Her eyes glanced nervously from one Vulcan face to another, attempting to read the emotions of each man despite their efforts to appear stoic. One Vulcan was easy to read. She knew his face well, despite the extra lines the passage of years had added to his handsome visage. His dark eyes were the same expressive orbs that contained a whirlwind of emotions that were otherwise only belied by a slight lifting of the corners of his mouth. Surprise, approval, nostalgia, pleasure and, most surprising of all, jealousy warred in his eyes and about his mouth. Despite the passage of time and a reality which she could never experience, this Spock was not so different from her own.

Nyota had to suppress a smile of her own as the elder Spock took notice of her perusal and locked her gaze in his. The corners of his mouth ticked slightly higher and his rarely seen dimple appeared on his right cheek. Nyota wondered what his Uhura had been like and if he had known her name. Did she know the particular spot on the back of his neck just behind his left ear where a whispered kiss could crumble his strongest defenses? In the middle of the sleep cycle when he would awake trembling and sweating, his skin impossibly pale and his eyes bright with tears he refused to shed, did she sing ancient Vulcan folk songs to him while cradling his head in her lap and running her fingers through his ebony hair? She wondered if this Spock had ever known the horrors of nightmares until now and who would be the vessel into which he’d pour the grief his Vulcan training could not suppress.

****************

The direction of the elder Spock’s gaze alerted him to the presence of Nyota. He turned to face her as she stood several meters away, attempting to give them the privacy he had requested while being close enough to lend the support he knew she could not help but to offer, no matter how much he told himself that he did not require it. From the corner of his vision he saw the elder Spock dip his head slightly in the direction of Uhura.

“Nyota, please join us.”

Spock turned to face his father and elder self once more, not allowing himself the luxury of watching Nyota’s approach. With the aide of his elder self he had explained the logic of his decision to remain with Star Fleet. His father had found his reasoning to be sound while still expressing his displeasure that his son would not be settling in New Vulcan with his people. Spock observed his father watching the approach of his Nyota and he knew that he would also have to explain the most illogical and greatest reason for his choice.

****************

She possessed all of the virtues of his Uhura, his colleague, friend and best student. She was beautiful and both loyal and brave. Spock could tell that she cared for his younger self a great deal. While he avoided interaction with the younger version of his friend, spending the weeks before the establishment of the colony in consultation with his father and the Elders, he allowed himself the luxury of observing them from afar. He was pleasantly surprised to observe the deep relationship between his younger self and Uhura. One evening during their journey to New Vulcan, the elder Spock decided to visit his younger self. Upon arriving at his door, he heard the familiar strains of two Vulcan lyres playing. He remained outside the door, listening to the music and a familiar voice accompanying the playing. Nyota, her voice as sweet as he remembered, was singing an ancient Earth song that his mother would sing to him as a child. Spock realized the depth of their bond then. While he and his Nyota had developed a deep bond of friendship, he had never shared with her something as intimate as the songs of his mother.

He was afraid of her and afraid of himself. Spock was always careful to keep Uhura at arms length. He had been aware of her regard for him during their days at the academy. While her thirst for knowledge and her command of the material had impressed him, he never made the illogical decision of pursuing a romantic relationship with her. When the strictures of pupil and master had been replaced for those of lieutenant and commander, he allowed her closer. She shared with him her name and he taught her the Vulcan lyre and the songs of his people. Her interest in him, barely concealed while they were at the academy, broke through to the surface on a few occasions. Spock pretended to be confused by her logic when she leaned on the arm of his chair and asked him sweetly to tell her how the planet Vulcan looked on a lazy evening when the moon was full.

“Vulcan has no moon, Miss Uhura.”

“I am not surprised, Mr. Spock.”

However, he made no such efforts to conceal his delight when she sung to him in front of several crew members in the recreation room. He had turned to watch her, his fingers strumming his lyre and an impish grin on his face. She sauntered towards him singing a song that barely concealed her feelings for him and boldly caressing his shoulder and the tips of his ears as she circled behind him.

The corners of his mouth lifted at the memory. His Nyota had departed this world fifty years ago in his time. She had been his student and his good friend, but never his lover. He allowed himself a moment to question the logic of his decision made long ago. At the time he thought it completely logical to keep her at arms length. His career and his ability to control his emotions had demanded it. However, watching his younger self introduce his mate to his father he began to doubt his calculations. Fear, not logic, had been the basis of his decision; fear of the unknown and fear of the human woman who had been able to unsettle him like no other. Spock had romantic relationships with other women; they had been brief and superficial; expertly compartmentalized so as not to interfere with duty or logic. Nyota was not so easily caged.

In this reality he was pleased that his younger self had been so illogical as to allow himself to fall in love. His younger self needed his Nyota in a way that he had never needed anyone. Everything had been stripped away from his younger self, yet Nyota remained a constant. Logic could not carry him through the loss of his world and his mother. Logic could not keep back the tide of grief and anger that threatened to consume him.

“What is necessary is never illogical,” Sarek’s voice broke the elder Spock from his contemplation. For a moment he wondered if his father had read his thoughts until he observed Sarek bowing his head in welcome to Nyota.

****************

Spock raised one eyebrow in surprise before bowing his head to his father and saying farewell to his elder self. His introduction of Nyota had seemed to be a more logical rationale for his decision to remain with Star Fleet than all the reasons previously laid out by him and his older self. As he turned to lead Nyota back to the cruiser that would return them to the Enterprise, he remembered his father’s words to him a few weeks prior.

“I married her because I loved her.”

Love appeared to have a logic of its own. Dismissing the fact that they were still in view of Sarek and his older self as well as several others, Spock took Nyota’s hand in his and held it tightly as they continued to walk to the cruiser. Nyota squeezed back and Spock smiled.

Sarek gazed down at the crying infant in his arms. Despite being decades out of practice, his arms instinctively gathered his granddaughter close to his chest, her small curl covered head supported in the crook of his arm. Makeda, barely an hour old, still protested being wrested from the warm dark confines of her mother’s womb to be brought into the bright light and heat of the New Vulcan afternoon. He looked up from the bundle in his arms towards her mother and father. His son sat on a chaise on the patio of his New Vulcan home cradling the white linen clad form of his wife against his chest as she rested from the hours of labor. Noticing his inspection, Nyota turned towards her father and offered him an encouraging smile. Sarek’s breath caught in his throat. How similar she was to his Amanda, full of warmth and love, offering support to those around her despite the weariness that even now fought to overtake her. She was radiant, the bright sun of the afternoon no match for the joy that radiated from her.

Sarek’s eyes rested on his son whose focus was solely on his mate. Spock seemed oblivious to all around them; his eyes heavy lidded and his left hand smoothing back the long dark tresses of his wife. Sarek could not fault his son for his preoccupation. The delivery of Makeda had been a long and difficult affair. As soon as Spock had informed him of Nyota’s pregnancy, Sarek had implored them to take a leave of absence from Starfleet and settle on New Vulcan for the duration of her twelve-month gestation period. 

His Amanda’s pregnancy had been a difficult one. In later months she required near daily treatments to stave off blood poisoning and weekly checkups on the development of their son. They had both suffered through two miscarriages, as the doctors had not known the proper precautions to take for a hybrid pregnancy. Sarek was thankful that his children had been spared that pain. Nyota’s pregnancy was not without its hardships; she was ordered to take bed rest for the final six months of the pregnancy, a difficult task for one so used to being active. The delivery had been painful and drawn out, Nyota’s cries of pain rang throughout the compound. Sarek had sat stoically alongside his elder son during the eight hour delivery while his younger son, tossing aside convention, demanded and gained entry to the birthing room, the cries of his wife and her distress he felt through their bond being too great to ignore. While other Vulcans might have regarded Spock’s behavior as a failing due to his human half, Sarek could not fault him. He now looked back with some regret on all of the times when his Vulcan training had prevented him from offering his mate the comfort and affection she required.

The gurgling of his granddaughter soon broke him from his maudlin and illogical train of thought. He returned his dark gaze to that of his granddaughter. She had stopped her crying; her dark unfocused eyes trained on his face. Sarek trailed his free hand through the sparse dark curls of her hair, over the gently pointed tip of her ear and around to her temple. He lowered his mental shields and tentatively touched her mind. Makeda did not yet have words, but her mind was a field of expressive colors and textures. He felt the bright green of her curiosity over this new world filled with strange people, the soft pink of her growing joy and contentment, a deep fading blue of her longing for her former home and a crisp yellow of familial love blossoming in her mind as she recognized the voices of her kin. 

A corner of the Sarek’s mouth curved into a grin. His granddaughter’s mind was active, fertile, and even more beautiful than her cherubic face. Sarek closed his eyes in concentration. While her mind was active, it was also delicate in its newness. He allowed impressions of his own mind to filter through their tentative bond. His own love for her, yellow wreathed in orange, strong and unconditional. His acceptance of her Vulcaness and humanity, lavender tinged with blue. 

Sarek was surprised to feel a gentle tug on his own mind, a flicker of bright green delving into his consciousness. He calmed himself and encouraged Makeda due to his own curiosity over the object of her search. Great was his shock when the flicker of green wrapped itself around a memory of Amanda before turning to a bright yellow flicked with blue. 

“That is your grandmother who is lost to us, little one,” Sarek spoke, gently breaking their bond.  

He opened his eyes to find the deep brown eyes of his granddaughter, focused and clear, fixed on his own. They were so much like her own.

*********************************

Spock Prime gazed down at the gurgling infant in his arms. She was nearly the splitting image of her mother. Large dark brown eyes gazed at him quizzically from a warm deep caramel colored cherubic face. Wisps of curly jet-black hair framed her sweet face and curled around pointed ears. Makeda, his daughter, was a beautiful child. 

Spock looked up from the bundle in his arms to observe her parents. A weary Nyota lay in her husband’s arms, the afternoon sun kissing her brown skin and lending her a becoming glow. His younger self sat on the chaise behind her, his head bent towards his wife and two fingers of his right hand pressed against two fingers of her left. A contented smile spread over Nyota’s features at the contact before she moved her hand up along her husbands arm to twine in the short black hairs at the nape of his neck. Spock allowed his forehead to be brought down to gently rest on that of his mate. As his younger self’s eyes fluttered closed, Spock Prime returned his gaze back towards the child in his arms.  

Makeda’s large brown unfocused eyes were fixed on his face, her small lips pursed in what seemed like concentration. A tiny hand reached up towards his face. Spock Prime grinned slightly before bowing his head towards the small questing fingers, which quickly latched onto this nose. Spock could not suppress the laugh that bubbled up from his throat. Makeda’s eyes grew large at the unexpected noise. The babe looked as if she were about to cry before Spock brushed her temple with his hand and sent soothing thoughts. 

Gently, two aged fingers brushed over Makeda’s temple, barely disturbing the dark curls that rested there. Just at the edges of his consciousness Spock Prime could sense the warmth of Makeda’s mind. Warm burnt oranges reminiscent of the sands of Vulcan swirled with deep aubergines and cool turquoise blues. In the warm mass of color tickling the back of his mind Spock Prime could feel wonder, an insatiable curiosity, love, contentment and uncertainty. Careful not to overburden her young mind, Spock opened his mind to the infant.  

“Fear not, young one. You are fortunate to have the best of parents and a ship full of uncles who will dote on you and protect you with their lives.”

Spock showed her images of her Uncle Len, whom he expected to be her favorite uncle. Despite his gruff exterior, when it came to Makeda, Spock knew that McCoy would be completely besotted and her devoted slave. He could sense her intrigue over the images of Uncle Jim who would be her fiercest protector but who would also aggravate Nyota and his younger self with the captain’s attempts to spoil her with gifts and exotic sweets. (Spock grew amused at his good friend’s ability to charm the ladies, even those who were only a few hours old.) Uncle Pavel would tell her Russian folktales and fill her head with nonsense about how Russia invented every good thing about Earth culture. Uncle Hiraku would keep her quarters stocked with flowers and blooming plants and attempt to shape her into a fencing aficionado as soon as she was big enough to hold a foil. Uncle Monty would similarly seek to recruit Makeda as an engineer, giving her a miniature tool kit and waxing poetic about warp drive converters. (Spock also did not doubt that Scotty would pass on less favorable habits, such as bawdy tales and choice insults in other languages.)

