Work Text:
Spock’s side-glance could be considered helpless. Una stared back, also catching Dr. M’Bengas and Ortegas stares. This was a disaster. Plain and simply.
“You can’t,” she blurted.
The Captain crooked his head, just a slight turn to the left. A movement he had never made before.
Una plowed on, before he could continue screaming at her.
“We are already under scrutiny for my presence on this ship alone. To have four senior offices including the captain permanently genetically altered, will have further consequences. Especially with a Federation Commissioner on their way here.”
“A Federation Commissioner,” repeated Uhura. “When did that message arrive?”
“Approximately sixteen minutes ago. Starfleet and the Vulcan High Council wish to investigate our proceedings on Tezaar. Apparently, the mission reports raised questions.”
It was La’Ans turn to raise her eyebrows at Spock. “The reports were exactly to regulation.”
“No other Information was provided, except for the Commissioners arrival time per shuttlecraft at sixteen- hundred ship time.”
The Captain- she could not call him Chris, not even Pike- stared for a moment, then ordered way to loud: “Number one, prepare the diplomatic quarters and assign a yeoman to the commissioner for their stay. They are invited to dine in my quarters tonight. If there is nothing else, all of you are dismissed.”
Una opened her mouth to protest, but the captain had raised both his eyebrows and stared them down challengingly, so everyone else gave in.
How could he dismiss that problem so easily! After everything they have been through. And her species only allowed genetic augmentation, not actively practiced it like those four had done. Because that was what this was, if they refused to get back to being human.
“Captain, a word?”
A least he agreed to that, so while everyone tickled out of the room, Una grabbed one of the last remaining chairs and dragged it half across the room to his desk.
-----
Marie forced herself to take one step after the other. All she had to do, was to confront Chris, or better: that parody of Chis, again and convince him he was making a mistake.
The one who double cleaned his quarter because of her presence and threw away her clothes because of the smell. Her natural Odor.
Sure.
Mere hours before the most important dinner of her current career. With a Federation Commissioner coming in, investigating the ship activities, as Una had just revealed to her a few minutes ago.
She sighed. Just another Tuesday on this ship.
If she could not deal with this, she doesn’t need to dream of ever going back to court. Yes, she knew her health didn’t allow her own ship, yet. So, she took one step after another. Reaching the Turbo lift. Only years of command let her not flinch when the door opened.
He was the oldest Vulcan she had ever seen, at least off Vulcan. An elder his age usually didn’t leave the planet. His still full hair glowed white as snow, even his eyelashes had lost all color. Yet, he stood straight, his dark brown eyes clear and alert, ghosting over her with what could have been a glance of curiosity, his serene face with the sharp long nose and wide mouth not giving away a hint to his thoughts. He was wearing green. Elaborate robes with intricate silver embroidery that proclaimed a high status, yes, but as far as Marie knew, Vulcans had stopped wearing green before the Founding of the Federation. Very old then.
He inclined his head in greeting, and she nodded back, before stepping in. And only then noticed Yeoman Sirley standing pressed near the doors, clearly hoping to be invisible.
Oh.
“Captain,” she greeted timidly, and Marie instantly felt the Commissioners gaze on her again. She ignored him and greeted back, then gave the command to the turbolift and stared ahead.
It took exactly three beats of her racing heart before he spoke.
“I understand you have invited me for end meal tonight, captain.”
A complete accent free earth standard with that nasal tinny voice indicating he still learned one of the vulcan languages with their full vocal range as his first language. Probably born before first contact then. Christ.
“Captain Marie Batel,” she corrected. “I’m on sick leave, currently visiting Captain Pike.”
“I see. The probability of the personal files being out of date seemed to be higher than two captains being present. I apologize.”
Her head whipped around.
He calmly stared ahead, his hands folded in his sleeves, only turning his head slightly, when she continued staring at him. A least Yeoman Sirley blinked, too. So, Marie did hear right.
“Captain Batel,” he asked softly. She shook her head quickly and stared ahead, feeling her face heat up.
Sirley awkwardly shuffling around did not help.
“You’re right. Captain Pike is giving a dinner tonight. I was not aware he had invited you ,too. Vice Admiral Passalk and me will be present, and we will be honored if you join us, Commissioner.”
She hoped he would give his name but he rose his well groomed if bushy eyebrows.
