Author’s Notes: Apparently, this is not going to be a two part story. If you don’t remember what Part 1 of this story was about, you can read it here, keeping in mind that this is the third story in my ST:TOS “A Brief Encounter” trilogy. (“Between Logic and Longing” being the second story). Obviously, I am not telling them in order… I guess I am channeling C.S. Forester.
Of course, you may choose not to read it at all. Possibly you are angry with me because I have not updated Heart’s Guardian in a while. But believe me, I am working on it, but telling time-displacement stories require A LOT of pre-planning, and I have hit a wall as to how I need to proceed. Rest assured I am working on it: it has not been abandoned.
BTW: Mistakes are mine and I still can’t convince Paramount to sell me the rights, so their characters are theirs and I do not profit from them. So, we continue…
The Fundamental Things Apply – Part 2
It was the next morning and Kirk had spent a long, tiresome, evening trying to reason with Spock concerning his refusal to divulge all he had known and kept from Uhura.
When he had awakened from a pitifully short night’s sleep, he once again tried to digest Spock’s unbelievable and incongruous words, coupled with trying to resolve his own feelings of anger with his other feelings of sympathy.
“Spock, you’re going to have to tell her,” said Kirk, who was sitting at the head of the table with Spock to his right in the seldom used Captain’s mess. Privacy, for for their continued conversation, being a high priority.
“I do not see the necessity in that, Captain.”
“You’re going to have to help me understand your logic in all of this, Spock.”
“It is very simple, Captain. Several years have passed. Commander Uhura and I have both moved on. It was a very brief romance; hardly advanced enough beyond the first stages of recognition to warrant a total upheaval in Miss Uhura’s current life. I have changed within that interval; Miss Uhura has changed.”
“Yes, one of you for the worst, the other for the better,” said McCoy from the left, cocking his craggy brow at the Vulcan seated across the table. “And no points awarded for guessing who is the worst in all of this,” McCoy added, leaving no doubt between the three of them as to the level of his anger.
Giving up for the time being, Kirk rubbed his eyes tiredly. He felt overwhelmed, cranky, and put upon since Spock had divulged his news. Right now, a Gorn he could handle, even an angry Andorian or two, but his old Vulcan friend in love with his other old friend: this he could not handle. Giving up trying to understand, he gestured lazily towards McCoy to pass the creamer.
The doctor, on the other hand, had absolutely no sympathy for Spock. McCoy had already surmised that Jim, though angry, would, just like every other time before, let the Vulcan slide. So, he just sat in his seat, his arms crossed, staring at his breakfast, while mumbling under his breathe.
“Green-blooded, insensitive—probing around in a persons head–getting away with murder—.”
Spock cocked his eyebrow in the direction of the Chief Medical Officer. “As I said last evening, doctor, I did not initiate a mind-meld with Miss Uhura; she became privy to my thoughts through casual contact alone.”
“Casual contact my eye! When have you ever allowed casual contact?” McCoy stood and pointed an accusatory finger in Spock’s face. “There’s something fishy about all this! What I want to know is what’s the nature of the so-called casual contact!”
“Bones!” said Jim, in what he thought was a soothing voice, trying to get his friend to calm himself and sit down.
“Shut up, Jim, someone needs to look out for Uhura’s interests in all of this!”
“Bones!” said Kirk in warning, making a stopping motion with his hand.
“No Jim, you always do this! She deserves to know all the facts and when she finds out she’s going to be madder than a Klingon in a room full of tribbles and I hope I am there to see it happen!”
Kirk reached up to grasp McCoy’s shoulder, “I will handle this, Bones.”
McCoy jerked away. “Oh, like you always handle these things with Spock? Admit it, Jim, you’d let this overgrown elf get away with murder if he wanted to. This is Talos IV all over again: a mutiny and he didn’t get so much as get a slap on the wrist!”
Kirk raised his voice again. “I’m not letting anyone get away with anything, Bones!”
McCoy grumbled. “…believe it when I see it!”
“Dammit Bones, I said I would take care of this!” Kirk, fed up and having now heard enough of McCoy’s grumbling to last him for ten years, rounded on Spock. “Tonight! I want her to know everything by tonight! You can use the privacy of this room to explain everything to her.”
