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Chapter Text

Stardate 36885.7 (November 2268)

“How much longer until we’re there?”, Teresa asked, trying not to sound too eager to get out of the shuttle and back to the Enterprise.

“Six hours”, Spock answered, after a glance at the navigation panel.

“Hm”, Teresa made and lowered her head back to her book. She had to re-read every sentence up to four times until she had processed its meaning, because she was too distracted by the awkward situation they found themselves in. Spock was also reading something (an article on subspace anomalies; she had asked and they had exchanged a few polite sentences about it, but then the conversation had dried up again) and was obviously trying to radiate calm and the impression of being unperturbed, but Teresa saw through the pretence and knew that he was at least as uncomfortable as she was. His discomfort was the main reason for hers and had been ever since their relationship had taken this most intimate turn a few weeks ago.

They were on their way back from a conference on Andoria about the long-term effects of different types of radiation on plant life. As chief exobiologist of the Enterprise, Teresa had of course jumped at the opportunity. The journey there had been much better, because they had been accompanied by Lieutenants Valera and K’pot’me, whose presence had considerably lightened the atmosphere. By an unforeseen turn of events, however, Lieutenant Valera had been called to Earth on a personal matter, and Lieutenant K’pot’me had decided to use his accumulated days of leave and stay on Andoria for longer, despite the bitter cold. This meant that on their journey back, they were alone together. They had made their best effort to conduct friendly conversation now and then and otherwise had sought refuge in their reading.

“Are you hungry?”, Spock asked her after another 20 minutes. “I will have a ration pack now.”

“Oh, yes, thank you”, she answered, smiling faintly. “Number four, please.”

Spock was in the course of standing up when the shuttle was suddenly shaken by a giant jolt and flooded with bright blue light. “What’s happening?”, cried Teresa and made for the navigation panel, but the shuttle was shaken by another jolt, and then she had the strangest sensation of floating. She lost consciousness.

“Spock! Spock, wake up!”

His eyes flickered open, but it took him another few seconds to focus his gaze on the ceiling of the shuttle and on Teresa’s face, which was floating over him with an expression that was first of concern, but then of relief. He was lying on the floor; several muscles in his body were aching. “What happened?”, he asked faintly.

“You won’t like it”, she said and held out a hand to help him up, which he took. A little unsteady on his feet, he pulled his uniform into shape while she continued: “The sensors are saying that we”, she gulped, “are 58 000 lightyears from our last position. We are in the Delta Quadrant.”

He was speechless for a moment, then he answered: “Remarkable. Are you certain?”

“You can check the readings for yourself”, she responded. “Of course we cannot guarantee that our sensors have not been compromised when we… by whatever has just happened.”

He had a look at the readings, as she had suggested. There was no doubt she was right. “I will conduct a long-range scan”, he said, sitting down in front of the console. “This might tell us where we really are even if our position is not correct.”

“You do that”, she confirmed, unconvinced that this would change their situation. She sat down next to him, leant her elbows on her knees with her gaze fixated on him, and said: “I think we were pulled into a wormhole. The sensor log confirms it.”

Distracted from his computations, he looked at her, for the first time with a glimmer of alarm in his eyes. “But where is it?”

“Gone. I suppose it closed behind us while we were still unconscious.”

He frowned but went back to the long-range scanning. After a minute, he said in a monotone voice: “Our position is correct.”

A shocked silence filled the shuttle while they both stared at first at the console, then out of the window and then at each other.

“Maybe the wormhole will reappear”, Teresa finally suggested. “We’ll simply stay here and wait for it.”

“That is a reasonable assumption”, he responded and gave a faint sigh of relief. After a few seconds, he added: “However, we should also discuss alternative courses of action in case it does not reappear.”

“Do we have any means of making it reappear?”, Teresa asked hopefully. “That’s your field of expertise, of course.”

He frowned and reflected on this problem. “If we knew its exact position, we could try to direct a concentrated graviton beam at it. The shuttle is equipped with a type I emitter. However, this would considerably deplete our energy reserves.”

“The log indicates its position.”

“Then it is worth a try.” He consulted the log and then ran a scan on the area. "I am detecting a faint subspace instability at the wormhole's last position."

"Is that positive or negative?" Teresa knew a little about subspace mechanics, but obviously not nearly as much as him.

"It is encouraging. If we managed to amplify and polarise this instability with the graviton beam, we might be able to get the wormhole to reappear."

She gave a nod and a tentative smile.

Their attempt was unsuccessful. After two minutes, they had to turn off the beam.

“Most unfortunate”, he said through gritted teeth.

“That is an understatement”, she replied, her voice filling with dread. “Do you have any other idea?”

“No.”

“Alright”, she said, trying to stay calm and rational. “We have to look for alternatives. Did your long-range scan detect any M-class planets nearby?”

He consulted the data. “Indeed. There is one, seven hours away from here at maximum speed.”

“We have”, she said, checking the energy reserves, “energy and life support for approximately ten more hours.”

“Then we should leave here in three hours at the very latest”, he concluded.

She gulped once again. “Yes. Plenty of time for the wormhole to reappear.” She did sound hopeful, but not very.

“We do not know whether it is stable at the other end”, he reminded her.

“I know”, she replied decidedly, “but the worst that could happen is that we end up at another place far away from the Federation.”

“Maybe not a place with another nearby M-class planet.”

“It’s worth the risk!”, she said resolutely.

“I agree.”

They looked at each other. He saw the desperation in her warm, brown eyes and could not completely avoid the same feeling.

The minutes and hours trickled by, while they waited in silence. After the second hour, Teresa took out the ration packs in order to have something to do, but she had no appetite. Spock ate his, but he seemed to be having difficulty swallowing.

After two hours and 45 minutes, he said gently: “We should leave.”

“Two more minutes”, she pleaded, biting her lip and staring into space, as though she could make the wormhole open directly in front of their noses by the pure force of her will.

“Agreed”, he sighed.

When he looked at her again after another minute, he saw that her face was covered in silent tears and her lips were tightly pressed together, while she was still staring out. He did not know what to say.

Shortly afterwards, she took a deep, shuddering breath. “Let’s go.”

“Setting a course”, he said. “Warp three.” It was the fastest the shuttle could go.

The shuttle started moving and he heard a stifled sob. She had bent over, covering her face in her hands, breathing heavily, while the stars whizzed past them. Following an impulse, he first put his hand on her shoulder and then pulled her right hand away from her face and grasped it gently with both of his. She did not pull her hand away and instead pressed his, but she did not move, either. Her breathing grew a little calmer but did not return to normal.

This is not what I had in mind, she thought sarcastically after a while, all this time I have been wanting to be with him.

After a few more minutes’ silence, she slowly pulled her hand away and straightened up. “I suppose”, she said dryly, “you have already calculated how long it would take us to get back to the Federation if we had unlimited energy reserves and travelled at maximum speed at all times.”

“1468 years, five months, seventeen days and… three hours”, he answered quietly.

“No minutes?”

“Fourteen minutes.”

“Phantastic.”

“Indeed.”

“Now I know what kind of situation is required for you to use sarcasm.”

“It is you who was being sarcastic.”

“You agreed.”

He sighed. “To a certain degree, I share your… shock and despair.”

She looked at him, her eyes still wet, but no fresh tears were emanating from them. He felt her searching gaze that tried to assess his emotional state. “The M-class planet it is, then.”

“It does seem that way.”

The first shock seemed to have begun to dissipate, because he noticed that she began eyeing him somewhat nervously. He looked back, equally nervous, but trying to hide it. For a while, they simply stared at each other wordlessly.

Until he noticed a notification on the console. “There is a vessel on long-range scans. Travelling in our direction.”

She sharply drew breath. “I hope they’re friendly.”

He raised his eyebrows and kept gazing at the console. A few seconds later: “They’re hailing us.” He turned around to face her.

“Well, put it through, Sir?” She was puzzled by the fact that he seemed to ask for her opinion, as he was the ranking officer.

Spock pushed a button and they listened in bewilderment as a female voice came through the speakers. “Unidentified Starfleet vessel, this is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager. Do you receive?”

“Federation?!”, Teresa asked, befuddled. And ‘Kathryn Janeway’ was an unmistakeably human name. Spock was equally consternated, but he pressed the response button and said: “This is the Starfleet shuttle Equinox. Forgive me, Captain, but did you say ‘Federation’?”

“Yes”, came the answer, “the United Federation of Planets. We are a Starfleet vessel just like yourselves. We did not expect to find another one here in the Delta Quadrant.”

“It’s coming up on visual”, Teresa said.

“On screen”, Spock replied.

They both looked at the ship in even more confusion and astonishment for a moment, then Spock sceptically said to this mysterious captain: “Captain, your starship configuration is unknown to us.”

“I believe we may be able to explain that”, Captain Janeway answered, “your configuration is known to us. Forgive me, but may I ask what year it is?”

“What year?”, Spock answered in surprise. “2268.”

There was a short silence, then Janeway asked: “How did you come to be here, in the Delta Quadrant?”

“We were pulled into a wormhole”, Teresa told her. “Only a few hours ago.”

“I see”, came the answer. “Well, it seems that you did not only undergo spatial displacement, but also temporal. It is in fact the year 2374.”

Spock and Teresa looked at each other, with mounting surprise. “Can it be true?”, Teresa asked.

“I believe it can.”

“Captain, may I ask what you are doing in the Delta Quadrant? Has the Federation discovered a faster means of propulsion?”, Teresa asked.

“No”, Captain Janeway sighed. “It’s a long story. We were pulled here against our will by an alien entity. May we have you on visual?”, she queried. “That way, we can all assure ourselves of each other’s truthfulness.”

“Agreed”, Spock said, while Teresa switched to visual.

“They certainly look like Starfleet”, she confirmed after a moment of staring wide-eyed at the screen. “Just… different.” The bridge design was familiar yet modified; the uniforms were mostly black apart from very broad stripes covering the shoulders, some people’s in red, others in yellow, yet others in turquoise.

They saw the Captain exchange an astonished look with some of her bridge crew. “May I ask what your names are?” She was a light-skinned woman with light brown hair, an air of spirited resoluteness and an astute gaze. The shoulders of her uniform were red.

“This is Lieutenant Teresa Juárez”, Spock introduced her, “and I am Commander – “

“– Spock”, a dark-skinned man in the background said. His uniform was black and yellow.

Spock frowned. “How do you know?”

“We know you from our history books, Commander”, Captain Janeway explained, now looking almost as astonished as they were.

Eyebrows raised to the ceiling, he uttered: “Indeed!?”

Captain Janeway seemed to pull herself together and inquired: “I suppose you don’t have any objection to us taking you aboard?”

They looked at each other again. “None at all”, Teresa said. “In fact, please. Before you hailed us, we were on our way to the nearest M-class planet, probably to spend the rest of our lives there.”

After climbing out of their shuttle in Voyager’s shuttle bay, they were greeted by a small committee: Captain Janeway (smiling warmly), the dark-skinned man who had spoken Spock’s name (Teresa now saw that he was a Vulcan), a black-haired man in red with a tattoo on his face (he looked Native American, Teresa thought, but could not be sure) and an excited young Asian man in yellow.

“Welcome on board, Ambass- … Commander Spock”, Captain Janeway smiled and then, for a second, looked as though she wanted to slap herself for her slip of the tongue, “… and Lieutenant Juárez. It is an honour to meet you.”

“Thank you”, Spock answered, still surprised. Teresa rolled her eyes almost unnoticeably, in affectionate amusement. Of course, she thought.

“This is my second in command, Commander Chakotay”, the Captain said, pointing at the man with the facial tattoo, “my tactical officer and chief of security, Lieutenant Commander Tuvok”, gesturing at the Vulcan, “and Ensign Harry Kim, our operations officer.” Everyone nodded politely.

Tuvok raised his hand, performing the Vulcan salute. “Peace and long life.”

In response, Spock equally raised his hand. “Live long and prosper.”

Tuvok took out a tricorder and began scanning them. “They are, indeed, human and half Vulcan, half human, Captain. They also show clear evidence of temporal shift; their phase variance corresponds with a temporal displacement of around 100 years. We can do a more thorough DNA scan in sickbay, to determine whether they truly are who they say they are.”

“You have our DNA patterns on file?”, Teresa asked, once again surprised.

“Yes”, Tuvok answered.

“You must have many questions”, the Captain said, “as we do. But I’m sure you understand that we should tell you as little possible about the 24th century or anything that lies in your future as long as we are unsure whether we can actually find a way to send you back. We don’t want to contaminate the timeline.”

“We understand”, Spock assured her after exchanging a glance with Teresa, who did not at all dislike the idea of being sent back.

“Very well”, the Captain said contentedly. “Commanders Chakotay and Tuvok will accompany you to sickbay. When your examination is finished, we will meet in the conference room to discuss your situation.”

They nodded and followed the officers out of the shuttle bay. “Ambassador?”, Teresa whispered to Spock, partly astonished, partly impressed and partly taunting. “I can’t say I’m surprised. But I didn’t think that diplomacy was among your career designs.” He only looked at her and shook his head slightly with an innocent expression on his face that indicated that he was as clueless as her.

Captain Janeway and Ensign Kim took a different turn, but only a short moment later, while they were walking along the grey corridors, they heard the Captain's voice through the ship’s communication system. “All hands, this is the Captain. We have picked up two very unusual passengers; two Starfleet officers from the last century who were pulled into a wormhole and are now stranded in the Delta Quadrant just like we are, but a hundred years into their future. I believe most of you will recognize at least one of them. Do not tell them anything about the 24th century or anything that happened in their future. That is an order. Janeway out.”

While they passed through the mostly empty corridors, Teresa marvelled at the apparent size of the ship. The few people they passed looked at them with unbridled curiosity. At the end of one corridor, Teresa saw someone who made her draw breath. “Did you see that woman?”, she asked Spock. “She looked Klingon. More or less.”

“I did”, he said. “This is a very interesting ship.”

“Lieutenant B’Elanna Torres, our Chief Engineer”, said Commander Chakotay, who until this moment had been silent. “You will meet her soon.”

“The women’s uniforms have trousers here”, Teresa remarked. “I believe I prefer that.” What she preferred about their own 2260s uniforms, though, were the cuts and brighter colours.

Commander Chakotay smiled, while Spock did not show any reaction to what she had said. Tuvok answered: “It has long been Starfleet practice. It was decided long ago that trousers were a more functional garment.”

“Indeed, they are”, Teresa confirmed.

They were both impressed with Voyager’s sickbay.

“If only Dr. McCoy could see this”, Teresa mused.

Commander Chakotay sighed. “We forgot to call the Doctor before they came in.”

“Why is that necessary?”, Spock inquired.

The Commander gave another sigh and then said: “Computer, activate EMH.”

Both Spock and Teresa were startled when suddenly a slightly grumpy-looking and half bald light-skinned human man in turquoise materialized out of thin air in front of them. “Please state the nature of the medical emergency.”

“A hologram!”, Teresa exclaimed.

“Yes”, the man said. “And who are you?”

Tuvok quickly explained the situation.

“Ah”, made the Doctor, “Remarkable. Commander Spock’s physiology is in my database. And I know you, too”, he added, looking at Teresa. “But of course I’m not allowed to tell you why.”

“And you’re the most sophisticated hologram I have ever seen”, she replied, scrutinizing him full of curiosity. “Is every ship’s doctor a hologram in the 24th century?”, she asked, adding: “I know, you’re not allowed to tell.”

“Of course not!”, the Doctor exclaimed. “All of this ship’s medical officers died three and a half years ago and I was the only replacement. I am an EMH, an emergency medical hologram. But I am programmed with all the latest medical knowledge and treatments available. You are in the best of hands with me.”

Chakotay exchanged a slightly exasperated look with Tuvok.

“Fascinating”, Spock murmured.

“Doc, maybe you should hold back on any further information about 24th century technology as best as you can”, Chakotay advised him. “That is an order.”

“Understood”, the EMH said while he pulled out a medical tricorder. “Well, you two seem to be in the best of health, although I do detect signs of stress. Accelerated heart rate and respiration, for a start.”

“That is hardly surprising”, Teresa said. “This is all quite a lot to take in.”

When the Doctor noticed that Spock was eyeing the medical tricorder curiously, he ostentatiously snapped it shut in front of his nose and put it aside. After a few more minutes of examination with different kinds of devices, he announced: “Well, they are who they seem to be; there is no doubt about that. I prescribe a hearty meal and a good night’s sleep.”

Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Commander Tuvok also accompanied them to what resulted to be the conference room. Teresa could not stop marvelling at the size and technological equipment of the ship. What bothered her, however, was that the colours were all wrong. From the Enterprise, she was used to light and friendly colours everywhere, but this ship was predominantly grey. This crew must be really depressed as a consequence of this, she thought. When she uttered these thoughts out loud, Chakotay chuckled and said: “We’re fine, considering the circumstances. But you’re right; lighter colours would be nice.”

In the conference room, they found themselves together with several unfamiliar faces. There was the woman who resembled a Klingon, wearing a black and yellow uniform, but after a closer look Teresa realized that was only partially the case. There was also another woman, tall, blond and intensely beautiful. She had a strange metallic implant above her left eyebrow. She wore no Starfleet uniform at all, but some kind of tight-fitting, grey jumpsuit.

“Now”, Captain Janeway began. “Welcome once again. You must be quite overwhelmed by what has occurred to you. We’ll try to keep this conversation short. This is Lieutenant B’Elanna Torres, our Chief Engineer, and Seven of Nine, in charge of our astrometrics lab.” More polite nodding. “And now, please tell us again exactly what happened to you.”

As Spock was the senior officer, Teresa let him do the talking, although she added a few details now and then.

“Thank you”, the Captain said at the end of their account. “Now, the strange thing is that our historical database has no record of your disappearance. In fact, your files show that…”, she exchanged a meaningful look with her crewmates that Teresa did not fully understand, “that your lives continued normally after the stardate you disappeared through the wormhole.”

Spock and Teresa exchanged another look. “This would indicate that we will find a way back to our time and location”, Spock said. The Captain nodded.

“There are several explanations for that”, Teresa said slowly and hopefully. “Either we were missing for such a short time that this was not mentioned in the records – maybe such a short time that no one even noticed our absence – ,” – the six hours their shuttle had been projected to take until their rendezvous with the Enterprise had not yet passed in their entirety – “or it took us longer to get back, but the file of our disappearance was classified because it concerns time travel.”

“Two most logical assumptions”, Tuvok declared, and Spock nodded.

“So we will most probably get back!”, Teresa said cheerfully, but then her face fell and she looked thoughtful again. “Unless…”

“What?”, the Captain asked.

“Spock…”, Teresa inquired, even more slowly, “this is probably an outlandish idea, but would wormholes by any chance have any properties that… can duplicate matter?”

Spock frowned. “You mean…”

“… that we could have been duplicated. We ended up here, but the other Spock and Juárez stayed where they were or were only insignificantly displaced.”

“Wormholes have no such known properties”, the blond woman named Seven of Nine stated, somewhat coldly, and Spock nodded.

“Oh, well”, Teresa muttered.

“However,” Tuvok intervened, “logic dictates that we do not discard any possibilities, no matter how far-fetched they seem. There have been instances of duplicated persons in the course of history, the most recent being the incident involving Commander William T. Riker.”

“But that was due to a transporter accident”, Lieutenant Torres objected.

“Indeed”, Tuvok confirmed. “Which is why Lieutenant Juárez’ theory is highly improbable, as she has stated herself. But it cannot be discarded completely. This particular wormhole might have such properties.”

“Still, the other explanations are much more likely to be correct”, the Captain said. “Which means that we will most probably find you a way back, as long as we have not overlooked any other possible explanations. We just don’t know how long it will take. Seven, has your analysis of their shuttle log produced any useful results?”

“Only the exact location of the wormhole and the fact that it left behind the subspace instability Commander Spock mentioned, as well as residual neutrino, verteron and tachyon particles”, Seven of Nine answered.

Spock nodded. “Indeed. The concentration of these subatomic particles decreased 18,73% during the three hours we waited for it to reappear.”

“I scanned the area for further neutrino, verteron and tachyon particle residue to see whether the wormhole has opened up in this spot before”, Seven continued. “I found very small concentrations in this region, but so far, the data is inconclusive.”

"Harry, B'Elanna, could we attempt to bombard the subspace instability at the wormhole's position with verteron particles to make it reappear, like we did with the one we found on the Takarian end of the Barzan wormhole?", Janeway addressed Ensign Kim and Lieutenant Torres.

Spock raised an eyebrow. Bombarding the area with verteron particles sounded like a much more promising approach than the graviton beam the two of them had attempted from their shuttle. However, the Equinox was not capable of generating verteron particles, anyway.

"Yes, we could try that", the Ensign confirmed. "But this region is full of subspace instabilities, so it's not guaranteed that the wormhole always opens in exactly the same location."

"I strongly advise against it", Seven of Nine spoke up. "This approach holds more risks than a possibility of success. As long as we do not have more data on this wormhole, bombardment with verteron particles might just as well collapse or redirect the wormhole entirely."

Captain Janeway sighed. “So, this means that our best course of action is to stay in the vicinity to the point where the wormhole appeared, to see whether it reappears. But not too close, so that we are not drawn in ourselves”, she concluded. Everyone nodded. The Captain suddenly smiled sadly. “Isn’t it bitter that this is already the third time we encounter a wormhole that leads to the Alpha Quadrant, and the second one that leads to the wrong time?”

Her colleagues could do nothing but nod dolefully.

“I am very sorry about the situation Voyager finds itself in”, Teresa said in commiseration. “How long have you been in the Delta Quadrant?”

“Three and a half years. Three and a half years of trying to find a faster way back home”, the Captain answered. “But you and we are in the same boat now, so to speak.”

“Almost”, Teresa replied. “We seem to have a higher chance of getting home soon.”

“Let us hope so”, Captain Janeway said. “Until then, you’re most welcome to feel at home here. We will assign you some quarters… and you can get to know the rest of the crew.” At the mention of assigning quarters, there was a questioning look in her eyes at both Spock and Teresa for a moment, which neither of them understood. Spock simply replied: “Thank you, Captain.”

“Captain”, it occurred to Teresa, “wouldn’t we maybe have a greater chance of finding a way home if you allowed us to help research the wormhole?”

“I have been entertaining the same thought”, Spock agreed.

“I am afraid I can’t allow that”, Janeway declared with an apologetic sigh. “I can’t give you access to 24th century technology and knowledge. I’m sorry; I know Commander Spock is an excellent science officer and you…  as well. An excellent scientist. But as I said, we can’t risk contaminating the timeline. We are perfectly capable of conducting the research ourselves. Aren’t we, Seven?”

“I am”, Seven of Nine stated, in the same cold voice, while everyone else nodded.

Teresa hid her disappointment, while Spock followed up on her question: “What if we do not find a way back and stay on your ship indefinitely?”

“Then we will reconsider this rule”, the Captain said. “Dismissed… and, oh yes, of course. Chakotay will show you to your quarters and tell you anything else you need to know about life on Voyager. Your light luggage has already been retrieved from the shuttle.”

“Thank you”, Teresa nodded. After everyone had already gotten up and the first people had left the room, she turned back around to the Captain and said: “It’s good to see that the Federation still exists a hundred years after our time.” Spock nodded in agreement.

Captain Janeway smiled warmly and replied: “And we are very honoured to have visitors from the past, especially such distinguished ones as yourselves. I believe people will have many questions to ask you about the 23rd century and the Enterprise.”

After being shown their quarters on deck seven (oh, so big!) and told about the food replicators (only the most essential information), given a comm badge (one piece of new technology that was indispensable) and encouraged to ask whenever they needed anything, Teresa and Spock were shown the way to the mess hall on deck two. It turned out to be a busy and cheerful place. However, when they entered, all at once there was silence and everyone turned their heads to stare at them, curiosity edged on many faces.

They were quickly approached by a slightly droll man who greeted them enthusiastically. He did not wear a uniform, but a colourful suit of clothes, and had a great number of brown spots on the sides of his head, bushy yellow hair and cheerfully glistening eyes. They had never seen his species before. “Welcome, welcome, welcome!”, he said, overflowing with exuberance. “I am Neelix, the morale officer, ambassador and cook of Voyager. Make yourselves at home and have a warm and delicious meal cooked with fresh vegetables from our airponics bay. We have…” He proceeded to show them every meal available. “… For our half-Vulcan, half-human friend here, how about a plate of plomeek soup as a starter?”

The silence in the mess hall subsided. Most people had turned back around in their seats and resumed their conversations.

“You have plomeek soup?”, Spock asked, surprised. “Thank you, I will have it.”

“I personally have no particular regard for this tasteless stuff”, Neelix said while he handed him the dish, “but you go enjoy it.”

Spock raised an eyebrow, the bowl in his hand.

“Neelix, may I ask what species you are?”, Teresa inquired in a friendly tone.

“Talaxian!”, he answered proudly. “Native to this quadrant and happy to assist the Voyager crew on their arduous journey home.”

“That’s very kind of you”, Teresa said.

“We are one big family here”, he explained. “You will see for yourselves.”

They sat down at a small table in the corner. “Enjoy”, was all that Teresa could say, before they were approached by no less than six people. “Can we join you?”, a young light-skinned human male in red with light brown hair asked them and then pulled over a chair without waiting for their answer. Next to him stood young Ensign Harry Kim, whom they had already met in the shuttle bay, looking a little uncomfortable because of his crewmate’s brashness, and Lieutenant B’Elanna Torres.