“If this relates to your reassignment, I do not wish to intrude.”
Wait, a minute ago he seemed to have no idea who she was.
He apparently caught her confusion. “I am here to investigate accusations of genetic augmentation. Naturally I am familiar with the crews history of it, if not the corresponding faces to the names.”
“It’s not like that,” Marie blurted out. “I wasn’t fully involved, but apparently the genetic modification was needed to keep the prime directive intact. It was not intended to be permanent, believe me.” The last words might have been a bit sarcastic.
“You have been involved in the fallout, then.”
Marie nodded. Professionalism. “Yes, Sir.”
He seemed to wait for more, then accepted her silence and looked back ahead. “Returning to this evenings plans. Being familiar with the concept of a business dinner, perhaps my presence is truly not appropriate.”
He had just accepted her outburst?
“You seem to know a lot about human customs, Sir.”
“After over a century of service to Earth and the Federation one does develop a slight human accent.”
“And an ignorance to our smell, I believe,” Marie joked back. With a Vulcan elder.
Whose right eye honest to God twitched as he fixed her with a hard stare.
But to her surprise he said: “It is considered rude to negatively commend on a species’ natural anatomical features like that. It was not Commander Spock pointing this out, by any chance.”
She shook her head. “No! No, certainly not.- I-“
He was terrifying. Not that his face gave anything away, he didn’t even raise his voice, but there was clear displeasure. And everything in Marie instinctively wanted to avoid displeasing him. Probably because he had been so amicable before.
“Good,” he fiddled with something in his sleeves, “good.” For a moment he seemed elsewhere.
Then he blinked. “Brack water. In case you were wondering.”
Marie was wondering. “Pardon?”
“Humans naturally smell of brack water. Your body is composed of more than ninety percent water and you are naturally exhaling humidity. For a dessert species with its senses evolved to identify freshwater sources from unusable ones, it can be disturbing. However, every species we make contact with has a different unpleasant features, and its part of life in its infinite combinations, and thus our duty to accept and celebrate.”
His hands fiddled with the thing in his sleeve again.
On the one hand, it made sense. On the other, it hurt even more. Her personal hygiene was not the problem, so she could not just shower to stick it to the parody of her boyfriend.
“Showering won’t help,” she asked. Just to be sure.
His eyes narrowed. “Vice Admiral Pasalk has raised those concerns?”
Then suddenly his whole stance relaxed. He sighed. “Captain Pike. I am getting old. I assume correctly, he is one of the affected persons.”
Marie’s expression seemed to be enough because he nodded to himself. “I will not join you for dinner, but it seems I have to speak with the captain beforehand.”
With the chaos that prefaced every dinner Chris hosted? He was already insufferable as a human in that phase. “Perhaps it’s not a good Idea right now.”
The Commissioners’ eyes twinkled. “I am well used to sparring with the Captain of the Enterprise."
-----
Marie expected something like the cool disappointment she had witnessed in the turbolift. A polite grandfatherly man arguing with Pike with perhaps multiple uses of logical in a sentence.
Not the absolute menace the commissioner turned out to be.
He took off his outer robe, selected a knife and helped cooking, even showed a talent for it which he humbly explained away with it being logical to learn as a matter of survival.
Then they started to bicker about the recipes. About the vulcan palate and that Chris had it for mere hours. About whether to include salt or not. That if it’s a Human dish, Marie should be consulted, too. And when the Vulcan wearing Chris’ face refused because Marie, the humans, were lesser, the Commissioner tore into him, turning him into an overwhelmed mess, barely able to stutter yes and no answers to the Commissioner’s cold voice. He never raised it, never stopped cooking. The brutality lay in the casualty with which he discussed these topics.
The way he manipulated Chris to say exactly what he wanted, how he controlled the conversation, was a work of art. It was terrifying.
A long time ago, before the Federation, Vulcan had nearly lost itself in lies, a shadow empire and bloodlust. It was humanity that brought them back to logic: an annoying, stubborn captain, that hated them for how they treated humanity and was chosen precisely because of that.
That story he told Chris, that truth Marie could see in the way he displayed these skills he honed to perfection in this dark age? It was all familiar. She knew him.
Where did she know him from?
Back in the Elevator, his face had already felt familiar. Then again, he looked like the average Vulcan with his features being the ones anyone depicts when describing one.