 “If you should ever tire of your gaggle of uncles, there will always be a place for you in my home, young one.”

***************

Spock brought his wife and child back into the house as the sun began to set, carrying his wife from the patio to the living area and reclaiming his ko-fu* from the attentions of his older self, his father and his mother-in-law. Spock’s heart was full and while he desired to keep his newly expanded family to himself for a while longer, he had promised Captain Kirk and his friends and colleagues on the Enterprise that he would inform them of the birth as soon as he was able. 

“Commander Spock,” Kirk greeted brightly, his smiling face appearing on the view screen. “I take it that you have some happy news to share with the crew?”

“Indeed,” Spock replied, suppressing the prideful smile that sought to overtake his features. “Lieutenant Uhura, and I would like to announce the birth of our daughter Makeda Amanda.”

Spock lifted his now sleeping infant towards the view screen. He heard Nyota laugh joyfully at the chorus of applause and expressions of wonder that broke out over the bridge. 

“Why, isn’t she just the prettiest little thing,” Doctor McCoy exclaimed. “Who would have thought you had it in you, Spock?”

Kirk and the rest of the bridge laughed good-naturedly. 

“Behave, Len, or you’ll be on permanent babysitting duty when we get back to the Enterprise!” Nyota threatened with a smile.

“You know I’m just teasing the boy, doll face. Congratulations. Makeda’s just as pretty as her momma.”

Spock listened to the congratulations of his colleagues with genuine gratitude and good humor. He soon ended the communication, much to the regret of the Enterprise crew, citing the need to put Makeda to bed.

Nyota accompanied Spock as he carried their sleeping daughter to the bedroom, leaning heavily on his free arm for support. Spock moved towards Makeda’s sleeping alcove just to the side of their bed. Nyota had been insistent that the baby sleep in their room for at least the first few weeks, resisting the counsel of her Vulcan midwife. T’Lao had argued that Vulcan children are encouraged to be independent of their parents as soon as they are weaned. Nyota had replied, most logically, that Makeda was not a Vulcan child.

As he laid his daughter down in her sleeping alcove and adjusted the temperature to match her needs, Spock couldn’t help but agree with his wife’s assessment. Makeda was not a Vulcan child. Nor was she human. She was a child of both worlds much like himself. However, Makeda would have the benefit of his own experience and would not be made to choose one world over the other. His daughter would be raised to appreciate the qualities that her three-quarters human heritage brought her just as much as she valued her one-quarter Vulcan heritage. He did not fault his father for making that choice for him. Indeed, Sarek had thought that raising his son in the Vulcan way was in Spock’s best interest. As a child reared on Vulcan, he would have been even more ostracized if he were raised in the human fashion, giving free reign to his emotions and whims unguided by logic. 

Makeda would also be fortunate to be raised in an environment where her unique background would not be seen as a disadvantage. He and Nyota had many long discussions about where and how to raise their daughter. Space was a dangerous place to raise a child, especially on a vessel charged with seeking out new life and civilizations when there was no promise that the new peoples they encountered would be friend or foe. Yet, they were also painfully aware that life planetside came with no promises of peace or safety. Ships and planets alike could be destroyed with the press of a button. 

The last five years had brought much loss and pain. The only home he had ever known was no more. His beloved mother, the only person who made him feel like a whole rather than two parts, had been taken from him before his eyes. So many colleagues, students and friends had perished as well. Yet, as Spock gazed at the sleeping form of his new born child, one arm draped around his wife, he could not help but be grateful for all that the past five years had given him: a ship full of colleagues and friends that valued him and his work; his broken relationship with his father restored and made stronger; acceptance and respect from a people that once saw him as defective; friend, a lover, and a soul mate that completed him; and a beautiful, healthy child who was the evidence of their bond.

Spock turned from his child towards his wife. Nyota gazed up at him, cupping his right cheek in her left hand, her eyes bright with affection. He lifted her up in his arms, causing a surprised giggle to bubble from her lips, and carried her to their bed. He tucked the covers around her form, smoothing his hand over her still rounded belly.

“You are weary, ashayam. You have labored hard today and you must rest.”

Nyota smiled up at him before she was seized with a large yawn, her fatigue suddenly pronounced. 

Spock closed his eyes and brought his forehead down to rest upon hers as he lifted two fingers of his left hand. Nyota released a contented sigh, her breath cool against his lips, as she placed two fingers of her right hand against his own. 

“K’diwa’sa-telsu.”**

“K’hat’n’dlawa.”***

 ___________________

*ko-fu = daughter

** k’diwa’sa-telsu = beloved husband

*** k’hat’n’dlawa = one who is half of my heart and soul

Sarek walked stoically through the halls of the Surak Learning Academy. The path he took was a familiar one, despite the fact that the floor upon which he trod was new as was the planet on which the foundation of the building was set. Those old halls had disappeared along with his homeland and beloved wife. Though his surroundings were new, his reason for walking the halls of the school were familiar.

Makeda sat at the end of the hall, her dark curly head bent in resignation and remorse, her small brown hands folded in her lap as she anxiously awaited her guardian. Upon hearing his footfalls, the curly brown head lifted to reveal the cherubic face of his ko’fu’al. Unlike young Spock so long ago, her brown human eyes rimmed with red swam with tears and her small full lips trembled slightly. However, Sarek knew that Makeda’s loss of composure was not due to fear of punishment, but of relief.

When his ko’fu Nyota had received the call of Makeda’s fight with her classmates, she had been distraught. Her meeting with the council of the Vulcan Science Academy prevented her from leaving her office to tend to her daughter. Sarek had offered to fetch the child without hesitation. The schoolmaster’s communication had seemed to be a confirmation of all of Spock’s arguments against enrolling Makeda in the all Vulcan school. Sarek had ensured his son that Vulcan society had changed since the destruction of their home. It was more open and welcoming to humans. Indeed, a few Vulcan men had taken human wives. However, as Makeda’s little arms wrapped tightly around his legs and her sweet face sought to hide itself in the black folds of his robe, he began to doubt his previous assertion.

“Come now, ko’fu’al. These tears are unnecessary,” Sarek replied as he gently extracted himself from Makeda’s vice like grip.

Tears continued to coarse down the small child’s dark cheeks as he carried her over to the window seat that she had vacated upon his approach.

“Tell me what happened, Makeda.” Sarek asked.

“They called papa a traitor and mama a whore,” Makeda replied, her voice muffled from burying her face against her grandfather’s shoulder.

Sarek blinked, an almost imperceptible frown curving down the corners of his lips.

“I told them that if not for my mama and papa, there would be no New Vulcan. Then Syvek pushed me and said that I was an…an abomination.”

At this pronouncement, Sarek pulled Makeda back and lifted her chin so that she would look at him. His features softened. Her eyes were so like Amanda’s. He remembered her fierce reaction when Spock came home with a bloody lip and downcast shoulders. He had not understood her anger then at his handling of the situation. Spock was a Vulcan, he argued. He had to learn to control his emotions so that they did not rule him. As he looked upon the face of hisko’fu’al, he knew that the same advice applied but that it was woefully inadequate. Spock had faced the ridicule and scorn of his peers throughout his school age years and up until his decision to turn down his admission to the Vulcan Science Academy. At the time Sarek had been angered, indeed, he did not speak with his son for several years following the event. However, he came to understand that Spock’s refusal had not been an act of rebellion so much as it had been an affirmation of his own value and worth in the face of years of illogical Vulcan prejudice. Until that time, Spock had internalized the criticism of his peers and teachers and embraced his Vulcan heritage while rejecting his humanity. As a pure Vulcan, Spock had reasoned, he could win the acceptance of his peers, his elders and his own father. Sarek did not wish for Makeda to conclude that she must make the same choice in order to win his affection.

“Syvek has told you a falsehood, Makeda. You are not an abomination,” Sarek replied as he held his granddaughter’s chin with gentle fingers. “You are a gift.”

Yes, Makeda was a gift for which he was grateful. Her presence in his home along with her mother had been a source of comfort these past three months. Sarek did not realize that he had missed the sound of human female laughter ringing through his home or the sound of light footsteps pounding along the tiled halls as they ran with the wild abandon of a small human child at play.

“Come, let us return home. Your m’aih is no doubt impatient with worry.”

They walked towards the exit of the school, Makeda’s posture tall and proud as she passed her classmates. Sarek noted with approval that all signs of her previous distress were nowhere to be seen. As they made their way down the steps toward their awaiting flitter, Sarek noticed a young Vulcan boy standing by his guard Golan. The boy looked to be a few years Makeda’s elder. He was attired in the high collared black robes that all of the school children wore. His hands were clasped behind his back and his dark brown eyes were fixed upon Makeda. Sarek noticed the small cut above his eye, the wound still green.

Upon seeing the small boy, Makeda’s stoic expression melted into a smile and she quickened her steps as she descended the stairs. Intrigued, Sarek continued his slow progress. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Makeda was pulling the boy towards him, one of her small hands clasped in his.

“Sa’mekh’al,” Makeda called cheerfully. “This is my friend Tuven. He rescued me from Syvek and his friends.”

“I give you greetings, Ambassador Sarek,” Tuven replied as he bowed slightly towards him. As he straightened, his eyes shifted from Sarek to regard his hand clasped in Makeda’s. Sarek noted with something akin to amusement that Tuven made no move to remove his hand from his granddaughter’s grip.

*************

Spock Prime walked with measured steps through the halls of his father’s home. Every Wednesday since Nyota and Makeda had settled on New Vulcan so that Makeda could attend school, Spock and Makeda had an evening tea party. His father had first objected to the ritual calling it highly illogical as no actual tea was served during these parties. However, Nyota had reasoned that the active exercise of a child’s imagination was important for a human child’s development. Spock had reasoned that there was no harm in participating in the ritual and that it had the added benefit of allowing him to develop a relationship with his niece. Nyota also thought the weekly interaction would help to lessen Makeda’s longing for her father who had been unable to arrange for a substantial leave from active duty to join them on the colony. She also argued that it was adorable and insisted on taking holos of the inaugural tea to share with heradun.

Makeda had taken to the tea parties with gusto, banishing her sa’mekh’al from attending the ritual as he had refused to serve her doll Lady Jemison. Spock grinned as he remembered his father’s confusion over the little girl’s anger, all of his arguments about the irrationality of serving non-existent refreshments to an inanimate object falling on deaf ears.

Spock stopped short as he entered Makeda’s playroom to find the little girl seated with a small Vulcan boy. The young boy sat at the table, drinking his imagined tea with great dignity despite the fact that his ebony hair was arranged in a series of pigtails decorated with an assortment of ribbons and brightly colored clips.

“You must be my niece’s friend Tuven,” Spock remarked after greeting the young boy. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Makeda has spoken of you often.”

“It is an honor to make your acquaintance as well, Ambassador Spock.”

Spock folded himself down on one of the many cushions surrounding the low table that was not already occupied by a stuffed creature or invisible friend. The three companions soon fell into a conversation about the events of the past week. Or, to be more accurate, Spock and Tuven listened attentively as Makeda spoke about her week at school, her trip to the capital with her sa’mekh’al and her latest communication with her father and uncles aboard the Enterprise. When Makeda ran off to her bedroom to retrieve a gift she had received from her grandmother in Kenya, Spock turned to Tuven.

“Tuven, while the hairstyle is most becoming, I must inquire why you have arranged your hair in such a fashion.”

Tuven blinked at Spock before setting down his teacup. “Makeda thought that the ribbons and bows would make me look ‘pretty.’ Although I told her that it was illogical and that I had no desire to be pretty, I consented to her ministrations because it pleased her.”