“Tom Paris”, the brash young man introduced himself, reaching out a hand. “Helm officer.”

“Pleased to meet you”, Teresa answered, shaking his hand. “Teresa Juárez.”

“Oh, we know”, Harry Kim assured them, while Tom proceeded to shake Spock’s hand. “B’Elanna you already know; this is Ensign Wildman, Lieutenant Haron and – “, he looked behind him to a Vulcan woman in turquoise, who was standing behind everyone else and eyeing the newcomers furtively, “… and Lieutenant T’Lara.”

“Pleased to meet you all”, Spock declared graciously. Everyone proceeded to pull up a chair (Lieutenant T’Lara with a small delay) and sat down around their little table.

“It’s very exciting to have you here”, Harry Kim said after a short, awkward silence.

Teresa chuckled. “Yes, we have already surmised that Spock is famous.” Spock looked at her with an impenetrable expression.

“Yes, but we’re not allowed to tell you why”, B’Elanna Torres remarked. “Talking with you two is going to be a minefield.”

“You must be pretty shaken by what happened to you”, the Lieutenant called Haron addressed them. He was wearing turquoise like the Doctor, Ensign Wildman and Lieutenant T’Lara.

Spock and Teresa exchanged another look. “I believe”, Teresa answered slowly, “it hasn’t quite sunk in yet. I need more time to process it.” Spock said nothing, of course. Surak forbid he would have to admit to having emotions in front of strangers, one of them being a Vulcan, Teresa thought.

“I can sense your confusion and shock”, Haron continued, observing her (and him!) kindly.

“Oh dear, is it that obvious?”, Teresa asked, rubbing her forehead.

“No, only to me”, he reassured her. “I am half Betazoid.”

“Betazed is in the Federation now?”, asked Spock.

“Well, yes… I wasn’t supposed to tell you that, was I?”

Teresa however, had other concerns. “Aren’t Betazoid people telepathic?”

“They are”, Haron smiled and explained: “But I am half human. I’m not telepathic, only empathic. I can’t hear thoughts, but I can sense emotions.”

Spock looked down at the table.

“Ah”, Teresa muttered. Haron and her looked at each other, Teresa knowing that he could sense her rising panic about someone discovering her burning emotions for Spock, and him knowing that she knew. He gave her a small, reassuring smile, however, and the same to Spock, who was now observing them closely and probably able to guess what Teresa was concerned about.

To quickly change the subject, Teresa said the first thing that came to her mind. “Are you half-Klingon?”, she asked B’Elanna Torres.

“Yes.”

“And what else?”

“Human.”

“Species hybrids seem to be more prevalent in your century than in ours”, Teresa remarked, impressed. “Spock, finally you have company.”

“Indeed”, he said, straightening up. “It seems futile to ask whether the Klingons have joined the Federation, as well, I suppose.”

“Forget it”, B’Elanna made resolutely. “Not a chance.”

Everybody understood the double meaning of this evasive answer; all the humans around the table and Haron laughed. Ensign Wildman, a light-skinned blond human woman with a kind face, added: “My daughter, who was born on Voyager, is also a hybrid. She’s half Ktarian. You’ll probably meet her; her name is Naomi. She’s the only child on board.”

Teresa smiled at her and opened her mouth to find out more about Naomi. Spock, however, directed his attention at the Vulcan woman, who, up to this moment, had not uttered a single word. “You also have more than a Vulcan heritage, correct?”

Lieutenant T’Lara seemed uncomfortable with being spoken to and answered only reluctantly: “Affirmative. I… am 3/8 human.”

“3/8?”, Teresa repeated, intrigued. “That hints at a more complex family tree.” Spock also gazed at her with fascination.

T’Lara nodded curtly but said nothing else.

“Sooo”, Lieutenant Paris interjected. “For how long have you two served together on the Enterprise?”

“Almost four years”, Spock obliged him. Since the beginning of the five-year mission.

“So you must know each other pretty well, as you’re part of his science team”, Harry remarked innocently.

“We’re – friends”, Spock replied.

“          – close colleagues”, Teresa said simultaneously.

They looked at each other, caught by surprise and with the by now well-established awkwardness. “… friends”, Teresa confirmed with a slight delay, with a faint smile directed at Spock. She got the impression that all six people were watching them attentively and could not understand why, but she did not attach too much importance to that. “But why don’t you all tell us more about yourselves, while we eat. What’s it like for you, being stranded at the other end of the galaxy, so far away from your homes?”

“Of course”, Harry hurried to say, with an apologetic glance at their full plates.

They spent the rest of their time in the mess hall conversing about a range of different topics, carefully crossing the ‘minefield’, telling harmless anecdotes and personal stories. They learned that Voyager was 343 metres long, had fifteen decks and currently a crew of 147. Everyone except Lieutenant T’Lara bombarded Spock and Teresa with questions about the 23rd century and the Enterprise. She mostly sat by silently, watching them with an impenetrable expression. Teresa looked at her from time to time, wondering about her behaviour, but she was too distracted by the lively conversation in order to ponder the topic. Spock, who seemed a little weary of the incessant chatter anyway, respected her Vulcan reticence.

It was Haron who caught on to their need for peace and quiet. He offered to accompany them to their respective quarters. They thankfully accepted and excused themselves to the others.

They went to Spock’s quarters first. In front of the door, Haron asked: “I assume you are in need of meditation.”

“… I am”, Spock said after a moment, not being used to anyone except Teresa or perhaps Dr. McKennah addressing something as intimate as his need for meditation. “Thank you for your consideration.” With these words, he vanished behind the doors.

On their way to Teresa’s quarters just down the corridor, she realized: “I don’t even have any night clothes… I forgot my nightgown on Andoria.”

“I can get something for you”, he offered.

“You’re very kind.”

He left her alone in her quarters. She sank down into a very comfortable armchair and blankly stared out of the window into the vastness of space for several minutes without forming a single coherent thought. Suddenly she felt very tired, but too stunned to sleep.

Haron returned after 20 minutes, handing her a very elegant nightgown. “Does that meet your approval?”, he asked.

“Thank you”, she sighed, still sitting in her armchair. “Right now, I really don’t care at all about what I am going to wear while I sleep.”

He carefully sat down on the opposite armchair, observing her kindly. “You must give yourself time to allow the sorrow you’re feeling.”

“Are you a counsellor?”, she asked with a faint smile.

“Not at all, but I have the impression that you are in need of someone to talk to.”

“I – …”, she said in an exhausted tone. “Right now I don’t really feel anything yet. It’s too much to take in. The idea that we are at the other end of the galaxy, a hundred years into the future, not knowing whether we will truly get back to our… lives…”

“That is normal. But there is an emotion you are feeling right now.”

She looked at him with a weary glimmer in her eyes. “Oh, that one. Same old, same old.”

“Does he know?”, Haron asked gently.

“Oh, yes”, she laughed joylessly. “I didn’t mean to tell him; he found out by… accident. There’s been a lot of awkwardness between us ever since.”

And how she missed those times before this awkwardness had set in! Her tired mind wandered off for a moment, reminiscing as she often did. Three years ago, a year into the five-year-mission, at the age of 27, she had been promoted to department head, which had led to her reporting directly to the Science Officer and having frequent interactions with him on duty. As a result, she had gradually managed to become very good friends with him – as good a friend as one could be with the highly reserved Spock. They had bonded, amongst other things, over her considerable interest in Vulcan culture and techniques of mental discipline, over their shared appreciation of music (they had made music together a few times, with him playing his Vulcan lyre and her singing), and most of all over their thirst for knowledge and intellectual stimulation. They had played chess, he had taught her meditation techniques in his quarters and they had had long, intelligent and in-depth conversations about a broad variety of topics. As she had learned so much about this precious individual and had sensed his inner struggles, she had – very carefully and respectfully – attempted to get him to embrace his human half instead of rejecting it. She had not been successful in that endeavour, but she had been successful at concealing her emotions from him. Until he had found out, of course.

For a reason unknown to her, Haron seemed a little surprised by her answer, but he only said: “Yes, the awkwardness was palpable. But I could also sense… a strong affection between you.”

“Hm hm”, she chuckled dryly. “Affection, yes. I know he has affection for me. But he’s half Vulcan. There could never be any stronger emotion, even less one he would act on.”

Haron listened with only the slightest frown, wishing he had not used the word ‘affection’, had not spoken about Spock’s feelings at all.

“Well, for better or for worse, he is here with me now”, she concluded. “For better, I think. I’m glad he’s here. But of course you know that already.”

“I can only sense emotions”, he smiled. “Without being able to read the thoughts that accompany them, I often have to guess as to their cause.” He paused and then said: “And you’re very good at hiding it.”

“Ah”, another sigh, “not as well as I used to be able to. Since he found out, it’s been harder… and anyway, what’s the point now, I sometimes ask myself. And just now, in the mess hall, I was quite drained of my emotional strength, due to all that has happened, so I think I was being more obvious than usual, because I didn’t quite have the strength to keep up the pretence.”

“You have a lot of emotional intelligence.”

“Thanks. It’s a useful skill.” She had always been aware of the apparent incongruity between those two characteristics of her: Much like most Vulcans, she had a preference for rationality and logic, but at the same time, she knew she was a very vivacious, emotional and warm-hearted creature. She had spent a long time practicing to combine and reconcile both qualities and developing a high level of control over her emotions… when required.

“That it is”, Haron agreed.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, until suddenly the door beeped.

“Enter!”, Teresa called.

The opening doors revealed Spock, who looked surprised to see that Haron was still with her.

“Spock!”, Teresa exclaimed softly, sitting up.

He took a reluctant step into the room, the doors closing behind him. “I hope I am not intruding.”

“Not at all”, Haron said amicably. “I was just going to leave, anyway.” He stood up and made for the door. “Good night. Tell me if you need anything else.”

“Thank you”, Teresa replied, with emphasis.

Spock waited with his hands clasped behind his back until the doors had closed behind Haron. “We have not had any chance to speak in private since we were picked up”, he said softly and then paused, hidden in the half-shadows of her dimly lit quarters. “How are you?”

Teresa felt a wave of affection for him, as he was standing there, observing her with concern for her welfare, all traces of awkwardness gone from his demeanour. She approached him, with a warm and soft expression in her eyes. “I can’t seem to make myself believe it.”

He nodded and whispered: “It does require… quite some adjustment.” And kept looking at her with the same regard and empathy.

“How are you?”, she asked back, equally softly. “You can’t make me believe that this is having no major effect on you.”

His eyes flickered slightly, as he slowly responded: “I admit that I… feel… shaken.” He lowered his gaze. “During my time in Starfleet, I have encountered many dangerous situations, many apparently hopeless situations, but this… this is different. We cannot be certain that we will find a way back. I have several times been faced with my apparently imminent death, but never with the prospect of… being ripped far away from my former life…”, he looked at her and corrected himself, “from almost all aspects of my former life. Existing in a different time, at the other end of the galaxy. Naturally,” he straightened up and surveyed her, “I do not share the same emotional vulnerability you must feel when you think of your family, friends and colleagues, and of your home planet.”

“Is that so?”, she commented.

He put on a thoughtful expression and admitted: “Of course, I would regret it if we never returned to the Enterprise. It is a very good posting, and there are several colleagues I have developed a certain degree of respect and regard for, even a sense of friendship.”

“Like the Captain”, she suggested.

“Like the Captain”, he agreed and then continued hesitantly: “Fortunately, the other member of the crew I am closest to is… here on this ship with me.”

This left her speechless for a moment, but she recovered her composure and gave him a very affectionate, though not too affectionate, smile. “Yes, that does make it a little better”, she said softly. Turning away and walking towards the windows, she continued more loudly: “Right now, I don’t think I can bear the thought of never seeing my family again. They’re long dead, all of them.” She stopped in front of the closest window and stared out into space, suddenly feeling a lump in her throat.

“As is my family”, muttered Spock, who had followed her to the window. “We have to hope that we will indeed find a way back, most probably through the wormhole.”

He noticed that she was fighting tears again. She was pressing her lips together, staring at the stars, her eyes slightly moist.

“Do not be afraid to cry in my presence”, he said firmly and gently. “It is a most natural human reaction under such circumstances.”

“You’ve changed your tune”, she remarked in a thick voice, chuckling slightly. “There was a time when you used to criticize all of your junior officers for any reaction or utterance you considered too emotional or irrational.”

“I have since learned that this is inappropriate behaviour in many cases”, he apologized.

Teresa gave another faint chuckle, and then suddenly she did not feel like holding back her tears anymore. While she had always been highly adept at concealing emotions from him, she had only ever made that effort with those emotions that she had not wanted him to see. Now, especially after the kind understanding he had just shown her, she made the conscious decision to loosen her self-restraint, which at that moment had become most strenuous, and allow her tears to flow. To her amazement (and his, too), he pulled her into a careful hug. This did not have the intended effect of soothing and relaxing her, however; after a few seconds of quiet sobbing at his right shoulder, she carefully disentangled herself from his embrace, slightly embarrassed and considerably more sober again. “Thank you”, she said, with a gravitas that honoured the astonishing gesture. He simply blinked in response.

“What I find frustrating”, she said in a steadier voice, changing the subject, “is that we cannot help with the research on the wormhole, or indeed with anything that happens on this ship. Are we just to sit around, twiddle our thumbs and wait? There must be something we are allowed to do.”

“That is, indeed, unfortunate”, he agreed. “If we have to spend a longer period of time here, I do not believe I could get used to so much leisure time, and to serving no purpose.”

Another chuckle emanated from her throat. “It would have a devastating effect on your Vulcan mind, so highly trained for efficiency.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You are exaggerating.”

“Maybe”, she smiled. “I generally don’t have that problem. I love my work, but I usually have nothing against extended leisure periods, either.”

“Then maybe you will be able to teach me to appreciate… the ample leisure time we might be given.”

She made her best effort to hide her nervous excitement at the prospect of possibly spending a lot of time with him, even though he probably knew what she was thinking. In amazement, she compared his suddenly so very amicable conduct to his former unease and distancing. “I can try. But still, maybe they can find something for us to do. Something that does not include access to any knowledge we’re not allowed to possess.”

“Indeed; though I do not mind a day of rest before we make such inquiries.”

“You’re probably right. I’m exhausted.”

He sighed. “As am I.”

They contemplated each other wordlessly for a moment, until he made his thinking face and said: “There is one other possible explanation that has occurred to me, for the fact that our disappearance does not yet show in the historical records.”

She looked tense. “Tell me.”

“I am not certain whether I am correct, but it may be possible that we have not yet reached a certain point in time after which, if we did not return, history would be changed.”

Puzzled, she tried to follow his train of thought. “You mean…”

“Let us assume that our only chance to return to our own time and place will be in, let us say, three days. If we did manage to return, history would take the course so far shown in Voyager’s historical database – “

“ – but if we missed this chance, history would be changed”, she finished his sentence, horrified. “But then we would be able to see the historical records change in real time, would we not? Is that possible? And would we still remember what the files said before they changed? How could the Voyager crew have immediately recognized you if you didn’t continue your life in the 23rd century and didn’t become ambassador or whatever else you did that made you so famous?”

His face had assumed a deep frown. “Temporal mechanics are very complex and often confusing; and as I said, I am not certain whether my theory is entirely plausible.”

“Spock, I am shocked”, she exclaimed with a teasing laugh. “That you should dare say something that might turn out to be illogical.”

“I was hoping you might assist my thought process.”

“Of course.” She immediately became serious again. “And I tried. But I am not certain, either.” As he made a face that said Oh, well, she remarked: “Time will tell.”

“Indeed it will.” He let out another sigh and directed his gaze at her face again. “We have been awake for 20 hours; I believe it is time to rest.”

“Yes, it is”, she affirmed and rubbed her forehead. “But I’m glad you came to talk.”

“As am I.” Still contemplating her, he said: “Good night. Rest well.”

“You, too”, she smiled graciously, as her inner voice screamed: Don’t go!!! I feel lonely.

But of course he left, so she slowly went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, combed her hair, washed her face, put on the nightgown Haron had brought her, fell into bed and sank into a deep, exhausted sleep. 

Chapter Text

Stardate 47451.3 (June 2374)

“Morning, Harry; morning, B’Elanna.”

“Morning, Tom.”

“What’s for breakfast today? Ah, Tarkalian broth. Terrific.”

“Don’t be too hard on Neelix”, said Harry. “The broth is getting better.”

“You mean, it’s not inedible anymore”, B’Elanna replied.

“Yeah.”

While they were serving themselves, Harry inquired: “So, what do you think? About our two visitors? I’d say they’re not yet… an item.”

“I got the same impression”, B’Elanna confirmed.

“Yeah, but do you remember how he said ‘we’re friends’ and she said ‘we’re close colleagues’ and then they looked at each other in this shy and startled way and she corrected herself and said ‘friends’?”, Tom remarked. “I’d say they have a thing for each other.”

“What’s that?”, Neelix asked, who had just appeared in front of his many pans and pots filled with colourful meals. “Who has a thing for each other?”

“Our visitors from the past”, Harry told him.

“What makes you say that?”, Neelix wanted to know, surprised.

“Oh, haven’t you heard?”, Tom said. “Everyone’s talking about it. Quite a few people here hadn’t known it yet, me included, but it’s all in their personnel files. It turns out that they got married, six months after the stardate they were pulled into the wormhole.”

“No!”, Neelix exclaimed, his mouth wide open.

“Yes”, Harry replied. “And that’s not all. They were married for seventy-four years, until she died, and had three children.”

“How romantic”, Neelix swooned.

“But aren’t you forgetting something?”, B’Elanna interjected. “He’s Vulcan.”

“Half Vulcan”, she was corrected by all three of them.

“I know.” She rolled her eyes. “All I mean to say is that I don’t know if we can assume he ever had ‘a thing’ for her. Maybe it wasn’t a love marriage.”

“Vulcans have emotions; they just repress them”, Tom thought it necessary to remind her.

“I know that, too”, she snapped. “Still, this doesn’t mean that he has feelings for her. Maybe he simply decided she was a logical choice of partner.”

“That would be… disappointing”, Harry said.

“And stupid”, Neelix agreed. “He’s a fool if he doesn’t love her; she’s wonderful.”

“You barely know her, Neelix”, Tom pointed out.

“True, but my first impression of her was lovely.”

“Do you think she loves him?”, wondered Harry.

“What’s that you’re talking about?”, Captain Janeway’s voice sounded behind them. “Neelix, why is the coffee pot empty?”

“Just a minute, Captain! We were just talking about Mr. Spock Vulcan and that lovely Lieutenant Juárez. They’re going to be married.”

“I know”, the Captain said, looking stern. “I see the gossip has already started. I don’t take kindly to this. I forbid you to influence their relationship in any way. That’s an order. And don’t you dare tell them what you know about their future lives.”

“So, you think as well that they’re not together yet, Captain?”, Tom inquired.

“No, they have separate quarters”, Janeway answered, holding out her coffee mug as though by doing that she was able to make the coffee get ready more quickly.

“If they stay on Voyager and don’t find a way back”, B’Elanna mused, “maybe they’ll get together here.”

“Or maybe even if they only stay here for a short time, they’ll still get together here”, Neelix said, pouring the coffee. “That would be exciting.”

“And entirely their own affair”, Janeway declared, even more sternly.

“Come on, Captain, you’re curious, too”, Tom winked.

Her lips twitched. “Maybe I am”, she admitted. “Still, it’s wrong to gossip about it.”

“I don’t think so”, Tom said. “It’s a welcome diversion.”

Eleven hours after saying good night to Spock, Teresa showed up in the mess hall for some breakfast. She saw him sitting at a corner table, surrounded by fans, his breakfast tray already empty. Those damned Vulcans need less sleep, she jokingly thought to herself. He looked in her direction and raised his hand a little to indicate that he had seen her.

“Good morning, Neelix.”

“Good morning, Teresa. I may call you Teresa?”

“Of course”, she smiled. “I don’t think our rank has any significance here anyway, if we can’t be useful parts of the crew.”

“This crew, I believe, is more on a first name basis than those on other Starfleet ships probably are, due to them being their only, ah, family now”, he said. “Tea? Coffee? Juice?”

“Tea would be lovely, and some of this... interesting-looking broth.”

“Tarkalian broth”, he told her, busily spooning it into her bowl. “And how are you now?”

“Better than yesterday”, she smiled furtively. “And in need of something fresh to wear. I have nothing but this uniform I brought with me all the way from the 23rd century.”

“Oh, I’ll see to it that you get something soon”, he said, pouring her a very dark tea.

“Thank you!”

“Enjoy your breakfast.”

When she turned to face the room, she found that Spock was now sitting all by himself, awaiting her. This brought a wide smile to her face, and she sat down in front of him, sipping her tea. “Hello.”

“I hope you have rested well?”, he inquired, leisurely bent forwards and observing her with subtle and friendly attention, resting his elbows on the table, his hands folded before his face.

“I slept almost ten hours”, she told him, a little incredulously. “What about you?”

“I have had sufficient rest.” He contemplated her with his serene Vulcan calm.

“I’m glad to hear it”, she replied, venturing her spoon into the broth. “There’s been no sign of the wormhole, I suppose.”

“Not to my knowledge”, he sighed. “I believe we would have been notified. I would be careful with that broth”, he then warned her. “You might not find it quite… palatable.”

She put the spoon into her mouth and pulled a slight grimace. “Thanks for the warning.”

“You are welcome.”

She munched around on the broth, swallowing with effort. He watched her eat in silence for a minute, then he put on his empathetic face and inquired: “And how do you… feel this morning?”

She took a moment to consider and then said slowly: “Apart from wishing I had chosen something else for breakfast…” – he raised an eyebrow, looking almost amused – “I’m beginning to reach the conclusion that, considering what happened to us, we have ended up in the best possible place. We are… extremely fortunate in our misfortune.”

He nodded. “The probability of us encountering the only Starfleet vessel in the entire quadrant within hours of arriving here was practically nil.”

“Exactly. It seems impossible, but here we are.” She took another laborious swallow. “And they are all so very nice and helpful. We have fallen down a long way, but we have fallen onto a very warm and comfortable cushion.”

A fresh-out-of-bed-metaphor, he thought. “An interesting choice of metaphor”, he remarked. “But accurate.”

While she was sipping more tea (too bitter), he continued: “Yesterday I inaccurately implied that you are the only aspect of my life that has not changed. In fact, being on a Starfleet ship, even with the changes that have been made over the last hundred years, provides us with a wealth of familiarity in an otherwise unfamiliar territory.”

Now it was she who nodded. “That is true.”

“Nonetheless”, he said gently, “you are by far the greatest source of familiarity. The only thing that has stayed… exactly the same.”

She interrupted her sipping for a moment, to look at him affectionately and once again grateful for the new intimacy and confidentiality he was bestowing upon her. “That we are to each other”, she confirmed. “To employ another metaphor” – her lips twitched – “you are a life-raft of familiarity in an ocean of unfamiliarity.” He raised his eyebrows, but in an amicable way. “And that’s a very helpful thing”, she continued. “I don’t feel that I have really arrived here already. My mother sometimes says that when one embarks on a journey over a long distance, the soul follows with a delay.” She smiled lovingly and melancholically at the thought of her mother.

“Another apt metaphor”, he said in the same gentle tone that seemed to have become his new standard communication frequency for her.

“Yes, isn’t it?”, she grinned. “Is your soul also… lagging behind?”

“If you are referring to the Vulcan concept of the soul, the katra…”

“Not really. I am still inhabiting that human metaphor, so I guess I am referring to the human concept.”

“Well, then… yes, you could say it is still lagging behind.”

“And as our souls have a particularly vast distance to cross”, she joked, “they will probably not arrive here within the next five years.”

“Let us hope they will have to reverse course long before then.”

She had not experienced banter (or let’s say creative communication; he was Vulcan) like this with him since before their fateful and unfortunate mind meld on Taurus IV. She contemplated his face, biting her lip, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and fighting a strong urge to touch him; him and his re-emerged and precious softness. Maybe he sensed this because he looked down at the table and changed the subject. “You should finish your broth.”

So she did, and after she was finished, they brought away their trays.

“Neelix”, it suddenly occurred to Teresa, because the Talaxian was close, “could you by any chance use my – or our – ”, she corrected herself with a questioning glance at Spock, “help in the kitchen? We’re looking for a way to be useful while we’re here. We’re not allowed to help with the research on the wormhole because that would mean granting us access to all this 24th century knowledge and technology.”

“Oh, that is very kind”, he said, pleasantly surprised. “And I would be grateful for a little help. But today you should recover from the events of yesterday. Why don’t you do something nice, have some fun?”

“Fun?”, Spock repeated with a frown. “I have no need for ‘fun’.”

“Oh, Spock”, Teresa rolled her eyes almost imperceptibly, “it is just another word for doing something you enjoy.”

“You sound like Tuvok”, Neelix said despairingly. “What else is a good game of kal-toh if not fun?”

“Kal-tho is a strategy game intended for training the logical mind”, Spock said in his most Vulcan manner.

“Many human strategy games are intended to train different areas of the brain and are still considered ‘fun’”, Teresa smirked. “Or, to come at it from another angle: why do you play the lyre, if not for enjoyment?”

“That is… different”, he said hesitantly, evidently bothered by the fact that he had been caught out.

“What he means is”, Teresa explained to Neelix, “that the word ‘fun’ sounds too frivolous, too emotional, too human, for his taste. Most illogical”, she teased Spock, referring to his claim that playing the lyre was different.