But his voice was well known to her, now that he didn’t speak in the low timber appropriate for the small space of the turbo lift.
He’s a Commissioner, the Federation doesn’t choose anyone to represent itself, but she could not put her finger down.
He finished his memories of the Great Reformation by scraping the stirred vegetables into a serving plate, killing the fire and cleaning his hands. Then he sat down next to Chris and placed the IDIC he had on a chain of wooden pearls wound around his right wrist into Chris hands. “It is irrelevant that it had been a human. Any species would have served, as long as it was not a Vulcan.”
Chris fingers ghosted over the beautiful iteration of the artefact made of gold, wood and a red jewel. “Infinite combinations. I understand now.”
The Commissioner shook his head in a surprising un-vulcan way. “You do not.” His voice was gentle. “Not yet.”
“Spocks cultural Memory-“
“The Vulcan cultural memory is created and passed though melds, not our blood. You did not listen. The corrupt High Command was capable of controlling us precisely because they took our cultural memory. As you have not melded with Spock, you are using your own coping mechanisms you have developed over your lifetime. From my experience melding with humans, our emotions are less varied, but deeper and more volatile. You are using human coping mechanisms, for something humans were never meant to hold in.”
“I have myself perfectly under control,” protested Chris.
“You control your environment to not upset your balance, not yourself,” the old Vulcan corrected gently. “Based on Commander Spocks biology the serum might gave you some of his neural pathways thus providing you with some kind of muscle memory to control your emotions. But it does not provide you with the education in logic all of us receive as essential part of our schooling and take a lifetime to truly master.”
“I like to think myself very much capable of discerned and reasonable thinking.”
The Commissioner seemed amused by that. “I did not mean to insult your intelligence or the one of any being on this ship. Humanity had been feared by us for a long time for its unpredictability precisely because of its frustrating capability to act impulsive, just to embrace logic in the next moment to defend your stance.”
There was clearly story behind that, he seemed far away in the past for the moment, but collected himself immediately. “No. As our common history proves, logic is a mere tool. If not used with a moral basis, it can easily be used to advance an agenda.”
“Highly motivated reasoning to justify bad Ideas and decisions,” Marie summarized, to make sure she understood. “And because its logical, no one can convince you you are wrong.”
The Commissioner inclined his head.
Chris looked around and caught Maries eyes. She knew that look, that was Chris.
“Then how do I- Marie?” He hissed, holding his chest. “It hurts!”
“I am aware,” the Commissioner acknowledged. “But why do you seek out Captain Batel.”
Chris shook his head, his face a grimace of pain.
The Commissioner leant closer without touching him.” During this dark age we believed that emotion must be suppressed, just like you are doing right now. But the better word in translation of Suraks writing would be release. One must know what one feels to be able to let it go. We must explore and know our innermost self most intimately. So, captain. What do you feel.”
“It needs to be perfect. Everything needs to be perfect. Marie needs her job. The Vice Admiral needs to feel comfortable.”
“Vice Admiral Passalk is a Starfleet Officer, retiring this year. He is expecting to serve on a Human ship, just as he had to serve with humanity for the whole of his career. Should he not be used to the human odor?”
“There is a probability he is,” Chris softly admitted, fingers still digging into his scalp and chest.
“How high is that probability in comparison to the emotional damage inflicted on your mate by insulting her species’ natural physiognomy, she has no influence of.”
“Lower. Considerably.”
“So what is the logical conclusion, Captain.”
Chris stared at him, then his face fell. “Oh. Wait. That is how it works?”
The Commissioner raised an eyebrow. “Relationships or rationalizing ones feelings though questioning and comparing them to facts.”
Marie snorted. Chris eyebrow climbed higher. “You process humor.”
“I have been accused of that notion before.”
Chris inclined his head in acceptance. The Commissioner sat back onto the chair he had occupied ever since stopping to cook.
“The Captain Pike I heard of is the antithesis to every Vulcan I know. That is a compliment. You feel more than anyone, at your purest core you are most human. Even now, your compassionate nature lets you make all these decisions, which under this aspect might seem logical.”
“But not in an objective view,” Chris ended. He closed his eyes and turned to Marie.
“Marie,” he offered her two fingers. “I am so sorry. Please let me earn your forgiveness.”