A small smile curved the edges of his lips upward. “You are quite wise for one so young, Tuven. Indeed, when it comes to relationships with women, I have heard it said that it is best to make every effort to keep them happy, especially when the cost to oneself is minimal.”

Tuven cocked his head to the side as he thought. “I thought it was only logical to submit, as it pleases me when Makeda is happy.”

Makeda’s entrance prevented Spock from commenting further.

“Would you like some more tea, Ambassador?”

“Yes, please,” Spock replied as he held out his cup to Tuven.

As he sat sipping his tea and listening to Makeda’s speech about her new toy, Spock observed Tuven closely. The young boy seemed to hang on Makeda’s every word, his dark eyes never leaving her face.

****************

Spock stood beside his aduna, sa’mekh and older self as he watched the bonding ceremony of his daughter Makeda. A series of conflicting emotions ran through him as he observed T’Pau create a bond between Makeda and Tuven. He was proud that his young daughter was taking part in a centuries old tradition of his people and that Tuven’s parent’s had been eager to establish a closer connection to the house of Sarek. He was anxious for his daughter’s future. Would she grow to love Tuven and be happy to return to New Vulcan to complete the union when the Tuven’s time drew near?

Spock’s own bond with T’Pring had been a source of unhappiness from its conception. T’Pring had wanted little to do with him and she was ashamed to be paired with a human-Vulcan hybrid. When he had wept at the news that his human grandmother had died, T’Pring had contacted him, not to give her condolences, but to upbraid him for his lack of emotional control. When his home world was destroyed and T’Pring was taken along with billions of other Vulcans, Spock would have been relieved at the severing of their bond had not his grief over the loss of his mother and home so consumed him.

However, Spock took some comfort in the fact that Tuven had desired to be bound to his daughter Makeda. In fact, when his parents had informed him of their initial choice for him, he presented them with a logical explanation for why Makeda would be a more acceptable choice. Makeda had also desired the match, expressing her desire to be bound to her best and only friend to himself and Nyota when she had overheard them discussing Tuven’s parents’ proposal. Spock also knew that Makeda had the option of declaring kalifee should her childlike love for Tuven fall victim to the passage of time and maturity.

All too soon, the ceremony was completed. Makeda rose from her cushion before the ceremonial fire, her eyes wide with the discovery of her new bond with her good friend.

“I can sense your thoughts, Tuven,” Makeda declared with a wide smile. “You are happy.”

“As I can sense yours, Makeda,” Tuven replied. “I am…happy because you are pleased.”

 ko'fu'al: granddaughter
sa'mekh'al: grandfather
adun/ aduna: husband/ wife
m'aih:  mother

Tuven watched the small human child walk slowly through the halls of the Surak Learning Academy. She held on tightly to the hand of her mother, a short slim dark skinned human dressed in traditional Vulcan robes. Beside them walked a tall older Vulcan that Tuven knew as Ambassador Sarek, New Vulcan’s ambassador to Earth and an important member of the Vulcan council. The small child lacked the confidence of her mother and the Ambassador. She looked around at her surroundings with wide brown eyes filled with a mixture of anxiety and excitement that Tuven found fascinating. Tuven found everything about the small human to be fascinating; from the way her small figure swam in the school robes that were too large for her, how the slightest tinge of pink could be seen in her warm brown cheeks, to how the wild untamed dark brown spirals of her hair framed her face like a halo. Suddenly, the little girl turned and looked straight at him. Tuven found himself holding his breath as the small human smiled at him, a wide engaging grin that displayed the gap left from a missing upper incisor and a small depression in the flesh of her right cheek. The child waved at him energetically, only to be gently reprimanded by the ambassador. Tuven watched silently as the trio entered the schoolmaster’s office, the small human looking back over her shoulder to smile at him once more.

“It is regrettable that they are allowing a human to enroll,” Syvek intoned dryly as he came to stand beside Tuven.

“It is of no importance,” T’Lang replied. “It is impossible for a human to perform at the level required to sustain admission into the academy. She will no doubt be expelled before the end of the term.”

Soon the gong sounded signaling the commencement of the morning lessons. As Tuven followed his classmates to the instruction pods, he thought about the fascinating human child and hoped that T’Lang was incorrect.

**************

Tuven ascended from his instruction pod as the gong for the afternoon recess sounded. He was grateful for the break as his hunger was more pronounced than usual. He had neglected to consume sufficient nutrients when he broke his fast that morning and he found himself most desirous of the afternoon meal.

Tuven walked with his tray of bread and hot plomeek soup from the replicator to find a seat at a table amongst his peers. The room was filled with the chatter of school children and the clinking of glasses and utensils. Amongst the din, his keen ears picked up the sound of an unfamiliar voice.

“Is this seat taken?”

Tuven looked up to find the fascinating small human standing with her tray next to a table full of female students. All conversation at the table had ended, and seven pairs of dark unblinking eyes were trained on the small human.

“As you can see, human, this seat is unoccupied,” T’Lang replied for the table.

The human smiled and approached the table only to be halted by T’Lang’s next words.

“However, you may not sit in this seat. I suggest that you find table that is willing to accommodate primates.”

The seven pairs of eyes turned back to their meals leaving the small human standing with a look of bewilderment. Tuven watched as she approached another table only to be turned away once more. Tuven found the behavior of his fellow classmates to be most peculiar and illogical. He walked towards the small human who stood with downcast eyes in the center of the room.

“I would be most honored if you would sit with me,” Tuven said as he came to a stop beside the small human.

The small human looked up at him with wide eyes that were suspiciously wet despite the small smile that graced her full lips.

“Thank you,” she replied in a tremulous voice.

Tuven nodded before walking over to a half empty table in the rear of the room. He silently began to consume his meal as the small human sat down.

“I am Makeda Uhura,” the human began after a short time. “What is your name?”

Tuven set down his spoon and wiped his mouth with his cloth.

“I am Tuven, son of Swylek,” he replied.

“It is nice to meet you Tuven. Thank you for inviting me to sit with you,” Makeda replied, her voice bright. “You are very sweet, Tuven.”

“Sweet,” Tuven replied as he cocked his head to the side. “I am positive that I do not taste sweet, Makeda. Furthermore, as you have never tasted me, I do not know how you have come to this conclusion.”

Makeda giggled, a sound he found fascinating. “No, silly. I did not mean that you taste sweet, although I suppose that I could lick you and find out.”

Tuven’s eyes grew wide with alarm causing Makeda to giggle once more.

“Do not worry, I won’t lick you! I was just teasing you,” Makeda said after her laughter had subsided. “I meant that you are a nice person for inviting me to sit with you.”

Tuven exhaled in relief. Humans were very confusing.

“I simply felt that the behavior of my classmates was illogical. The afternoon recess is not long and we have but a brief time to consume our meals. It would have been difficult for you to consume your meal if you remained standing in the center of the room.”

“That is why you are sweet! The others did not care if I found a place to sit or not.”

Makeda flashed him another smile before reaching into her robe to pull out a small pink case and a black pouch. She took out two small white pills from the case and swallowed them with water before opening the pouch and sprinkling her plomeek soup with a mixture of herbs.

“Why did you ingest medication, Makeda? Are you ill?” Tuven asked, despite knowing that it was rude to ask such things.

“My Uncle Len prescribed me iron supplements to take with each meal so that I will have sufficient iron in my system to maintain my health,” Makeda replied with a smile. “Unlike my father, my blood is not copper based so I must take supplements when eating a strict Vulcan diet. When I am home with my sa’mekh’al, I do not have to take the pills.”

“You are part Vulcan?” Tuven asked.

“Yes,” Makeda smiled before tucking her hair behind her ears to reveal their pointed tips. “My father is half-Vulcan and my mother is human.”

“Your sa’mekh is Spock son of Sarek,” Tuven stated in awe.

“Yes,” Makeda replied with pride. “He is first officer of the Enterprise. They are patrolling the neutral zone, so papa could not get leave to live with us on New Vulcan. My mother lectures at the Vulcan Science Academy, but she is just staying here a year to see that I am well adjusted before she too returns to the Enterprise. Then I will stay here with mysa’mekh’al Sarek and my Uncle Spock who is really my other sa’mekh, but I call him uncle because it is not so confusing…”

Tuven listened in fascination as Makeda continued to talk in-between sips of her plomeek soup and bites of bread. Makeda was unlike any other child he had met before and he once again found the behavior of his classmates to be most illogical. He, Tuven, son of Swylek, a simple farmer and botanist, was sharing a meal with the daughter of Spock and Uhura, the saviors of Vulcan society and the Federation who were also the children of Ambassador Sarek descendant of Surak. Despite her lineage, Tuven detected no hint of human pride or conceit in her voice. She was all warmth and gregariousness and he soon found himself treated as if she had known him all her life. He made no protest when she reached across the table to sprinkle his soup with some of the herbs that she brought. While he had thought the flavor of plomeek to be adequate for consumption, he had to admit that the spice mixture made the soup quite delicious. She had smiled widely at this pronouncement and promised to bring him a pouch of herbs for his own the next day. It was the special recipe of her m’aih’al Amanda. By the end of the recess period when the gong to resume lessons had sounded, Tuven was surprised to look down to discover that he had consumed all of his meal although he did not recall doing so. As they lined up to walk back to their instruction pods, Makeda touched his hand, sending a warm feeling of contentment through him.

“May I sit with you again tomorrow, Tuven?” Makeda asked, her eyes hopeful.

“Yes, I would find that most pleasing.”

“You have a visitor, Tuven.”

Tuven stood from his seat at the sound of his m’aih’s voice. He smoothed down his tunic as he waited for his guest to be shown into his room. He was pleased when Makeda appeared in the doorway, her bright pink dress a stark contrast to the dark indigo robes his mother wore behind her. Her normally expressive face was hard and stony, as if she were to hold it otherwise, she would break down in a fit of crying. It was an unseemly event that Tuven hoped to avoid.

“Will you require any refreshments for your guest, Tuven?”

Tuven looked to Makeda. “Do you require any sustenance, Makeda?”

She shook her head in the negative, making the little bells she wore on the end of her hair ties ring.

“No, we do not require any refreshments, m’aih.”

“Very well, I shall leave you to your guest.”

As soon as the door slid shut behind his mother, Tuven found himself with two armfuls of a weeping human. It was a very shocking turn of events that made Tuven uncomfortable. He did not know what to do with weeping females, as he had never encountered one before. Somehow he knew that removing her person from his own was not the correct response. Despite the waves of emotion that assaulted him by the close contact, he did not find his position wholly objectionable. As he bent his head to address his friend, he noticed that her hair smelled like a Terran citrus fruit. It was very pleasing, although he wondered why one would strive to smell like food.

“Are you injured, Makeda?” Tuven questioned after a time. The moisture from her cool tears had begun to seep through his tunic.

“No,” she choked out.

“Has someone close to you expired?” Tuven knew that humans wept because of such an occurrence.

Makeda shook her head, the soft mass of curls that framed her head brushing against Tuven’s cheek. He found the sensation to be …ticklish.

“Then why do you weep, Makeda?”

At this, Makeda backed up from him, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. Tuven noticed the way the tears glistened on her brown skin.

“I heard my sa’mekh and sa’mekh’al talking. They are contemplating making me marry Sutek! His parents came to the house to talk to my sa’mekh’al. I cannot marry Sutek. He is mean and awful to me. He will make me cry everyday. Sutek would disapprove of me when I laugh or smile and I like to laugh and smile.”

Tuven listened patiently. “My parents plan to bond me with T’Lang. Every Vulcan child becomes betrothed to another beginning at the age of seven. It is our way, Makeda.”

While T’Lang was a very gifted student, he did not like how she was rude to his friend Makeda or how she called her a primate. However, he had become resigned to the fact that within six months he would be bound to Lizard Lips, as Makeda called her. He found it odd that he could not similarly abide the idea of Makeda being betrothed to Sutek. It made him angry and he frowned most openly.