Spock’s eyebrows had wandered especially high up his forehead. One could almost have thought he was annoyed.

“Well, even Vulcans need a little R&R now and then. Let’s see, what is there you could do on Voyager?”, Neelix wondered aloud. “Ahh, how about a visit to the holodeck?”

“That’s forbidden technology, I’m afraid”, came a voice from behind. It was Commander Chakotay, who seemed to have been listening in on the conversation and who was passing by to grab some fruit from the food counter.

“Commander”, Spock greeted him.

The Commander gave a polite nod to both of them. “I’m sorry, but the holodeck is off limits”, he said apologetically and went his way.

“That’s too bad”, Neelix remarked in a bothered voice. “A good holodeck program can drive away almost all of one’s cares.”

“That’s okay”, Teresa said, although her curiosity had been awakened (while Spock seemed unperturbed). Before she could say anything else, however, Captain Janeway’s voice sounded through their comm badges. “Janeway to Commander Spock and Lieutenant Juárez.”

For an instant, Teresa’s eyes wandered along the wall in search for a comms panel, while Spock’s hand automatically reached for his pocket. Then they looked at each other, realizing their joint mistake and remembering the comm badges pinned to their chests, where the voice had come from. “Spock here”, he therefore answered, pressing his badge, which made a small clicking sound.

“Please report to my ready room. There is something I want to discuss with you. Is Lieutenant Juárez with you?”

“Yes, Captain, I have heard you”, Teresa said, also pressing her comm badge.

“Alright. Janeway out.”

After asking Neelix the way to the captain’s ready room, they were on their way.

For around one minute, they walked in silence, until Teresa suddenly grinned and inquired: “And what do you think about being so… admired?”

“‘Admired’?”

“Everyone, except maybe Neelix and the holographic doctor, treats you with reverence. And when I came into the mess hall, you were surrounded by fans.”

“I believe ‘fans’ is the wrong expression here.”

“Oh no, it isn’t. I saw how they were hanging on your every word because you’re famous.”

“As I do not know what exactly makes me so ‘famous’, I admit it is a strange situation.” He paused, and then continued: “If I am allowed to make the observation, I get the impression that you seem somewhat disgruntled by the fact that I am ‘famous’.”

“‘Disgruntled’?” Now it was she who was repeating his words.

“One could even say you seem slightly envious.”

She stopped dead in the hallway, staring at him. Spock equally halted, returning her gaze with his maddening Vulcan serenity.

“I – “, she began somewhat forcefully, before she caught herself and continued, more softly and quietly: “Actually, I am very proud of you. And not at all surprised.”

Their eyes met for a fraction of a second before he looked down. Immediately looking down is his way of hiding his emotional reactions from me, she thought. Because even though his face radiates Vulcan calm, his eyes reveal too much. Out loud, she admitted: “But you’re right; part of me is a little envious. Not that I want to be famous, exactly; but I would like to accomplish something valuable in my life, and also, it feels a little uncomfortable how I seem to be… passed over now and then. Like when Captain Janeway said that she knows that you are ‘an excellent science officer’, and I ‘… as well’. It sounded like she was only being polite. But that’s okay.” She smiled. “I’m not a saint, I’m just human, so I can’t stop myself from feeling just a little… envy.”

His gentle gaze and voice returned. “I do not think that she was only being polite.”

She chuckled slightly. “You can’t know that. But thank you.” While they proceeded on their way down the corridor and then waited in front of the doors of a turbolift, she frowned and asked him with concern: “Was I that obvious?”

“No”, he reassured her, “not at all.” And initially continuing in a matter-of-fact voice, he added: “But I find I have become more susceptible to your moods and thoughts since the mind – …” He abruptly stopped short before the end of his sentence because their eyes had met again, in an instance of sudden shock. She looked as if something had hit her, while he inhaled sharply and exhaled with a tightened jaw, recognizing his mistake.

“I apologize”, he said after a moment’s silence, with a pained frown. “I should not have brought it up.”

The turbolift arrived. It was empty; they stepped in. “Bridge”, Spock said.

After one or two shaky breaths, Teresa stated with forced composure: “I guess it’s also because I seem to be making less of an effort to hide such things since we arrived here; the experience seems to be changing me somehow, making me more… uninhibited. And anyway”, she then suddenly continued more forcefully, “why should you not bring it up? It happened and we both know it; there’s no point in pretending it didn’t.” To his and her own surprise, she was speaking with mounting anger, not bothering to hide it this time. “What is the point in me trying to hold back, if you can read me like an open book now, anyway?” So you can fully see me for the overemotional and irrational human you consider me to be, anyway, she sarcastically continued in her thoughts.

He listened to her wide-eyed and gulped. “That is not what I said”, he told her with quiet dismay.

The turbolift came to a halt and opened towards the bridge. They remained immobile, however. She pressed her eyes shut, took a deep breath, lowered her head and murmured: “I know.”

They stepped out, barely noticing where they were going for a few seconds. Then, they heard Commander Chakotay say: “Welcome to the bridge. The captain’s ready room is this way.” He gestured to the right.

Spock blinked, caught himself and looked around. “Fascinating”, he murmured. “Most impressive.” Teresa said nothing except “Thank you”, directed at Commander Chakotay. He smiled, observing them. Harry Kim waved at them from the left, so she smiled back. They passed Lieutenant Commander Tuvok at his tactical station on their way to the captain’s ready room and Teresa smiled at him, too, while Spock gave him a respectful nod.

“Captain”, Spock greeted her when they had entered the ready room.

“Hello again”, she welcomed them with another warm and broad smile that Teresa could not help but return, feeling a sudden rush of affection. “I hope you are both well and feeling comfortable on Voyager?”

“Yes, thank you”, Spock nodded, and Teresa said: “Very comfortable. You have a wonderful ship and crew.”

“Yes, in that, I am a very fortunate captain”, Janeway smiled, gesturing them to sit down on the sofa with her. They followed the invitation, keeping a more than safe distance from each other. Janeway, making no attempt whatsoever to act formal, lounged on the sofa as though they were already the most intimate of friends. Teresa’s affection grew.

“I have several things to say to you”, Janeway began. “First of all, is there anything you need?”

Teresa laughed shyly. “Only something fresh to wear and a way to clean the few clothes I brought with me in my suitcase.”

“Oh, of course.” Janeway touched her forehead. “Has nobody told you about that yet?”

“I suppose they forgot”, Spock said graciously.

“But Neelix promised me to take care of it”, Teresa hurried to assure her.

“Good”, Janeway smiled. “Secondly, I would like us to have dinner this evening, together with some other senior officers. I haven’t really yet had a proper chance to talk to you about other things than the wormhole.”

“Of course”, Spock nodded politely, while Teresa exclaimed: “Gladly!”

Janeway’s smile grew even wider, remaining genuine all the time, but then it faded, and she looked more serious. “But first, to more business. I have conferred with the Doctor and Seven of Nine this morning and they have told me that we have the technology to – please forgive if this sounds shocking to you – to erase your memories of your time here on Voyager. I believe that, if we truly manage to send you back to your time, this would be the safest and an all-encompassing way of preserving the timeline. After all, despite all attempts we might make to hide the 24th century from you, there already are some things you have become aware of, anyway, and I am sure there will be more.”

Her words were met with stunned silence.

“You have the technology to erase memories?”, Spock then repeated, impressed more thoroughly than with anything else so far.

“Yes.”

“What does Seven of Nine have to do with this?”, Teresa asked, puzzled. “And how is this achieved? … I suppose we’re not allowed to know.”

Janeway got up and began pacing around the room. “Seven has expertise in this matter; that’s all I can tell you. And I’m afraid that explaining the procedure is not possible, as you have already indicated.”

More stunned silence.

“Forgive me, Captain”, Teresa then piped up again. “But, as unwelcome as this measure already sounds, I don’t think I would want to undergo this procedure if I’m not told more about it and the risks that might be associated with it.”

Spock, though slightly startled by the directness of Teresa’s displeasure, agreed calmly: “Neither would I, Captain.”

Janeway stopped pacing and looked apologetic. “I understand that this sounds most unwelcome to you. It is a gross intervention into your autonomy as individuals”, she told both of them, but looking at Teresa. “But I am sure you understand the necessity.”

“I do”, Teresa answered, likewise apologetically. “But can you be sure that it would not do more harm to the timeline if you accidentally… wiped out more memories than you were supposed to?”

“The procedure is very safe and precise; that I can assure you. The Doctor and Seven are fully aware of their responsibility to keep you from harm and to keep everything intact that made you into who you were before you were pulled into the wormhole. There is no cause for concern; I would trust them both with my life and brain any day.”

“That is reassuring”, Spock declared. Teresa, looking thoughtful, insisted: “I would still like to know how it is done.” He nodded in agreement.

“Well, I suppose that if we truly decide to go through with it, there will be no harm in explaining it to you”, Janeway conceded.

“As we would forget it again, anyway”, Teresa continued.

“Exactly.”

Captain Janeway contemplated them both, as they were still highly startled by the very idea and were sitting there, lost in thought, looking at each other with questioning glances and then quickly looking away again. “Well, there’s no need to keep talking about that now”, she declared considerately. “I’ll give you time to digest what I’ve just told you. And we’ll meet again later, for dinner.”

“Alright”, Teresa said, giving herself a kick and getting up from the sofa. “Thank you, Captain.”

Spock equally got up.

Janeway’s warm smile returned. “Good. Dinner will be at 18:00 hours, in my quarters. Until then.”

As they were leaving her ready room, she looked after them with a preoccupied expression.

Two and a half hours later, Teresa was in her quarters, trying on her new clothes. The two dresses lying in front of her made her think of her wardrobe back home on Earth, and then of her life on Earth, her family, everything that was precious to her. She wondered whether she would ever take a walk along the beach outside of Cartagena again, or through the Black Forest, or through the cherry orchards in Sichuan province.

Spock and her had not said anything of consequence after their conversation with the Captain, and soon after, they had been approached by Ensign Wildman, who had told them that Neelix had entrusted her with the task of providing them with new clothes and explaining how they could clean the ones they already had. Then she had asked them to choose new items from an assortment displayed by the computer. Teresa had told Spock to go first because it would probably take her longer to choose. Therefore he had done so and after he had made his choice, he had left because Ensign Wildman had told them that she would bring the clothes to their quarters in half an hour, probably because she had not wanted them to witness the mysterious process by which the clothes could be produced so quickly. Afterwards, Teresa had made her choice from the impressive assortment. She had chosen two beautiful but modest dresses, which ended in swing-skirts around the knee and hugged her upper body and waist nicely. When she tried them on in her quarters, she was impressed by how well they fit her and wondered how the computer had obtained her measurements. She had also been provided with two jackets, shoes and an ample supply of underwear and accessories such as tights. However, she was resolved to get back into uniform as early as possible; as soon as she had gotten her two pieces back.

She was just inspecting her second outfit in the mirror (she had been extremely slow in trying it all on, because she was constantly lost in thought, staring out at the stars visible from her window), when her door beeped.

After having made sure that she was decent, she said: “Enter.”

In strode Spock, whose eyes flickered over her appearance for a moment, before he directed them at her face and said: “There is something I want to show you.”

“Oh?”, she made, quickly scrutinizing him from head to toe, too. She had never seen him out of uniform, except for that one time… the time she certainly did not want to think of at this precise moment. “Nice shirt.”

Eyebrows twitching, he waited for her to say something else, so she continued in a friendly tone: “What is it that you want to show me?”

Clasping his hands behind his back, he explained: “I have spent the last one and a half hours strolling around the ship, exploring it. On deck six, I saw two people entering a pair of doors behind which I could hear music, so I looked to see where they were going, and I found… a bar.”

“You want to show me a bar?”, she made, bewildered.

“Not exactly”, he clarified. “This particular bar did not look like anything you might expect to find on a starship, because its windows showed a busy, sun-lit street and it was full of people wearing 20th century Terran clothing. There were a handful of officers, spending their leisure time there, including Tom Paris. The rest of the people were certainly not members of the crew.”

Teresa listened with a frown and asked herself for the fraction of a second whether Voyager was carrying further passengers that she knew nothing about, before realization hit her and she queried: “Was that the mysterious holodeck, by any chance?”

“Indeed”, he confirmed, apparently gratified by the fact that she had caught on so quickly.

“So, an advanced version of the rec-room Mr. Scott has installed?”, she inquired.

“Considerably more advanced. Lieutenant Paris decided that now that I had already uncovered the secret, he might as well tell me everything about it. Well, the most important facts at least. He told me that this bar was only one program out of over a thousand.”

“A thousand?”, she repeated, once again startled by the discoveries to be made on Voyager.

“Yes”, he said. “According to Lieutenant Paris, there are programs for a variety of purposes: educational, for training exercises, and recreational. He was most eager to tell me and encouraged me to see for myself. And as I had already found out about it, he believed that there was no harm in showing you as well.”

“That was nice of him”, she smiled. “But do you think the Captain would approve?”

He hesitated. “I am not certain”, he said. “But I see no… need to tell her.”

“Spock!”, she exclaimed in shock. “That is not like you.”

He inhaled slowly and contemplated her. “I believe that Lieutenant Paris’ argument that I already know about it anyway is most logical. And… I believe that you would benefit from it, considering your need for a diversion after what happened to us yesterday.”

“My need?”, she grinned and sat down to put on her shoes.

“Yes.”

“That is very considerate of you.”

He did not give a reply to this; instead, he watched her put on her shoes, waiting for her to get ready. After a moment of silence, however, he remembered to share a further piece of information with her: “Another member of the crew I spoke to, a Lieutenant Ayala, mentioned that Voyager would require 62 years and 22 days to reach Earth if travelling at maximum speed at all times.”

Her lips twitched. “Was he supposed to tell you that?”

“I think not”, he replied, lightly raising an eyebrow in response to her amusement. “From this information, I have been able to extrapolate that Voyager’s maximum velocity must be warp 9.975.”

“Impressive”, she answered, getting up and smoothing down her dress.

“Indeed.”

They left her quarters and stepped into the corridor. “That means that some members of the crew, at least the Vulcans, the Andorians or maybe Chief Torres, if her half-Klingon life expectancy is high enough, could get back home within their lifetimes, even if Voyager does not find any shortcuts along the way”, Teresa realized.

“Correct.”

“Now I understand even better why this crew has not given up hope and simply settled on a suitable M-class planet”, she remarked. “Up until now, I supposed that they are mainly combing the quadrant for shortcuts like our wormhole. But they must also be simply following the fastest route home.”

“For this scenario to succeed, however”, Spock pointed out, “Voyager would have to become a generational ship, in order to maintain a sufficient crew complement.” At least half of the crew members they had seen so far were human, not to mention the two Rigelians, the Coridanite and the Efrosian who had been in the mess hall the evening before. These three species had shorter life spans than humans.

“To avoid becoming a ship of centenarians with an ever-dwindling crew?”, she replied sympathetically. “Well, there’s one child already, as Ensign Wildman told us yesterday.”

They further went their way along the corridors and turbolifts, now speaking very little apart from commenting on little details on the ship that were different from the Enterprise. Having arrived on deck six, Spock led her down the corridor towards a set of doors which read: “Holodeck 1”.

“That makes it sound like there is more than one”, Teresa said.

“Indeed; there are two”, he answered, gesturing with his head further down the corridor.

“My, my; this ship truly is a luxury liner.”

They stepped through the doors, but they did not find a bar; instead, they found a large, empty room with high ceilings, which was devoid of any kind of decoration. “It seems that the program is not running anymore, and everyone has left”, Teresa said, disappointed.

“Hm, this is actually better”, Spock replied, looked around and then approached the small control panel he had spotted in the wall. “Computer, how many recreational programs are available?”

“There are 652 programs for recreational use”, came the answer.

“Categorize.”

“There are 112 holo-novels, 157 locations on Federation worlds, 73 locations on non-Federation worlds, 46 private programs created by members of the crew, 19 publicly accessible programs created by members of the crew, 103 fictional settings – “

“Categorize the programs about locations on Federation worlds”, Teresa interrupted, with a questioning glance at Spock, which sought his approval. He nodded.

“There are 59 locations in cities, 47 locations in villages or small settlements and 51 natural landscapes.”

“Show a list of the natural landscapes”, Spock said, with a look at Teresa, who was pleased that he seemed to correctly guess her preferences.

On the display appeared a long list of programs. Spock bent down to skim it and then murmured: “Ah! Earth.” Straightening up again, he said: “Computer, run program 16-beta.”

Within only a second, the world around them transformed entirely. They were standing on a sun-lit lawn, near a lush forest, a small creek burbling nearby and mountains in the distance. Teresa’s mouth fell wide open, and Spock did not appear unmoved, either. He turned on the spot several times, scrutinizing every little detail.

“You – you did not have to choose Earth, just for my sake”, she stuttered after around a minute, when she had regained her ability to speak. “We could have looked for Vulcan, you know, or any other place you might be interested in.”

“I do not mind”, he said, kneeling down in order to observe an ant climbing a blade of grass. “I thought you might feel… homesick.”

“I – “, she started, overwhelmed, still staring at the forest and the mountains in the distance. “My goodness, I can even feel the sunlight and the breeze.” She suddenly felt an immense rush of joy, as a bee flew by close to her ear. “It’s… unbelievable. Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.” She turned back to look at him with a radiant smile. “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome”, he replied, straightening up and observing her joyful excitement with that gentle expression as she whirled around on the spot, arms outstretched, her face directed towards the sun. “You know, I think this looks like north-east Asia”, she remarked. “China, if I’m not mistaken, judging by the flora and geological properties.”

“The program was called ‘Chushan valley’ ”, he told her.

“Yes, China”, she confirmed, with another radiant smile. “I spent one and a half years in China.”

“I know.”

“Of course; I remember telling you.” She rubbed her forehead, looking at him gratefully, feeling a sudden rush of intense affection and rapture as she saw the sunlight and light breeze dancing in his black hair. He returned her gaze with a thoughtful expression for a moment, then he looked away and said: “I believe we could go for a walk.”

“A walk? Wouldn’t we hit the wall pretty soon?”

“I do not believe so. The holo-surroundings will move with us, if my observations in the bar earlier were not completely mistaken.”

Her eyes widened even more. “This is truly the most true-to-life holo-technology I’ve ever seen. The experimental holographic rec room Mr. Scott has been working on is nothing against this; as it only has a handful of programs with a very limited range and capabilities, compared to this. This”, she bent down, digging her fingers into the soil, “feels like we’re truly on Earth. Every detail is perfect. If somebody had just beamed us here, we would never have known it’s not real. Imagine the insane amounts of data this must require.”

 “Indeed.” Spock looked gratified by that he had managed to cheer her up. “As a courtesy to the Captain’s wishes and for the sake of our timeline, I will not attempt to muse on the nature of the technological advances that must have made this possible.”

“Neither will I.” She stood up, rubbing the soil off her fingers. “Although I already have a few ideas. Alright, let’s go for that walk.”

They walked for more than an hour, observing in awe the landscape that was constantly changing around them, with Teresa pointing out certain plant and animal life that was typical of this region. Countless times, she bent down to observe a specimen in detail, exclaiming how perfect it was. It was a mild summer’s day; the sunlight was warm, but not hot. Teresa was happy.

“I know it’s not real, but I don’t really care right now”, she announced. “If I was alone, I would throw myself into the grass, climb a tree, sing on top of my lungs.”

“Do not feel the need to contain these urges for my sake”, Spock commented.

“Have you ever done something like that?”

“Not since I was a child.”

“How sad.”

“I rarely experience sadness.”

She flung herself into the grass, stretching her arms and legs out long, closing her eyes to the sun. “Well, it is a strange thing to see you walking around a place like this without your head bent over a tricorder”, she murmured.

She heard him sitting down next to her. Sitting, of course, not lying. “I admit that the tricorder too often draws my attention away from the beauty of the landscape.”

She smiled. “If only Dr. McCoy could hear you talking about beauty. He probably thinks you have no eye for it at all.”

He cleared his throat. “I do appreciate beauty, believe it or not.”

“Oh, I already knew that.” She opened her eyes and found him looking at her. For some reason, his gentle and thoughtful gaze made her nervous. Somewhere, deep in his pale green eyes, there was also a glimmer of reluctance and agony. She hastily got up. “Let’s walk on.”

Having reached the peak of a hill, they suddenly found themselves looking down on a small village. “This appears to be more than a landscape program, after all”, Spock commented, surprised.

“Maybe the person who created this program included this village as an easter egg for anyone who walked far enough”, Teresa speculated.

“Possibly.”

They made their way down and entered the village. Along the streets, they saw little artisan shops, a temple, a forge and a stable. Everything was very quaint. “This is not the 24th century”, Teresa remarked. “Not even the 20th century, I’d say. It’s more like an idealized version of a pre-industrial Chinese village.”

Suddenly, a flock of children ran towards them, chattering excitedly and surrounding them, jumping up and down. Teresa let out a loud laugh. “你们好“, she greeted them. ("Hello.")

„Where are you from?“, asked a little girl.

“Oh, no”, Teresa made, fumbling around her comm badge in order to turn off her universal translator. Then, she turned to the little girl and said: “我们是外国人.” ("We are foreigners.")

“What?”, the girl said, with a blank expression.

Teresa sighed. “Computer”, she said. “Can you make these villagers speak Chinese?”

“Affirmative”, came the answer. “Working. Ready.”

Spock looked at her with surprise. “Were you speaking Chinese?”

“Indeed I was.”

He proceeded to turn off his UT, too.

“你们好。我们是外国人”, Teresa tried again. ("Hello. We are foreigners.") Spock listened to her with fascination.

“太好的”, the girl squeaked. „外国人!” ("Great! Foreigners!")

“外国人！外国人！外国人!”, the children chanted ("Foreigners! Foreigners! Foreigners!"), dancing around them with fresh excitement, tucking at their clothes. Spock looked slightly uncomfortable but made no attempt to shake them off. Teresa laughed even more loudly. “认识你们，我们很高兴!” ("We are very pleased to meet you!")

The children chattered on, giggling and pointing at Spock’s ears. “Sorry about that”, Teresa said.

“No matter”, he answered in his perfect English.

The children pulled them towards one of the artisans’ shops, in front of which sat an old man with a flute. “我们吃饭吧”, a little boy said. ("Let's eat.")

“谢谢，不用了“, Teresa answered ("Thank you, that's not necessary."), while the man was playing the flute. She chuckled. “This is getting a little too idyllic.”

Spock said nothing and only looked at her and at the unfolding scene with Vulcan calm.

Teresa made a decision. “Enough of that”, she said gently, carefully pushing away a child. “Computer, are there any programs set on Vulcan?”

“There are three programs set on Vulcan”, the computer answered, while Spock glanced at her with surprise.

“Specify.”

“The Hot Springs of T’Rem, the monastery at P’Jem Kot and the capital – “

“The monastery at P’Jem Kot”, Teresa interrupted. “Please end the current program and run that one.”

While Spock was still gazing at her in astonishment, the Chinese village around them vanished. Within a second, the landscape transformed. They were standing in a near desert full of giant rocks, under a red-glowing sky and a burning sun. Around 300 meters into the distance stood the monastery.

A wave of intense, dry heat hit them. Within seconds, Teresa felt her legs give away, and she toppled forward onto her hands and knees.

“Teresa!”, Spock exclaimed, bending down, and gripping her upper arms to steady her.

“It’s okay”, she panted, feeling dizzy. “I did not account for… the sudden change in… temperature and climate.”

Spock knelt down, his grip on her arms intensifying. “Computer”, he instructed, his head close to hers, “slowly decrease temperature by 20 degrees and sunlight intensity by 40%.” Then he gently made her sit down properly, onto the hot desert floor, maintaining his grip, scrutinizing her with a preoccupied gaze.

She bent further forwards, put her hands to her forehead and took deep breaths, chuckling faintly, while the heat and sunlight around them slowly decreased. “This is a very true-to-life program indeed.”

“Even I, although my physiology is much better adapted to this climate, felt the impact of the sudden change”, he said. “Are you feeling better?”

She looked up, becoming aware of the proximity of his body, blinked and moved a few inches away. “Yes”, she breathed. “Thank you. Give me another moment and I can get up again.”

He let go of her arms, moved about half a meter away and waited until her breathing had become steady again and she had straightened up a little. “Alright”, she said.

Having gotten up first, he held out a hand to her to help her up. She took it, though with some trepidation, and quickly let go of it again once she was standing upright again. “Thank you”, she said once again. With a sudden smile, she repeated the same words in Vulcan.

“You’re welcome”, he answered in the same language, almost smiling himself.

As they approached the monastery, she touched on the subject she had forgotten about for the last two hours. “What do you think about what Captain Janeway proposed, erasing our memories?”, she queried, still in Vulcan.

“If the procedure is truly as safe as she claimed, I believe it is an unfortunate necessity.”

Speaking Vulcan gave them both a strange gratification. It was a way of her reaching out and respecting his culture, and he appreciated it. They had done it a handful of times before on the Enterprise, for her to practice and for him to get the chance of hearing his native tongue spoken, truly spoken (not translated through the UT, which was not necessary for him, anyway, because his English was perfect) outside of his home planet. It also gave their interaction a different note.

“Unfortunate, yes”, she agreed, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings. “I would not like to forget all this.”

“Indeed not.”

“And what I have asked myself is… what would be the way of going about it? What if the wormhole appears again very suddenly and there is no time to erase our memories before it closes again? In order to prevent that, the alternative would be to erase our memories already and then keep us unconscious indefinitely until they find a way to send us back. I would not like that at all.”