The Commissioner rose and slipped back into his outer robes. “While we are not finished, this conversation has indeed priority. I will take my leave. You know how to contact me. Captain Batell. Captain Pike.”
With that he waltzed out of the room before any of the two of them could react.
But he was correct, they had a lot to talk about.
-----
“Commander Spock.”
It wasn’t often that Spock visibly froze trying to compute something. Whoever that old Vulcan was calling him out on the corridor before Pelias quarters, Spock did not expect him.
“Honored Elder. I come to serve. I was unaware of your presence on this ship.”
The old man nodded. There were two parallel scratches on his cheek and ear. Erica didn’t knew Vulcans could get scars. It must have been a hell of an injury. Or he chose to keep them.
“Your service honors you and this crew. I was sent as Federation Commissioner to oversee the first contact with the Tezaarians.”
What.
“First contact” echoed Una. She glanced at Spock who had stiffened. “We were not aware there was-“
“I have gathered that,” the Commissioner interrupted.
Just another high-nosed Vulcan stiffer than his fancy robes then. For a moment Erica had her hopes up, not going to lie.
Una stepped forward. “I am Lieutenant Commander Una Chin-Riley, First officer of the Enterprise. I will gladly answer any questions, as the captain is currently inconvined.”
“Yes, I believe he will be occupied mending his relationship with his mate for the rest of the evening.”
And they had already spoken with each other. Great.
Spock gestured to Pelias Door, and the Commissioner nodded in that snooty Vulcan way and immediately stopped once he had taken one step over the doorstep.
Yeah, he had been to fast for Spock to warn him, which he demanded now with a single confused look. Spock provided. “These are the private quarters of our Chef engineer. Excessive privacy was needed due to the delicacy of the matters discussed.”
The Commissioner took a few more careful steps, his head slowly turning to take in the opulent cabinet of curiosities.
“This is-“ he froze as Pelia poked her head out of her blankets. Ups.
For a moment they stared at each other and the wide-eyed Vulcan looked like a deer in the headlight.
Pelia narrowed her sleepy eyes. “Soval?”
The Commissioner straightened. ”I beg your pardon?”
Pelia grinned. “Heh. I didn’t know you were still around. Feel free to make yourself at home. Sorry. Those fourty-two minute shifts are killing me.”
“I’ll make sure the ship is returned to the standard day schedule, as soon as possible. There have been multiple studies conducted proving the quarter-hour schedule while in theory to be superior, in practice decreasing productivity by nearly thirty-seven percent.”
“Finally someone competent in using that big brain of yours,” she declared, before plopping back into her pillows, pulling her blankets back over her head.
The Commissioner- Soval?- stared a moment, then turning his attention back to the tree of them. There seemed some silent conversation with Spock because the old man muttered a soft “Fascinating”, then slowly started to explore the shelves of the wall to his left, drifting closer to the collection of beanbags, sofas and seats.
“Is it possible to forward said study to the captain and me,” asked Una to break the awkward silence.
Ok, she was just as confused as Erica.
He continued to inspect a collection of crystal-like figurines, but he answered. “I am unfamiliar with the filing system of Starfleet Academy. Commander Spock will find it within one of the first to ever conducted. Determining which member species’ shift system to introduce fleet wide had highest priority.”
“Understood,” confirmed Spock. He came closer, but not quite daring to interrupt the commissioner.
She definitely had to look up who this Soval was. She has heard that name before. Or Spock was just being extra Vulcan in his presence.
“About Tezaar.”
The Commissioner shot one last glance at the vase and the wall hanging that had captured his attention, then turned completely to Spock. Apparently, a signal for him to continue.
“I have personally received and decoded the message with the orders to aide Tezaar. There was no mention of initiating a first contact or a Federation Commissioner being deployed as support.”
“The Federation has pressured the High Council for years to resolve the situation, as our treaty agreements are similar to those of Earth before the Coalition.”
“Federation,” corrected Erica instinctively.
“No. The predecessor to it. An open Military and Technological Alliance but without the shared government.”
“Venus,” interrupted Spock the impromptu history lesson. “Just as we helped Earth source Dilithium from Venus by colonizing it and paying tribute, we offered and oversaw nuclear technology to Tezaar.”
Soval nodded. “However the Tezaarians did not accept a permanent presence of Vulcan in their system.”