“Lizard Lips!” Makeda gasped. “No, you cannot marry Lizard Lips. She is awful and mean. She will not tickle you or make you smile.”

“I do not smile,” Tuven replied, affronted.

“Yes you do,” Makeda replied. “I can feel your smile when I tickle you and you get all green in the tips of your ears. You always say it is illogical when I tickle you, but I know that you like it.”

Tuven did not argue that one could not feel another person smile, he was too busy trying to prevent a blush from blossoming on his cheeks. He did like to be tickled, but it was a secret that no one must know.

“Makeda, there is nothing that we can do. Our parents choose our future mates. That is the Vulcan way.”

“There must be something we can do,” Makeda protested, her eyes wide. “I do not want to marry Sutek and I know that you do not want to bond with T’Lang. I would rather marry you, Tuven! Then we can be friends forever. Would that not be wonderful, Tuven?”

Tuven did not say anything. He did think that it would be wonderful. Life with Makeda would never be boring. He also knew that he would not be happy to see Makeda bound to another Vulcan. However, he also knew that happiness had little to do with Vulcan marriage.

“Don’t you want to be my friend forever, Tuven?” Makeda asked after a while.

Tuven opened his mouth to reply that it was impossible to be friends for forever, but he found that he could not say such a thing when Makeda looked to be on the verge of another crying fit. It had been unpleasant when she cried before and Tuven knew that she did not literally mean forever.

“Yes. I would like to be your friend until the day that I die, Makeda.”

Makeda smiled brightly, before wrapping her friend in a hug and planting a chaste kiss on his cheek.

Tuven found it impossible to prevent the blush from rising to his face after that. He stared at Makeda with wide almost unblinking eyes, his face and ears a bright olive green, as he listened to Makeda lay out her plan of action. Tuven found himself agreeing dumbly to all of her plans. Soon, Makeda announced that she had to return home, as her sa’mekh’al was not aware of her impromptu visit. Tuven mutely gave her the traditional salute of farewell before walking to his meditation alcove and lighting the firepot. After he had meditated for a time, he began to realize to what he had agreed. He soon found himself going green for quite a different reason.

****************

Sarek sat watching the young boy with a feeling akin t o amusement. With great dignity and aplomb, Tuven had requested a private audience to discuss an important matter.

"I would like the honor of Makeda's hand in marriage, Ambassador."

"Is it not customary to be bound to one's entire bride and not just to an extremity?" Sarek replied, one brow raised in question.

"Yes Ambassador," Tuven replied, the rapid blinking of his eyes the only sign of his nervousness. "I would like to be betrothed to all of Makeda. I was simply employing a Terran expression where the hand serves as a metaphor for the female intended. I believe that the idiom dates back to an ancient Celtic marriage ritual whereby..."

"Yes. I am familiar with the phrase, Tuven," Sarek interrupted, his mirth growing in spite of his severe facade. "How would you support Makeda should I grant your request?"

Tuven blinked, tilting his head to the side. “I assure you, Ambassador, that I am very capable of providing for Miss. Uhura. I shall inherit my father’s lands and business upon his death and our family holdings are quite extensive. Miss. Uhura would want for nothing and I would honor her as a much…as a much…beloved wife.”

Sarek wished that his Amanda were present to witness this  event. He knew that she would be smiling brightly and striving valiantly not to laugh at the serious little boy. “Tuven, I am sure that you are aware that such matters are properly decided by one’s parents?”

“Yes, Ambassador. I have informed my parents of my desire to wed your ko’fu’al and they have no objections.”

“Then why have they not come on your behalf?” Sarek asked, raising one brow in question.

“Makeda told me that it is the custom on Earth for a prospective husband to ask for the hand of his intended from the male in her family most responsible for her care.”

Ah. He should have known that this was all Makeda’s doing. No doubt she had taken to reading ancient Terran novels again, despite his objections that they were not the most intellectually nutritious fare. Makeda’s already exuberant nature did not need the additional fuel of romantic novels. 

“The decision is not mine to make, Tuven. You shall have to apply to Makeda’s parents,” Sarek replied. He was not so cruel as to deny his ko’fu and sa’fu the pleasure of this interview.

An Illogical Woman Chapter 7: Meeting the Family

 Spock walked onto the bridge to begin his shift. Two standard weeks had passed since his return to the Enterprise from his leave on New Vulcan. He and Nyota had enjoyed a one-month leave from duty to attend the bonding ceremony of his daughter Makeda to her friend Tuven, son of Swylek. He had initially been uneasy about bonding his daughter with another according to the custom of his people given his own less than satisfactory experience with T’Pring, despite his father’s arguments that doing so would demonstrate his commitment to the success of the Vulcan rebuilding efforts. Sarek also reasoned that bonding Makeda to a Vulcan from the colony would assist her in being accepted by Vulcan society. Spock had found such reasoning to be faulty since his own betrothal to T’Pring had done little to endear him to his peers or the Vulcan council. However, when Tuven himself approached his sa’mekh requesting to marry Makeda, these anxieties were greatly alleviated. Spock was well aware of Makeda’s affection for the young Vulcan, as she spoke of him constantly during their weekly three-dimensional chess games. Spock found it most fascinating that a Vulcan youth would so readily accept Makeda in all her human exuberance and warmth.

Now Tuven had joined Spock, Nyota and Makeda aboard the Enterprise for a three-month visit. Tuven’s parents had agreed to the time spent away from the colony as it would further cement the newly formed bond between their children and the visit coincided with their break from schooling. Nyota suspected that they were social climbers eager to do whatever was necessary to ensure that their relatively obscure line was securely aligned with the house of Sarek. However, Nyota was appreciative for Tuven’s friendship with her daughter. Whatever the motives, Spock was grateful for the opportunity to better acquaint himself with the young man who would one day come to claim his ko’fu.

“I tell ya, Jim, someone oughta talk to the boy!”

Spock was greeted with McCoy’s gruff voice upon his exit from the turbolift.

“It can’t be that bad, Bones,” the captain replied before nodding towards Spock. “Greetings, Spock! How’s my favorite niece?”

“I left Makeda in excellent health this morning. She and Tuven are shadowing Mr. Scott in engineering today, an event Makeda has been anticipating for quite sometime.”

“Hmm,” McCoy grumbled. “I bet Tuven had little say in the matter. That little doll has that Vulcan wrapped tight around her cute little finger,” McCoy continued, thrusting his pinkie finger into the air for emphasis.

“I do not understand. It is physically impossible for my daughter to wrap Tuven about her finger,” Spock replied.

“Bones means to say that the boy is whipped,” Kirk explained, unhelpfully.

“Again, I fail to understand your reasoning, Captain. I am not aware of Makeda or anyone else whipping Tuven.”

“I mean the boy has no will of his own,” McCoy said, throwing his hands up in frustration. “He follows that little gal around the ship like a little puppy. Why, the other day I saw them in the rec room playing together.”

“That is not an unusual occurrence, Doctor. The recreation room is set-aside for recreational pursuits. It is quite appropriate for the children to play there.”

“They were playing with dolls!” Bones exclaimed. “Tuven was consulting with Makeda on what pair of shoes would best go with his doll’s dress.”

At this Kirk began to laugh in earnest. Spock looked at the Captain in confusion.

“What red blooded…excuse me…green blooded boy in his right mind plays fashion dolls unless he’s whipped or not interested in the ladies?”

“While I am not positive of what Tuven’s sexual preferences may be, I find it highly unlikely that he is a homosexual, doctor. However, this does not mean that he is…whipped,” Spock replied dryly.

“Well, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll give your future son-in-law some friendly advice from someone very knowledgeable of the wiles of women,” Bones replied.

“I have no objections to you offering advice to Tuven, Doctor. However, I do wonder from whom you will acquire the wisdom that you intend to impart to my son-in-law.”

“Why you pointy eared…”

Kirk’s laughter and the entrance of Scotty and the children prevented McCoy from finishing his colorful statement.

“Are you telling jokes, Uncle Jim?” Makeda asked as she ran over to the captain’s chair.

“I apologize, Captain. We three were on our way to engineering when the wee one begged to stop by the bridge to say hello to her uncles,” Mr. Scott admitted sheepishly as he followed the children towards the captain’s chair. “I couldna’ say no to the bonny lass.”

Spock watched in amusement as the Captain picked up Makeda to sit in his lap, ignoring his long forgotten edict that children were expressly forbidden from the bridge. Doctor McCoy, his gruff exposition on the wiles of women a distant memory, vied for Makeda’s attention, allowing her to play with his medical scanner to take readings of Mr. Scott and the Captain’s vital signs. Spock looked over to Tuven, one of his brows raised in amusement.

“I do not believe that you are the only one who is whipped, sa’fu.”

“No one has struck me, sa’mekh,” Tuven replied seriously.

Spock’s lip curled into an almost grin.

“It is an odd human saying, Tuven. Come. You may assist me in scanning the region for anything of significance. There must be someone attending to their work.”

*******************

Tuven sat on top of a pile of cushions as he joined the male senior command staff around the table in Captain Kirk’s quarters playing a card game called poker. Tuven was seated next to Lieutenant Sulu, whom had become his most preferred of Makeda’s array of uncles due to his interest in botany and horticulture.

“I can use a logical Vulcan mind on my side,” Sulu stage whispered to him. “Perhaps together I can finally manage to beat Spock.”

All but Tuven and Spock laughed at this comment.

“Unless Tuven can also assist you in perfecting your poker face, I am afraid that you are still at a significant disadvantage, Hikaru,” Spock replied.

“You see, when the boy’s bluffing he gets all red in the ears,” McCoy explained to Tuven. “And on the rare occasion that he manages to get a decent hand, he can’t stop waggling his eyebrows like two caterpillars doing the jitter bug.”

Tuven had begun to learn more human idioms during his two-month stay aboard the Enterprise. Doctor McCoy had been a fount of colorful and confusing expressions. While Tuven would have been utterly confused by the Doctor’s latest use of Standard, Tuven now knew that the McCoy was employing a metaphor. As the game began, Tuven tried to imagine what two caterpillars dancing would look like.  Makeda, he thought, would have found the comparison to be highly amusing.

Makeda. Her uncles had all been eager to advise him on his relationship with Makeda. They were all aware that they had been bonded to one another and would one day wed and felt that it was their duty to offer marital advice, even though they were all unmated.

However, Tuven had listened carefully and taken note of all that was told to him as they were his elders and due proper respect. Despite their seeming inexperience, Tuven had already found some of their counsel to be useful.

Sulu had told him that female human women were particularly enamored of flowers and that a gift of blossoms would help restore the peace after an argument. Tuven and Makeda hardly ever fought, each bending to the other’s will as necessary. However, Tuven rationalized that if flowers were helpful in restoring peace, that they would also be useful to prolong peace. Makeda had been overjoyed by his gift of Edosian Fire Lilies that Sulu had helped him cultivate in the ship’s botany laboratory.  The bright orange and yellow blossoms were her favorite and the gift had earned him a kiss on both of his cheeks.

Makeda’s Uncle Kirk had also offered Tuven advice.

“Women like it when you say nice things about them, even if they aren’t true. Be sure to develop a nice repertoire of compliments that you can use for any situation. For instance, if she ever asks you if an outfit makes her look fat, tell her that she looks great in it even if the outfit makes her look like a Klingon in a bikini.”

“Would not that be the same as telling an untruth, Captain Kirk?” Tuven asked, his disapproval hidden behind his calm exterior. “Vulcans are incapable of lying.”

“First, call me Jim or Uncle Jim,” Kirk replied before looking up to find a female Ebalian ensign enter the recreation room, her bright orange bulging eyes scanning the room for her associates. “Second, it’s not lying if the lady likes the compliment. Watch and learn young one.”

Kirk slid from his seat next to Tuven and sauntered towards the ensign.

