked up and down assessed and judged.

"I do not understand your logic, daughter. Explain.” His voice was as blank as his face and to her surprise T'Pring matched it.

"Specify."

"Why this outworlder rather than the bond mate chosen for you?"

"Spock and I are not mentally compatible, we do not suit each other." T'Pring’s voice was utterly blank and matter of fact.

"Why not another Vulcan, there are many who would have you if the half breed will not. I do not recall you even considering that option."

"It was not logical to do so, when I was still bonded, I do not shame he who was to have been my mate that way."

T'Pring turned her head towards her and Uhura saw a flash of warmth there. Slowly she reached out and touched her two fingers lightly to T'Pring where they hung at her side. T'Pring turned back to her father, her coolness dropping into place like a shutter "I met Nyota before I returned. I want no one else."

"Stonn wishes for thee you know that. He is of good, quantifiable family." Uhura felt eyes move to her, clamping her inclination to bristle at the implied insult.No doubt it was wat she wanted

There was a sudden flash of pain and rage and something like a memory. Three boys taunting another, a young Spock until he broke and ran. The leader was Stonn. Bigot, cruel.

"Stonn does not suit me. From our childhood he has been concerned with himself to the point of open bigotry. He has not grown out of it in the intervening years." T'Pring's voice echoed her own thoughts.

"Humans are known for their prejudices, it does not suit logic that thee should bond with one. It is clear your emotional stability is affected." Still his voice was ice cold and factual.

T'Pring had said more done her fair share. She drew herself up, stilling her face but using all her emotions as she spoke in the most formal dialect she knew, moving forward to put herself pointedly between father and daughter.

"Sir, it is I who find thee illogical and bigoted. Thy daughter is of age, surely she may choose for herself. Mental compatibility is not restricted by species. Nor are humans, on the whole, the font of bigotry you suggest. I love your daughter and I will bond with her."

T'Pring's father drew a breath.

"Strel, If you say another word you shall watch your clock with care."

Uhura turned her head to see a tall Vulcan woman appear from a shadowed alcove to the side of the room. Where T'Pring had gained her elegance and her eyes was instantly clear. Those eyes had been fixed on her husband, and now they moved to look at her.

"I greet you, my daughters, be welcome and drink your fill of my house's water." T’Pring’s mother crossed her hands at the wrists and held them out. Uhura matched them, trying not to shake as she touched fingers.

"You accept this, T’Chel?" It was as close as she had ever heard a Vulcan come to sputtering.

T'Pring's mother turned her head to look at her husband again.  "You cannot deny it, Strel. T’hai’la overrules all."

T’hai’la, what was T’hai’la? She wracked her brains, looking to T’Pring for help . It sounded similar to the word she had heard Spock use with the captain… A flash, pre-Surak two females bonded leading their clan to glory in all ways. Something ancient, above and beyond all laws.

“You cannot authorize that claim.”

T’Chel gestured back to the alcove she had come from.“Clan mother T'Drea may, as may T'Pau. Both suggest it by the reaction they have seen here today."

Only now did the glow of a monitor screen become apparent, as did the tiniest of smiles on T'Chel"s face. Uhura felt T’Pring relax, and stifled a sigh herself as brown eyes softened from their coldness.

“I wish thee both fulfilment and the help of my clan in thy endeavour children... whatever it may be."

It was illogical but highly satisfactory for them to both fit in the same soft armchair on the station observation deck, and exceptionally emotionally fulfilling to be tucked next to each other. For now Nyota’s presence was all she wanted and needed as she absorbed what had been revealed today.

As she had expected it was her t’hai’la who broke the peaceful bubble, her voice full of confusion and strange doubt.

"What are we going to do now? I don't want to just leave you behind on Vulcan with little contact for goodness knows how long….” Her voice turned musing “I could leave Enterprise I suppose, see if Amanda could find me an assistant role in her linguistics work.”

"No, Nyota." T'Pring touched their fingers together, reinforcing the negation with emotion through the bond. "You have friends, an entire clan, important work on Enterprise. They need you there."

Nyota heaved a sigh. "If only you could come... civilian family aren't really allowed or encouraged on the starships, it's too risky."

She considered that for a moment. "Does the Enterprise have need of a historian?"

Nyota stared out at the stars for a moment longer and a redhead human's face flicked across the bond, accidentally projected by thought.

When her t’hai’la turned back to her, her eyes were glowing again "Actually, if you don't mind starting as a rank and file, I think we do."