“Yeah, that’s what I just wanted to ask. It’s not like you guys to just drop technology and leave.”
“The federation council hopes to establish more permanent relations, primally out of practicality, as your current situation demonstrates. ”
“And with me being abord, the Enterprise was uniquely fitted to solve the problem with the nuclear plant while buying you time to arrive with the proper diplomatic proceedings.”
“That window however has closed and we only can approach Tezaar by breaking the accords or another emergency occurring.”
Erica shared a look with Una. All they needed was Spock going first and introducing humanity. Which with him being half human would have worked even better. Fantastic.
“We did not receive those orders,” repeated Spock.
“Thus, as Starfleet training suggested, you pooled the resources you had to solve the problem in an acceptable solution.” The Commissioner wandered over to the sofa and elegantly sat down, orderly arranging his robes around him. “The only mistake I can discern, is to take the medical officer responsible for the genetic change, and not letting her keep an objective view. Which can be explained by Caution to have a monitoring of the situation on site, I believe. It that agreeable?”
Huh?
Spock came closer. “You are here as an ally.”
Soval narrowed his eyes. “Have I ever been anything else to you?”
And their resident Vulcan visibly relaxed. He carefully inched closer and sat down. Still with a lot of space in-between them but closer than she had seen him with other Vulcans.
Una cleared her throat and both of them tuned their attention to her. “That is great. I mean. Dr. M’Benga insisted that if we can communicate with their Katra, we can convince them to take the serum to revert. It’s available, they just made the decision not to take it.”
“Please, Uhura literally brainwashed my brother.” Right, that’s why she was here. To ask Spock for help.
“While I have convinced Captain Pike to return to his human self, this development aligning with my observations in our conversations, Dr M’Bengas solution seems to be the best course.”
“You convinced him,” Erica repeated.
“The Commissioner has a single way with words.” Spock sounded strangely proud, even when Soval cut him off. “I would hardly be in my position otherwise.”
No. Not cut him off. Corrected. He was being humble, in the Vulcan way. Maybe her first instincts about him had been right. Spock seemed to like him. Which explained his previous skittish behavior.
Una smiled hopefully “So, you would be willing to meld with them.”
The Commissioner fiddled with something round in his sleeve. “No. My generation is less experienced with the mind arts than one would expect. While I personally am capable, there are other political reasons keeping me from doing so. However-“ he added clearly reading the room,” there is a spiritual leader of our people living on Purmantee III, as it has come into fashion using it as a retreat. I am confident he will be able to help us.”
Una visibly grimaced but caught herself instantly. Yeah.
“Can you at least talk to her? Tell her to, I don’t know un- brainwash him?”
The Commissioner scrutinized her for a moment. “I would rather not be informed about the developments of this case.”
“Eh, Sorry, what!”
Spock cleared his throat. “As a Federation representee the Commissioner might interpret the law in our favor. But not as an elder of Vulcan.”
Una leant closer. “He means that Vulcan still has the death penalty. And, ehm. A nonconsensual Mind-meld definitely falls under that.”
Erica felt her eyebrows raise further.
“Of course,” added Spock,” I will talk to her. Immediately.”
He rose and bowed to the Commissioner. “I will take my leave now. However, I would be honored for you to share end meal with me.”
Soval nodded. “I will await you in your quarters at the agreed time. Until then, go in peace.”
Spock answered something in Vulcan, spread his fingers in greeting, nodded to Una and left. The old man’s eyes followed him out, until the doors closed behind him. Then he focused unerringly back on Erica. “He is capable.”
Erica lifted her hands. “You don’t have to tell me that.”
“That is pleasing,” he nodded to himself.
She shot a look at Una. “You- you know each other for long?”
Shit. Maybe that question was already too personal.
But Sovals voice was surprisingly gentle as he simply answered with “Yes.”
When nothing else came, Erica nodded to herself. “Cool. Right.”
Soval watched her for a moment longer, but she didn’t dare to say anything.
She was embarrassing herself, wasn’t she? Not knowing who he was. Especially since Pelia apparently recognized him even half asleep.
Ther was knowing a name because you had read it on a ship manifest before, or as a politician somewhere. As a Vulcan maybe because he was the head of a house and somebody introduced themselves with it.
And then there was knowing a name because everyone knew it.