“Not if it turns out to be a predictable wormhole”, he reminded her.

“And if it’s not? If, as you said, we have only one opportunity to return, and if that opportunity suddenly presents itself and we only have minutes to act?”

He frowned. They were almost at the monastery doors now. “Let us hope that Captain Janeway decides to wait until we know more about the wormhole. If it never appears again, however, we are faced with a problem, because maybe we will never find a way back to our time and the Alpha Quadrant after all. Then, erasing our memories would be a harmful act.” He proceeded to knock on the impressive, thick wooden doors.

They waited in silence until a few moments later, an elderly nun opened the portal. She was plainly dressed, in a dark robe that went all the way to the floor. Her face showed great inner strength and peace. Without a word, she stepped aside to let them in, and shut out the red glow of the landscape behind them when she closed the doors.

“Peace and long life”, she then greeted them in Vulcan.

“Live long and prosper”, they both answered.

She bade them follow her to a kind of shrine and handed them a steaming-hot, dark-coloured drink in a clay bowl decorated with a geometrical pattern. Teresa grasped it with both hands and took three sips and then handed it to Spock, who did the same, while four more nuns entered the room and formed a circle around them.

“Is your mind ready?”, the first nun asked.

“My katra is awaiting, my mind is open and still”, Teresa answered without batting an eyelid.

Spock turned his head and looked at her in astonishment. “How do you know this ritual?”, he muttered under his breath, so as not to disturb the nuns.

“I’ve been here before”, she answered, in a matter-of-fact tone.

“I did not know.”

“The first time I was on Vulcan with my mother, when I was fifteen.” She gave the nun a grateful nod, as Spock gave her back the clay bowl. While the nuns recited the customary poem of greeting and preparation for the spiritual journey, he looked at Teresa as though he was seeing her properly for the first time. She had closed her eyes and was listening, a profound calm and stillness coming over her face and body. Talking with her about Vulcan culture was different from actually seeing her conduct herself in a Vulcan setting, especially one as sacred as this monastery, witnessing the respect and reverence she extended even to these holographic nuns. She seemed completely in her element, even although he knew that she only took away from Vulcan philosophy those select aspects for herself which she personally found useful and sensible.

At 18:00 hours, they were back in their blue uniforms and found themselves in Captain Janeway’s quarters, together with Commanders Chakotay and Tuvok.

“To honour the occasion”, Captain Janeway announced, while she put a steaming and delicious-looking vegetarian meal onto the table, “we’re having food straight out of the replicator.”

“Wasting precious energy reserves, no doubt”, Teresa joked.

“I certainly don’t consider this a waste”, the Captain smiled at her. “Tuck in.”

“How are you settling in on Voyager?”, Chakotay asked, while everyone was helping themselves.

“Very well”, Spock answered. “It is a fascinating ship, with a welcoming crew.”

“We feel very well taken care of”, Teresa confirmed.

“I’m glad to hear it”, Chakotay said.

“The mess hall seems to be the life-hub of the ship”, Teresa remarked.

“Yes, it is”, Janeway said. “Do you like it?”

“Very much.”

“Everyone is very excited to have you here”, Chakotay told them, and with a glance at Tuvok, who had raised an eyebrow, added: “or at least positively surprised.”

“It is certainly a unique and unexpected opportunity”, Tuvok declared. “I have always wanted to have the honour of meeting Ambassador Spock – as the secret of him being ambassador in his future is already out, I see no need harm in mentioning it. Also, your father, Ambassador Sarek.”

“I thank you”, Spock answered. “Although I do not yet know the reason why you consider meeting me to be such an honour. Concerning my father, I am less surprised.”

“I believe that already at the time you have come to us from”, Tuvok said, “he was considered a highly respected representative of the Vulcan people.”

“He is”, Teresa affirmed, attempting to spare Spock the discomfort of having to boast about his own father, even though she knew that modesty was not exactly his strongest quality. It was illogical.

“Have you met Sarek?”, Janeway inquired.

“Not exactly”, Teresa replied. “I saw him and his wife when he was on the Enterprise on a diplomatic mission. But we did not speak.”

“Ah yes, Ambassador Sarek was also among the first Vulcans to take a human wife”, Tuvok said. “A highly logical action for a diplomat.”

“Indeed”, Spock made, looking at his plate.

Commander Chakotay seemed to think it was time to change the subject, so he said: “We were also wondering whether you could tell us more about Captain Kirk. You see, he as well is still quite well known today.”

As Spock took a little too long to answer, Teresa obliged them: “A very able, very resourceful, very passionate captain. Passionate about his mission, that is. Dedicated to leave every world he has visited a better place.” Sometimes a little too dedicated, she thought. Spock glanced at her, as though he could guess what she had not said. “But Spock knows him much better than I do”, she said.

“Lieutenant Juárez’ characterization is, nonetheless, on point”, Spock stated. “I would add that his choices are not always the most logical, but they often pay off, nonetheless.”

They spent quite some time telling stories and anecdotes about Captain Kirk, the Enterprise, its missions and the places and peoples they had visited.

“Ah yes”, Janeway made at one point. “The Enterprise was also the first ship to have a permanent counsellor on board, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yes”, Teresa said affectionately. “Dr. Elise McKennah. She is wonderful.” The thought of her friend made her feel a fresh pang in her chest. Would she ever see her again? And Nyota? And Hikaru? And all the others?

“She is very well suited to the post”, Spock agreed. “I have had many interesting and fruitful conversations with her.”

“Does Voyager have a counsellor?”, Teresa asked, having caught herself again.

“No, sadly not”, the Captain responded. “The mission we were on when we were pulled into the Delta Quadrant was only meant to be of short duration.”

“Lieutenant Haron was very attentive to us yesterday”, Teresa said. Spock glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

“It is in a Betazoid’s nature to be attentive”, Tuvok replied. “But Lieutenant Haron does not have the necessary training and has never put himself forward for such a role.”

“Yes, I’m afraid we’re all each other’s counsellors here”, Janeway smirked. “With varying degrees of success.”

“In our time, Betazed is an intriguing society just outside of Federation borders”, Spock commented. “Especially we Vulcans have been impressed with them, them being a species with telepathic faculties more highly developed than our own.”

“Spending time with them takes some getting used to”, Chakotay said. “Knowing they can hear all of one’s thoughts, or if they are part human, still sense all of one’s emotions.”

“I can imagine that Starfleet has quite a few Betazoid or half-Betazoid counsellors in your time”, Teresa mused.

Janeway put on an apologetic face. “I’m very sorry that we can’t tell you more about our own times, or Voyager’s experiences in the Delta Quadrant.”

“That would be most interesting”, Spock declared, while Teresa nodded.

“Instead, it is you who have to entertain us with your stories”, Chakotay said.

“I don’t mind”, Teresa smiled.

“Neither do I”, said Spock.

“Suffice it to say that it can be very dangerous sometimes”, Chakotay sighed. “But you have found us during a calm period. This sector is quiet. We haven’t had any major problems or faced any serious threats for several months.”

“That is… fortunate”, Teresa said in commiseration.

“Our only task at the moment is finding you a way back and waiting for the wormhole”, Janeway added.

“Which means we are keeping you from continuing your own journey home”, Teresa remarked regretfully.

“It’s worth it”, Chakotay reassured her. “And we have stopped many times before, for many… non-essential reasons. We still follow the Starfleet mission to seek out new life and explore the galaxy.”

“Captain, talking about tasks”, Spock led to a different topic. “We were wondering whether there is really no way for us to contribute to the running of this ship while we are here.”

Teresa nodded. “So far, we only have the affirmation of Neelix that he could use some help in the kitchen. I asked him.”

Janeway looked at them with a thoughtful expression, her chin resting on her hand. “That’s a good idea; Neelix works very hard. But of course, this would not exactly make use of both of your ample science skills. Let me think… suggestions, Chakotay, Tuvok?”

“The airponics bay”, Tuvok proposed.

“Of course!”, Janeway exclaimed. “Lieutenant, you are a biologist. How would you like to help us grow our vegetables? It is a task for which you do not necessarily require access to the ship’s computer. Any questions you might have can be answered by the crew.”

“Certainly!”, Teresa said, pleased with the suggestion.

“That is a very good idea”, Chakotay remarked. “At the moment, we have a rotating duty roster for the airponics bay among the junior officers, which takes their capacities away from their main duties. We used to have one person in charge full-time, but she has left the ship.”

“Left the ship?”, Teresa repeated, surprised.

“Kes was native to the Delta Quadrant”, Janeway explained, the sudden tenderness in her voice impossible to miss. “And she decided to stay there, after having spent three years with us. We miss her; she was wonderful.”

“What about Spock?”, Teresa inquired. “Can you find a job for him?”

All three thought about this question for a moment, but no one had any further ideas.

“There are no other duties than could be performed within the restrictions we have put upon you”, Tuvok concluded after a minute of silence, while the other two looked apologetic.

“I understand”, Spock assured them. “I will assist the Lieutenant in the airponics bay.” Teresa gave him a sympathetic and pleased smile.

“We’ll let you know if we can think of something else”, Janeway said. “Taking care of the airponics bay should only take a few hours each day, even less for two people.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Hopefully you will not spend too many days on Voyager, anyway. I hope it will not take too long to find you a way back. And as we already concluded yesterday, history seems to indicate that you won’t be missing for too long.” Janeway took a sip from her glass.

Spock nodded. “Our crew must have started a search for us by now… that is, more than a day after we were pulled into the wormhole.”

Teresa’s face fell. “The thought of how worried everyone must be, the longer we are missing, is hard to bear. Especially our families.”

“We’ll do our very best to find you a way back as soon as possible”, the Captain assured her.

“We know”, Spock said. “Thank you.”

“By the way”, Teresa then changed the subject, “we have thought a bit more about your proposition to erase our memories.” And they proceeded to tell them about the different contingencies, courses of action and doubts they had already discussed.

“That is certainly true”, the Captain said, while Tuvok nodded. “Which is why I think it best not to make any decision or take any action before we do not know more about the wormhole. Let’s hope it reappears soon. But I think I can already say that we would not erase your memories and keep you in stasis indefinitely in the hope of someday finding you a way back. I would probably only decide to have you undergo the procedure if the wormhole turns out to be stable and predictable. And if a sudden opportunity presents itself and there is no time… well, then we must rely on your intelligence and discretion about what you have seen and heard here. That is my current position.”

“I am certainly relieved to hear that”, Teresa admitted with a sigh, while Spock nodded and assured her: “You can count on our discretion, Captain.”

“Of that I have no doubt”, Janeway smiled.

After having spent three hours in the Captain’s quarters, they started to make their way to their own, leisurely strolling down the corridors.

“What a day”, Teresa said.

“Indeed.”

“It’s all so much to take in”, she continued. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to fall asleep easily.”

“I can always recommend some meditation”, he said. Of course he could.

“I haven’t really meditated for quite some time now”, she confessed (in reaction to which he thought: while I have meditated a great deal…), “it’s not quite the same anymore… alone.” Actually, this sounds strange, she thought to herself, as meditation is a solitary occupation by its very nature. But she had simply too much gotten used to the guided meditation with him, and whenever she had attempted to meditate by herself recently, the reminder of the fact that he was not teaching her anymore had spoilt the experience.

He cleared his throat, observing the ground, and then offered hesitantly: “Hrrm. I could… help you.”

“You would?”, she asked, managing to not sound too eager, or nervous.

“Certainly”, he answered and stopped in the corridor, now having eliminated all traces of hesitation and unease that had been perceivable in his demeanour just a few seconds before and unflinchingly looking her straight in the eye. “I would suggest that you make all the preparations that you usually might make before going to bed, so that the calm and stillness you will attain through the meditation will not be interrupted again by an action as mundane as, let us say, brushing your teeth.”

“Oh, I – “, she made, caught by surprise. “Sure. Sounds logical.”

He blinked and looked at her with his Vulcan calm, seemingly unfazed by the intimate situation awaiting them. Teresa was less so. In fact, she was worried that sitting in front of Spock in her nightgown would do more to agitate her even more than to calm her down, but she could not think of any graceful way of getting out of this appointment again, so she said nothing. Speaking of the nightgown…

“Alright”, she broke the silence and started walking along the corridor again. “Would in an hour be an acceptable time for you?”

“Certainly”, he answered.

“Good”, she said and then stopped again at a corridor crossing. “You go on; I just remembered that there’s something I want to ask Ensign Wildman.”

He nodded and vanished around the corner. When she thought he was out of earshot, she pressed her communicator and said: “Computer, locate Ensign Wildman.”

“Ensign Wildman is in her quarters.”

“Where are her quarters?”

“Deck ten, room 19.”

Ensign Wildman looked pleasantly surprised to see her. Behind her, a little girl with tiny spikes on her forehead was approaching the door, looking very curious. She seemed to be around six years old. “Who is that, mummy?”

“One of the visitors from the past, honey”, Ensign Wildman told her.

“You must be Naomi”, Teresa smiled. “Pleased to meet you. I hope this is a good time”, she said to the mother, looking apologetic.

“Don’t worry. What can I do for you?”

As Teresa threw a reluctant glance at Naomi, Ensign Wildman heaved her daughter onto her hip and said: “Come on, let’s get you to bed. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“But I want to talk to the time traveller”, Naomi protested.

“Tomorrow”, her mother told her.

“Definitely”, Teresa promised, while she stepped into the room, the doors closing behind her. Ensign Wildman vanished with Naomi in another room, but after a minute or so she came back, smiling encouragingly. “Is there something you need?”

“A nightgown”, Teresa said.

“I thought you said you already had one.”

“I do, but…” Teresa blushed. “I need a plainer one; that is, a more modest one.”

Ensign Wildman looked surprised but kept smiling. “More modest?”

“Yes… You see, Mr. Spock has offered to meditate with me to help me sleep - we sometimes meditate together - and said I should get completely ready for bed before we do, so that the peace and quiet I attain through the meditation is not interrupted again. The problem is that the nightgown I was given yesterday is…”

“Too revealing. Too attractive”, Ensign Wildman realised, a smirk appearing on her face.

“Exactly. It would be…  awkward and inappropriate to appear in front of him that way, especially as he’s my senior officer.” The fact that they were going to meditate together at all with her in her nightgown must already sound strange enough to Ensign Wildman, Teresa thought. After all, it was strange.

“I understand”, the Ensign smiled. “Let us choose one now.”

“Thank you.”

She picked up a PADD and showed the clothes selection to Teresa, who chose a gown that was still elegant and loosely hugged her figure but covered her shoulders, her arms and the entirety of her legs and was made of cotton, not silk.

“I’ll get it now”, Ensign Wildman told her. “Maybe you could stay here until I come back, in case Naomi comes out of her room again or calls for me.”

“With pleasure.”

Teresa settled down on the sofa. Barely a minute after the doors had closed behind Ensign Wildman, Naomi appeared in the door of her dormitory. “What is it like in the 23rd century?”

Teresa turned around, saw her and smiled. “Very thrilling.”

“Mummy says you live on a starship, like we do.”

“I do. This particular starship has a five-year-mission, though, which will be over in a bit more than a year. After that, I don’t know yet where I will be.”

“Mummy says you might stay here with us, on Voyager.”

“It seems like living here with you would be nice, but we still hope that we will find a way back to our own time and our own starship.”

“What is your starship called?”

“The Enterprise.”

“Mummy says I’m not allowed to tell you anything about Voyager or the Delta Quadrant.”

“Well, the Captain’s orders actually are that nobody is allowed to tell us anything that happened after the time we come from, or the technology that was invented after it. But as your knowledge of history is probably very limited so far, she probably thought it best to tell you not to tell me anything.”

“Yes. Actually, Mummy has told me loads of examples of things I am not allowed to tell you. That’s so many things.”

“I can imagine. That must be difficult for you, to remember them all.”

“I can remember them all. I’m very clever.”

Teresa grinned, amused. “I’m sure you are.”

They spent a few more minutes pleasantly chatting before Ensign Wildman returned with the nightgown. Very grateful, Teresa said goodnight to both of them.

Teresa was already sitting in a cross-legged position on the ground behind the small table that was placed in front of the sofa when Spock came in; she had chosen her position in the room carefully. He, still wearing his blue uniform, unceremoniously sat down on the other side of the table in front of her, facing her. Her long, brown, wavy-curly hair was falling down freely over her shoulders and down her back, partially covering the white nightgown. It was a modest nightgown, but he had never seen her in a garment as intimate as this. Nor had he seen her hair open and loose like this more than a few times in the few years since he had gotten to know her. She was looking at him in vulnerable anticipation, probably doubting whether all this had been a good idea. He was not so sure himself whether he had not taken on too much on himself, already highly sceptical about the wisdom of the experiments he was intentionally subjecting himself to.

Spock took a deep breath, slightly pressing his lips together; a clear sign to Teresa that he was nervous. Why oh why, she thought, had he brought about this situation if it made him uncomfortable?

As if he had reached a decision, he placed his meditation lamp on the table.

“Oh, isn’t it fortunate that you at least still have got this?”, she uttered, breaking the silence, her face brightening. After all, a Vulcan’s meditation lamp was a precious personal item.

While he lit it with a lighter, he answered: “Indeed, most fortunate. Are you ready?”

“Yes”, she declared and smiled, resolved to make this attempt at meditation a success.

“Close your eyes”, he began, but she had already done so. “Good”, he said gently. “Now…”

He guided her through the initial stages with a gentle and calm voice. She was responding very well. After a few minutes, when he saw that she had sunk deeply into the meditation, he gave a quiet, contented sigh, and started meditating himself.

Half an hour passed, during which neither of them moved even a finger. The steady flame of the meditation lamp illuminated their peaceful faces.

Finally, Teresa opened her eyes and looked lovingly at Spock, who was still immersed in meditation, her eyes slowly wandering over his absorbed face. She had not felt as calm as this in a long time, but also felt a latent triumph at the fact that this session had been successful, contrary to her fears. When he slowly opened his eyes to look at her, she reduced the intensity of her gaze from love to gentle affection and gave the faintest smile. They looked at each other for a long moment, still sedated from the meditation. He seemed gratified to see her so at peace.

“I gather the session has been successful”, he said in a low voice.

She gave a relaxed and quiet sigh. “Yes”, she murmured back. “Thank you very much.”

They kept gazing at each other, enjoying their own and each other’s calm. With wonder, Teresa noticed that there was not a single trace present of the awkwardness and tension that had accompanied them and plagued her during the last months and, in lesser measure, during the last two days. Only peace, friendship, and affection. Closeness and trust.

Following an impulse, she carefully placed her hand upon his, as it was lying on the table. It was an entirely platonic gesture because it was devoid of any hesitancy or apprehension. He understood. Gripped the ends of her fingers, pressing them lightly. Neither of them spoke. The lamp continued burning.

After what seemed like an eternity, she slowly let go and leant back against the sofa, yawning. His eyebrows contracted just the tiniest amount; he was gratified that they had reached their goal.

He slowly got up and mindfully stretched his legs. “Good night. Sleep well.”

She smiled a content and affectionate smile. “The same to you.”

Chapter Text

Stardate 36791.8 (November 2267)

Teresa came fresh out of the lab; it had been a fascinating day. She had been working alongside two Vulcan scientists, a married couple who were visiting the Enterprise on a two-week mission to study the extraordinary fauna on F’Deem-Hir, a newly discovered M-class planet. In the officer’s mess, she got a tray with her dinner and looked around the room in search of a free table and hopefully a good dinner companion. Her eyes fell on the best candidate of all, who had fortunately only sat down a moment before, all alone.

With a cheerful smile, she approached him. “Hello, Spock! Do you mind if I sit down?”

“Good evening, Lieutenant. Not at all”, he replied, looking up from his plate.

Taking a seat, she asked: “How are things on the bridge?”

“It has been a quiet day”, he informed her. “Apart from the coordination of your away team’s visit to the planet and the habitual running of the ship, there was nothing noteworthy.”

“You could have beamed down with us again”, she remarked.

“Undoubtedly. Maybe I shall do so tomorrow. How is your work progressing?”

“Oh, we’re very busy cataloguing and investigating the specimens”, she answered, her fork hovering before her mouth. “I believe you’ll have my first report soon. The samples are astonishing.”

“I see”, he said in a tone of friendly interest. “I look forward to your report, then.”

“And T’Del and Jarot are a very interesting pair”, she observed.

“How so?”

“They work together incredibly smoothly”, she said with amazement. “And I often get the impression that they know almost all the time exactly what the other is thinking. They talk very little; it often looks like they are in some kind of silent communication. I know Vulcans have some telepathic abilities, but I have never seen anything like it in all my time on Vulcan. Nothing remotely close to that extent. I thought one has to perform a mind meld in order to hear each other’s thoughts like that.”

“Hm”, he made, pulling a slightly thoughtful frown. “There are instances. Only few, but they exist.”

“But – “, she started, uncomprehending. “How is that achieved? Are some Vulcans’ telepathic abilities so much further advanced?”

“No”, he said, somewhat hesitantly. “I do not believe that T’Del and Jarot’s abilities are any further advanced than other Vulcans’.”

When he hesitated like that, Teresa knew she was venturing into sensitive territory. “Please explain”, she proceeded carefully. “If I may ask.”

He looked at her and saw that, as usual, she was genuinely interested. So he placed his elbows on the table, folded his hands and thought of the best way to clarify the matter. “Some Vulcans, usually couples, might grow so… close to each other that they can indeed ‘hear’ each other’s thoughts, or, put in a different way, maintain a mental connection even when they are not connected via a mind meld”, he said slowly, while she listened with avid fascination. “This is called fal-tor-ha’pyl and is achieved through frequent mind melds. After a time, the mental connection indeed persists even after the meld has been broken off.”

Her mouth had fallen slightly open and she had completely forgotten her dinner, which was sitting on the table in front of her. “Vulcan couples perform mind melds?”, she repeated, astonished. “I have always thought mind melds were less frequently used in Vulcan society. But of course”, it occurred to her, “this is quite an intimate topic, so I understand why it is not discussed, especially not with members of other species.”

They were speaking in considerably quieter and softer voices now.

He nodded. “You are correct. But yes, they do perform mind melds. In fact, it is customary for a couple to perform a mind meld at their marriage, to… initiate their union.”

“I see”, she made, extremely intrigued, “when I think about it, it actually doesn’t sound very surprising. But not all couples meld frequently?”

“No”, he replied in a confidential manner, now also having interrupted his eating. “Not to my knowledge. This is a very private matter and as you have stated yourself, usually not discussed with others, which is why it is impossible for me to know exactly how prevalent the practice is. No scientific data has ever been collected on the subject. However, as I have said, only few are so… close that they develop this continuous connection, which can also be noticed by others. And if they fail to meld for a longer time period, the connection will grow weaker and eventually be lost.”

For short moment, an expression flashed up in her face that he had never seen before: it was more than wonder, it was yearning. But it vanished again before he could be quite sure of what he was seeing and her face went back to her ‘merely’ intrigued, genuine interest.

“This is really fascinating”, she said quietly, slowly venturing her fork into her dinner again. “What you are telling me is that intimacy between two Vulcans is much more all-encompassing than between two humans, for example. The two partners get to know each other much better than humans ever could. Also, they’re able to share their experiences much more comprehensively – benefitting from the experience of two lifetimes, instead of just one!” At this point, she sounded almost enthusiastic, and he listened to her with mild astonishment, but then she grew more sober again and added: “Of course, with such mind melds, even just one, and especially with such enduring mental connections, there is virtually no privacy anymore, if one’s partner can perceive all of one’s thoughts, or indeed, emotions.”

He had been listening to her last words with a thoughtful and earnest expression. “That is true”, he conceded. “Generally, members of non-telepathic species probably find such a prospect disquieting; the great intimacy of shared thoughts.”

“Hm”, she made, equally thoughtful, but not disquieted. “It would be impossible to keep a secret, I suppose.” She resumed eating her dinner.

He raised an eyebrow. “Not impossible, but very difficult. An individual with an exceptionally high degree of mental discipline might be able to conceal a piece of information, even if the other is actively searching for it.” He also resumed his dinner but was as slow at eating as she was.

“Could you do that?”, she wondered. “Again, if I may ask.”

Spock shook his head slightly. “I believe that I, being part human, could never attain such exceptional levels of mental discipline.”

“I think you’re right”, she observed. “Most humans would probably not be able to bear the intimacy. And even if it is only because everyone has something they are ashamed of, and because almost none of us say everything that comes into our heads. I am not sure how many people would be comfortable for their partner to experience them without the civility filter we all employ.” Still pensive, she took a sip from her tea. “Still, it must be an extraordinary experience”, she then continued, in a tone that was again more than intrigued. Her face had once more assumed this peculiar mixture between amazed wonder and yearning that he was not accustomed to.

At first, he was hesitant to divulge that information, but then he did it after all. “Indeed. Vulcans generally consider the sharing of thoughts more rewarding than physical intimacy.”

“They do, do they?”, she replied, without batting an eyelid, the unusual expression on her face having faded. But she was staring into her teacup. “It’s not surprising for such an intellect-oriented people.”

“Indeed not.”

She made very sure that she was uttering her next sentences in a voice that expressed scientific interest most of all, to conceal the fact that her interest could, in fact, not be more personal. “We are now speaking of a mental connection that goes both ways. If I have understood it correctly, in the instances where you have performed a mind-meld with a member of a non-telepathic species, it only went one way, because the other participant was not telepathic.”

