#uncertainlogic

ON CONTRAXIA, THERE ARE NO HANDOUTS. With limited opportunities comes the dire fight for survival. Whether one takes that statement literally or figuratively, it’s all the same; bodies sold for credits, cracked ribs and bruised knuckles traded for food. As the eldest of the two-by-four they can call a household, Echo’s decision was decided for her: to fight and to continue to fight until there was nothing left.

“I appreciate the support.” She shoves the credits into her coat pocket hastily, nodding at the generous passerby rushing for the arena’s descending stairs. For once, someone visiting the shady ice planet hadn’t been betting against her. Standing a mediocre 5′4″, it goes to show that the small rarely survive in the pit. Her Champion tattoos have been strategically kept in hidden crevices, places where she can reveal when the time is right. Let them bet so high against the other fighter. Let them think she won’t win; it’s more money for her at the end of the day.

She shoves the credits into her coat pocket hastily, but it isn’t the ring-runner or her future opponent that has her stopping dead in her movement. He sticks out like a sore thumb in a sea of grays and tattered dresses, and as far as she can see? There isn’t a single scrape of dirt on his face. (A mistake, she imagines. There’s a first-time fight for everyone.)

It had been two months since the five year mission had ended. Most of the Enterprise crew had gone back to their respective homes. They were reunited with family they hadn’t seen in years, matters they hadn’t been able to tend to in space, and friends whose company they had missed. They’d promised they would see one another again, sometime soon, after things had calmed down.

For many of them, their lives simply picked up where they’d left off. Some were offered positions on other ships. Some began teaching at the Academy. Most of them arrived on Earth with little more than their Starfleet uniforms, badges of honour, and a few trinkets picked up along the way. Leonard, however, brought back much more with him.

Spock had agreed that moving to Georgia with Leonard was ideal. Nothing was truly waiting for him on Vulcan. Not after he had passed up his invitation to the Vulcan Science Academy all those years ago. He was - as T’Pring had so aptly put it - somewhat of a legend among their people now. The half-human who preferred to join the military instead of study. Spock did not want that life, and Leonard was more than happy to take him home.

Until it was suggested that they go back to Vulcan anyway. For a visit. Just for a little while.

Leo had only ever been to Vulcan on one occasion - for Spock’s koon-ut-kal-if-fee, which was something he preferred not to think about for obvious reasons. At the time he’d been introduced to the saddest cast of characters he’d ever had the displeasure of meeting. Spock’s wife. Her boyfriend. T’Pau. Many men wearing helmets. Leonard honestly would have preferred not to go back, but Spock had a convincing argument.

Their wedding - their human marriage ceremony - had been aboard the Enterprise, Jim Kirk presiding as was customary on a starship. It hadn’t been open to the public, but some members of the senior staff were present and there was a small reception. It was quaint, and done entirely for Leonard’s satisfaction. After all, the Vulcan ritual - the Van-Kal t'Telan - was much more intimate and occurred behind closed doors. The joining of two minds was not something you did in public.

Leonard had no family to share the news with. He’d written to Joanna. She seemed happy for the two of them, but their relationship was far removed and existed only over subspace messages. Her relationship to Spock was non-existent. Other than that, there was no one to tell...except Spock’s parents.

Leonard had only met Spock’s parents on one occasion. It was during a diplomatic mission to Babel when Ambassador Sarek was a guest aboard the Enterprise. He hadn’t warmed up to the ambassador - not that he was surprised - but Spock’s mother was a lovely woman whose company Leonard had enjoyed very much. Fast forward a few hours and he’d had to perform surgery on Spock and his father at the same time during a crisis. There hadn’t been any time to talk to them about the marriage, but something in Leo’s head kept nagging him. He thought it was important they should know.

The weather was never something he would get used to. It wasn’t the same sort of heat as at home. This heat was indescribable...alien. The people were polite enough, but Leonard could tell they weren’t used to visitors outside of diplomacy, and he couldn’t shake the feeling of judgement when he passed them on the street. He had hoped the feeling would be different at the Ambassador’s house, seeing at it was Spock’s father and all. He didn’t know much about Spock and Sarek’s relationship, and he didn’t want to push. That seemed like information that should be volunteered. Upon their arrival, there were a few moments of awkward conversation, and then Amanda absolutely insisted Spock’s assistance at the store. Within minutes, Leonard and Sarek were left alone together. Leonard cursed Spock in his head who responded by suggesting they ‘make small talk’, which Leo was fairly sure wasn’t something Sarek was keen on.

After some seconds of silence, Leonard clapped his hands together. “Well, uh...it’s nice to see you, Ambassador.” Spock had not mentioned exactly why he’d brought Leonard along. Unless he had sent word before they came, Bones couldn’t imagine what Sarek was thinking.

Spock harboured very little - if any - ill will toward his father. Neither one was ever keen on spending time with the other. Or speaking to the other. Or seeing the other. Spock simply assume that’s how things were between Vulcan children and parents. Amanda was...different. She was human, and although she did a decent job of containing herself in public, she was still quite emotional. Spock didn’t blame her for this - it was simply in her nature. That’s how humans were.

He thought the same for Sarek. Logically, one reacts to the actions of their offspring in a way that will influence their behavior. Sarek’s attitude toward him came from a place of logical parenting. His reactions to Spock’s faults in childhood were...simply in his nature. It was - as Leonard was fond of saying - ‘nothing personal’. 

Sarek was now aware of his marriage to Dr. McCoy. This topic did not have to be brought up again, as far as Spock was concerned. Not in the presence of his father. To say any more on the topic would verge on inappropriate. In addition to this, being on Vulcan had stirred up thoughts that he had done his best to avoid during the last few weeks of the five year mission. They were becoming increasingly difficult to ignore while visiting his home planet. 

His parents seemed amenable to hosting them. Amanda and Leonard had found an excuse to take a walk in the gardens and to leave Spock and Sarek alone to talk. Although, as the two of them sat in private for the first time since his arrival, Spock found he had nothing to say. 

It was unlike him to search for a reason to speak, albeit the wish of his mother and husband for he and Sarek to exchange words. After much mental prodding, Spock finally resolved to make a comment. “You did not retire,” he stated. “I had been under the impression you were planning to retired after your recovery.” 

❝Forgive me, T'Lar. My logic is uncertain where my son is concerned.❞

People always act like Data is the “Spock of TNG” when Deanna is right there.

send “i’ve heard of you” for my muse’s reaction.

“Of course you have. Word is finally getting around about me!”

Only in small circles, granted, but Q was drumming up at least a small bit of excitement: he’d avoided contact with Federation Space and its planets for--oh, a few centuries at least, long enough to have been well-forgotten--but it was growing tiresome out there in the other reaches of the universe and the advancements that little collective of life forms had managed to make were intriguing. Far ahead of their time, especially the weaker planets.

Q glanced up from the market stall where he had been pursuing fruit (more for the pleasure of touching them than for any desire to consume them) and raised a challenging eyebrow at the...--Vulcan. Odd, he hadn’t expected they would care much for a creature that flaunts in the face of their pseudo-mystic religion.

[narrows eyes]