She at first thought it was the former. But with every second they sat across each other, his steady gaze watching Una and her, Erica got more and more sure it was the later.
Then he rose. “I will contact Specialist Doug now. For any other queries, you know how to contact me. “
Una flinched. “Yes! Sure. Please, thank you.”
Eh, Ok.
“Let me help you. I’m no comm officer, but it’s easier with some Bridge officer around.”
“That is acceptable.”
She was going to figure out who he was. Then probably melt into a puddle of embarrassment. But she needed something to do, so not to strangle Nyota.
Might as well play Yeoman for living, breathing history.
-----
After end meal Soval had joined him in meditation and a ritual of tea. They had reached the time appropriate for conversation by now, yet his elder had not chosen to speak so far.
Spock had increased the already slightly higher temperature in his quarters to accommodate him, yet Soval had buried himself under another blanket and clutched the steaming cup closer, his eyes closed. While he was exceptionally healthy for his age proven by his capability to still travel, he was old, even for their long lived species. Spock had the privilege to know his date of birth, thus knew he had already reached the standard estimated lifespan. Today had been exhausting.
Soval took another sip. “You are still disturbed.”
Spock exhaled to concentrate on the color of the tea, the smooth clay in his hand. “I apologize.”
Soval finally opened his eyes and observed him. “There is no need, where no offence is taken. You suffered a great betrayal today.”
Spock levered his gaze and pressed his lips together.
“Spock,” prompted the Ambassador softly.
His fathers political mentor was one of the few close friends cherishing him for who he was, reminding him that poor behavior by faulty logic was not the norm.
So yes, he was aware of the Bonds Spock had formed to the crew.
To the Captain. Cadett Uhura. Christine.
La’An.
“They are not themselves. Neither was I in the incident that initially led to the development of the serum.”
Soval acknowledged with silence, inviting him to continue to share his thoughts.
“I am displeased by their understanding of our species. They imitated how they thought Vulcans to be. I fear it is my fault.”
Soval straightened and placed the cup on the tray. “I cannot follow the line of your argument. Any animosity between our species was caused by me.”
Which was why he did not meld with humans, Spock suspected. They knew from their history books that their steadiest defender once had been their greatest obstacle, but to become aware of the fear, pride and entitlement he had held was certainly a different experience.
Spock refilled the cups, seeking calm in the monotone movements. “To humanity, a single member of a species, like me on this ship, is always an ambassador. With many of the Vulcans coming abord negatively reacting to me, I fear I have influenced their view of us. Logically, they have to be a minority with our society being as it is. Yet, I have chosen to explore myself outside of Vulcan knowing it not capable to fully provide what I need to do so. I came to find they interpreted it as Vulcan being restricting, rather than space being infinite.”
“Perhaps. But the source of these prejudices remains with our old politics. Sarek has accomplished what seemed to be impossible, and I owe him everything for it, for he has repaired what my folies had damaged. It is always the next generation’s destiny to fulfill its predecessors dreams, and in return theirs to give them up to the following. V’Las’ poison will forever remain in the Katras who fell for it, the civil war a brand in our memory and it will be handed down meld after meld. All is left is to learn from it.”
He hesitated. “Which brings me to the second, private reason why I choose to accept this mission.”
Spock straightened, forgetting to hand over the cup. Was he-?
“I am dying. I was blessed with a long and prosperous life, and accomplishments unique to this time.”
That was an understatement.
“I have chosen not to preserve my Katra in my clans arch.”
What! Spock opened his mouth in protest, but Soval raised his hand. “I wish to meld with you instead.”
Oh.
But.
“You wish for others to learn from your generation’s follies. Gifting your Katra to your clan’s shrine will be the better suited option.”
Sovals voice turned bitter. “I have been burnt too many times in effigy to trust in that.”
Right, he had seen Suraks Katra mistreated and destroyed.
“I ask for Time to decide.”
“I will not force you. I understand if you decline.”
“No. It is an honor I have to fully process,” Spock quickly corrected. “Sarek has not shared his mind with me.”
“Neither has he with me. I do not understand the relevance.”
He would. The way he narrowed his eyes he sensed Spocks amusement but chose not to comment on it.
It was the logical time for a first meld. Ther were rumors of a five-year deep space mission during which Spock would be unavailable if Sovals health worsened.