“Ensign Vy’Clechtu,” Kirk smiled. “May I say that you are looking very lovely this evening? Did you do something new with your hair?”

The female smiled, revealing two rows of sharp teeth, and smoothed down the fur on her cheeks with an equally furry hand.

“Thank you Captain. I’ve been using a new conditioner.”

Tuven watched as the Captain chatted with the female for a few moments more, eliciting high-pitched squeaks of laughter from the ensign.

“Fascinating,” Tuven breathed as he watched Kirk saunter triumphantly back to the table.

Luckily, Tuven did not have to lie to compliment Makeda. His appreciative comments on her drawings and progress on the lyre won him a hug and an additional kiss on the cheek. Tuven found them both to be very satisfying.

However, not all of Makeda’s uncles gave exemplary advice for male-female relations.

Ensign Chekov had advised him that women enjoyed it when men displayed their superior knowledge of a subject and that such displays engendered their respect.

As they ate the afternoon meal in the mess hall, Tuven observed Chekov displaying his superior knowledge to several female crewmen.

“It is a common misconception, Yeoman Rand, that Albert Einstein was of German descent. In actuality he was born in the willage of Rtishchev. He deweloped the theory or relatiwity vhile on a train to Leningrad.”

Yeoman Rand and her associates laughed at Chekov’s assertion. Yeoman Rand kissed him on the cheek before rising from her seat. “You are just too adorable, Chekov.”

Chekov beamed before looking over to Tuven.

“See. The veemen love it.”

Tuven very much doubted that Yeoman Rand had been impressed by his intelligence or that the kiss he had received had been given out of respect. However, Tuven was too respectful of his elders to say otherwise. Tuven decided not to implement Chekov’s advice. Makeda was already aware of his academic prowess and he did not believe that he had earned her friendship due to his intellect.

Lieutenant-Commander Scott told Tuven that women respected a man that could hold is liquor. Tuven had informed him that alcohol had no effect on Vulcans.

“I know lad. That is why I never challenge Mr. Spock to drinking games. He wins every time. However, the lassies like a man with a strong constitution. A man that can hold his drink can be relied upon when things get a bit hairy.”

Tuven thought that such a supposition was logical. Indeed, if one were faced with a hairy beast such as a wild sehlat, being able to remain in command of one’s senses while under duress was an admirable skill. As alcohol would have no mind-altering effects on him, Tuven chose to put Mr. Scott’s advice to the test by consuming a large portion of the chocolate candies that had been given to Makeda by her various uncles on Valentine’s Day. However, rather than having the desired character building effect, the chocolates merely caused Tuven to grow dizzy and disoriented before he collapsed in a heap.

Doctor McCoy had scolded him a great deal when he regained consciousness in the medical bay. Makeda sat by his bedside, her cheeks wet with tears as she apologized profusely. Tuven assured her that his choice to consume the chocolates was his own and that she had nothing for which to apologize. This did little to relieve Makeda’s guilt and Tuven almost winced at the wave of fear and sorrow that coursed through their bond.

“You could have died, Tuven,” Makeda cried as she clung to his hand.

“I did not die, Makeda, as you can see. The chocolate would not have killed me. It just made me very unwell.”

“Promise me that you will never eat chocolate again!” Makeda demanded, her lips pouted in a severe frown.

“I give you my word, Makeda. I shall avoid the consumption of chocolate products in the future.”

Makeda gave him a watery smile, before leaning in to plant a small kiss on his cheek. Tuven’s weakened state prevented him from suppressing the blush that stained his cheeks and ears olive green.

“Ok, love birds,” Doctor McCoy grumbled as he moved towards Tuven’s bed. “Enough of that. Tuven needs his rest. Why don’t you run off and pester your Uncle Scotty, darling. You can visit Tuven in the morning.”

Makeda nodded her acceptance before squeezing Tuven’s hand once more and following Nurse Chapel from the room.

“Now that the little lady is gone, why don’t you tell me why you decided to scarf down half a pound of chocolate knowing a Vulcan eating that stuff is like a human taking shots of Romulan ale?”

Tuven did not question what “scarf down” meant and proceeded to relate all of the advice he received from Makeda’s uncles to the doctor.

McCoy laughed heartily.

“Let me give you one piece of advice that will serve you well while on the Enterprise. Don’t listen to a word these yahoos say when it comes to the subject of women! Ain’t a single one of them had a steady healthy relationship in the past ten years and none of them have been married.”

Tuven admitted the truth of this statement. He wished he had heard this information prior to consuming the chocolate.

“Now I’ll give you the another nugget of wisdom. You can trust me because I’ve been married and divorced. I’ve got the scars to prove it!”

Tuven’s eyes swept over McCoy, looking for the scars that he mentioned.

“I spent ten years of my life married to a she-devil,” the Doctor continued as he perched himself on the edge of Tuven’s bed. “Now, Makeda is no she-devil. She’s a sweet young lady that for some reason adores the ground you walk on.”

Tuven was unsure if he should feel complimented or insulted. He also wondered why Makeda was so enamored of the ground.

“But, she has got a strong will on her and she leads you around this place like a dog on a leash. Why, you near got yourself killed trying to impress her. Most guys buy fancy vintage cars or lift weights, but you go and eat a pile of poison.”

Tuven wondered if Makeda even liked cars or weights. She obviously did not like it when he ate chocolate.

“Now, ain’t nothing wrong with that when it comes to decisions about what games to play or what flavor cupcake to eat.”

Tuven blinked. He had never debated which cupcake to choose with Makeda. In fact, he had never consumed a cupcake. He wondered if they contained chocolate.

“But when you two get older and think about cementing this bond or whatever, that can lead to big problems. You need to grow a backbone about some things and learn to stick to your guns when it counts, even when a river of tears flow from those big brown eyes of hers. Do you understand what I’m trying to say Tuven?”

Tuven nodded his understanding. Although he knew himself to already be in possession of a functioning backbone and he did not own any weaponry, he was confident that he understood the essence of the Doctor’s advice.

An Illogical Woman: Changes

Sarek sat with his son Saquil, the firepot burning before them. He was about to begin his young son’s first lesson in the art of meditation when his wife Dawn entered the room.

“I am sorry to disturb you, Sarek,” she apologized as she swept into the room, her long robes brushing against the heated wooden floors. “Makeda has arrived and she insists on speaking to you right away. She is quite distressed.”

“Is she injured, my wife?” Sarek questioned as he rose from the floor.

“She is physically fine. I think something must have happened between her and Tuven. She’s in tears and refuses to tell me what is bothering her. You must go to her, Sarek. I can continue Saquii’s lesson.”

Sarek nodded his assent, his concern for his ko’fu’al growing. She never sought his advice for relationship problems, always going to his elder son or Dawn when she felt uncomfortable speaking to her parents. They were better equipped to adequately respond to the emotional needs of a teenaged human female than he.  She had sought his council only once concerning a disagreement she had with her parents only to leave dissatisfied with his rather logical and sound opinion on the matter.

“Saquil my son, your m’aih will attend you.”

Sarek left the young boy in his mother’s capable hands before moving through the halls of his home to locate his ko’fu’al. When he did not find her in the family sitting room, his study or in the rooms set aside for her use when she made extended visits, he went to the only other logical place.

Sarek found her seated in the garden surrounded by patches of Edosian fire lilies in full bloom. Sarek had the garden planted when he first settled on New Vulcan as a memorial to his late wife Amanda. Over the years he saw fit to expand on the garden to reflect the growth in his family and in his life. Alongside the sweet smelling roses favored by his late wife grew the fragrant lavender and hyacinth plants favored by his current bondmate Dawn. He planted sunflowers for Nyota to enjoy when she and Makeda lived with him during their first year on New Vulcan.  After Makeda was born, he planned a special addition to the garden; a small fountain and pool filled with water lilies. While on Vulcan the addition of such water dependent plants would have been a great extravagance, water on New Vulcan was not so precious a resource. Sarek had spent many quiet moments with his ko’fu’al seated by the fountain, she attending to her lessons while he kept abreast of intergalactic politics on his PADD.

The Edosian fire lilies were a more recent addition to Makeda’s section of the garden. Tuven approached Sarek on the eve of Makeda’s sixteenth birthday seeking to add the plants as a surprise gift. Tuven spent many months perfecting the plants he first grew on the Enterprise in his laboratory and greenhouse, cross breeding the fire lilies with similar native plants until he produced a crop of hybrid plants that maintained the light scent and bright color of the Edosian flower but was hardy enough to thrive on New Vulcan with very little maintenance. The resulting plants were so hardy, that the blossoms of the flower lasted an entire month longer than the original plant. Makeda’s pleasure upon receiving the gift had been so great that she bounced in delight before throwing decorum to the wind and kissing her intended in full view of their assembled families.

Now Makeda sat amongst her treasured flowers furiously pulling the plants up by the roots.

“Tal-kam,” Sarek called as he bent down next to the young woman, “what is the meaning of this?”

Tears streamed freely down Makeda’s brown cheeks as she continued to uproot the plants.

“I hate him and I hate his stupid lilies,” Makeda said through clenched teeth.

Sarek caught her hands in his, willing her to drop the innocent plants. “You must stop this irrational behavior, tal-kam. Please, tell your sa’mekh’al what distresses you.”

Makeda seemed to deflate; her wrists now limp in her grandfather’s grasp. Sarek released her hands to gently brush away a few clumps of soil that clung to her cheeks and hair as a result of her frenzied actions. The gentle action only caused Makeda to weep with more force.

Sarek’s face remained impassive as he watched his granddaughter, his heart clenching. After many years experience living with illogical human women, Sarek did the only thing that he could do. He gathered his granddaughter close to him, rubbing her back gently as she buried her face in his robes. He was reminded of all the other times he comforted Makeda and all the times he had refused such comfort to his own son when he was a small child. He felt afresh the consuming grief and anger that warred within his son at the death of his mother and home and the painful delivery of his confession that had done more work than all of the caresses he had denied his son as a youth.

Please, tell me what distresses you, she that is dear to me.

“Tuven…Tuven wants to be released from our bond,” Makeda choked out before another wave of grief and anger moved through her.

Sarek was truly surprised. The love between Tuven and Makeda was strong and had only grown as they matured. Both families expected Tuven to declare koon-ut so’lik any day and for the bond to be completed.

“Why had he done this?”

“I…I cannot bear to speak it, sa’mekh’al.”

“Then show me.”

Makeda lifted her head from her grandfather’s shoulder and lifted one hand to his face.

Suddenly Sarek found himself looking out through Makeda’s eyes. She was seated with Tuven on a sheet underneath a tree in what appeared to be an orchard, no doubt on Tuven’s family farm.  They were in a very intimate pose, the thick trees of the orchard providing them privacy. Tuven lay with his head in Makeda’s lap, his eyes closed and his features relaxed as Makeda ran her fingers through his hair. She laughed softly as she made the thick ebony strands stick out from his head in all directions.

“I shall never comprehend why you take such delight in rearranging my hair,” Tuven replied, the deep rumble of his voice betraying his contentment. “The traditional hairstyle is completely suitable for my needs.”

“Just be thankful that there are no flowers or barrettes at my disposal,” Makeda drawled as she continued her movements. “My pretty sa’kugalsu.”

“Your handsome sa’kugalsu,” Tuven corrected as he rose from his prone position to kiss her lightly on the lips.

“Yes, my very handsome sa’kugalsu,” Makeda answered as she nuzzled his cheek. “My handsome, intelligent, talented sa’kugalsu.”

Makeda punctuated each word with a chaste kiss to his lips.

Tuven purred lightly as he lifted two fingers of his right hand. Makeda smiled against his mouth before lifting the fingers of her left hand to touch his.

Sarek felt the flame of Tuven’s desire for his granddaughter sweep through the enhanced bond and Makeda’s answering arousal. The impression of these past emotions was overcome by a wave of Makeda’s present embarrassment.

