starfleet’s finest

Among the crew of the USS Enterprise, the Bridge officers saw a disproportionate amount of action. Those privileged few, orbiting the captain like so many moons, regularly had the kind of adventures that motivated exhausted but starry-eyed cadets in Starfleet Academy to study just a little harder and to stay up just a little later.

But those officers could also be somewhat isolated by the rarefied air of the Bridge. They were usually the last ones to hear the latest gossip, even the salacious, speculative kind that tore through the rest of the ship in just a few days. There were exceptions to this rule, of course: Lieutenant Uhura was a popular social butterfly, and as chief engineer, Scotty probably heard all kinds of talk but was wise enough not to repeat any of it while he was on duty. The ship’s first officer, though, might have been the very last to hear any of it. Spock tended to ignore all but the tallest tales even when he did hear them. In typical Vulcan fashion, he dismissed anything that lacked the potential to threaten the overall morale of the crew and fortunately, nothing had fit that description this early in the voyage.

The same privilege and separation from the lower decks that put the Bridge crew out of the loop made them a favorite subject of that same gossip. Half of the women on board carried a torch for one of the senior officers, with Captain Kirk’s boyish good looks and charm making him the clear front-runner. To some ordinary crewmen, the captain and his inner circle were more like celebrities than fellow members of Starfleet.

So when two crewmen working alongside him in the lab struck up a conversation about a relatively recent rumor, Spock took notice only when one of them remarked, “Chapel? The blonde with the great legs? Damn. Some guys have all the luck.”

His companion chuckled. “Well, I don’t see your epaulets, Sharma. Everyone knows she’s been sweet on a Bridge officer for months. You think she’s going to be interested in a lab rat?”

Spock frowned, his hands going still. Under the influence of an alien virus, Christine Chapel had confessed that she was in love with him not so long ago. He remembered the encounter with crystal clarity—and he knew that it had caused her a great deal of embarrassment. But how had that translated into this supposed common knowledge? Since neither man was paying any attention to him, however, it appeared that no one had correctly guessed for which Bridge officer the head nurse had eyes. In any case, their talk had already moved on to a different topic. Spock went back to his research, putting thoughts of Christine (and her great legs—the observation had been slightly crude but accurate nonetheless) in the back of his orderly mind.

It never occurred to him to wonder about the identity of the man.

A few days later, Spock laid claim to the empty corner of a rec room for dinner and a game of chess with Jim. The chatter from a table near the door washed over him like so much white noise as he began setting up the tridimensional board. Until—

“He was with her down there, after all. On Exo III, I mean.”

Exo III. The name was enough to pique Spock’s interest. They’d found Dr. Roger Korby—or whatever had remained of him—on that desolate planet. He lifted his eyes from the chess pieces he was arranging, unconsciously tilting his head with curiosity. The speaker was an ensign whose auburn hair was almost indistinguishable from her uniform.

“I guess chivalry’s not dead,” her dark-haired companion remarked, laughing.

“Not while Captain Kirk’s alive,” agreed the redhead. “I heard that they’ve been seeing each other for months already. If that’s true, it seems like a pretty quick rebound, but well…can you blame her?”

The brunette lifted one non-committal shoulder. “He’s not really my type.”

“Sure, you say that now, but if he turned that gigawatt smile on you—”

“It’s a megawatt smile at most.”

Both of them rose from the table and headed for the door, giggling as they continued to bicker over the order of magnitude that best described the power contained within Jim Kirk’s smile, not that either girl had probably ever seen that expression for themselves.

A deafening silence accompanied the ensigns’ departure. Spock didn’t recognize his own sudden, intense agitation until he swept the board he’d just assembled off the table. He stared with astonishment first at the mess of pieces strewn across the floor, then at his offending arm, which trembled beneath his gaze.

It is not logical to envy, he reminded himself even as he wondered if that was the sensation he was experiencing.

Christine Chapel was almost nothing to Spock—maybe not even a friend. When had they ever had a real conversation? He wasn’t available, in human parlance, even if he had the time or inclination to pursue an intimate relationship. If Christine wanted companionship and comfort in the wake of losing her own fiance, she had no reason to seek those things in him. Jim, on the other hand, was an obvious choice. Was it possible that their experience on Exo III had forged a bond between them that had grown into something more?

Even if such a thing had occurred completely unbeknownst to Spock, he wondered further: their mission was still young, had he ever seen Jim carry on a romance with a crew member? Not even with Miss Rand…

“Enough. Enough!” he muttered as he knelt down to collect the scattered chessmen. It was just some talk. There was no empirical evidence that the captain was spending time with Nurse Chapel in any capacity, and he had no reason to be jealous of such a relationship if it did exist. Such a reaction was utterly irrational. It was below him. Jim was his friend, Christine his colleague.