“I’ll have to prepare.”
“I am well aware of the excessive need for meditation when surrounded by humans. I am currently not in a state of mind to hold a connection either.”
Spock inclined his head. “Then let us meditate once more before attempting.”
Soval tucked the blankets closer. “That is agreeable.”
His eyes shone in satisfaction, dared he say happiness.
Spock collected his meditation lamps from their display, and they both sunk deep into the flame.
When Spock returned to the outside, he rose, stretched himself and started to quietly finish his evening routine. The elder had not yet opened his eyes, so he left the lamp, and retreated to his bedchamber ignoring the soft snores coming from the meditation mat.
-----
Chris tucked his uniform for a third time while waiting for an answer balancing the tray with one hand. Except, Spock’s door stayed shut. He wiped his hand and rang a second time. Just to make sure.
Yes, it’s become something of a joke, how he’ll cook for people at any available opportunity. But it’s an effective way of creating camaraderie, or at least cordiality needed for his style of command. And while he doesn’t expect Spock to be won over with nothing more than a plate of good food, he’ll take any advantage he can get. He had a lot to apologize for.
The door opened, but it was Commissioner Soval. Yeah. That Soval.
Marie had buried her head in her hands when she realized and he- well, Vulcan emotions were something completely different.
The only way to cope with a literal Founding Father of the Federation scolding him like a teenager, was to take it as a batch of honor. Johnathan Archer had been constantly dressed down by him, too, after all, until their relationship had tawed.
“Captain Pike.”
Chris cleared his throat. “Commissioner. I was not aware you were still aboard.”
He nearly called him by his name, thankfully remembering that it was rude to do so if the Vulcan had not given it. Which was the whole reason for their problems in the first place. Unless Soval just expected to be recognized. Or enjoyed the anonymity for once.
“I have yet to finish my investigation.”
“Of course.” Which did not explain why he was in Spocks quarters. He lifted his tray. “I have prepared breakfast.”
Commissioner Soval scrutinized him a moment then stepped back and gestured with his left arm to come in.
“Commander Spock is currently not available but will join us shortly.”
Ah, so at least he didn’t loose all his respect. Chris wanted to confirm but ran against a wall. Figuratively.
Spocks Quarters were always a bit warmer than the rest of the ship but now they were… Well, hot as Vulcan. The fresh smell of incense worsened the dizziness, but he soldiered on.
Two meditation lamps. Ah.
He placed the tray down and started to put out the containers and set the table. Commissioner Soval wordlessly brought another plate, cutlery and Spock’s tea set, plus a carafe of water and three glasses. His eyes immediately wandered to the one with the Gaspar when Chris opened it, confirming the smell.
“I tried some of your tips.”
He had been a horrible Co-Chef. He was a unexpectedly good cook, which had made it worse.
Chris wasn’t sure if he had been intentionally obnoxious to bait him into that lifesaving conversation or if it had been his legendary temper. Whlie he apparently on all accounts had mellowed out, Commissioner Soval never quite lost his reputation of bullheaded disagreeability.
“How was the dinner with Vice admiral Passalk?”
Chris laughed. “Um. Thankfully less of a disaster than it could have been. I think your little history lesson saved my life. He has some-“ He searched for a word.
“Antiquated views,” offered Commissioner Soval. “I never understood how he reached his position. Then again, his faulty logic does not apply in the courts.”
Chris followed his example and sat down. “Marie threw both of us out. He gave her the position anyway.”
The Commissioner rose his eyebrows, so he elaborated. “She was annoyed by our arguing. I tried to defend her. Praised her into the sky, apparently.”
Commissioner Soval nodded while pouring the tea. “One does not defend his mate unless with a lirpa.”
Chis snorted, then the reality of that statement sunk in and his eyes involuntarily twitched to the ceremonial weapon on display. “I did not challenge him.”
Soval lowered his chin, watching him from under his eyelashes. “I do not think so.”
He was laughing at him, was he? Chris smiled back. He reached for the cup, but the Commissioners hand shot forward blocking him. Oh yeah, he could feel the heat radiating from the cup without touching it. He nodded, and the Vulcan narrowed his eyes in acknowledgement, then demonstratively picked his own cup and clutched it closer to warm his hands.