“Affirmative, in most cases”, he nodded. “However, that was by choice. With the Horta, I shared my own experiences, too.”

“So, with a non-telepathic individual, you can choose whether the connection goes only one way or both ways?”, she inquired, impressed, and highly intrigued once more.

“Yes.” He observed her calmly.

Very much hoping that he would not understand what motivated her line of questioning, she tried to make sure that she had understood the implications correctly. “So, in theory, the mental intimacy we have been discussing could also take place between a Vulcan and a non-telepathic individual.”

“Undoubtedly”, he answered kindly, curious as to where this was going.

“I see”, she made in a light-hearted manner, taking the last bites of her dinner now. “Well”, she then told him with her habitual amicable affection, “thank you for sharing this with me.”

“You are welcome”, he answered in this confidential manner that he only bestowed on very few individuals, of whom she was one. “It is a very private topic in Vulcan society, but I have no objection to divulging this information to one so genuinely interested.”

She smiled warmly.

“If I may ask”, he finally could not resist the temptation anymore to inquire, “I have gotten the impression that you seem… not at all disinclined to experience such a connection yourself.”

Her eyes flickered for a moment, and she looked at him guardedly with slightly parted lips. “With the right person”, she finally said softly, “I would indeed not be disinclined at all.”

His eyebrows formed the slightest frown while he gazed at her searchingly for a short moment, then he slowly nodded and slightly lowered his head, looking at the table.

“Well”, she made, back to her usual friendly and cheerful voice and manner. “I have to get going.”

“As do I”, he agreed, getting up from his chair.

They both brought their trays away, and after a parting glance, and a smile on her side, they went their separate ways. Their conversation, and especially her last confession, continued to occupy Spock’s thoughts for a long time afterwards.

Chapter Text

Stardate 36832.7 (June 2268)

Taurus IV was one of those planets that harboured unforeseeable dangers and nefarious evildoers under its surface, the kind that James T. Kirk seemed to involuntarily attract like a magnet. Ignorant of said dangers, he beamed down to the surface with an away team like he so often did. Part of that away team were, among others, the dependable Dr. McCoy and Lieutenant Juárez, who found that the barren, stony wasteland they encountered was a very thankless destination for an exobiologist. Nonetheless, she remained part of the away team as the dramatic events on the planet took their course (events that are classified and therefore cannot be explained in detail here). Eventually, she, Kirk and McCoy found themselves in a situation where they were separated from the rest of the away team and were required to enter some very dangerous caves in order to thwart the malevolent plans of said evildoers (who can also not be described in more detail – again, it’s classified). As so often, communications with the ship were down at that point, and transport through the planet’s unusual atmosphere was impossible. All they knew was that a rescue team was on the way. Therefore, the Captain ordered Teresa to stay behind and wait for the rescue team while he and the Doctor entered the caves and to not tell anyone where they had gone, because it was too dangerous for anyone to follow them. Consequently, Teresa remained where she was, surrounded by large stone formations, and waited anxiously. Spock was the first one to find her; for some reason unknown to her, he was all alone.

He quickly approached her. “Lieutenant.”

“Spock!”, she answered, relieved to see him, forgetting to call him ‘Sir’. “Where is the rest of the rescue team?”

“I do not know”, he answered, looking around. “I believe they will be here eventually. Where are the Captain and the Doctor?”

She took a deep breath, straightening up, with an apologetic expression on her face. “I am not authorized to tell you that.”

For an instant, there was a glimmer of surprise and irritation in his eyes, but then he repeated as if he had not heard her: “Where are the Captain and the Doctor?”

Taken aback, she stressed: “As I have just told you, I am not authorized to tell you. The Captain has ordered me to wait here and not tell anyone where they have gone.”

The expression on his face softened a little, while he took one step further towards her. “Lieutenant… - Teresa. Please tell me where they have gone.”

She looked at him with a mixture of indignation and understanding. “Spock! You’re asking me to disobey a direct order from the Captain! I won’t! I can’t!”

“Yes, I am asking you to.” He gazed at her intently.

“No.”

“Lieutenant, I am ordering you to tell me.”

She laughed, mockingly, desperately. “You can’t override an order by the Captain, you know that.”

He took another step in her direction, speaking with increasing urgency and hardness. “Where are they?”

“I won’t tell you. I know you want to go after them, I understand. I want to go myself. But it’s too dangerous; you’ll get yourself killed. The Captain was right in giving me that order. No further crew members should be exposed to this danger. We are to wait until the ion storm gets too strong and if they haven’t come back before then, we are to leave.”

Spock listened to all this with a grim and unmoving face. “I am asking you once again to tell me.”

Ever more desperate and ever more resolute, she cried out once more: “No, I won’t!”

He sighed, his grim expression intensifying. His eyes flickered slightly, as though he was steeling himself. “Then you leave me no choice.”

“Whatever do you –“, she began, but then she understood and her eyes widened in shock, while she retreated towards the tall rockface behind her. “You wouldn’t!”

He hesitated for a split second, but he was determined. She detected the faint flicker of pain in his eyes and saw his tightened jaw. She had always been better than anyone else at perceiving the emotions that were seething under his serene Vulcan surface. She knew he did not want to do what he was about to do. She knew he was sorry. But that did not make it better; she was still furious and terrified.

With two wide steps he strode towards her, grabbed her arm and tried to press her with her back against the rockface. She had waited a second too long to react in self-defence and evade his grip because she had been unable to believe that he would truly go through with it. “How dare you!”, she cried out indignantly, while she tried to shake him off. They struggled for a few seconds, but Spock was too strong for her. His Vulcan strength would have overpowered any human in this moment. With his left hand, he fastened her wrists behind her back, while he pressed his body fully against hers in order to pin her against the rockface. His right hand moved towards her face. She was breathing fast and heavily with her mouth half open and her chin quivering slightly, while her eyes were locked onto his face with a mixture of boiling anger, fear, resignation and defiance in her eyes.

Spock gulped, his jaw still tight, and put his fingers onto the side of her face, touching her temple, cheekbone and jawbone. “Your mind to my mind”, he murmured, while she still stared at him. “Your thoughts to my thoughts. I see what you see. I know what you know.”

The struggle ebbed away as soon as he had finished pronouncing these words. Teresa had stopped resisting and her breathing grew calmer; her eyes became soft as he looked into them.

Spock had been so much focused on his intent to determine the whereabouts of the Captain and the Doctor that he was wholly unprepared for what he encountered. He immediately understood that this information was by no means the only thing she was trying to conceal from him so desperately. She was pitifully unsuccessful in her attempt to push it away and further down into the depths of her mind; instead, it all came rushing to the surface.

He felt her love for him, in all its strength, depth and passion. Foremost on her mind was her overwhelming fear for his safety and her fury at being assaulted like this; she felt violated and painfully vulnerable. But directly underneath he felt all her affection and tenderness for him, a warmth and consideration that made him gasp. She knew him, she understood him, she loved every facet of his personality with an intensity he would never have thought possible. He was the man she wanted. With all her heart, she wished him to be happy (as happy as a half-Vulcan could be) and comfortable with himself. And there was a burning and throbbing desire to be near him, in mind and body, to reach out to him with her mind, to blend, to meld, to unite. But not like this. Still, he felt that she experienced this forced meld with wonder and an insatiable curiosity that accompanied her indignance and resistance, even though the meld was only one-way – he had not granted her access to his own mind; she could only feel him poking into hers and somehow knew which corners of it he was exploring. As if the mental and spiritual depth of her love were not enough, he also felt an intense physical attraction to him, which was exacerbated by the sensation of his body pressing against hers. For the first time, he knew the true meaning of arousal. He understood why love could make humans irrational. But she was in total control. She was keenly aware of her emotions, but she had mastered them. They had been safely hidden away, out of sight, until now. She had been determined to never let him find out, because she was certain that he could never return her feelings and because she valued their friendship far too highly to jeopardize it in any way.

Spock was so surprised and distracted by this discovery and his inability to draw back and control his curiosity and wonder that for a minute or so, he completely forgot why he had initiated the mind meld in the first place. They simply stood there, pressed against the rockface, in silent communication, staring into each other’s eyes. When Spock finally remembered his initial intention, he started, blinked, and tried to focus his mind on the Captain and the Doctor again. It was not easy. But he finally collected himself and purposefully probed her mind for the information he was seeking. When he had retrieved it, he heard her whisper in her mind: Well, now you know. It seemed obvious that by that she did not only mean the location of their fellow officers.

He drew back and pulled his hands away from her as though he had been burned. For a long moment, he stared at her in shocked amazement, breathing heavily, while she looked back calmly and at the same time with controlled fury, a glimmer of resignation and tenderness in her eyes, waiting for his reaction. He made a movement as if he was about to grab her again, but he drew back once more and looked away, taking a deep breath and steadying himself.

As soon as she saw that he was back to normal, she immediately said: “I’ll come with you.”

He shook his head. “Out of the question.”

She let her anger flare up again. “Of course I will. I will not let you go there alone; it’s much too dangerous.”

He was back to his immovable and haughty self. “Somebody needs to stay here and inform the rescue team.”

“We can leave your tricorder here, with a message.”

“That might not be sufficient. Moreover, I might need it.”

“I think you’ll need my help more than they will.”

“You are neglecting your duty.”

She once again laughed in mockery. “Said the kettle to the pot. If you disobey orders, I can as well.”

“I will not let you.” It was too dangerous, he thought.

She looked increasingly outraged, but before she could pronounce a furious and defiant retort, he had already approached her again, in a fresh attempt to restrain her. Only this time, his aim was not a mind meld. Once again, they spent a moment wrestling with each other, with her calling out a second time: “Don’t you dare, Spock!”, stepping on his foot. But he was standing behind her and his hand had found the place where her shoulder started merging into her neck. She cried in pain as he performed the neck pinch, then her knees gave way as she fell like a puppet whose strings had been cut. He caught her before she could hit the ground and held her for a second, before he gently laid her onto the earth, placing her head in a comfortable position. For another moment, he stood there and stared at the woman lying at his feet. Then he turned and vanished between the rock formations.

Teresa woke up when somebody carefully patted her cheek. It was Chekov. She quickly straightened up into a seated position and looked around. There were five people standing around her: Scotty, Chekov and three security officers.

“What happened, lass?”, asked Scotty in an urgent tone. “Are ye alright?”

“I am fine”, she said and stood up. Her body was aching.

“Have you seen the Captain? Dr. McCoy? Mr. Spock?”

She explained to them what had happened to the Captain and the Doctor.

“But why were ye unconscious when we found you?”

She pressed her lips together and answered: “Mr. Spock rendered me unconscious. He performed his Vulcan nerve pinch on me.”

Scotty and Chekov looked at each other. “Why ever did he do that?”, Scotty asked.

Teresa sighed. “He wanted to go after them and did not let me come with him.” She hesitated, and then continued: “The Captain had given me orders to not disclose where they had gone.”

“But then why did you tell Mr. Spock?”, Scotty continued.

She was most unwilling to reveal this information, but she continued in an expressionless tone: “I didn’t. He forced a mind meld on me.”

Scotty and Chekov exchanged another look, this time of shocked surprise. “He did that, did he?”, Scotty said, and then scrutinized her face with concern. “Are you alright, lass?”

“I am”, she assured him. “I understand why he did it. He wanted to save them.” Nevertheless, she felt a little numb and hollow. And bruised.

“Well”, Scotty concluded. “You did the right thing in not telling him where they'd gone. The only thing we can do now is wait and if the ion storm gets too bad, we'll have to leave without them.” His voice sounded heavy and sad.

So they waited. Teresa was extremely anxious and several times she was on the verge of running in the direction the three men had taken, because she was the only one who knew where to go. But she stayed where she was, rooted to the spot, surrounded by the rest of the rescue team.

After around half an hour, which seemed like an eternity, Scotty looked up at the sky and gave a heavy sigh. “We need to go.”

No one moved, however, not even Scotty himself, but he gave himself a kick. “Let’s go. There’s nothing we can do.”

But just when the other five had reluctantly started to move, Teresa cried out: “There they are!”

Everyone wheeled around. Indeed, three dishevelled figures were emerging between the rock formations. The Captain and Spock both had one of the Doctor’s arms over their shoulder, supporting him. Spock caught Teresa’s eye and kept looking at her with a knowing expression in his eyes; he was aware of how relieved she was to see him alive and well.

The whole group made their way to the shuttle as quickly as possible. They got in and it left the planet surface with a jolt. On their way back to the ship, Spock and Teresa sat on opposite sides of the shuttle, facing each other, but avoiding each other’s gaze for most of the journey. From time to time, however, she would raise her head and find him looking at her, with a thoughtful and slightly stunned expression on his face. Their eyes would meet for a second, and then he would look away.

When they were back safe in the shuttle bay and the Captain and Doctor had been taken to sickbay, Spock caught Teresa before she could walk away.

“Lieutenant”, he said quietly, “may I speak to you for a moment?”

They walked out of earshot of the others.

Spock, looking very serious, clasped his hands behind his back and, facing her, said quietly: “Lieutenant… Teresa. I feel I need to apologize for this blatant violation of your privacy.” She could see the bad conscience edged on his face.

“Spock – “, she began, but he raised his hand to stop her and continued: “I have never before forced a mind meld on anyone and have always hoped that I would never be tempted to do so. It is… most unfortunate that the only victim of this has been you, a friend I highly respect and value.”

This made her break into a warm, but slightly sad, smile. Spock had communicated to her effectively that their relationship meant a lot to him, but the word ‘friend’ was an unmistakable response to what had transpired between them on the planet.

“Spock”, she said softly, “thank you for that apology. It was understandable – under the circumstances. As much as I wish it hadn’t happened, I think that in this case, the ends justified the means.” She sounded tired and hurt, but sincere. Her rational mind had analysed the situation with all its moral implications fairly quickly; she understood the dilemma he had found himself in and had decided that she could not condemn him for what he had done. Her emotional reaction was a different matter; she was still in shock and would have to take her time to process what had happened. However she felt about it, though, she would not let these emotions influence her behaviour towards him. If she had rationally decided to forgive him for forcing himself into her mind, she would treat him accordingly.

He seemed to relax a little and his gaze became softer, too. “I thank you. However, I disregarded a direct order, assaulted a fellow officer and neglected my duty as first officer towards the ship.”

She watched him with compassion. How emotional his actions had been, she thought. “I believe the Captain will understand. I certainly don’t hold it against you.”

He took a deep breath, still looking at her. “It will not happen again.”

“I know.” She believed him, but there was another thing that irked her, and she added with deliberate indignation: “I just wish you had let me come with you. Rendering me unconscious like that – that’s what I really can’t accept.”

His jaw tightened once again. “The probability of us coming back alive was extremely small. I did not want you to get hurt. I did not want you to partake in my misconduct.”

“That was my decision to make”, she replied forcefully, increasingly irate again.

“I am your superior officer. You were disobeying my orders.” He tried to sound gentle, but with a certain measure of that maddeningly lofty Spockness.

“You were disobeying orders yourself, neglecting your duty yourself”, she countered in cold fury. “We were beyond any rules at that point, and when I decide to risk my life in such a situation, you have no business treating me like a child and robbing me of my agency.”

His eyes widened and he looked genuinely aghast. She had never before told him off like that. Teresa saw his mind working behind his shocked frown, and somewhere in his brain, something seemed to click. His frown deepened once he seemed to have understood his mistake. There was a glimmer of dismay in his eyes.

“You are, of course, correct”, he finally said quietly. “Please be assured of the fact that I highly respect your agency and certainly do not consider your judgement to be in any way inferior to my own. I acted on an impulse” – admitting to such unreasonable behaviour seemed to cause him a great deal of discomfort – “on a… you could call it a protective instinct. Overprotective, to be sure.” He pressed his lips together slightly and took a deep breath.

Teresa, although for a moment distracted by the revelation that he felt protective of her and, to her own annoyance, feeling decidedly flattered, trenchantly made clear: “I do not want your overprotection.”

He nodded gravely, gulping faintly. “Naturally. I apologize unreservedly. This will not happen again, either.”

“Very well”, she said in a more conciliatory tone, now feeling very exhausted. “I accept.” And she gave him a tentative smile, to make him understand that she would not let this burden their friendship.

With a slightly furrowed brow, he opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something more. But he closed it again, gave a slight nod to politely indicate that the conversation was over, and turned away.

Chapter Text

Stardate 36859.4 (August 2268)

Time passed and although they tried to carry on as before, their encounters grew increasingly awkward. They did not meet privately anymore and spoke only when necessary. Spock told the Captain about his misconduct on Taurus IV and Kirk, especially after a conversation with Teresa, did not want to discipline him. He could not help being moved by Spock’s determination to save him. Some two months passed… until one day on the bridge.

Spock had been especially private and quiet for the past few days, vanishing into his quarters whenever possible. At this moment, however, he was at his usual post at the science station. Teresa was also present on the bridge, as her expertise had been required due to the Enterprise having encountered a swarm of verugament in the vicinity of a radioactive gas cloud. When some of the creatures suddenly came too close to the ship, the natural scattering field they produced weakened the shields, which led to the crew momentarily being exposed to the lambda radiation of the gas cloud. Fortunately, the radiation levels were too low to cause serious harm to anyone – almost anyone. Everyone was a little shaken up, but they pulled themselves together quickly. Except for one person.

The Captain interrupted himself and looked behind his shoulder. “Spock, are you alright?”

Spock did not answer. He was perspiring and panting, his head lowered, his fists and teeth clenched. It was unclear whether he had even heard Kirk. Everyone proceeded to stare at him, Teresa included.

“Spock!”, Kirk called, louder this time.

Spock finally looked up, but instead of looking at the Captain, he turned his head into the direction of Teresa, with an exceedingly unsettling expression in his eyes – like a hungry wolf that was staring at its prey. Teresa winced and stared back, deeply concerned. Spock looked down again, buried his head in his arms and made a sound like a growl, as though he was in pain.

“I… am…”, he panted. He slowly got up but seemed to be a little unsteady on his feet.

“Someone get him to sickbay”, said Kirk, worried about his friend.

“I’ll do it”, Teresa offered. “I was going back down anyway.” She walked over to Spock, who stared at her once again, and carefully put his arm over her shoulder. “Come on”, she said in a friendly tone.

Spock allowed her to lead him into the turbolift, with everyone continuing to stare after him. When the doors closed, he freed himself from her and backed away against the wall, as far away from her as possible. But he continued to continued to fixate his gaze on her, panting. Teresa once again stared back, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, but most of all concerned by his strange behaviour and worried about his wellbeing. “Spock, what on Earth is the matter?”

He raised his head slightly, unsuccessfully trying to collect himself. “I can’t… explain”, he said faintly. He gasped and ran his fingers over his face. And then, after gazing at her once more, he suddenly approached her and got so close that she was being pushed against the turbolift wall, observing him with increasing alarm. He put his hands onto her shoulders and brought his head close to her face, still panting. “Teresa”, he said urgently, “you are strongly attracted to me, are you not?” His breath touched her face.

“WHAT?!”, she gasped, unable to push him away.

“It is true. I know it. I saw it”, he breathed, with his lips dangerously close to her cheek.

“Well…”, she spluttered. “Yes, it is, but…”

“You would be a most adequate mate”, he continued, his hands covetously moving down her arms.

“SPOCK!”, she cried, pushing him away so that he tumbled against the opposite wall. “What the hell are you doing?”

He gasped once more and seemed to regain a little control over himself. “I am sorry”, he said with a desperate tone in his voice. “That was unforgivable.” Increasingly upset, he pressed his back against the wall once more, but his eyes did not stop staring at her with this hungry expression.

Teresa was utterly perplexed and in turmoil. She had certainly fantasized about Spock approaching her, but this was disturbing and utterly inappropriate. She also knew that such behaviour was so completely unlike him that she was lost for words. Still, she was quite agitated after the way he had approached and touched her, his lips close to her face.

At this moment, the turbolift doors opened, which took away the obligation to say anything except: “Come on, let’s get you to sickbay.”

“No”, he objected, with quite some determination. “My quarters. Tell the Doctor to see me there.”

“Alright”, she answered, surprised. But she obediently accompanied him to his quarters, without putting his arm over her shoulder again. He had no great trouble walking, anyway, but he kept on breathing heavily and seemed to concentrate very hard on keeping himself together.

When they had entered his quarters, she made him sit down on his bed and then went over to the communications panel. “Juárez to sickbay.”

“McCoy here”, came the answer.

“Doctor, Mr. Spock is unwell. He has requested that you attend to him in his quarters.”

“On my way. McCoy out.”

She turned towards Spock again, who was still sitting on the bed with his eyes following her every move, his blue uniform getting increasingly drenched. He looked as though he had a high fever, but she did not want to approach him to check. She simply stood there, looking at him, waiting for the Doctor.

Spock opened his mouth again. “Teresa”, he said in an urgent and imploring tone, forgetting himself again. But he immediately closed his eyes, trying hard to focus on something, shaking his head, his hands clasped before his mouth.

A few seconds later the door opened, and Doctor McCoy stepped into the room. As soon as he saw Spock, he cried out his name in shock. “What happened?”, he asked Teresa.

“I don’t know”, she said helplessly. “Ever since we passed through the lambda radiation, he’s been like this. He’s not himself.”

“Not himself? What do you mean?”

She thought that McCoy would be best able to help Spock if she told him the truth. “He made a pass at me”, she informed him dryly.

“He did WHAT?” McCoy seemed even more aghast than herself.

She only shrugged in response, with another overwhelmed stare at Spock, not knowing what else to add.

“Well, I’ll take care of him now”, he told her. “You can go.”

She nodded and left, with one last worried look at Spock, who was reclining onto the bed, still in the same state as before.

Four hours passed with no news of what was wrong with him. Teresa grew increasingly anxious and could not focus on her work; even her team in the exobiology lab noticed how distracted she was. When she had been off duty for half an hour, she was finally put out of her misery.

“McCoy to Juárez.”

“Juárez here.”

“Report to sickbay, please.”

When she arrived there, Doctor McCoy pulled her aside, looking very grave and slightly awkward. Doctor McKennah was there as well, smiling encouragingly.

“What’s the matter?” Teresa asked, looking at both. And then, directing her question only at McCoy, she continued: “How is Mr. Spock?”

“Not well”, he answered gravely. “Actually, he needs your help.” Doctor McKennah nodded.

“My help?”, Teresa asked, puzzled. “What can I do that you haven’t already tried?”

“Actually, a lot”, McCoy said, suddenly looking embarrassed.

“Teresa”, Doctor McKennah picked up the initiative, “Mr. Spock has explained everything to Doctor McCoy and has explicitly asked for you.”

“But what is wrong with him?”, Teresa inquired impatiently.

“He wants to explain that to you himself”, Doctor McCoy told her apologetically. “And I can assure you that everything he will tell you is true. All I can tell you is that he is suffering from a neurochemical imbalance in his brain, which has been severely exacerbated by the lambda radiation. I have done my best to find a medical cure for his condition, which is what he wanted at first as well, but there just isn’t one. At least, there isn’t enough time to find one.”

“Not enough time?”, Teresa asked, alarmed.

“The gist of the matter is”, Doctor McKennah said gently, “If he does not get better soon, he will die.”

Teresa could only stare at her in shock. She experienced a sensation as though she was falling into a bottomless pit. For a few seconds, she struggled with her emotions while the two doctors watched her patiently and sympathetically.

“But what could I do?”, she finally asked, imploringly. “I don’t really understand, but I will do whatever is necessary.”

“This is a very delicate matter”, Doctor McCoy said, looking uncomfortable. “That is why I have asked for Doctor McKennah’s advice and support. It requires the utmost discretion. Spock was extremely reluctant to tell me what’s going on. He’d probably be furious if he knew that I let Doctor McKennah in on the secret. But for your sake, I felt I had to.”

The Counsellor, who was also her friend, told her in a serious, but friendly tone: “We have talked about Mr. Spock’s request and have reached the conclusion that you should know that you are under no obligation to fulfil it. He said so himself, too. He wants to tell you about it himself, but you are free to refuse.”

“But didn’t you say that if he does not get help, he will die? How could I refuse?”

The two doctors looked at each other. “It is a very… unusual request”, Doctor McKennah explained vaguely. “Fulfilling it would probably mean a considerable violation of your personal boundaries.”

Finally, she thought she understood. At least in part. Her heart began to race. “This has got something to do with him making a pass at me, does it not?”, she asked, looking at Doctor McCoy.

He pressed his lips together and nodded. “Yes.”

“But still”, Teresa pressed on. “I can’t possibly refuse, if it means he will die if I do.”

Both doctors looked very miserable. “You are under no legal obligation to fulfil his request”, Doctor McKennah stated. “You could not be accused of a failure to render assistance.”

“But a moral obligation”, Teresa continued this train of thought.

“Well”, Doctor McCoy stammered. “That’s not for us to say.” Teresa looked at Doctor McKennah, who understood that there was no cause for concern. The Counsellor felt relieved and smiled encouragingly.

“I’ll do it”, Teresa declared. “How long does he have, Doctor?”

“A few hours”, McCoy replied.

“Then there is no time to lose”, she said resolutely, and was about to leave the room, when McCoy interjected: “Just a moment”, a hypospray in his hand.

“What’s this for?”, she asked.

“Trust me, you’ll need it”, he said, injecting it into her arm. She raised an eyebrow because of the lack of information, but she did trust him, so she nodded. And then she left.