Ordering a cup of spice tea from the food synthesizer, Spock settled back into his seat to wait for Jim.

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Christine giggled. She had always preferred making friends one on one, never having done well in group settings…she always tended to get edged out and ignored. Besides, he wasn’t half bad to look at, and was proving polite.He was already a better catch than ninety percent of men she had met.

She at least had the knowledge that Vulans didn’t go around shaking hands, so instead she just smiled and said, “Christine. What classes are you taking? I’m still a first year, but want to go down a medical path, but you look like you’d look nice in command gold,” she teased.

No one had ever flirted with Spock before. That said, he had grown up with a human mother who was very much in love with her husband. Amanda often restrained herself for the sake of her Vulcan husband, but her son recognized the nature of the attention this young woman—Christine—was giving him nonetheless. He understood the implications of her tone, her smile, and even her utterly illogical statement about how he would look in a command uniform. And though that comment made his cheeks warm as if in embarrassment, whatever he was experiencing now was neither bitter nor unpleasant.

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Christine shrugged, but the grin started splitting her face wider. She loved talking to people who were just a little that ways off of what ‘normal’ was supposed to be…people who made conversations interesting. It was why she loved sitting with her grandparents so much, even as their minds faded.

She shrugged. “I’m starting this year too. You could be a graduating senior for all I know.” She shifted her feet in the sand and then ventured another question. “Do you always react this way to blonde women asking you random questions?” A giggle ended the sentence, so he knew she was making fun of herself a little too.

“Perhaps. You are the only such woman I have met,” Spock replied, his expression enigmatic but not unfriendly. Curious really was the best way to describe him while he observed her: the way her face changed as she grinned and laughed, the skin around her very blue eyes crinkling and those eyes themselves sparkling in the late-afternoon sun...she was quite attractive. Though he’d been betrothed since childhood, Spock could still recognize and admire female beauty.

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Christine was not about to be a person who was thrown off by a look in return. He was clearly Vulcan…and she had only seen a few Vulcans in her lifetime, and none of them were…well, he was certainly not half bad to look at.

Careful to not be rude (or, well, more than she might have already been on accident) she smiled softly, and sat right in front of him down on the sand. She tilted her head curiously, the smile staying put, and she asked, “You new here?”

Her reaction was almost the opposite of what Spock had anticipated, and he raised one of those sharply-angled brows at the blonde girl as she settled down in front of him. In his brief experience, he had observed that humans found Vulcans to be both interesting and intimidating. It occurred to him in that moment that most of that experience had occurred in his father’s presence. Maybe that accounted for some of the reactions he’d witnessed in the past—perhaps Sarek had as an individual had intimidated them more than Vulcans as a race. It was at least worth considering.

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Christine Chapel. Twenty-one years old. Studying to be a doctor. She came from a loving home, with supportive parents, and already had a best gal for a best friend one year above her in the Academy. She was heading into it with a near-perfect grade-point average, a fantastic work ethic, and she was intelligent to boot.

But Christine was also coming off of one of hte worst breakups o her life. The getting-together had been messy, the relationship had been messy, the breakup was messy. A year of pure emotional torture, dragging her heart through the mud. The only comfort she had was that it was over, and he wasn’t going to be anywhere near the Academy.

Another bright spot, she surmised, stepping with bare feet into the cool sand, was that the Academy campus was a mere mile away from the pristine beaches of San Fransisco.

Christine too spotted the bonfire, but wrinkled her nose at the idea…bounding over there with endless energy only to likely get rejected was not what she needed right now. So she instead began a slow trek down the rocks…hoping instead to not run into anyone, but moments later, she spotted a dark, tall figure…and against her better judgement, her hand tilled on the railing, and her eyebrows climbed high in her forehead. Sure, it was hard to tell from here…but tall and dark was certainly a step leading to handsome.

Spock, carrying his cloak over his left arm and his shoes in the same hand, was still wandering—both down the beach and in his own mind. He didn’t catch sight of the young woman standing among the rocks until just a few yards separated them. The same intense evening sunlight that had gilded the sea also bathed her in gold, making a halo out of her bright hair. Light-colored hair was such a recessive trait on Vulcan that it no longer appeared in the population. Therefore, Spock had been fascinated to observe a variety of such colors, from flaxen to amber to fiery copper, during his first visit to a space station full of humans as a child. The visual appeal of hadn’t diminished in the intervening years, and his eyes lingered somewhat appreciatively on the woman now.