So it wasn’t just humans needing warmth in their old age. He was- what?- depending on the guesstimates floating around somewhere in his two-hundred- twenties, maybe even -thirties.
“Captain.”
Spock left the bathroom, a tint of surprise in his voice.
“The Captain has prepared an apology breakfast.”
“That is not necessary. I believe an apology was implied by your reaction when you were returned to your human physiology.”
Chis shook his head. “Maybe. But I never quite said it. And I did some really horrible things. So, Spock, I’m so sorry. Please.” He gestured to the Table.
Spocks lips thinned. “Nurse Chapel tried to apologize with plomeek soup. It was most disagreeable.”
“It’s my recipe,” corrected Commissioner Soval.
And Spock sat down.
But not before gently draping a blanket over the old Vulcans shoulders, which the Commissioner accepted with closing his eyes and nuzzling closer into the contact.
Huh?
“You two know each other for a long time?” Chris had asked before remembering that it was probably more polite to ignore that untypically intimate contact.
Spock piled his plate with Gaspar and fruits. “My peers not being allowed contact was irregular, I did not grew up friendless. In fact, the Commissioners life and career inspired me to go beyond my home planet.”
Chris filled the Commissioners glass of water. “Then I am even more indebted to you. He’s the best science officer in the whole fleet.”
“Spocks accomplishments are his own alone,” chided the Commissioner.
“Never thought anything else.”
Still. If the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth did not approve his son joining Starfleet, Starfleet obeyed.
Chris changed the topic. “Is it to your liking.”
“It is agreeable,” confirmed Commissioner Soval, and Spock nodded.
“Good.” He took a breath. “I just wanted to say, I know that not all Vulcans are monsters. Despite asking. Which in hindsight, was just as bad as me commenting on your heritage.”
“Without logic we are,” stated the Commissioner bluntly.
“Right. I mean, you wouldn’t have a functional society if all or even most Vulcans acted like that. We just encountered a lot of bigots.”
The two Vulcans shared a glance, then Spock said: “A loud minority, as you concluded. I have learned to ignore them.”
And Chris would really, really like to believe that. Ecxept, there was that story Spock shared in Beto Ortegas’s documentary. He'd thought of that every time he saw Spock for days after it, but hadn’t asked him about it. Because one, Spock wouldn’t want him to raise such an obviously emotional subject, two, as captain, Spock’s mental health wasn’t any of his business unless it affected his duties - which it hadn’t - and three, if he’s being honest, it’s a delicate thing to discuss with anyone and Chris was scared he’d say the wrong thing.
“I think, I just never thought I would say things like that. I wasn’t possessed or drugged or controlled; I kept my memories and my interests. I just…” He stooped and then smiled. “I was rationalizing my bad behavior. with faulty logic.” He saluted the Commissioner with his cup.
“I have always prided myself to offer you a save and welcoming environment. I’m incredibly lucky to have you here as my science officer. And I feel, I betrayed that.”
“I am incredibly lucky to serve on your ship,” corrected Spock.
“Yes, but-“
The Commissioner hummed. “ Captain Pike, there will be a time when you will say something intensive , may it be speciest, homophobic, bigoted, misogynic, entitled or racist. Its not about never avoiding it, that is impossible. Acknowledge your mistake, and implant the advice to further avoid similar incidents. A save environment is crated by the knowledge that incidents can be pointed out without negative consequence, including overcompensation. What is is. Commander Spock accepted your apology. Enjoy the new recipes and insights you have gained from it.”
He was speaking from experience. Most people celebrated him for his signature on the Federation Charter, his role in the Romulan War and work as Commissioner convincing planets to join the young Federation.
Sareks’ work as Vulcan Ambassador outshone that of his predecessors- except maybe Solkar. So, Ambassador Pointy, the man slowing humanity from its quest to the stars for nearly twenty years, who had united the scattered countries of earth under one government, yet puppeteered them from the shadows, hid inside the history books and behind the scarred cheek and ear of the old man in front of him.
“All right then.”
Spock nodded in confirmation so Chris continued to Commissioner Soval. “How long will you join us.”
“I estimate two more days to finish my reports.”
Spock sipped his tea. “A continuous opportunity to experiment with these recipes then, Captain. And to figure out your vulcan selves hair routine.”
“That is acceptable,” Commissioner Soval inclined his head.
Chris was definitely forgiven.