The light in Spock’s quarters was even more sparse than usual, the red glow even more intense. It was very warm; it seemed that he had tried to create Vulcan conditions as best as he could. Teresa was glad that the dress she was wearing was, although long, made of a light fabric.

Spock was sitting on his bed, his back reclined against the wall, his hands closed in front of his face. The thin flame of his meditation lamp was burning on the bedside table to his right. He looked as though he had taken a shower, because he was wearing a fresh and dry uniform shirt. But Teresa could see that he was in an even worse state than he had been when she had last seen him around four hours ago; he was perspiring again and sometimes almost shaking in the attempt to hold himself together.

“Spock”, she said softly.

He slowly lifted his head to look at her. The expression in his eyes was fierce, almost mad. Teresa looked back without wincing, however. All she could feel was confusion and excruciating worry.

“Lieutenant”, he said in a faint and hoarse voice. “Thank you for coming.”

She sat down at the foot of the bed and looked at him. “Doctor McCoy said you need my help.”

“I do”, he replied, followed by a shuddering sigh. “But I am very sorry that I have to ask you for it.”

“It’s no matter”, she assured him. “He said that if you don’t get help… you will die.”

“I will.” His breathing became more agitated the longer he looked at her. “Let me try to explain”, he whispered, digging his fists into the bedclothes. “I need to explain.” He gazed at her with this half-mad expression again and tried to steady his breathing.

Teresa said nothing and waited patiently.

“I am suffering from a condition that is specific to Vulcan physiology”, he finally began in a voice strained with effort.

“The Doctor spoke of a neurochemical imbalance in your brain”, Teresa said.

“Yes.” He closed his eyes and opened them again. “We call it pon farr. Vulcans experience this condition every seven years. It is not something…” – he took a deep and agonized breath – “we speak about. Especially not with members of other species. Usually not even with other Vulcans. Overcoming it is considered to be the… ultimate test of a Vulcan’s mental discipline.”

“Overcoming it? How?”

“If it cannot be resolved naturally”, he said vaguely, “we can attempt dissolve its effects through intense meditation. If we fail to resolve it within eight days, we enter a stage called plak tow…”

“Blood fever”, Teresa translated from Vulcan, sounding more and more horrified and intrigued at the same time.

“Correct”, he murmured. He began shaking again. “If it is not resolved naturally by this stage, we die within a few hours.”

“How do you resolve it naturally?”, Teresa asked, although she had already guessed the answer.

Spock gave her a half-hungry, half-apologetic look, while his hands clasped the bedcovers ever more tightly. “Pon farr”, he said slowly, emphasising every word, “is a Vulcan’s mating period.”

Teresa was quiet for a moment, then she said calmly: “I see.” Now it was also crystal-clear what McCoy had injected her with: it was a contraceptive. He must have known from her medical file that she was not taking any. She felt a nervous mixture of apprehension and excitement growing in her belly; her heartrate accelerated once again.

“No, you do not”, Spock answered despairingly. “Not yet.”

She was surprised by this outburst of emotion. He buried his face in his hands again, taking another shuddering breath and looking as though he was trying very hard to restrain something that was about to break out of him. “It is a time when we lose control over our emotions and impulses”, he said in a pained and humiliated tone, “A time when the mating drive outweighs all other considerations. We become irrational, volatile, even aggressive. I apologize for the way I accosted you in the turbolift.” He looked up and stared at her, looking very sorry and aggressive at the same time. Then he continued, with increasing effort to keep his voice steady: “I knew that my pon farr was approaching and planned to resolve it by meditation and mental discipline. And that is exactly what I did. It is very hard, but it was going well. Until we passed the radiation field.” He let out an agonized moan. “The effect of the radiation increased my neurochemical imbalance five-fold, too much for me to handle. The blood fever started immediately. I cannot…” He growled. “It is taking me everything I have got to control myself.”

Teresa reached out a sympathetic hand, but he backed away as though he had been stung. “Do not touch me!”, he hissed and let out another growl. Teresa quickly drew back her hand, looking apologetic. After a few seconds or so, he looked apologetic too, and said faintly: “Not yet.”

She nodded.

“Usually”, he continued as soon as he felt able to, “Vulcans are assigned a mate in childhood. They perform a mind meld, so that they go through pon farr at the same time when they are adults. I, too, was assigned a mate.”

Teresa could not help but feel a surge of despair at these words, but it dissipated quickly when he continued: “Unfortunately, my assigned mate died ten years ago, before we could ever be joined.”

Teresa did not know what to say except: “I am very sorry to hear that.”

Spock did not seem to have time for commiserations, because he waved these words away and continued, speaking ever more quickly: “I decided that now that T’Pring had died, I wanted to choose my mate on my own, if ever I wanted to. My father disapproved, but that is immaterial… I haven’t chosen another since then, however. I went through my first pon farr seven years ago the same way I have been this time, which is why I was confident I could overcome it again. But now…”, he breathed, looking at her with a numb expression in his eyes, “everything is different. The effects of the radiation are too much for me. If I do not want to die, I must mate with someone. Immediately.” The look in his eyes became imploring and he leant forwards. “We are too far from Vulcan or any other Federation planet at this moment. If I take a mate… just for this one occasion, of course…, it has to be someone on this ship.” He came even closer, leaning his weight unto his fists. “You are the only one here I… could imagine undergoing this with. The only I… could feel… comfortable with.”

Teresa was quite moved by this revelation and looked at him tenderly. “I feel honoured. Of course I will help you.” She wondered what it would be like and felt a confusing mixture of the passionate, desperate eagerness to be close to him, which she had been subject to for such a long time, and a realistic resignation at the fact that she should be under no illusions concerning the nature of this encounter.

All the muscles in his body seemed to relax for a moment and he took a deep breath with his mouth open. “Thank you”, he breathed, moving on all fours like a cat about to jump, but he stopped himself in mid-movement and backed away again. “I am sorry”, he whispered sadly, his voice very hoarse again. “I feel I am using you. I am aware of your emotions towards me, of your desires.” He shuddered again. “I know that you wish me to mate with you for your own sake, not just in order to save my life. Not like this.”

These words made Teresa feel a renewed sadness and increased regard for him at the same time. He was telling her that this would not have happened under different circumstances. She understood and was not hurt by this declaration. At the same time, she was moved by the fact that he was considerate enough to worry about hurting her feelings at a time when he was almost being driven to madness by his biological urges.

She smiled a wry, but affectionate smile. “Don’t worry”, she assured him gently. “I will gladly suffer some heartache in order to save your life.” It was true, and she tried not to think of how she would feel once she had left his quarters and was back in her own, all alone with her memories of what had transpired. And of how she would meet his eyes again the next time she was on duty.

Another profound sigh of relief. But he remained motionless on all fours, gazing at her as though he was waiting for something.

“Well”, she said, unsure of what she was supposed to say and bracing herself for whatever would come next. “I am ready.”

This was the end of his self-control. He plunged at her, throwing her over onto the bed. She felt him right on top of her, his agitated breathing on her face. It felt like she was about to be eaten by a large animal.

“Spock!”, she shouted, recoiling from his grip.

He froze, looking slightly embarrassed, but mainly upset at the interruption. But he clenched his teeth and asked politely: “What?”

“I know you’re in a hurry and I understand. But could you maybe try to make this feel less like an attack and more like… an experience we can both… enjoy… at least one that feels bearable?” She took a deep breath, trying to recover from the start this sudden onslaught had given her.

He slowly and carefully removed his hands from her wrists. “Forgive me”, he sighed, breathing a little more slowly. “I will try.” He gazed at her, unsure of what to do next.

“Is there anything I should know about Vulcan mating practices?”, she asked, staring up at his face and trying to diffuse the situation. “Are they very different from human ones?”

“Not very, as far as I know”, he answered. “I have never… actually mated with anyone before.”

“But you know what to do?”, she asked, immediately feeling silly for doubting it.

“Of course I do!”, he replied forcefully.

“Of course you do”, she said firmly, trying to smile encouragingly. “Well, go ahead.”

He hesitated for a second and then slowly lowered his head closer to her. Teresa did not know exactly what to expect, but his next action took her a little by surprise after all. The fingers of his right hand began caressing those of her left hand, which was lying next to her head. She decided to return the gesture. He sighed and relaxed a little. This went on for a minute or so, then he lowered his head even further and brushed with his lips against the skin of her hand, breathing in deeply. He moved his lips along her wrist, up her arm and along her collarbone up to her neck. His hands wandered up her arms, too, and came to rest on her shoulders. His touch was surprisingly gentle in comparison to how he had approached her only shortly before. She felt that her own breathing began to accelerate. It was unclear whether he noticed.

This touching of hands, the xenoanthropologist in her thought for a moment, felt like an initiation ritual.

He had seen her desires in her mind, she soon remembered, as his lips came ever closer to hers and hovered over her mouth for a moment before he lowered his head and began kissing her carefully. When their lips met, she could not help but feel an electric charge surge through her body, and she drew a sharp breath. He gave up any distance that had been left between their bodies and grasped her shoulders more tightly, pulling her towards him. The kiss did not stay careful for long, though. The proximity between them quickly robbed him of the little self-restraint he had exhibited. The hunger quickly overtook him.

Everything else happened very fast after that. They speedily got rid of their clothes, while he held onto her as to a lifeboat. There was no time for any passionate exploration of each other’s bodies as might have taken place between lovers; only the fast resolution of the pon farr was relevant. At first, she watched him in commiseration because she could see the reluctance and self-disgust in his eyes, mingled with unbridled desire. But soon she found that she was unable to stay calm. Emotion and arousal started boiling up inside her, as she was feeling him so close to her and looked into his pale green eyes (although his gaze was far removed from her; it was as though he was looking through her instead of at her). She closed her eyes.

After a while, he seemed to become aware of the state she was in, and he paused for a moment. “You are enjoying this”, she heard him observe in a bewildered murmur.

She was unable to speak. She merely looked at him sheepishly, as though to say: Well, what did you expect? I really can’t help it.

He kept staring at her in wonder for a moment before he continued. Now he was not looking through her anymore, but at her. The reluctance and self-disgust in his eyes had melted away. He was actively watching her reactions, which made her feel slightly embarrassed, because for the first time she was around him, she was unable to control her emotional expression. He noticed even this. It seemed that now that resolution was within reach, the madness of the blood fever was retreating, and he regained some of his presence of mind. In order to diffuse her newly emerged shyness, he lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers again. Kissed her, still panting. Kissed her with emphasis. Put his hands around her face. Became less like a man performing a distasteful task and more like a lover. Teresa, who could not hold back a shaky, entranced moan in reaction to this renewed contact with his lips, let herself fall thankfully into this new situation, knowing it would be over much too soon. Once he had ceased these kisses, he looked at her again and found her eyes wide open and fixated on him, while they and the rest of her facial expression were full of incredulous rapture, earnest devotion, intense and unbridled yearning and, at the same time, a profound and vulnerable sadness.

And then it was over. She watched him anxiously as his breathing slowly grew calmer, the expression on his face more relaxed and awake. Some of his Vulcan restraint returned. He seemed a little disoriented at first, but then he fully regained his presence of mind. Looked at her as though he truly saw her for the first time only now. Gulped. Let out a last agitated breath. And then he disentangled his limbs from hers and fell onto the bed by her side, feeling the blood fever ebbing further and further away, burying his face in his hands once more.

Teresa was left staring at the ceiling, with her chest heaving and with the same wide-eyed expression on her face she had been wearing for the last few moments. A few seconds later, however, her eyes flickered and she caught herself, turned around to him and rested her head on her elbow, scrutinizing him silently. After two minutes or so, she asked: “Is it over now? Will you be alright?”

He pulled his hands down from his face and returned her gaze. “Yes”, he said in a relieved tone. “Thank you.” Then the look in his eyes became almost melancholy. “I owe you my life.”

“I’m glad I could help”, she said quietly. “You don’t owe me anything.”

He kept gazing at her, looking almost vulnerable. “You love me”, he said after a while; a factual statement, uttered in slight disbelief.

She smiled sadly. “I do. Very much.” It seemed quite fitting and easy to admit to this; she was naked in the literal sense of the word, anyway, and reeling from their intimate encounter.

For some reason, he looked almost moved to tears. She was quite shocked. Seeing Spock like this was like watching a camel fly; it seemed impossible. The only other time she had seen him in tears, he had not been his usual self, either, but a victim of that strange virus that had stripped everyone of their inhibitions. “I was completely taken by surprise when I saw it in your mind”, he admitted. “You had concealed it very well.”

She broke into another sad smile. “I thought I had to”, she said.

“I know.”

They looked at each other for a moment, then he rubbed his eyes with his fingers.

“How do you feel?”, she asked.

“In a way, I feel empty”, he remarked. “There was this terrible storm raging inside me, and now it has suddenly dissipated. But I feel much better. But not quite… normal yet. I estimate that will take a while longer.”

It was like watching Spock stripped of his mental armour. His usual serenity and control of his emotions had not returned yet. He seemed… utterly human. Teresa was deeply intrigued and felt a burning curiosity, but also felt like an intruder, watching something indecent. With an effort, she turned away and straightened up. “I guess I should leave now”, she said. “Give you some privacy.”

“No!” She had been about to slip off the bed and collect her clothes when a hand emerged and gripped her wrist. “I mean”, he suddenly stammered, surprised at himself. “I am feeling a most unusual desire for… companionship and intimacy.” He frowned. “As far as I know, this is not part of the pon farr.” He seemed more confused and vulnerable than ever. Teresa resisted the urge to hug him.

She had frozen on the edge of the bed. “Maybe”, she said insecurely, “maybe because you are half human, it is different for you. You said Vulcans lose all self-control? What if your self-control takes a little longer to return? Your Vulcan urges have been satisfied now. Maybe now your human side is surfacing, unchecked, and experiencing some aftereffects of your condition. For a while.”

He had listened closely to her hypothesis. “Indeed”, he said and raised his eyebrows. “It is possible.”

She watched him, even more intrigued. “I can stay”, she offered, not at all opposed to this possibility.

“Please”, he surprised himself again. “… For a while.”

She lay down beside him once more. For a moment, neither of them knew what to say next. Spock’s gaze wandered over her face, her hair, her shoulders. And then he remembered: “You enjoyed it.”

“Why is that a surprise to you?”

He sat up. “I thought you would find the circumstances of this encounter too painful to enjoy it.”

“Because you said you were using me?”, she asked, also sitting up.

His frown deepened. “Yes.”

“I’m not quite sure. Maybe the thought of ‘being used’ did not enter my head. I could only think of how this would save your life and… the way it felt.”

He was speechless for a moment. Then he whispered: “I believe I am beginning to understand a little why humans are so much driven by their desire for intimacy and sex. Why it makes them so illogical and irrational.”

She laughed. “And if love is involved, every last ounce of logic can be lost.”

He frowned again. “You never let your emotions impair your logic.”

“Not anymore”, she admitted. “I think. I try. Maybe it helps to know that…” she was whispering now, “… that you do not return my feelings. It provides me with a lot of self-restraint and much needed sanity.”

He looked uncomfortable now. “That is not…”, he hesitated, “entirely true.”

Teresa’s eyes widened in shock. Spock pressed his lips together and continued. “I do harbour… some… affection for you”, he said faintly. “Affection that exceeds the kind I have for other females I have developed a close relationship with, like… Doctor McKennah. I have also always been aware of your many… attractions.” His hand moved towards her face and touched a curl of her hair, but then he pulled it back. “But I am Vulcan”, he emphasized. “I do not indulge in such considerations. I do not allow them to grow. They do not guide my actions, or my decisions. In that sense, you are correct in assuming that I do not return your feelings.”

Teresa was speechless for a while, stunned by the emotional rollercoaster this sequence of information had sent her on. Then she raised her eyebrows. “You are also half human.”

“Which only means that I cannot have the same degree of total control over my emotions like those who are fully Vulcan”, he recited. It sounded like this was something he had already told himself countless times. “But I am not at all like humans.”

“If you say so”, Teresa said, not completely convinced.

He raised his eyebrows once again, and then he suddenly looked insecure. “That is… right now, I feel very different. It is disconcerting”, he complained.

Teresa could not help but start laughing. He looked like an unsatisfied and indignant child. His indignance increased for a moment when he saw this, but then his facial expression relaxed, and she saw the most remarkable and unforgettable thing of all: he smiled. Her laughter died in her chest immediately, and before she knew what she was doing, she had raised her hand and touched his lips with her fingertips. His smile faded, too, and he watched her, suddenly looking more vulnerable than ever.

His hand closed around hers and led it away from his mouth. But Teresa quickly understood that this was not meant as an act of rejection when he leant closer towards her and murmured: “I wonder…”

“What?”, she asked, holding her breath.

His own hand glided up towards her mouth, his fingers running over her lips. “This intimate experience has been most… illuminating”, he said quietly. “I find myself desiring more… but this time”, he caught himself, withdrawing his hand, “It would really not be fair to you. In a few hours I will be my usual self again. You will find me much changed. This desire is only very temporary… and very irrational. And irresponsible.”

Teresa hesitated. But she felt she was sure of herself. “If I can help you gather more human experiences”, she told him, unable to restrain the slightly seductive tone that had suddenly entered her voice, “I will gladly do so. Anyway”, she continued more soberly, when he looked extremely sceptical and unsettled by her change in tone, “I prefer being intimate with you for only a little while to not being intimate with you at all.”

Now it was he who was lost for words. But he collected himself and said: “If you truly think that…? I would not want to hurt your feelings. But my experience tells me that you always know exactly what you are doing and where your boundaries are. You have what Doctor McKennah would call ‘emotional intelligence’ or ‘self-awareness’… or ‘mindfulness’.”

“Thank you”, she whispered and moved closer. His eyes widened. Her lips met his with the impact of a butterfly setting down.

He sharply drew breath and pulled her closer. The kiss stayed gentle, however, with both of them making the most of the sensation and the sweetness of it. Teresa felt very soft, her hands carefully diving into his hair. His fingers caressed her cheeks, her neck, her shoulders, and moved even further down.

They slowly moved back into a lying position, him placed beside her, his arm around her. Acting on an impulse, her hand sought his and began stroking his fingers like he had done at the beginning of all this. He responded quite vehemently, pulling her even closer, kissing her more urgently. His lips wandered down her throat. They clasped their hands into one another’s.

They got entangled in an ever-tighter embrace, and soon they both thought in shock that they had overstepped some kind of barrier. Engaging in this act in order to save his life had been one thing, but this was something entirely different. Something had gone terribly wrong. They would never be able to return to normal after this. But as Spock had already explained, the new normal could never be what she so much desired, Teresa thought. So instead, it would consist of even more awkwardness and distancing. But they were not able to stop. It was too late anyway. Teresa let herself fall completely into this new embrace, pushing any doubts and other unpleasant thoughts to the remotest corner of her mind. He plunged into the experience with a burning curiosity, in amazed excitement and with a tenderness that he himself was astonished by. She clung to him, only able to think of how marvellous it was to be like this with this person she loved so achingly at least once in her life, dreading the moment it would all be over.

And then it was, once again, over. She lay in his arms, at first unable to move, breathing into the bedcovers. At a loss, he quietly kept stroking her neck, cheeks, and shoulders. Fingers like gentle butterflies fluttering over her skin.

She finally turned around to look at him again. He looked thoughtful and visibly aghast at what had just happened. After hesitating for a split second, he pressed a last gentle kiss onto her lips.

It took a long time until either of them spoke again. He kept holding her in his arms, but no one made any further movements. They just looked at each other.

“I – “, he finally began, but did not say anything else. This was a mistake, his eyes said.

I know, she answered.

He opened his mouth again and sighed, observing her. “This was most…”

“… illuminating”, she finished his sentence.

He raised his eyebrows. His mind seemed to be working furiously.

“How do you feel?”, she asked.

“Less… ‘human’… by the minute.”

She smiled courageously. “Then we have achieved our goal. You have been cured”, she said in a teasing voice that sounded false and inappropriate. He did not smile again.

“You have been bruised”, he murmured, gently pushing a strand of hair out of her face.

“I’ll be alright.”

He looked less than convinced.

“I will!”, she emphasised. “The last thing I want is for you to have a bad conscience. I made a choice and I stand by it.”

He gritted his teeth.

“A bad conscience is a human weakness”, she tried to argue him into indifference.

His eyes widened; he felt caught. “I am half human”, he whispered. And bent down and kissed her cheek, indecisively. “I cannot!”, he then suddenly burst out and turned away.

She sat up, observing him with a soft expression in her eyes. “You don’t need to do anything”, she said. And smiled.

He returned her gaze with a stony face. “You are too kind to me”, he remarked.

“I want to be kind to you. I tell you when I think you are in the wrong, as you well know. You are not in the wrong now. This was wonderful. I’m glad it happened. And I will walk out of here without any regrets. I know you are worried. Don’t be. I know that even when you are your most Vulcan self, you are not free of your emotions. I see them even when you are not aware of them yourself. I know you too well.”

He looked shocked and exceedingly nervous. “I am in control”, he said, almost like a mantra.

She smiled sympathetically and just looked at him, without saying anything else. His demeanour and facial expression were indeed becoming more Vulcan by the minute. He sighed quietly.

They both started when they heard the Doctor’s voice come through the communications panel. “McCoy to Juárez”, it said.

Teresa got up, walked to the wall and pressed the button on the panel. “Juárez here.”

“Is everything… alright?”, he asked anxiously, trying to sound professional and unembarrassed. He must be worried about her because much more time had passed than he had anticipated.

Teresa looked over to Spock, who was sitting upright between his bedsheets, watching her with an expressionless face. “Everything’s alright”, she said. “Mr. Spock is back to normal.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He sounded relieved. “Well, then… McCoy out.”

She walked towards the bed and slowly began to put her dress back on, with Spock watching her silently. He then got up and put on some kind of loose Vulcan robe, which looked quite noble. Teresa was impressed but did not let it show. She had never seen him in anything else except his uniform.

“I’m overjoyed you’re alive”, she finally said with all the gravitas she could muster.

She had been wrong about him being completely back to normal. He looked tense and quite out of his depth. Cautiously, she approached him and soothingly rearranged the hair falling onto his forehead. He inhaled through his nose to calm himself, straightening up further until he stood very tall, looking at her.

“I will let you meditate now”, she said gently, because it was obvious that this was what he desperately needed.

His mouth opened slightly, and his eyes were full of all the unspoken thoughts on his mind. She was about to turn away, but he carefully gripped her by her arms for one last time and firmly placed a kiss on her forehead. It was a gesture that sealed and ended everything that had transpired between them. She understood.

“Good night”, she said. He did not answer, but it was not necessary.

Chapter Text

Stardate 36860.4 (August 2268)

They did not see each other again until two days later. Teresa was alone in the turbolift, on her way up to deck three. On deck ten, the doors opened. In front of her stood Spock, all by himself. His eyes widened and he drew breath. “Lieutenant.”

“Spock (!)”

He stepped into the lift, the doors closing, and positioned himself next to her. He pressed the handle. “Bridge.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the lift. They glanced at each other furtively and then quickly looked away. He made a great effort to stare directly in front of him in a dignified manner, his hands clasped behind his back, then, after a few seconds, he looked down, his eyes darting from side to side, his jaw tense. Teresa watched him out of the corner of her eye.

She decided to break the silence. “I trust you are fully recovered."

He turned his head towards her, trying to look nothing but perfectly polite. “Yes, I am, thank you.” Their eyes met briefly. Another silence. “You are well, too, I hope?”

“Oh, yes”, she nodded emphatically.

Both resumed their silent examination of the doors. A few seconds later they opened onto deck three. Teresa stepped out. “Have a good day, Spock”, she said, feeling like an utter failure at social interaction.

“The same to you”, he replied, his eyes glittering as the turbolift doors closed in front of him.

She remained in the same spot for a few seconds, listening to the sound of the turbolift moving higher upwards. Vulcan ‘peace of mind’ and ‘self-confidence’, she thought. Don’t make me laugh.

Chapter Text

Stardate 36876.8 (September 2268)

A few weeks passed; it did not get much better. They tried to have a normal conversation once in a while, but the attempts were doomed to fail. Teresa sorely missed his friendship, their intellectual exchanges and the meditation sessions. Oh well. Some three weeks after the fateful night, Kirk intercepted Spock in a hallway.

“Spock!”

“Captain.”

“I’m going to the Hernandez’ wedding party. Are you coming along?”

“I was just going to meditate…”

“You’re always meditating lately. Get out a bit. Have some fun.”

Spock raised his eyebrows. Kirk chuckled. “I mean, socialise a bit. Witness some more human customs.”

“I have been to wedding parties before.”

“Never a Latin American one, I wager.”

“No”, he replied, with a blatant lack of enthusiasm.

“For scientific interest, then.”

Spock knew he had no choice. So he followed Kirk, set on not staying longer than fifteen minutes.

The officer’s mess was decorated with a lot of flowers and colourful garlands. It seemed like half of the crew was there, drinking, chattering and laughing. Music was blasting through the room and in the far-left corner, some 30 people were dancing. Spock did not pay much attention to them.

“Salsa”, Kirk remarked to Spock, as they made their way towards Doctor McCoy.

“Indeed”, Spock replied. “A genre that is extremely long-lived.”

“Jim! Spock!”, McCoy exclaimed as they approached him. “What an unexpected pleasure. What did you do to drag him here, Jim?”

“I can be very persuasive”, Kirk answered smugly. Spock raised his eyebrows.

“It’s a great party”, McCoy continued. “The mood is phantastic, and I really enjoy watching the dancers. Some of them are very good.”