Spock had a logical explanation already on his lips. “Captain, surely–”
“You heard me, Spock; don’t make me turn this into an order!”
“He’ll figure out a way to wiggle out of it, mark my words!” McCoy then made a grand sweeping gesture with his arms. “It’s Talos IV all over again; just waltzed right in and takes over the ship!”
“I swear to god, Bones–! ”
Sensing the apex of the captain’s anger, the Doctor finally sat down, but continued to be disgruntled and to mumble things under his breath.
“–needs a good, old-fashioned ass-whupping—that’s what I’d do—high time somebody did it if you’d ask me…”
All the years of serving with James T. Kirk had taught Spock one very important thing: Captain Kirk’s tenacity was legendary.
Even with his body turned towards his console, Spock could feel the heat of Kirk’s stare on the back of his neck. Spock surmised that if Kirk suddenly developed the super-human ability to hurl daggers out of his eyes, then surely he would have found himself on the floor at that very moment in a pool of his own green blood.
Kirk then cleared his throat loudly and Spock could find no logical reason to delay another moment. He sighed quietly, stood, and carefully tugged at the bottom of his tunic.
He then clasped his hands behind his back, before taking the five point three steps between the science console and the communication’s station. Arriving, he waited patiently as Lieutenant-Commander Uhura finished speaking into the intercom to one of the repair crews she was monitoring down below.
“I’ll have someone down to you as soon as possible, Hayes.” Feeling the warmth of a body to her left, she slowly turned quizzical eyes in Spock’s direction but kept speaking to the crew-person below. “Yes, engineering is a bit behind at the moment, but I will make sure that Mr. Scott is aware of your request. Uhura out.”
Taking her time, she made a notation on her computer tablet before removing her earpiece, turning, and looking up.
She was still just a tad miffed at Spock for his cold manner of the last few days and she wasn’t going to make anything easy for him; getting back into her good graces chief among them.
After several long moments of silence, where neither seemed willing to be the first to speak, her patience eventually collapsed and she dropped her voice to a deadly whisper.
“Is there something you required from me, Commander?”
Spock could tell by the coolness in her tone and by the height of her eyebrows, that she was still somewhat irritated by his presence. Illogical, he thought.
Since she had set the volume, he too lowered his voice.
“I came to inquire as to your plans for the evening.”
Incredulous, both of her eyebrows climbed up even further on her forehead.
“My plans? Why are you asking me about my plans?”
Spock had never understood the human females predilection for answering a question with a question. Uhura, in many ways, was so typically female in that regard. With lips thinned, he sighed and rolled his eyes.
“I would find it satisfactory if you would be agreeable to taking your evening meal with me–privately–in the Captain’s mess.”
Uhura had no idea what prompted this sudden request for her company and quite frankly, she wasn’t in the mood to make nice. Also, she found his manner of asking both proud and self-important and she would have immediately called him on it if she had not, out of the corner of her eye, noticed that the Captain had turned around in his chair, and seemed extremely interested in their conversation. To test her theory, she quickly cut her eyes to him.
Kirk, caught, turned away guiltily, spinning the captain’s chair around until he faced the main view-screen.
She looked back up at Spock.
It was the strange, bewildered look that came across her face in that instance that made his abdominal muscles contract involuntarily.
“Tonight?” she continued. “With you?”
Spock looked heavenward and his tone became instructive instead of inviting.
“Miss Uhura, I believe I made my request perfectly clear. I can not fail to notice how my one, very simple request, elicited five additional queries from you.”
Kirk cleared his throat loudly, but Spock ignored him and pressed on.
“You must agree, Miss Uhura, that five questions to my one is highly illogical.”
She smiled up at him sweetly, but Spock suspected that it was not her typical smile for such a situation as her eyes looked devoid of any of the friendlier, human emotions.
“As tempting as you made your request sound, Mr. Spock, I’m afraid that I must decline. Perhaps you will have better luck finding a less illogical dining companion from amongst the rest of the crew.”
She positioned her earpiece back in place, spun her seat around, crossed her legs, and continued on with her work.
Confused, Spock finally looked to the Captain for aid, but Kirk remained turned resolutely away, shaking his head as it rested heavily in his palms.