It is illogical to be ashamed of the desire you and your fiancé have for one another. It is a rare gift, ko’fu’al. Your bonding will be most satisfying.

Makeda’s embarrassment was replaced by sorrow.

Keep watching, sa’mekh’al.

“I have been planning your celebratory dinner for your acceptance into the Vulcan Science Academy,” Makeda continued as she moved back from Tuven, placing one hand against his chest to prevent him from moving in for another kiss. The smallest of frowns turned down the corners of his mouth causing Makeda to laugh lightly in satisfaction.

“I do not require a celebratory meal, Makeda.”

“No one requires a celebration, k’diwa. But, it is too late to back out now. I’ve already finished baking your favorite bread and done the prep work for all your favorite dishes.”

“A replicator would have required no preparation, Makeda.”

“But replicated food isn’t made with love,” Makeda insisted seating herself in Tuven’s lap to play with his ears. “I’m making mother’s okra curry that you like so much, plomeek soup eventhough you know I can’t stand it, the vegan lasagna I made you for your 20th birthday…”

Tuven began to purr lightly again due to Makeda’s attention to his sensitive ears and the description of the meal she was to prepare.

“While it is true that I enjoy all of those dishes, ashayam, they hardly compliment one another. The curry or lasagna alone would be sufficient for an adequate meal.”

“But, it is not just another meal,” Makeda pouted. “It’s a feast in your honor. I command you to attend and enjoy yourself without any logical humbuggery.”

“Humbuggery?” Tuven questioned before the feel of Makeda’s lips upon his erased all argument from his mind.

This time Tuven quickly took the lead, kissing his intended until she was breathless with want.

“I count the minutes until I can claim you for my wife, k’diwa,” Tuven murmured against her hair. “It is illogical to wait until after we have completed our studies at the Academy. When you finish your under schooling and matriculate to the Academy we can finally plathau. Then we shall be completely one soul and one flesh.”

Tuven began to kiss her once more until he felt trepidation mingle with the pleasure through their bond.

“What ails you, k’diwa? Do you not desire our joining as greatly as I?”

Tuven regarded Makeda in silence for many long moments.

“You do not wish to complete our bond?”

“No,” Makeda cried as she grasped Tuven’s hands intensifying their link. She broadcast her love and desire through the bond. “I love you, Tuven. I want nothing more than to call you sa-telsu.”

Makeda sighed at the feeling of Tuven’s relief washing over her.

“Then why do you hesitate?”

“I do not intend to apply to the Vulcan Science Academy.”

Sarek’s own surprise at this confession matched Tuven’s.

Are you certain, ko’fu’al.

Please, continue to watch, grandfather.

“You do not wish to attend the VSA? I had logically assumed that we would matriculate to the same institution. If not the Academy, where do you intend to further your education?”

Makeda, dropped his hands and her eyes.

“I have been speaking to Dawn about her education on Earth. She attended Cambridge University and found the educational opportunities there to be quite excellent. She believes that I would be an ideal candidate for their Federation Comparative Literature doctoral program.”

“Literature? Could you not study literature recreationally? The colony would be much better served if your course of study were in a scientific field. Perhaps you could study medicine…”

“Literature is a useful course of study, Tuven. What would our Vulcan culture be without the great poets and writers of eras past? While we as a people have excelled in the scientific arena, our great cultural heritage has suffered. So much has happened in our lifetime and in that of our parents yet hardly any Vulcans have saw fit to record it in verse or song.”

“Our historical archivists are more than capable of preserving our history, Makeda.”

Makeda sat and watched her fiancé sadly. Tuven had never truly understood her love of ancient literature. Indeed, none of her Vulcan relatives seemed to understand her fascination. However, her parents indulged her fancy as long as she continued to perform admirably in school. However, she could sense that there was something more behind Tuven’s arguments.

“You are angry with me,” Makeda whispered. “You do not wish me to go to Earth.”

“You are correct. I do not want you to go to Earth. Indeed, I forbid you from going and I demand that you apply to the VSA.”

Makeda quickly shot to her feet, her own anger radiating through their bond.

“You cannot forbid me from doing anything, Tuven. You are not my father and I am of age to make my own decisions.”

Tuven rose as well, his face stony and his dark eyes glittering. “I am he that is to be your husband,” he replied, his calm voice belying the fury Makeda felt searing her through their link. “I enact my rights as your husband. Your body and all that is you are mine to direct.”

“You don’t own me, Tuven, and you are not my husband yet!” Makeda replied through clenched teeth.

“According to Vulcan law I have been your husband and you have been my wife since the moment we bonded fifteen years, five days, eight hours, thirty-five minutes and ten seconds ago.”

“You cannot claim me until we complete kal’i’farr, or have you forgotten your honeyed words from a moment ago,” Makeda answered as she stepped towards him, her hands firmly on her hips.

“You will abandon this illogical plan and apply to the Vulcan Science Academy as is your duty.”

“I will not.”

They starred at each other in silence for several minutes each waiting for the other to back down. Makeda was the first to relent, her defiant posture deflating, as her eyes grew wide and plaintive.

“Please don’t be angry with me, Tuven,” she pleaded as she cupped the side of his face with one hand. “I spoke the truth when I said that I want nothing more than to call you sa’telsu. I have loved you since I first met you all those years ago. You remember, do you not?”

“My memory is excellent,” Tuven replied as he resisted the urge to lean into her touch.

“You were so kind when all the other children were so cruel. You did not even know me but even then you were concerned for me. You have always been so good to me, Tuven,” Makeda smiled up at him, her eyes wet and wide. She slowly brought her other hand up to rest on his side, pressing gently over the place where his heart beat strong and steady against his ribs. “Your beautiful heart drew me to you.”

Tuven dropped his chin to gently rest his forehead against hers. They remained in that posture for several minutes, Tuven basking in the warmth of the love Makeda radiated through their bond.

“I need to go to Earth to study, Tuven,” Makeda continued after a while. “Cambridge has an excellent program and I could stay with my cousins who don’t live that far from the university. It would also give me a chance to really experience Terran culture… ”

Tuven stiffened in her arms and quickly lifted his forehead from hers.

“You want to be with humans. That is why you refuse the VSA.”

“Well, yes in a way,” Makeda confessed. “I have never lived on Earth for more than a few short visits with my Grandmother Uhura or my father’s cousins. It would be nice to live for a time in a place where I am not viewed as alien, to be normal for once.”

“But, you are Vulcan. Your place is here with your people and with me.”

“I may be Vulcan, but I am three quarters human. Indeed, I am never allowed to forget it,” Makeda sighed as she stepped back from him. “You cannot know what it is like for me, Tuven. Everywhere I go I meet with terse disapproval. I smile too much. My voice has too much inflection. I require too much rest. I am always too much. It would be nice to live as a human for a time. To be just enough.”

“You are Vulcan enough for me, Makeda. You are human enough as well,” Tuven replied as he reached out to grasp her hand.

“I wish that was enough,” Makeda replied, wrapping her arms around herself. “I have to go to Earth. It will just be for three years, maybe even less. I need this time, Tuven.”

Tuven stared at her, his eyes unblinking. Sarek felt a wave of pain through the bond as if his heart were being wrenched from his side before he felt nothing. Tuven had blocked Makeda completely from his mind.  Sarek felt nearly overcome by Makeda’s resulting panic. She had never been so completely shielded from Tuven during their entire bond. She felt adrift and alone in the caverns of her mind. She mentally pushed against the barrier separating them, but the wall was firm and unyielding.

“Tuven, why have you done this?” Makeda’s voice sounded fearful to her own ears.

“As you have expressed your need to be human, it would only be logical to reevaluate our plans to marry. It is fortunate that we chose to delay the plathau. A healer should be able to undo our bond with little trouble.”

“Tuven, what are you saying? I don’t want to break our bond!”

“It has become apparent to me that you would be much better served by taking a human mate. Perhaps you can find a suitable candidate during your studies at Cambridge. “

“I do not want a human husband,” Makeda replied, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. “I only want you, Tuven.”

“If that were truly your desire, you would not have kept your plans from me. Indeed, you would not wish to leave New Vulcan to ‘live as a human.’”

“I need to go, Tuven. Please understand!”

“My understanding is perfect. Just as you need to live as a human, I require a Vulcan mate,” Tuven coldly replied, ignoring her tears.

“But, I love you.”

“Love is a human emotion. It is an insufficient and illogical basis for a lifelong bond. I do not regret our kan-telan, Makeda. We were young and immature and it suited our needs at the time. However, the time has come for us to leave childish things behind.”

“Tuven, please.”

“I will be unable to attend dinner at your home this evening. Please extend my apologies to Mama…Lady Uhura, Ambassadors Spock and Sarek and the Lady Dawn. Live, long and prosper.”

Sarek came to himself once more as Makeda ended the bond. She resumed her former position curled up against her sa’mekh’al, her head tucked under his chin in a pose reminiscent of her childhood. He remembered how he held after her fourth day of school when she had engaged in a physical altercation with another student. Afterwards he had met Tuven, so small and young yet already fiercely attached to his ko’fu’al, now her protector had hurt her more deeply than all of the harsh words and physical blows her classmates had once heaped upon her.

While part of Sarek wanted to punish Tuven for causing his beloved granddaughter such anguish, he also felt a strange kinship with the young Vulcan. He knew Tuven’s reaction had been borne out of his fierce love for Makeda and out of fear. Fear and love where emotions most Vulcans would seek to deny, but Sarek knew them to be forces that warred within the Vulcan heart even more fiercely than in humans.

Love and fear had driven him to disown his own son when he chose Starfleet over the Vulcan Science Academy. He felt that his son was choosing to abandon his people and his heritage by joining the primarily human organization. Sarek had wanted nothing more than for his son to follow in his own footsteps by swiftly rising within the ranks of the Academy and going on to a prestigious position among the Vulcan elite. Sarek wanted him to prove to the naysayers what he himself had always known to be true, that Spock did not live by halves; he was fully Vulcan With his rejection of the Academy, part of Sarek felt that he himself had been rejected. He also feared that he would lose his son to the allure of Earth and their permissive culture would be too appealing for him to ever return to Vulcan. Sarek did not believe in fate, but he was now thankful for his son’s decision.

“Do not be distressed, ko’fu’al,” Sarek began once she had regained mastery over her emotions. “Tuven acted out of anger and fear. Allow him time to come to terms with your choice and he will return to you.”

“Am I wrong to want to study on Earth for a time, sa’mekh’al?”

“Your choice is a logical one, my daughter. Like your father before you, you are a child of two worlds. In choosing for a time to experience one you are not rejecting the other. Indeed, your life will be made richer by the experience. You will come to better appreciate all aspects of your heritage. Have you discussed your decision with your parents?”

“No,” Makeda answered, looking down at her hands. “While it is my desire to study on Earth, I am not yet firm in my decision to study at Cambridge. I know they would want me to follow their path and join Starfleet, but I know in my heart that is not for me. I do not have the same desire to explore the stars.”

Makeda gently picked up a few broken fire lilies, their stems snapped and petals bruised in her frenzied attack on the flowerbed. 

“I feel as if I spent half of my life on a starship or here planetside while they were away on one mission or another. There are enough delights to be discovered here to content me. I know Tuven has no great desire to explore the stars, although I think he would love to get his hands on as many alien plant specimens as possible. I have seldom seen him so content as when he was allowed free reign of Uncle Hikaru’s labs.”

Makeda took a shuddering breath at the mention of Tuven. Sarek could tell by the determined look on her face that she was trying valiantly not to cry once more.

“I love him so much, sa’mekh’al. Just these past few hours separated from him have been excruciating. I cannot imagine living the rest of my life without experiencing the touch of his mind again.”

Sarek reached out and gently cupped Makeda’s chin in his hand. “It is my fervent wish that you never experience that pain, Makeda.”

“How did you…how did you cope when m’aih’al was taken from you?” Makeda’s voice was barely above a whisper, her tone tentative and afraid.