Kirk and Spock followed his gaze. People were dancing salsa in pairs or alone, looking like they were thoroughly enjoying themselves. Spock only watched them for a short moment and then let his eyes wander over the rest of the gathering.

“My god”, Kirk remarked after a minute or so. “Lieutenant Juárez is a natural. I have seldom seen anyone dance salsa so well.”

Spock’s head jerked back into the direction of the dancers. Indeed, there she was, in a pretty red dress with a wide, knee-length skirt, dancing with Ensign Rodríguez, moving gracefully to the music, twirling around, a lot of hip involved. There was a broad grin on her face; she looked extremely happy and free. Her dancing was quite sensual. And she looked, if it was at all possible, even more attractive than usual.

Neither Kirk nor McCoy could take their eyes off her. Spock frowned, but could not look away, either.

When a new song began, she switched from Rodríguez to Sulu, who was a great deal less accomplished than the Ensign. But she seemed to have a great time showing him the steps, still looking as graceful and attractive as before, her long, thick, dark brown and wavy-curly hair falling freely down her back and swinging around.

When she finally became aware of the several pairs of eyes resting on her, she blushed and paused for a moment. But what surprised her more than anything else was Spock’s face. He seemed almost upset, gazing at her intently, with a grave and slightly frustrated expression. He looked away as soon as she caught him staring, but his eyes darted back towards her after a few seconds. He looked… unsettled. She had not noticed him come into the room.

She chose to ignore him and resumed her dancing. Sulu was quite an entertaining partner. But after a while she glanced back to Spock, who was still observing her, unable to look away, still the same expression on his face. The Captain and McCoy were talking to each other, not watching her anymore.

Suddenly feeling very reckless, she decided to step up her game and began dancing as enticingly as she possibly could without crossing the threshold towards indecency. She did not exactly know why. It did not seem entirely fair. But she could not help herself. She enjoyed the sensation of being watched, did not mind that he probably knew that she was dancing this seductively in order to be watched by him. She was back with Rodríguez, who expertly whirled her around, looking very pleased.

It did not take long until half the men and some of the women in the room were following her movements with their eyes. She pretended not to notice. There was only one reaction she cared about, anyway. When she glanced at Spock for the next time, she was shocked by the change in him. His frown had deepened, and he looked almost stunned, tense, the frustration now clearly visible. He did not even look away when their eyes met. Instead, he raised his eyebrows and inhaled deeply, knowing exactly what she was doing. But he was unable to fight it, which was the cause of his disbelief and frustration. And the fact that he was frustrated at all was even more frustrating. And so on.

Quite stunned by this revelation herself, she thanked Rodríguez with a little playful bow and offered her hand to Hathaway instead, who gladly accepted it. The dancing continued for a few minutes, and almost every time she casually looked at Spock, he was staring at her in the same unsettled manner. When the next song was over, she saw Kirk give her an inviting smile and decided to walk over to him and the other two senior officers, catching her breath, her eyes sparkly and her cheeks rosy from the exercise.

“Lieutenant”, he said with a charming smile. “You are a wonderful dancer. Quite captivating.” Spock threw a furtive and calculating glance at him.

Teresa grinned. “Well, thank you, Captain. I have been dancing salsa all my life. My mother is from Colombia.”

“Your father?”

“England.”

“That explains your British accent.”

She laughed. “Oh, yes!”

“Well, Bones and Spock both agree with me”, Kirk told her, his charming smile widening. “Don’t you, Bones?”

“Oh, yes”, McCoy said, smiling at her, too, and throwing a questioning and curious glance at Spock.

He knows, Teresa remembered.

All three of them looked at Spock now, Teresa apprehensive, although she did not show it. Spock hesitated for a moment, then stated politely: “Indeed. Most skilful.”

“Thank you.” She smiled shyly. Don’t be so coy, she told herself, and decided to treat him as though nothing in the world was wrong. Her smile grew warmer and more open. He looked back, expressionlessly.

“I have never danced salsa before”, Kirk revealed.

“Would you like me to show you?”, she brightly offered, which he gladly accepted. He let her lead him away and show him the steps. It looked like they were having a very good time. Spock’s frown deepened once again.

“Spock”, McCoy finally addressed him.

“Doctor?”, he answered in his usual calm and collected voice, looking at him instead of the dancefloor.

“You have been staring at her without interruption for the past half hour, making quite a face.”

Spock’s expression became soft and innocent as soon as McCoy had finished this utterance. “Doctor, I do not ‘make faces’.”

“Yes, you do. You did.”

“I assure you that anything you chose to read into my face was a product of your own overactive imagination.”

McCoy looked as though he was about to hurl one of his favourite insults at him, but he stopped himself and took a sip from his drink instead. For a few more minutes, Spock watched the dancefloor with an impenetrable expression.

When Teresa looked up from Kirk’s feet again, Spock had gone.

Chapter Text

Five and a half hours later, she was awake again. No matter how much she tried, she could not go back to sleep. The effect of the meditation had evaporated; a million thoughts were racing through her head. Sometimes even the best tranquilization could not keep the brain from working furiously if it really wanted to. And suddenly she did not want to sleep any more. She got up, dressed, and started wandering along the near-deserted corridors of Voyager, only spotting two people of the night shift from afar.

As she was aware of her obligation not to find out too much about the 24th century, she resisted the urge to start exploring all the rooms, labs, storage bays or whatever else could be discovered. She ended up strolling into the mess hall, which was completely dark, save the light from the stars outside, and deserted. Or, on closer inspection, not completely deserted.

“Captain! What are you doing here at this hour?”

Captain Janeway turned away from the window she was standing in front, recognizing Teresa, and smiled. “Call me Kathryn.”

As Teresa looked surprised, she chuckled and explained: “There’s only one person here who calls me by my first name now and then, and that is Chakotay. And… I think it would be nice to have one more person with whom I could be a little less… formal. As you’re not a regular member of my crew and, if everything goes well, you never will be, I think you would be the perfect choice. Also, I like you.”

Teresa broke into a wide and sympathetic smile. “Alright. Kathryn. I like you, too. You can call me Teresa, as well.”

“Teresa.”

“Well”, Teresa tried again after another affectionate smile, “why are you up at this hour?”

Janeway sighed, and after a moment of deliberation, admitted: “It sometimes happens to me. You see, three and a half years ago, I made a decision. This decision protected an alien race from harm, but it also meant that I had to destroy the only means that Voyager had of getting back to the Alpha Quadrant the same way it came.”

Teresa was speechless for a moment and felt a rush of pity. Then she said: “That was very selfless of you. To put the good of an unknown alien race over your own and that of your crew. It was the Starfleet thing to do.”

Janeway let out an even deeper sigh. “Yes. But it also meant that I doomed my crew to this… odyssey and the fact that it’s very much possible that only very few of us, maybe none at all, will ever see their homes and loved ones again.”

“Captain”, Teresa interrupted her before she could dig herself deeper into this rabbit hole of guilt, “Kathryn. You should not feel guilty… for doing the right thing.”

Janeway exhaled sharply. “Thank you. You’re very kind. Why are you already awake?”

“I don’t know, I…”, Teresa hesitated. “The first night here, I was so exhausted I slept like a baby, but today… I have a lot to process.”

“That’s understandable.”

Teresa gave a slightly incredulous laugh. “Spock even helped me meditate before sleep, but… I woke up again after five hours nonetheless.”

“You and Commander Spock seem to be quite close”, the Captain remarked.

Another soft laugh from Teresa. “Huh. Yes, well, … that we are. Not as close as I would like to be, but…” She suddenly interrupted herself, aghast, staring at the Captain in utter shock. “Why did I just tell you that?”, she whispered, while Janeway broke into a wide and sympathetic smile. “Uh… I’ve never told that to anyone, except in a letter to one close friend back on Earth.”

“Well, I feel honoured that you should confide in me”, Janeway said gently. “Don’t worry; I won’t tell a soul.”

With an incredulous look around the room, Teresa muttered: “Thank you. Being here on Voyager… This experience seems to be having quite an effect on me. I seem to be letting down my guard… at an alarming rate.”

“You have a lot to get used to.”

“Quite.”

“Mr. Spock is a remarkable man.”

“He is.” She broke into a melancholy smile. “But it is a very bad idea to fall in love with someone who follows his people’s philosophy of ridding themselves of all emotion and who would, in all probability, only choose a partner for logical reasons.”

“And being a logical choice would not be enough for you”, Janeway guessed.

“No, definitely not, even if I was a logical choice in his view, which I’m not sure I am. That would probably be a Vulcan woman.”

“I get the impression that Mr. Spock is not quite like other Vulcans”, Captain Janeway said thoughtfully. “After all, he’s half human.”

Teresa grinned. “Yes, but he’s many times gone out of his way to assure us that his Vulcan genes are dominant. And it’s true, in many respects. But yes, his human side is there.”

“He seems to me somehow… more approachable than the other Vulcans I’ve met. Except Tuvok”, Janeway corrected herself a little, “Tuvok and I are good friends. He’s been my confidante for a long time now. I know that deep down… some emotions are there. Hidden, buried, but there.”

Teresa looked out at the stars. “Oh, the emotions are there, alright. And Spock is more emotional than a full-blooded Vulcan. He once told me that on the Vulcan home planet, everyone used to call him ‘overemotional’.” She snorted. “Imagine that. But he fights them; they’re in his way. Not that he’s always successful. And I notice many of them, much more than anyone else does.”

“You seem to know him very well.”

“I do, but it’s not only that. Have you ever been on Vulcan?”, she asked Janeway, who shook her head. “I have, twice, for several months, before I met Spock. I have an ambivalent relationship to Vulcan culture. It fascinates me, impresses me, inspires me. But after some time, I felt almost dead inside. There’s no celebration of joy on Vulcan, none. Only logic. Their art is a different matter; they do express their emotions through it, sometimes in a very moving way, but it is always somehow... quite melancholy. Not joyful at all. Anyway, I learned to read Vulcan emotions. For the first days, I only saw stony faces everywhere, but after I while I understood that there’s something to be found under the surface; you only must look hard. After a while, even the slightest twitch of a face muscle, even the faintest glimmer in the eye, seemed like an outburst. I’m sure you know this from Tuvok.”

“A little”, Janeway admitted. “But I admit that I often still feel very bad at reading him.”

“I’m fairly good at reading Spock. At least I think I am; maybe I’m wrong.”

“We’re often the most attentive to those we love”, Janeway said.

“Without a doubt.”

“May I ask; does he know?”

Teresa sighed. “Yes, he does. Not that I told him, at least willingly.” And she told her the story of the mind meld on Taurus IV, while Janeway listened in commiseration.

“That must have been hard for you.”

“It was, but the hardest part is that since then, things between us have been very awkward. We used to be good and increasingly intimate friends, but for most of the past few months on the Enterprise, we were avoiding each other. He seemed… very uncomfortable with the knowledge. There’s been a considerable improvement since we arrived on Voyager, probably because each other is the only thing we have left from our former lives at the moment. But I wonder how long that will go well.”

“I certainly hope it will continue to go well; for both your sakes.”

Teresa smiled again, full of affection for Janeway. “You know, Capt- … Kathryn, it feels extremely liberating to be able to talk to someone about this.”

“I’m glad. Few people here confide in me like that. Captain’s fate.”

After a moment’s silence and more stargazing, Teresa added: “Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if… it didn’t continue to go well between us. Don’t they say one shouldn’t spend too much time on unrequited love?”

“Do you want to forget him?”

“No”, came the answer, without any hesitation. “To be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to. But, if we get back to our time, the Enterprise’s five-year-mission will be over in fourteen months, and it’s very possible that after that, we will never see each other again.”

“Of course. But what if you will stay here on Voyager after all?”

“Then… there’s no escape”, Teresa laughed, ironically, desperately, thoughtfully, hopefully, happily, relievedly, anxiously.

An hour later, Neelix appeared in the mess hall, opening up his kitchen. He was startled when he saw Teresa at the window. “Teresa! Good morning. Already here?”

“I woke up early”, she smiled. “And thought I would help you in the kitchen.”

“That’s very nice”, he said happily. He showed her different tasks she could perform, but she also had a few ideas of her own that he was happy to let her carry out while they chatted about this and that. She had her own breakfast in between her tasks. When Spock arrived in the mess hall one and half hours later, they had prepared all the breakfast options and were making the first arrangements for lunch. Strictly speaking, the mealtimes were called ‘breakfast’, ‘lunch’ and ‘dinner’ only in reference to the alpha shift; the beta and gamma shifts naturally had these meals at different hours, which is why breakfast, lunch and dinner options were all available in the kitchen as long as it was open but were typically freshly prepared by Neelix before the times the alpha shift came in for them. During the gamma shift – the night shift (which also had the least personnel on duty) – the kitchen was usually closed, which meant that those few poor souls who had to work while everybody else slept were at least allocated more replicator rations. Teresa and Spock had, completely naturally, aligned their daily rhythm with the alpha shift.

“Good morning”, she beamed at Spock, when he appeared in front of the food selection.

“Good morning”, he answered, somewhat surprised, his eyes wandering over the kitchen. “Did you sleep well?”

“Short, but well”, she said and out of nowhere, placed a plate in front of him. “Some tel-dor?”

It was one of his most frequent dishes for breakfast. Spock raised both eyebrows, looked at the food, looked and her, and asked: “Did you make that?”

“She did”, Neelix told him proudly, while Teresa looked pleased with herself. “And some other things.”

“Fascinating”, Spock said. “I look forward to it.”

“Maybe try it before you get too excited”, she joked and laughed.

Spock took a spoonful and looked impressed. “Very good. I did not know you knew how to prepare Vulcan food.”

“Well, I learned some things when – …”

“… – when you were on Vulcan”, he finished her sentence. “Of course.” It sounded almost resigned. He had put on his affectionate, but thoughtful expression again.

“And thanks to my excellent memory”, she smiled, “I never forgot again. Enjoy your breakfast.”

“Thank you.” He went away to sit down at one of the tables. Within half a minute, some people had approached him and asked to sit next to him.

“That must be annoying for him”, Neelix commented, who was watching the scene together with Teresa. “Tuvok usually eats alone and prefers to read.”

“Vulcans are never annoyed, Neelix”, Teresa said, but accompanied this claim with a wink.

“Tuvok gets annoyed with me all the time. ‘Mr. Neelix’, he then says, ‘please contain your exuberance’.”

She laughed. “You two are very different; that’s true.”

“Janeway to Juárez”, it sounded through her comm badge.

“Juárez here.”

“I have assigned Ensign Li to introduce you to the airponics bay. He is waiting for you there.”

“Thank you, Captain. We’ll be there soon.”

For a few minutes she kept cutting vegetables, glancing over to Spock from the corner of her eye now and then. He seemed to be perfectly polite to the people surrounding him, but Teresa was sure he would have preferred some peace and quiet; Neelix was right. Therefore, as soon as his bowl was empty, she decided to rescue him. After letting Neelix know that she was now switching to another task, she strode over to his table. “Ready to get started on the airponics bay?”, she asked, smiling sideways to everyone. “Someone’s already there, waiting for us.” She noticed that all the people around Spock were observing them both attentively.

“Affirmative”, he answered, getting up maybe a little too readily and tucking down his uniform shirt. Teresa quietly grinned to herself.

“Excuse me”, Spock said to his fans, and they were off, some people muttering under their breath behind them.

“Did the meditation not have the desired effect?”, he inquired as they were walking alone along the corridor.

“Oh, it did. Thank you for asking. I woke up too early, but I am sure I would have slept even worse without it. How are you?”

“As always.”

“Uhuh.”

The airponics bay was close (deck four); they walked the rest of the way in silence, only greeting familiar faces like Harry Kim and B’Elanna Torres.

The airponics bay was a large room with a high ceiling, apparently a converted cargo bay. Rows and rows of metal stands filled the entire bay, each stand holding three large soil boxes, two metres long and one metre wide, that were stacked on top of each other with gaps of 60 centimetres between them. Each of these boxes contained a bed full of a large variety of plants and vegetables. To reach the highest boxes, one needed to stand on a stool, several of which were assembled in a corner. Teresa could not help but think that the yield could easily be maximized by building much taller stands, as the ceiling was so high, but if the Voyager crew considered the current yield to be sumptuous enough, who was she to make suggestions for improvement and increase the work effort necessary to maintain it all. As she thought more about it, she was glad that she would not have to climb ladders and move the seedlings and the harvest up and down the stands with ropes or anti-grav units. With the help of accelerated growth techniques, which had already been well established in the 23rd century, the crew could probably be well fed out of the airponics bay and with their replicator rations.

Ensign Li turned out to be a young and shy Chinese man in turquoise, who explained to them everything concerning the vegetables and herbs, the vegetable bed stands, environmental controls, the automatic irrigation system, usual tasks, things to watch out for and so on, looking at both of them, but especially at Spock, with awe. They thanked him, and when he was gone, Teresa threw herself into the close observation of every plant she could find, explaining to Spock each and every one of its properties. Some of them, neither of them had ever seen before.

“Probably from the Delta Quadrant”, Teresa said.

“It is unfortunate that we are not allowed to learn about the planets Voyager has visited”, Spock remarked.

“Yes, it is. Oh, look at this one’s roots.”

She pulled a small specimen out of its soil and held it up to the light. “I have never seen such strange ligaments before.”

“It is a little reminiscent of the ferns on Gotorran V”, he observed, feeling the roots with his fingers as the plant lay in her hand.

“Yes, but the skin is completely different”, Teresa continued. “I wonder what kind of soil they usually grow in.” And then, she suddenly realized that Spock was standing quite close to her, having been oblivious to the proximity when he had approached her to look at the plant. Their eyes met, their heads only 20 centimetres apart, and she could not stop herself from blushing. Dammit. She had never before blushed because of him, in front of him. They both took a step back, Spock clearing his throat and clasping his hands behind his back. Hiding her embarrassment and frustration, she bent down and buried the plant in its soil again.

The rest of the time was spent tending to the plants. They continued their botanical conversations, but with a safe distance. The awkwardness in their interactions had vanished again, but they worked on different stands.

When the work was done, Teresa excused herself and went to her quarters; she needed some time to herself. She spent almost the whole rest of the day reading books she found standing around in a small cupboard, meditating, exercising, doing yoga, listening to music, and thinking, not once leaving her quarters again. It was not an intentional act to avoid Spock; rather, she was following a sudden strong need for privacy. She was standing at the window, still listening to music, and gazing into space to see whether maybe the wormhole would appear again, when at around 20:00 hours her door beeped.

“Enter!”

It was Spock. She smiled. “Spock! Come in.”

He stepped in, the doors closing behind his back, and looked at her with a preoccupied expression. “I thought it would be wise to check on you, as you have not left your quarters for almost the whole day”, he said. “I hope I am not intruding.”

“Not at all”, she smiled, still standing at the window.

He paused and continued to observe her from afar in gentle preoccupation. “Are you alright?”

“Oh, I am”, she assured him. “Don’t worry. I just wanted some peace and quiet.” Her hair was open again, falling freely in soft waves and curls over her uniform.

“In that case, I should leave again.”

“No!”, she quietly exclaimed and looked apologetic. “Please stay. I’ve had enough peace and quiet.” She gestured towards the sofa.

He followed her invitation but joined her in front of the windows instead. “Have you not eaten?”, he asked with a frown, scrutinizing her face. “Neelix says you have not been back in the mess hall all day.”

“Oh, I have”, she laughed, touched by this protective enquiry. “I forgot to tell you. I talked to Captain Janeway this morning and she gave us permission to try out more of the replicated food as well, so that’s what I’ve been doing.” She gestured to the food replicator in the corner.

“I see”, he said, his eyes following in the direction she was pointing. “And was it to your satisfaction?”

“Definitely. It’ much better than what comes out of the Enterprise’s food synthesizer and much better than Neelix’ food, bless him.”

“That is not hard to imagine. From my conversations with different crew members today, I have surmised that his cooking is not very highly appreciated. The effort yes, the end result, however, not.”

Teresa laughed, full of pity. “Poor Neelix.”

“Indeed.”

“And what have you been doing since I last saw you?”

“I helped Neelix in the kitchen and apart from that, I wandered around the ship, meeting more members of the crew, and spending some time in conversation with Lieutenant Commander Tuvok. I also met another Vulcan, an ensign by the name of Vorik, who works in engineering. As expected, I was not allowed to visit engineering. I also saw Lieutenant T’Lara again; you will remember that she is the woman whose more complex ancestry fascinated us on our first night here, but she did not seem inclined to talk to me, so I could not ask her for more details. Finally, I also met Naomi Wildman, who did not stop asking me questions for more than half an hour and told me she had met you yesterday evening and that you were very ‘nice’.” He looked as if he could only agree, then paused to redirect his attention to the music playing in the background. “What are you listening to?”

“Billie Holiday”, Teresa answered. “A 20th-century black blues and jazz singer. I love the atmosphere her music creates.”

“Indeed; it is pleasant.”

“I have been exploring Voyager’s music database a little today”, she continued, turning away from the window, and proceeded to sit down on the sofa. “No music from after our time, of course.” She grinned. “I take the protection of the timeline very seriously. And I was brushing up on my knowledge about art.” She reached for a PADD that was lying on the sofa next to her and handed it to him. Spock took it and sat down next to her, leaving about one meter between them. Examining the photo of the painting that the PADD displayed with raised eyebrows, he asked: “What is the name of this painting?”

“It’s called Guernica”, Teresa explained, turning to sit sideways on the sofa and resting her cheek on her hand, so that she had a good view of the PADD in Spock’s hands. “By the 20th-century Spanish painter Pablo Picasso.”

“What is the meaning of that word?”

“It was the name of a Spanish town that was destroyed by German bombers in Spain’s civil war.”

“Were the Germans on the side of one of the warring factions?”, he inquired.

“Yes, they were”, Teresa confirmed. “Nazi Germany, that is. They were on the side of the Spanish fascists under General Francisco Franco.”

“I see.” He continued to contemplate the painting. “This painting is very… expressive. But I do not understand the symbolism.”

“Oh, I don’t understand everything, either. I was just reading up on it a little. Even experts are not sure what everything means. The bull symbolizes Spain, however. And the agony of the victims is obvious enough.”

“Indeed.” His thumb ran around the right rim of the painting, over the woman in flames. They were quiet for a moment, both contemplating the painting. Then he returned the PADD to her. “Unfortunately, my knowledge of Terran art is not as profound as it could be.”

“Neither is mine. This file is called ‘famous art throughout Earth’s history’ and I must admit that there are many things I myself have never seen before, either. We can look at it together if you like.”

“Certainly.” He moved closer towards her to see better.

More than one and a half hours passed this way. They looked at a number of paintings and artifacts, discussing them and their own preferences, Billie Holiday still crooning in the background. After a while, they started to stray away from the paintings in the file, however, instead taking turns to show each other their favourite works of art from any culture in the galaxy they could think of. The safety distance between them melted almost completely away, while they commented on the art in a very relaxed and intimate fashion, stimulated by the intellectual and aesthetic exchange. Teresa was very much aware of their physical proximity, however, and thought it impossible that Spock could be oblivious to it. However, their engaging conversation made it impossible for her to properly think about it.

Straying away from the established pattern at some point, Teresa showed Spock a short recording of flamenco dancing. “Fascinating”, he made. “Is that a dance you have learned as well?”

“Oh dear, no.” She shook her head, intrigued by the idea.

“I must admit I have never understood the appeal of dancing, apart from the fact that it is physical exercise and an exercise in coordination”, he remarked, sounding very Vulcan.

“Well, it is as they say: you never know until you try”, mumbled Teresa, already searching for the next work of art.

Spock was silent for a moment, and then he said: “I believe I might be prepared to try.”

“This… - what?!”

“I said I might be prepared to try”, he repeated calmly.

“You would?”

“Indeed I would.”

Teresa stared at him in absolute bewilderment, while he returned her gaze with complete innocence and Vulcan serenity.

“Forgive me – “, she stammered for a moment, then she caught herself, “this is something I would never have expected you to say.”

“It is a logical goal in life to gather a variety of experiences”, he proclaimed, in the same voice as the one he used when he was stating any other dry fact. “I do not see why dancing should not be among them.” And he looked at her as though in expectation.

She continued to look befuddled, especially when she understood the meaning of his expectant gaze. “What, now?”

Raising his eyebrows slightly, he answered: “It might be unlikely that many more opportunities like this one will present themselves.”

“You want me to teach you?”

“A logical choice; as you are qualified.”

She blinked, still not quite able to believe what she was hearing. But she caught herself and continued in a more matter-of-fact voice: “The problem is that often the appeal of dancing only becomes fully apparent when one has practiced enough.”

“I am a fast learner.”

She took a deep breath, still waiting for the moment when he would tell her that he had only been joking. However, joking like that was something even more foreign to Spock than dancing could ever be, so she decided to take him seriously. “… Alright. Um, I suppose you are referring to partner dance.”

“Affirmative. I do not believe that solitary dance is something I could contemplate.”

“It’s just, which one? Which dance?”

“What would you suggest?”

She took a moment to ponder this question, then she said slowly: “Well, I only know human dances. What about… waltz? It is quite formal and dignified” (which she thought would be more acceptable to a Vulcan) “and it is still sometimes danced at official events. And it’s very easy to learn.”

“That sounds reasonable.” Still that same innocent and serene facial expression.