It was only fair, since she already seemed to be staring at him. He’d grown accustomed to being stared at from an early age and attached no particular emotion to the experience, though he had found the best response when among humans was to calmly return the stare. Most often, it seemed to make them uncomfortable and got them to look away in short order. 

Spock had lived his entire life as an outsider, existing on the fringe of Vulcan society in many ways despite his father’s illustrious diplomatic career and family name. His very existence made him a curiosity, which in itself was neither good nor bad—but even Vulcan children could be cruel, and the human DNA in Spock’s genetic code made him more emotionally vulnerable to that cruelty than any of his peers. He rejected his inherent humanity at every turn, embracing only his paternal heritage, and devoted a great deal of time and effort to becoming a perfect Vulcan man. He would prove the childhood bullies wrong. He would prove himself worthy to his father...though in quiet moments of reflection or meditation, he sometimes questioned how Sarek could have chosen to marry and father a child by a human woman, only to then be critical of every human trait that child displayed.

Beyond where he stood, the surf roared and crashed until it crept, whispering, onto the sand. Cold, frothy seafoam licked at Spock’s bare toes before slipping away again to resume its primordial dance, the steps dictated by cosmic forces millions of miles away. He was unsure exactly how long he had stood here, mesmerized as he gazed out on the blue-grey water gilded by the late-afternoon sun, but his face and feet were growing chilled. This was the third afternoon he’d come here. The experience of watching and listening to the Terran sea had a calming, almost meditative effect on his mind. He wondered if it also spoke to some latent humanity within him without really believing such a thing was possible.

His Vulcan features and behavior made Spock just as much of a curiosity here on Earth as he’d been on the planet of his birth. No one could tell that he was, in fact, half human. But now he was also something other than just an outsider. He was an outcast. Sarek had, upon learning of his son’s enrollment in Starfleet Academy, made it clear that he was no longer welcome in his house. While Spock’s imminent departure for Earth had robbed the words of their immediate impact, it couldn’t alter the rejection inherent within them. The many years he’d spent trying to fit in to his society and to please his father appeared to have been in vain.

Now, many light-years away from the burning Vulcan sun and with an alien sea filling his keen senses, Spock wondered idly whether he and his father would ever speak again. Perhaps if he did as well in his Academy courses as he always had in childhood…  

Frowning, Spock let that incomplete thought fade from his mind. He wasn’t here to make Sarek proud. He was here because he wanted to be. Rather than settle logically on a career path that he could follow, as was expected of him, to the Vulcan Science Academy, Spock’s sharp young mind had always hungered for ever-more knowledge on all subjects...and his eyes and imagination were forever drawn back to the stars that glittered overhead. The various interplanetary diplomatic trips on which he sometimes accompanied his parents had only furthered his conviction. Someday, he would live and work out there among those distant points of light.

From some distance down the beach Spock heard the cheerful clamor of people gathering. The sun hadn’t yet set, but they had already built a bonfire on the sand. Some part of him—the human part, he supposed, still reeling from the events of the last two weeks—yearned to walk down and join them. But whether they were fellow Starfleet cadets or not, he doubted his presence would be welcome, nor would he have any idea how to conduct himself. Classes began in a few days. He would bury any loneliness and homesickness he felt in his studies and focus on his goals.

He turned away from the sun-drenched waves and began walking towards the rocks where he’d deposited his shoes and cloak. Perhaps tonight he would try to find a restaurant that offered more appealing dishes than the Academy’s food synthesizers.

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Sarek was pleased with that answer, for one reason or another. “It is honorable to want to share knowledge.” For all of Amanda’s bubbly exuberance, she was proving to have some very attractive ideals that most Vulcan’s held.

“I’m glad you approve,” she said, surprised to find that she meant it. Amanda had never sought or needed male approval for her choices, though her father was a kind, supportive man by nature. So why did hearing it come from a Vulcan stranger fill her with so much warmth?

When they reached Sarek’s hotel, she wanted to linger, but only did so long enough to convey information that seemed necessary. She gave him some recommendations for where to potentially continue his observational research the next day, since class wouldn’t resume until Monday— and anyway, she couldn’t him to spend all his time in Portland with her. Then she gave him the address of her school and an idea of when to arrive.

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Sarek’s smile tightened, but again, ,not with any malice towards her. “That is…I believe what humans would call, ‘a long story.’” He didn’t say anything else on the matter.

However, he did ask, “What made you decide to be a teacher? Such a career is very respected on Vulcan…you are hte caregiver of young people who will someday be the backbone of society.”

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He looked at her ruinously, one angled eyebrow raising up. “No, Vulcans occupy nearly all jobs that humans do. Well…” he paused, spotting a lingerie shop with a woman modeling the lingerie inside, and he shook his head. “…not all of them.”