“I grieved for many years,” Sarek answered, his eyes clear and his tone steady. “Slowly the hole left by our separation was filled. I lost much that day, but my son was restored to me in addition to an elder son. I gained a much-loved daughter who gifted me with you, ko’fu’al. Then life sought to give me another a’duna and more children. A part of the hole still remains, as it always shall. However, I rejoice in what I have been given and no longer mourn for that which is lost to me.”

*****************

Spock Prime slowly made his way to the sitting room of his abode. He found Tuven waiting for him, standing stiffly by the window.

“Greetings, Tuven,” Spock called to him as he approached the young Vulcan. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.”

“It is my pleasure, Ambassador,” Tuven replied as he bowed his head stiffly. “I have long appreciated your friendship and counsel. I hope that the alteration in my relationship with Makeda will not adversely impact our own relationship to too great a degree.”

“That is my hope as well, Tuven,” Spock answered honestly as he motioned for Tuven to take a seat. “Would you care for some tea or perhaps a biscuit prepared by my a’duna? They are quite good. No? Then that shall leave more for me. I have found that my sweet tooth has grown in my old age.”

Tuven sat back watching the Ambassador slowly devour his sweet biscuits and cup of steaming tea. After about three minutes of this activity, Spock’s keen eyes noticed that Tuven began to slightly fidget, drumming his fingers against each other in a manner that reminded him of Makeda. No doubt in their years bound to one another, each had unconsciously adopted some of the other’s habits.

“Well, I suppose you are curious to know why I have asked you here.”

“Yes, the question did cross my mind, Ambassador.”

“My reason for meeting you should not be that great of a mystery, Tuven. I want you to reconsider your decision regarding your marriage to Makeda and her choice to study on Earth.”

Tuven grew very still, his fidgeting fingers clinched against his thigh.

“I believe that my decision is a logical one, Ambassador. Makeda is human and I am Vulcan. A human mate would be better suited to her needs.”

“Your decision may be logical, but that does not mean that it is right. Nor does it mean that you came to that decision using logic,” Spock replied, one eyebrow raised high in challenge.

“Ambassador, I do not think that it is proper for me to discuss my relationship with Makeda with you,” Tuven replied as he stood from his seat.

“I have upset you,” Spock replied, a hint of amusement evident in his voice. “Please, Tuven, sit down. I am practically Makeda’s father, so what causes her distress is my business. Plus, I am your elder by more than two hundred years. It would be wise to listen to my counsel.”

Tuven resumed his seat, his posture as stiff and unyielding as before.

“Thank you,” Spock said with a slight smile before taking another long sip from his cup of tea. “Now, I can guess the cause of your distress over Makeda’s decision to study on Earth.  You fear that she will meet a human male and begin to find your lack of emotional expression to be a deficiency. She will break the bond, marry a human and stay on Earth.”

Tuven’s eyes shifted the tiniest bit, another tell that Spock had learned to recognize over their long relationship.

“Not only do you fear losing her but you fear that she would be correct in her decision to choose a human male over yourself. You also think that now is the time to assert your dominance after you have spent over fifteen years happily yielding to her. So, you have given her a choice: stay on New Vulcan and attend the VSA or travel to Earth and break your bond.”

Tuven fidgeted again. Spock smiled sadly.

“Allow me to tell you a story, Tuven,” Spock held up his hand as Tuven opened his mouth as if to object. “It is short and true. You shall also find it very beneficial. Once there was young half-Vulcan…”

Tuven listened attentively to Spock’s story detailing his decades long estrangement from his father and his regret over his missed chance for a deeper relationship with his Nyota Uhura. Stubbornness had kept him and his father apart until necessity brought them briefly together once more. Fear and self-doubt had kept him from expanding his relationship with Uhura from friend to lover and perhaps one-day bondmate, a transition he knew she would have welcomed; a transition he now knew could have resulted in a most satisfying life.

“I am Vulcan. I control my emotions, they do not control me,” Tuven stated at the end of Spock’s story.

“Yes, that is what they teach us,” Spock replied as he sipped his tea. “However, we both know that statement is too simple to be absolute. Look into yourself and answer these questions. Was it merely logic that first led you to approach Makeda when she first caught your eye? Was it only logic that compelled you to fight Makeda’s attackers even after they relented in their attentions to her? Was it logic that led you to flaunt convention and request permission to bond with her? Did you eat a half-pound of chocolate on board the Enterprise because it was rational? Yes, they told me that story as well Tuven,” Spock smiled kindly at Tuven’s widening eyes. “Tell, me Tuven, is it logic that now leads you to sever your bond with Makeda and to block her from your thoughts?”

Tuven sat in quiet contemplation for several moments, his eyes fixed on some point on the floor. Spock stood from his seat and Tuven hastily rose as well.

“On some level we are all illogical people, Tuven,” Spock began. “This is not always an evil. I look forward to discovering the result of your ruminations. Please feel free to take some biscuits with you. I find meditation works up quite an appetite.”

Tuven returned Spock’s salute before departing, his pockets full of sweetened biscuits and his mind full of questions.

Tal-kam= dear

Koon-ut so’lik= marriage proposal

Plathau= the act of consummating a marriage by the first act of marital intercourse

Sa’kugalsu= fiancé, a male engaged to a woman

Sa-telsu= husband

Kal’i’farr= the state or act of marriage

Kan-telan= the bonding of children

  Chapter 10: Departures

“Live long and prosper, father,” Tuven said before ending the transmission.

Tuven sighed loudly before rising from his seat to move towards his meditation space. Tuven lit the fire pot and settled into the proper posture, the movements as familiar to him as breathing. Over the past year, he often spent five hours a day in meditation. His clothing, skin and hair constantly bore the scent of incense, a spicy deep aroma. Tuven’s mentor at the Science Academy saw fit to commend him for his devotion to the discipline. While his mentor regarded his meditation ritual as a sign of strength, Tuven knew it was a symptom of his weakness.

His emotional control had become more fragile with each passing day since his decision to break the bond with Makeda. He found the conversation with his father to be particularly vexing, so much so that he had not been able to completely suppress his emotional response. It had been more than a year since he last spoke to Makeda and Tuven had still not contacted a healer to dissolve the bond. His father, no doubt concerned about Tuven’s impending Time, urged his son to dissolve the bond once and for all or to reconcile with Makeda. Tuven found that he could take neither action. His paralysis in this regard was most illogical. The logical decision would be to release Makeda from the bond and for him to acquire a fully Vulcan mate and for her to acquire a human mate. However, Tuven found this solution to be highly unsatisfying.

After many months of meditation, Tuven began to realize that Ambassador Spock had been correct. Tuven’s initial decision to break the bond had not been made out of logic, but out of fear. Tuven feared that Makeda would go to Earth and find a human mate. Instead of merely advancing the date of their joining ceremony, Tuven acted in anger and fear and blocked Makeda from his mind. The action had been physically painful to do. Makeda had become half of his heart and soul. Their months of separation felt as if he carried an open wound in his side, as if a vital organ had been ripped from his body.

Tuven at first reasoned that the passage of time and intense meditation would heal the wound. He was Vulcan. He was master of his emotions. When he was not in class or attending to his studies, he was engaged in deep meditation, battling to contain the primitive emotional Vulcan within the bounds of pure logic. However, the teachings of Surak were of little avail. He found the hours interacting with his colleagues and professors at the Academy to be taxing, his emotional control so tenuous that each day was a trial.

Part of Tuven longed to follow Ambasador Spock’s advice and reconcile with Makeda. However, he still was against her choice to study on Earth and he knew that Makeda was too stubborn to relent. Tuven would not be the one to bend. He had chosen to act as Doctor McCoy once advised him. He had put his foot down, as the humans say. 

The chime of his comlink broke Tuven from his light meditation. Ordinarily Tuven would have ignored the alert, but he had barely settled fully into the first stage of meditation, despite having spent an hour before the firepot. Tuven rose and crossed the room, accepting the communication as he settled before the screen. He was surprised when the face of Lady Nyota appeared before him. Tuven felt a slight pang in his heart. Makeda and Lady Nyota bore a strong resemblance to one another. If Tuven were to overlook the streak of silver that ran down the right side of her fall of hair and the delicate laugh lines on her face, he could almost imagine that it was Makeda before him.

“Greetings, Lady Nyota,” Tuven said as he bent his head towards the screen. “I trust that you and your kin are well.”

Lady Nyota frowned at him slightly, before her lips assumed a small smile. “Tuven, you know you can call me Mama Nyota. There is no need for such formality between us.”

Tuven’s eyes skittered from hers to rest on the wall behind the screen before darting back to her face. “Considering the change of circumstances between your ko’fu and myself, it is only appropriate that I address you with the respect due your station.”

The frown returned to Uhura’s face, the bottom lip poking out slightly in a perfect mimic of her daughter.

“Tuven, you are still family,” Uhura stated, her voice firm. “You will always be a part of this family.”

Tuven ducked his head, a strange tightening seizing his chest. I am master of my emotions.

“Are you well, Tuven?” Uhura asked when the silence drew too long. “Are you enjoying your studies at the Academy?”

“I am in peak physical condition, Lady Nyota,” Tuven replied, ignoring the small frown that graced the woman’s face at the use of her title. “My course work at the VSA is fulfilling. I am excelling in all my classes.”

“That is good to hear,” Uhura replied with a smile. “I hope to have you in my linguistics class next term.”

“The likelihood that I will enroll in your linguistics practicum is very small. As my studies are focused in the organic sciences, it would not be logical for me to enroll in a class that would not advance my academic path.”

Uhura smiled at him with a gentle warmth that Tuven could not understand.

“Makeda is leaving for Earth in two days,” she stated.

Tuven blinked. The air around him seemed to grow impossibly thick, an observation Tuven knew to be illogical.

“So, she has decided to study on Earth.”

“Yes,” Uhura replied before licking her lips and leaning towards the screen. “We are having a going away dinner for her tomorrow evening. Ambassadors Spock and Sarek will be there as will their families. The entire S’chn T’gai clan has been invited. Please say that you will be there as well, Tuven.”

Tuven paused, the blood rushing in his ears, before he spoke in a soft voice. “Has Makeda requested my presence?”

“She has not said as much, but I know that she wants you to be there, Tuven. She still loves you.”

“Love is an illogical human emotion…”

“It is a Vulcan emotion as well,” Uhura cut him off. “There is nothing illogical about it.”

Tuven watched her silently as she breathed deeply to calm herself.

“I have respected my daughter’s wishes and your privacy. I have not begged you to reconsider your decision. But, I can no longer hold my tongue.” Uhura looked at him, her eyes hard and shimmering with held back tears. “You’ve wounded Makeda deeply. The brightness has gone from my little girl and I can’t stand to see her that way. My daughter gave you her heart freely and completely and you have chosen to toss it aside like garbage.

“I should hate you, Tuven. If this were ancient times, I’d have the right to call you out and avenge my kinswoman. But I cannot hate you, Tuven. I love you like you were my own son born from my own womb.

“I mourn for you too, Tuven. I can see that you are hurting.”

Tuven’s posture straightened, his eyes dropping to his lap.

“Look at me Tuven,” Uhura demanded. Tuven, accustomed to obeying her like his mother, snapped his eyes back to hers. “I know you are Vulcan, but I can see it all in your eyes and the set of your jaw. You long for Makeda just like she aches for you. Why do you continue to punish her and yourself, Tuven? It is not logical.”

“Makeda desires to live among her people,” Tuven replied, his voice cracking slightly. “Her desire is logical and it would be logical for her to have a human mate.”

“You are her people, too” Uhura replied. “And she has chosen a mate. She chose you.”

“I am deficient,” Tuven replied with more force than he intended.

Uhura stared at him, her hard face softening at his display of emotion.

“You are not deficient, Tuven.”

“I am deficient, Mama Nyota. I cannot provide her with the emotional support that a human male could. A human male would not disappoint her as I often did. He would not fail her.”

“Guhsh!”

Tuven’s head snapped up at this declaration. “I do not understand. Clarify.”

“I spoke perfectly clear. That is rubbish! You talk as if human males make perfect mates. Believe me, they don’t. They are no more capable of perfection than Vulcan men. I have been married to Admiral Spock for over twenty-five years. Have I sometimes been so angry with him that I could spit? Of course! But I have never felt that he was a deficient mate. I also doubt that Lady Amanda regretted marrying Ambassador Sarek or that Lady Dawn now finds him deficient.

“Every relationship comes with its misunderstandings and upsets, Tuven. To expect perfection from your mate is illogical. Besides, Makeda does not want a perfect mate. She wants you.

“There is an old Terran saying that explains it best. ‘Above all love each other deeply, for love covers a multitude of sins.’”

Uhura stopped speaking and looked over her shoulder quickly.

“I have to go, Tuven. I am sure that my adun would chide me for calling you. But, I couldn’t keep out of it any longer. Think on what I have said, Tuven. The dinner starts at 19:00 hours and Makeda’s shuttle leaves for Earth the next morning at 07:00 hours. Please come, Tuven. Live long and prosper, sa’fu.”

“Live long and prosper, Mama Nyota.”

*****************

Spock took another slow sip of his plomeek soup, tilting the shallow bowl to his lips as he listened to the chatter of his family around the dining room table. All were gathered for Makeda’s going away dinner. In the morning she would depart New Vulcan to begin her course of studies at Cambridge University in Comparative Federation Literature.

While Spock had first been against her decision to forgo Starfleet and the Science Academy for Cambridge, he slowly came to support his daughter. Although it had been several decades since he had defied his father and enrolled in Starfleet, he could still vividly recall the pain caused by his near disownment. For many years they did not speak and Sarek had barred Spock from visiting his home. If not for the destruction of their homeworld and the murder of the woman who had centered both their lives, their estrangement might have endured to the present day. His own experience and the counsel of his older self ensured that he would not repeat history with his own beloved daughter.

Spock regarded his daughter fondly as she spoke animatedly with her mother and Lady Dawn. He was very proud of his ko’fu, although he would call such an emotion illogical and unbecoming of a Vulcan were you to ask him. Makeda had grown into a beautiful, intelligent and poised young woman in the image of her m’aih and m’aih’al. She had her mother’s smile and her grandmother’s trilling laugh. She possessed both women’s kindness and warmth.

Spock was also thankful that Makeda had grown up without the burden of proving her Vulcanness or hiding her humanity. While Vulcan society still held some prejudices against humans and hybrids, her home and that of her grandfather and other-father were islands of acceptance.

Spock had been relieved when he accepted a subspace call some sixteen years ago to find a serious little boy requesting his daughter’s hand in marriage. He was pleased to know that Makeda would never experience the pain of sharing a bond with someone who found your very existence repellant.  She found a bond-mate who also accepted and valued all sides of her heritage. Indeed, her humanity seemed to be a source of attraction for Tuven. Their pending union was a cause for great anticipation for the S’chn T’gai clan.

Tuven was the only family member absent from the celebration. Although Nyota and Lady Dawn strove to keep the mood celebratory and light, Tuven’s absence was palpable.

Spock suppressed a frown as he observed Makeda glance nervously towards the entryway, as if Tuven would step over the threshold at any moment apologizing to his Momma Nyota for his tardiness before making his way towards Makeda, his fingers outstretched as he took his seat. It had been over a year since Tuven had visited their home or attended any S’chn T’gai gatherings. However, his wife and Makeda refused to abandon hope that Tuven would return to the family fold. Spock could not fault them for their logic. Tuven had not yet contacted them to arrange the dissolution of the bond.

The hour soon grew late. Spock accompanied his wife and daughter to the foyer to see off their guests. He watched as Dawn embraced Makeda, kissing the young woman on both cheeks after whispering words of encouragement into her ear. Spock was not surprised when his father enfolded Makeda in his arms as soon as his wife stepped back. Sarek had always been affectionate with his ko’fu’al. Spock thought of his mother and how Amanda would be pleased to see the change in her husband.

Nyota and Spock stepped back as his older self stepped forward to bid farewell to Makeda. He stood for several long moments speaking in low tones, his head bent down toward Makeda. At one point his daughter drew in a sharp breath and looked down. Spock felt her distress through their familial bond and made to step towards them before Nyota’s gentle grasp on his hand stayed his steps.

Peace, my a’dun.

Spock watched as the ambassador reached out to gently lift Makeda’s chin so that she looked at him once more, passing one long finger over her cheek to catch a stray tear. Spock relaxed when Makeda stood on her toes to wrap her arms around his older self’s neck.

Makeda and his older self had always shared a special relationship. When he and Nyota’s obligations to Starfleet kept them off planet for years at a time and the mission proved too dangerous or disruptive to her schooling for her to accompany them, Makeda lived in the home of her samekh’al. However, as she began to mature, her home of choice was with Ambassador Spock. At times, Spock found himself strangely envious of his older self and his closeness with Makeda. However, Spock knew that such emotion was irrational. Indeed, Makeda was fortunate to have the elder Spock in her life.

“The hour grows late, Makeda. You should retire soon so that you will be able to rest adequately before our departure in the morning,” Spock told his daughter a few hours after their guests had departed.

Makeda stood leaning against the front of the house, her arms crossed over her chest, her hands tightly gripping her forearms. The light above the door turned her dark brown curls a bronze red as she gazed forlornly out at the dimly lit pathway that led from the gate to the front steps.

“He’s not coming.”

Spock stepped over the threshold of the house and stood beside Makeda. He followed her gaze down the path and watched in silence.

“It does appear unlikely that he will arrive before we are due to leave in the morning,” Spock replied after a time.

“I thought that he would come, sa’mekh,” Makeda said, her voice strangely flat.

Spock frowned in the dark. He turned towards her. “Perhaps Tuven needs more time, taluhk. It is possible that once you have studied on Earth for a time and his fears are proven unfounded, he will return to you.”

“I am not sure that I want him to return,” Makeda sighed. She turned towards Spock, her face as expressionless as her voice.

“I do not understand, Makeda. Do you not still desire your sa’kugalsu?”

“I think I will always love, Tuven. But I will not allow myself to weep over his absence anymore. Goodnight, sa’mekh. I am pleased that you will accompany me tomorrow.”

Makeda stepped towards her father and kissed him gently on the cheek before walking into the house, her long blue robes sweeping behind her.

Spock stared down the path for a few minutes more, his eyes adjusting to the dark. He thought he spied a wisp of white fabric sweeping past the gate a quarter mile away.

*************

Tuven arrived at the shuttle port just outside of Uzau’Khar. The day was still young and the air relatively cool. He arrived at the shuttle port at 05:00 hours. He knew it was illogical to arrive so early, but as sleep and meditation proved illusive, he left his parent’s home to wander the city. Tuven felt as if he held his emotions by a single thread.

I am not sure that I want him to return.

Tuven thought that he desired for Makeda to move on, but when he overheard her declaration, he knew that was the last thing he desired.

Tuven stood abruptly from his seat in the lobby when he saw Makeda and her father enter the shuttle port. He took advantage of being first to recognize his intended. He drank in the sight of her, entering each detail of her dress and face to memory. He noted the small dark mole on her left cheek, the gentle bow of her top lip, her eyebrows that capped her large brown eyes, the delicate curve bending back towards her cheek in the human fashion. She was as he remembered, but not. Her eyes were drawn and slightly red at the corners as if she had not slept. The corners of her mouth were turned downwards, cast in an unnatural frown. The dark fushia tunic that he gave her for her nineteenth birthday seemed loose around her torso, as if she had lost weight. Tuven felt a knot of guilt form in his stomach. He knew the blame for her condition lay solely in his hands. He considered turning around and melting into the crowd until he heard her voice float over the din. It was no more than a breath, an exhaled prayer let loose from her lips.

“Tuven.”

Makeda dropped her bags at her feet and stood rooted to the spot. Her father who had continued to walk ahead stopped and craned his neck until his eyes fell onto Tuven. Admiral Spock stared at Tuven, his eyes unreadable. Finally, he nodded and walked towards his daughter. He whispered something in her ear before picking up her discarded bag and moving towards the check-in counter.

Tuven was at her side in five long strides, lowering the barrier he had erected against her with each step. He stopped in front of her and held up a shaking hand, two fingers extended towards her. Makeda’s eyes dropped to his hand before snapping back to his gaze.

“My father says that we have forty five minutes before we must board the shuttle. We should find a private place in which to speak.”

Tuven let his hand drop back to his side. He glanced around the shuttle port, noticing a few curious looks of passersby.

“Of course, Makeda,” Tuven replied with a bow of his head. “There is a small meditation sha’ti just down the hall.”

Makeda nodded before following him down the hall. Tuven could barely contain his worry as they walked. Although he had opened his mind to her, he only felt the barest touch of her mind to his, a lukewarm entity, neither cold with anger nor warm with joy.

As soon as they entered the sha’ti, Tuven pulled Makeda into his arms.

“Forgive me, ashayam,” he chocked out.

Makeda, who had stood stiffly in his embrace, softened against him at his emotional outburst.

“Tuven, k'hat'n'dlawa,” she gasped. “You are forgiven.”

Tuven shuddered as Makeda’s mind filled his. He felt her anger, her misery, her numbness and then her joy fill him. He felt her pain when he closed himself off from her, a searing agony thrust in her side, a pain so much like his own. Tuven broadcast his fear, his anxiety, and his despondency. He felt Makeda quake in his arms as tears began to coarse down her face.

“Never shut me out again, Tuven.”

“I promise, k’diwa,” Tuven spoke against her hair. “You are truly half of my heart and half of my soul.”

Tuven felt Makeda’s small hands clutch the front of his robes as she pulled him towards her. Her full lips sought out his and their bond flared to life as their tongues mated. They parted slightly and Makeda smiled against his mouth. Tuven felt his eyes begin to sting and a strange wetness began to slide down his cheeks.

He wiped at the moisture and looked at his fingertips in confusion. Makeda watched him and laughed, her amusement washing over him like a cool breeze. Makeda kissed both of his cheeks before capturing his mouth once more.

“There is so much to say,” Tuven began once they parted for a second time.

“And our time together is short,” Makeda finished. “I know, Tuven. We can talk later after I settle at Cambridge. There is much we must discuss.”

“I wish…”

“I know. You must come visit me. When the VSA is on break. You must come,” Makeda said as she placed kisses on his mouth after each sentence.

Tuven sank to the ground, bringing Makeda with him. She sat in his lap, her legs wrapped around his hips her forehead pressed against his. They sat draped around one another communing mentally, attempting to make up for their year apart and their time of separation to come. The minutes passed by and they soon had to part from one another. Makeda stood, her smile bright and fragile as she regarded her fiancé. Tuven returned her smile with a slight grin of his own. He felt centered and more at peace than he had in a long time. Makeda made to walk for the door before Tuven stayed her with a touch to her hand. He cupped her face with his hands once more and kissed her gently.  Makeda beamed up at him.

They stepped out of the sha’ti and slowly made their way towards the shuttles. Admiral Spock was waiting for them, his hands clasped behind his back. His dark eyes looked from Tuven to his daughter and his stance relaxed noticeably. Tuven stopped a few feet from the Admiral and extended two of his fingers towards Makeda. Makeda smiled and pressed her fingers against his.

“May you have a safe and efficient journey. Live long and prosper.”

Makeda raised her hand in the traditional sign of parting as she repeated the blessing. She turned and boarded the shuttle.

The Admiral stepped towards Tuven and regarded him silently. “Live long and prosper, sa’fu,” Spock stated as he saluted him.

“Live long and prosper, sa’mekh.”

Tuven stepped back and watched the shuttle depart, his spirit at peace and his mind ordered. He closed his eyes and reached out to his ashayam. He was pleased to feel her answering touch.