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‘Handsome’ could mean a lot of things. You could say, ‘My, that’ a handsome horse!’ Or ‘a handsome reward!’ But Sarek knew exactly how she meant it. And…it was…flattering.

Sarek was not betrothed: Unusual, but not unheard of, and he had had a few women, both human and Vulcan, attempt flirting with him. Of course, Vulcan ‘flirting’ was a bit different. He had not been complimented or personally flattered by any of it.

But Amanda was different.

“Thank you…I am…pleased that it compliments my appearance.”

Amanda’s cheeks turned even darker pink, and her resolve deepened. We’ll see who’s not dating material, she thought with determination. She didn’t tell him that in her opinion, it would be difficult for something not to compliment his appearance. Instead, she continued walking by his side, answering his occasional question until she felt confident enough to begin posing a few of her own.

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Sarek stared at the scarf: they had ornamental neck wrappings on vulcan, but obviously, not those to keep them warm…and certainly not ones that were so…fuzzy. It was an odd object and an even odder gift.

This project may have mainly been an excuse to get away from boring meetings, but now he was beginning to suspect it was going to actually be a good learning experience for humans. And, well, Amanda wasn’t exactly unpleasant to be around.

“Thank you,” he said, still looking at the scarf and not her bright eyes. To his own surprise, the scarf did actually help with some of the cold. He just tried not to think about how it might look on him.

“Better?” she asked, fighting hard against the urge to reach out and adjust it like she would one of her third-graders’ before they went out for recess. Sarek was not a child, and she had no excuse whatsoever to touch him, according to human or Vulcan custom. Standing, she added: “I tried to find something that wouldn’t, um, clash. You look very handsome.”

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Sarek had started to watch her while she flitted about in the store, but then that felt…wrong, not like when they had done her people-watching observations. So he turned his head, focusing instead on the busy street and overcoming his feelings of cold.

He too had noticed that she wouldn’t stop smiling: he had met humans like that before, ones who seemed almost impossibly happy, all the time, and they were either not genuine, or annoying. But she was neither.

As soon as she exited the store, his eyes went to the small bag. He failed to understand what someone could buy from a small boutique that made them that excited and could help with the cold, but he did as told.

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Vulcans didn’t lie — and they certainly didn’t bluff just out of sheer awkwardness, but in that moment, Sarek was very tempted to do so. It was illogical, but he felt a sort of embarrassment…like she would be offended i he said yes.

“I am not…fond of the Earth’s climate,” he said slowly. “But discomfort can be managed through the mind.” Besides, being freezing with her was still preferable to being in a heated room with diplomats all day.

She almost rolled her eyes, but checked the impulse. It would appear that men were men regardless of what species they belonged to! “But isn’t being uncomfortable when you can do something about it illogical?” she asked coyly, risking another smile even though she felt like she’d never stopped smiling this morning. They hadn’t completely left the commercial district of town yet, and as they passed the windows of a rather adorable boutique, an idea popped into her head. “Hold on. Stay right here and, um, continue your observations.”

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Sarek frowned — not out of anger or boredom with this activity, but a true kind of scientific curiosity. Additionally, it was…strange for him to see such a public display of affection, even if it was humans.

He would be staying at a high-quality hotel on the outskirts of the city for the duration of his stay, and as they walked, Amanda continued explaining people-watching, and he asked about the habits of humans. “Do humans…are they often so..bold with affection in public?”

“It depends. Sometimes? In my experience, it comes down to cultural norms, what was considered acceptable or good manners in your family...” She trailed off. Humans were physically demonstrative. They had already seen several couples holding hands (what was it like, Amanda wondered despite herself, to hold Sarek’s hand? Did Vulcans even do that?) and parents with children of all ages. To him, all of it must seem very bold. Wait until he saw one of her students run up to give her a hug.

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Sarek had no such knowledge of human habits, and had no idea what people watching was, or how scientifically vigorous it would be as an experiment. But he nodded and followed her into the crowded city of Portland: he still garnered some looks, but not as many.

“How does one ‘people-watch?’” He asked with a genuine respect and curiosity.

Amanda attempted not to giggle at how seriously he was taking the concept. God forbid he should think she was mocking him! Instead, she played along, continuing in a semi-serious tone: “It’s very simple. We sight-see around the city, and we observe people’s behavior along the way. Like this,” she added, lowering her voice and nodding to a man they’d just passed carrying a suitcase. He had stopped walking and turned around. A moment later, a woman came running towards. When she reached him, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with obvious enthusiasm. She was saying something about how much she would miss him. He replied that he would only be gone for a week, sounding both amused and exasperated.