“Alright”, she said again. “I will show you the basic steps.” They got up. “Computer, stop music.” Billie Holiday was not quite a fitting accompaniment for waltz. “Now imagine you are tracing a square with your feet, like this. One, two, three, one, two, three.” She demonstrated the steps, and he had no problems copying them. “Good. Now, the rhythm is important as well. In waltz, it is one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two three.” He imitated that without difficulties, too. “Alright.” She turned around to face him, explaining: “Now, waltz is still more traditional than other dances concerning the roles of leader and follower, although same-gender partners are not unheard of there, either. The man usually leads, and the woman follows. So”, now came the part she was nervous about, although she did not show it and looked him straight in the eye with ease and confidence, “the leader puts his hand here, right underneath the follower’s shoulder blade”, she placed his hand on her back, “the follower puts her hand here, on the shoulder. The other hands go together, like this. Hold your arm up.” He followed all her instructions without a word, with no trace of awkwardness. “Stand up tall, even a bit on your toes. Yes, like this. Now, my feet will mirror yours. Go ahead.” And they danced the first few furtive steps on the spot, with Teresa marvelling at the turn the evening had taken. “You’re right, you are a fast learner”, she praised him.

“As I said.”

“Now, we should not stay rooted to the spot like that. In waltz, people dance in circles and do turns around the room. Here, let me lead you. Don’t look at me, look over my shoulder.”

So, they started circling around the room, with Teresa still counting the rhythm. But she soon thought it was time for some real rhythm, which is why she said: “Very good! I believe we can… Computer, play the Second Waltz, Opus 99a, by Dmitri Shostakovich. It’s my favourite waltz.”

While they danced, she slowly began to smile. The situation was too peculiar to put into words, but she seriously started enjoying herself. What Spock was thinking was impossible to tell, because when he was not concentrating on his coordination, he glanced at her with the same innocence and serenity he had exhibited for the last fifteen minutes. After two minutes, she encouraged him to start leading, which he did not take long to master, either.

At the end of the song, they let go of each other and she said: “Well, that went well. And that’s all I know about waltz. If there are any more figures, I don’t know them.”

“No matter”, he said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. So, what do you think?”

“Of dancing waltz?”

“Yes.”

“It is… pleasant”, he declared after a moment of hesitation. “Though I believe it would start to get monotonous after a while.”

“That’s why it’s not among my favourite dances.”

“What are your favourite dances?”

“Well,”, she explained, “salsa, most of all, or swing, for example, or rock’n’roll, but I’m best at salsa.”

“Then I suggest you show me salsa”, he said, still perfectly serious and sober.

Once again, she stared at him incredulously. “Uh… Spock”, she made slowly and hesitantly, “I don’t think it would be to your taste.”

“Why?”

Now seriously doubting his sanity, she said: “You’ve seen salsa.”

“I have”, he confirmed, all innocence, but with a politely questioning look.

“So you know that, as most other Latin American dances, it’s quite sensual”, she said firmly, but despairingly.

“As I was able to observe at the Hernández’ wedding, the degree of sensuality of the dance can be a… conscious choice made by the dancer”, he commented. Teresa was painfully aware of the fact that he must be referring mainly to her own behaviour (though no doubt also to some other dancers who had not all been as accomplished as herself and had been dancing more stiffly), but there was no trace of consternation or reproach in his voice or face, only kindness and composure.

Teresa sighed and gave a faint smile. “I suppose that’s true. I can certainly… tone it down considerably”, she said and pressed her lips together, trying not to smirk or blush.

“An acceptable arrangement.”

Therefore, although she could hardly believe that this was happening, she showed him the basic steps and that they could go forwards and backwards, but also sideways, or crossing backwards. She also explained the differences to waltz in the rhythm and the different basic positions the partners could assume. She certainly said nothing about hip movement. Therefore, Spock danced a little like a stick, but the footwork was correct. As showing him the basic steps only took a few minutes, she also taught him a handful of tucks and turns, which as well took him only little effort to master.

“You have no need of dancing”, she remarked at some point, salsa music blaring in the background, “your coordination is already excellent.”

“Thank you, but it is common among Vulcans.”

“Of course,”, she laughed, ostentatiously rolling her eyes. “Which would make them perfect dancers, if they only wanted to be.”

“No doubt. But we do consider it… - to employ a word you yourself have used - … too frivolous”, he replied, turning her on the spot.

“Then why are you doing it now?”, she asked, dying to know the answer. ‘Gathering new experiences’ did not convince her sufficiently.

It took him a few bars of the music to oblige her, but then he said: “I am attempting to explore my human side more, as you yourself, and also Dr. McKennah, have repeatedly encouraged me to do.”

“Now I understand!”, she exclaimed, performing more turns. “I’m pleased to hear that. Why did I not think of this before? Maybe because I never really… expected you to actually do it.”

He gave no answer to this (only lifted an eyebrow), probably because the fact that he was dancing with her was already enough of a reply. They continued dancing in silence for a few minutes, as it required a lot of Spock’s concentration, anyway. He got better and better, to such a degree that Teresa could not stop herself from beaming at him because she was really starting to have fun and felt increasingly relaxed and fulfilled. This overt and unbridled show of emotion was met with a wide-eyed and startled expression on Spock’s part, however, and when, only a few seconds later, they performed a turn at the end of which he had his arms around her and her back almost collided with his chest, he slowed down – they remained in this position for a few electrifying seconds – and then he stopped entirely and let go of her. Teresa turned to look at him and found him breathing faster than usual (and not, she got the impression, from the exercise), his pupils dilated, his jaw tense and his eyes glimmering. His composure had crumbled.

Although stunned by this sudden change, she nonetheless reacted speedily. Taking a step back, she said kindly and calmly: “Alright. That was enough, I think. Computer, end music.”

He nodded curtly and walked a few metres away, his back turned, his head bent low, his fingers tensely contracting into fists and opening again a few times in a row.

“Are you alright?”, she asked, worried.

“Of course”, he answered in an unsuccessful attempt at a carefree voice, and turned back to look at her, putting on his Vulcan face again, but not able to appear as calm as he had been only two minutes before.

She continued to watch him with a concerned frown. He took a deep breath, equally frowning slightly, and then said: “I will return to my quarters now. Thank you for teaching me. It was most… invigorating and illuminating.”

“You’re welcome”, she answered, when he was already on his way to the doors.

He paused in the open doors, glanced at her with a polite, but troubled expression, and said: “Good night.”

And then he was gone. Teresa stood in the middle of the room like a pillar of salt, staring at the doors that had closed behind Spock, bewildered by the whole chain of events, but most of all by his sudden upset (and yes, for Spock levels that was pretty upset) and his abrupt departure.

“What a strange man!”, she said loudly, into the silence of the room.

In addition to her confusion, Teresa was reeling from the experience of so much physical contact with him. Except for one certain night and a few involuntary minutes on Taurus IV, they had never been closer to each other. Why had he chosen such close physical contact with a woman of whom he knew that she was desperately attracted to him and whom he had avoided for many weeks for exactly that reason? Was it only to make her understand that, thanks to his Vulcan unperturbedness and indifference, he did not care about such things after all, that he was above them? She might have almost reached that conclusion if it hadn’t been for his sudden upset at the end. ‘Uncomfortable’ did not even begin to describe his reaction; ‘agitated’ was more like it. Why should he be so agitated? Was it the same reason he had looked so grave and tense when he had watched her at the Hernández wedding? Did he feel physically attracted to her, to such a degree that he could not completely control it?

I do harbour some… affection for you. Affection that exceeds the kind I have for other females I have developed a close relationship with, like Dr. McKennah. I have also always been aware of your many attractions. But I am Vulcan. I do not indulge in such considerations. I do not allow them to grow. They do not guide my actions, or my decisions. In that sense, you are correct in assuming that I do not return your feelings.

These words had burned themselves into her memory. Had he been trying out how far he could take their friendship before this attraction became too much? Had passing such a threshold led to his sudden agitation and flight? Was he, in the end, maybe even considering whether they could…

“Nonsense!”, she told herself forcefully. “You’re letting yourself succumb to wishful thinking.”

But she could not completely shake the thought. It was… maybe not that illogical.

However, even if he had indeed been considering it, his departure had shown that the conclusion to these deliberations would most probably not be in her favour.

Nevertheless, her thoughts kept her awake for several hours and she lay in bed, wondering, and remembering his touch.

Chapter Text

“Good morning, Neelix; I’m so sorry, I wanted to help you with breakfast as I did yesterday, but I overslept. Usually I’m never this unreliable.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I can do it all by myself and we have no fixed arrangement after all. And Spock helped me this morning, anyway.”

“Oh?”, she made, scanning the room again, although she had not spotted him during her first visual search.

“He’s already left”, Neelix told her, having observed her. “Came in very early, handled the food with Vulcan speed and efficiency, had his own breakfast and off he was. Told me he was going to the airponics bay.”

“I see.”

“What would you like for breakfast? Porridge? Omelette? Andorian ice pudding?”

Something told Teresa that Spock might be intentionally avoiding her again, so she took her time eating breakfast in order to do him a favour and help him achieve it. The mess hall was quite empty because the morning shift had already started and Neelix had excused himself to spend some time with Naomi, who Teresa learned was something like his godchild.

When she finally arrived at the airponics bay, she found Spock kneeling in front of one of the lower vegetable boxes, examining a baby tomato plant.

“Good morning!”, she said cheerfully, though not too cheerfully.

Only giving her a fleeting, polite look, he replied: “Good morning” and directed his attention back at the plant again. A few seconds later, he had buried its roots in the soil, looked at her with his most Vulcan expression and said: “I have already carried out all the tasks for today. There is nothing left to do.”

“Oh dear”, Teresa made. “I am much too late.”

“Do not concern yourself; we had not agreed on any specific schedule.”

“That’s true”, she said. A few moments passed in taciturn silence and Teresa thought that agreeing on a specific time might be a good idea. Instead, however, she asked: “How are you?”

“As always”, he replied innocently, getting up and brushing some soil off his uniform.

Uhuh, she thought, lifting her chest, and nodding slowly.

He approached her, but, as it turned out, only because he was on his way out. “If you would excuse me”, he said to her with a polite and inscrutable expression.

“Of course!”, she assured him, observing him with an intrigued frown, as she could not be bothered this time to hide her consternation.

And off he went. Teresa was left standing alone once more, eyebrows lifted to the ceiling, shaking her head, throwing her hands in the air. Here we go again.

She spent her time walking the corridors once more, greeting everyone she knew or who wanted to talk to her. Finally, she ended up in sickbay, where she found the Doctor, all by himself, humming quietly as he was working on some equipment she could not identify.

“Ah, our time traveller from the past”, he said when he saw her. “It’s nice of you to drop by.”

Advancing further into the room, she remarked in a friendly and intrigued tone: “I heard you humming.”

“I am very fond of music”, he told her. “And singing. Especially opera.”

“That sounds lovely”, she answered, once again awed by 24th century technology. A hologram who liked to sing. “I also love singing.”

“And what is your favourite genre?”

“That’s hard to say, because I like to sing almost everything.”

“Opera?”

“Yes.”

“Classical music?”

Her lips twitched. “That, too.”

“Jazz?”

“Definitely.”

“Uhuh. Blues?”

“Oh, yes.”

He was approaching her, eyeing her suspiciously while she kept nodding. “Folk? Rock? Soul? Merengue?... Soukous?”

“Yes!”, she laughed.

“Klingon opera?”

“I’ve never heard Klingon opera.”

“Of course”, he realized his mistake dryly. “Wrong century. Vulcan spiritual chants?”

“I’ve tried it; it might help me meditate, but apart from that I can’t exactly feel… passionate about it”, she admitted.

“Of course not”, he replied dryly. “That would defeat the purpose.”

“Well, as you can see, I like to sing a lot of things”, she smiled cheerfully.

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“Why don’t you prove it? Sing something.”

“Here? Now?”, she made, caught unawares.

“Of course”, he replied buoyantly, with a friendly, but challenging glimmer in his eyes. “We can sing together. Tell me, for example, a jazz song you like to sing.”

“… That old black magic?”, she sceptically offered the first thing that came to her mind.

“An excellent choice”, he remarked approvingly. “Computer, play instrumental of That old black magic by Harold Arlen and Johnny Mercer. We can alternate between the lines.”

Feeling a little taken by surprise, but confident, Teresa listened in amazement as the Doctor sang in a perfect and joyous jazz voice, “That old black magic has me in its spell, that old black magic that you weave so well…”, and then looked at her expectantly.

“Those icy fingers up and down my spine, the same old witchcraft when your eyes meet mine”, she continued, keeping her eyes fixed on the Doctor, who listened to her in astonishment and then took over again: “The same old tingle that I feel inside and then that elevator starts its ride…”

She finished the verse: “And down and down I go, round and round I go like a leaf that's caught in the tide.”

“Together”, the Doctor then said before the chorus started, so she nodded and joined in while he had already begun: “I should stay away but what can I do? I hear your name and I'm aflame. Aflame with such a burning desire that only your kiss can put out the fire.“ To her own astonishment, the Doctor effortlessly harmonized with her once she had joined in again.

They were interrupted by the opening doors, which had spat out the Captain, who was listening with an amazed grin.

“Captain”, Teresa hurried to say, while the Doctor ordered: “Computer, end music. What can I do for you, Captain? By the way, Lieutenant Juárez has a most impressive voice and musical skills.”

“So I hear.” Janeway kept grinning. “Teresa, I hope you know what you have gotten yourself into. The Doctor will never let you go again.”

Teresa laughed. “I can only return the compliment, Doctor. I would be glad to sing with you again, should another opportunity present itself.”

“You had better make sure of it”, he answered sternly. “Now, Captain, what brings you here?”

Teresa excused herself, left them to ship’s business and left sickbay, grinning very widely herself.

She had just sat down for lunch when Harry Kim and B’Elanna Torres approached her, asking to sit with her. Naturally, she said yes. Mere seconds later, she saw Spock enter the mess hall and get involved in conversation at the food counter by Tom Paris.

“Tom! Spock! Over here!”, Harry called, when it seemed that Tom had chosen Spock (and maybe Spock had chosen Tom as well, but it was not quite clear to Teresa) as his meal companion. Spock’s eyes fell first on Harry, then on Teresa. He took just the slightest of deeper breaths, then approached them together with Tom with an unmoved and once again inscrutable expression and sat down next to Harry.

“How’s your day going, B’Elanna?”, Tom asked, sticking his fork into his food.

“Badly”, she said gloomily. “Problems in engineering”, she explained to Teresa, implying once again that she wasn’t allowed to get more precise.

“Nothing grave, I hope”, Harry inquired with a worried face.

“Oh no, just… very annoying little malfunctions.”

“And how are you two settling in on Voyager?”, Tom asked Teresa and Spock once he had swallowed, just as Chakotay had asked two days prior.

“Very well”, Teresa replied before taking her first bite herself.

“We have been assigned the task of tending to the airponics bay”, Spock informed him.

“Yes, I’ve heard”, B’Elanna said. “That was a good idea.”

“I agree”, Teresa smiled.

“And since you two have started helping in the kitchen”, Tom added and pointed with his fork onto his plate, “the food has gotten better.”

“Glad to help”, Teresa laughed, once again feeling sorry for Neelix.

“There’s still been no sign of the wormhole”, Harry remarked with a sympathetic face.

“We simply have to be patient”, Teresa answered, equally pulling a face.

“I would go crazy, having to wait like this. But I guess you’re a more patient person than I am”, B’Elanna commented.

“It is quite nerve-racking”, Teresa admitted. “But I try to think about it as little as possible and enjoy my time here instead.”

“I guess patience comes more easily to you?”, Tom asked Spock.

Spock had to swallow before he could speak. “Affirmative”, he then answered. “But the Lieutenant is a very patient individual herself.”

Oh, it’s ‘the Lieutenant’ again, Teresa thought sarcastically, what a surprise. What really was a surprise to her, however, was that B’Elanna’s eyes were getting slightly narrower as well.

“Talking about being on Voyager”, Harry wanted to know, “what would you say is the… weirdest thing about it?”

They were both silent for a moment, interrupting their meal, then Teresa answered, while Spock watched her with a guarded expression: “I guess it’s the fact that all of you know things about us, about our lives, that we don’t know yet ourselves. You probably know when I will die.”

The three of them looked discomforted, while Spock shot her another furtive glance and then looked at his plate. “We know”, Harry admitted after a moment’s silence.

“It’s no reason to be gloomy”, Teresa laughed. “I didn’t think I’d become immortal. And you probably know lots of other things, too. I bet you’ve all read both our personnel files.”

“We have”, B’Elanna confirmed, with a small degree of awkwardness, while Spock continued to contemplate the table.

“I don’t think there’s anyone on Voyager who hasn’t”, Tom said. “Except for maybe Naomi Wildman.”

“And maybe Vorik”, B’Elanna guessed condescendingly. “He probably thinks such curiosity is beneath him.”

“What about Seven?”, Harry suggested. “She would probably regard it ‘an inefficient use of her time’.”

“She is working to get them back”, Tom contradicted him. “She must have looked at their files.”

“True”, Harry said.

“So you see”, Teresa smiled. “It is a weird feeling to know how much everyone on this ship knows about our futures.”

Spock’s gaze was still directed downwards.

“If you were allowed to find out when you will die”, Harry continued his line of questioning, “would you want to?”

“Would you?”, Teresa asked back.

“I – I don’t know”, he stammered.

“I wouldn’t”, B’Elanna said decidedly and sullenly.

“I would”, Tom announced, leaning back in his chair with confidence. “It would mean that if I was in danger on several occasions before that, I’d know that I don’t have to be afraid.”

Spock had started eating again; he was eating quickly, but it was obvious that he was still listening closely.

“But what if that makes you more careless than you would have been otherwise and that changes the timeline?”, Teresa offered malevolently.

“Hm”, Tom was caught out for a moment, but then he said defiantly: “Maybe I was meant to find out.”

“Maybe”, she smiled.

“You haven’t answered the question yet”, Harry reminded her.              

“I’m not sure”, Teresa said pensively. “I am very curious, but it’s probably better not to know. But I am not sure that if I stumbled upon my own file by accident, I would be able to look away. I hope I would.”

“What about you?”, Tom asked Spock, who looked up from his plate.

“No”, he answered, and nothing more. Teresa saw B’Elanna mildly roll her eyes at his taciturnity.

“Well, then let’s talk about it a different way”, Tom suggested. “What would you like your life to be like in, let’s say, 25 years?”

Teresa slowly finished a mouthful of vegetables while she pondered the question. “Happy”, she then stated decidedly. Everyone but Spock smiled. Teresa smiled, too, and continued: “Really nothing too surprising. Doing things I love, surrounded by good friends, colleagues and of course loved ones. Hopefully still doing research, maybe still on a starship, but maybe also at an institute or a science station. I hope I can contribute something valuable to science.”

B’Elanna, Harry and Tom nodded. “And you?”, Harry asked Spock.

Spock lowered down his fork and put on his Vulcan eloquence face, though still somewhat guardedly. “As I am already aware that I will apparently become an ambassador, and well-known”, he added with another furtive glance at Teresa, “there is no room for speculation.”

“But, apart from that”, Harry tried again.

A starship captain; admit it, Spock, Teresa thought, amused.

Spock frowned slightly. “Quite similar to what the Lieutenant has described. I hope to stay in Starfleet, further exploring the galaxy and hopefully contributing to further peace and prosperity in the Federation. And, of course, working with people I… respect and value.”

“How heart-warming”, B’Elanna commented, in a tone that was bordering on sarcasm; Teresa was not entirely certain how to interpret it. Spock seemed to have caught the undertones, too, because he looked at her with a slightly confused expression. For a Vulcan, his utterance had been perfectly normal; maybe the part with ‘people I respect and value’ had almost been a little too emotional. Teresa saw that Harry shot B’Elanna a warning glance.                                                                                                      

“Well, what about the three of you?”, Teresa then asked to diffuse this strange sudden change in mood.

“Back in the Alpha Quadrant”, Harry said.

“Of course”, Teresa answered gently. “But apart from that?”

“I think”, Harry hesitated, then continued more confidently: “I think I want to be captain one day.”

“Way to go, Harry”, Tom exclaimed, while Teresa smiled encouragingly. “And you?”, she then asked B’Elanna.

“No idea”, she replied. “I try to not to get my hopes up for anything; life is too unpredictable.”

“Tom?”

“I really don’t know”, he admitted. “My life had gone off the rails before I came to Voyager, and I am still trying to figure out where I want it to go.”

“I wish you success”, Teresa said.

“Thanks.”

Ten minutes later, Spock had finished his lunch, politely excused himself once more and left the mess hall.

“He’s quiet today”, Harry remarked, watching him pass through the doors.

Teresa said nothing.

“Is he usually like that?”, Tom asked her.

“Sometimes.”

“And I’m sorry if I’ve been unpleasant”, B’Elanna said to Teresa, also getting up. “My Klingon temperament often gets me into lousy moods.”

“Don’t worry”, Teresa said kindly. “Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?”

“No”, B’Elanna replied, smiling faintly now. “Thank you. The only thing that will cheer me up is if we manage to fix the… problem in engineering.”

“Then I wish you success.”

“Thanks.”

Teresa spent the rest of the afternoon with Neelix in the kitchen, planning and preparing dishes for dinner and the next day and chatting with the Talaxian about a large variety of topics. Although sometimes a little annoying, he was a kind-hearted, resourceful and very curious person. Following a suggestion of his, she also spent some time playing with Naomi Wildman, who was very eager to know her better. They ended up playing a game called kadis-kot, which Teresa knew from her own childhood. Naomi also impressed her with her emerging scientific curiosity. Back in the mess hall at dinner time, Spock was nowhere to be seen, so Teresa ended up chatting with Captain Janeway, who, amongst many other things, was sorry to tell her that there was still no news of the wormhole, but that she was resolved to stay in the vicinity for a considerable time longer.

“Where is Spock today?”, Janeway asked her at some point.

“I really don’t know”, Teresa replied with a downcast face. “I haven’t seen him since lunchtime.” After making sure that nobody else could hear her, she added: “I think he’s avoiding me again.”

“Oh no”, Janeway made sympathetically. “Let’s see. Computer, locate Commander Spock.”

“Commander Spock is in his quarters.”

Teresa shrugged and lifted her eyebrows. “Probably trying out the replicator food himself.”

“Could you check up on him?”, Janeway suggested.

“I would”, Teresa said. “But I am fairly certain that he wouldn’t want that right now.”

Chapter Text

He wasn’t there for next morning’s breakfast, either.

“Have you seen Spock, Neelix?”

“No, sorry”, the Talaxian told her. “But I told him yesterday morning that I can manage today’s breakfast on my own, as he seemed… quite lost in thought at that time.”

“Computer, locate Commander Spock.”

“Commander Spock is in the airponics bay.”

“Already?”, Teresa wondered out loud.

“Is… everything alright between the two of you?”, Neelix asked carefully. “Not that it’s any of my business, but…”

“Oh, don’t worry”, Teresa evaded this peculiar question. “He has his… introverted periods.”

“Ah”, Neelix made.

She approached the airponics bay with a mounting feeling of dread.

“Good morning”, she greeted him, as he was once again inclined over a vegetable box.

“Good morning.”

“Don’t tell me that you’ve again already carried out all the necessary tasks.”

“Alas, I almost have.”

“It seems you want to put me out of a job”, she joked half-heartedly.

Avoiding to look at her, he said politely: “I got up early, that is all.”

“Uhuh.”

As the scepticism and incredulity in her voice were just all too obvious (she did not bother to hide them), he suddenly stopped his activity and looked at her for a long moment with a thoughtful, cognizant and almost a little crestfallen expression. She looked back. Neither of them spoke.

“You didn’t show up in the mess hall for either dinner or breakfast”, she finally broke the silence, looking worried. “Have you been exploring the delights of the replicator?”

“Affirmative.” The spell was broken; he had directed his attention back to the plants. And again, a few seconds later, that was it. “Finished”, he said. “If you will excuse me.”

At 16:02 hours, after many long hours of meditation, Spock decided it was time to take a break and venture out of his quarters. Therefore, he arrived at the mess hall at 16:09 hours, with the intention of asking Neelix whether he needed some help. Things did not go as expected, however.

The mess hall was a livelier place than usual, mainly because a band consisting of several crew members, among which he recognized Harry Kim with a clarinet, was playing soft jazz music in the background of the conversations of the 27 people who were eating or simply enjoying their free time.

“It’s nice of you to ask”, Neelix told him. “But I was just going to take a break and maybe watch that game of kal-tho in the corner.”

“Kal-tho?”, Spock asked, so Neelix pointed his finger at the left corner of the room next to the window, where Lieutenant Commander Tuvok was sitting opposite Teresa, a kal-tho set on the table between them and both looking deeply concentrated.

“I see”, Spock said dryly.

Neelix smiled at him and then went over to join the other four people who had gathered around Tuvok and Teresa to watch their progress. One of them was an ensign Spock did not know, another was Naomi Wildman, the third was Lieutenant Haron, and the fourth, to Spock’s surprise, was the Doctor. Neither did Spock know how the Doctor could have ventured out of sickbay (were there holo-projectors all over the ship?), nor would he have expected him to be still active when he was not working and even less to be spending his free time watching a game of kal-tho in the mess hall.

Spock decided to stay in his corner and observe the game from afar. Soon after, he noticed that Lieutenant T’Lara was also furtively eyeing it from a safe distance. When she saw him looking at her, she nodded politely and then turned her attention back to the person sitting next to her.

He had not known that Teresa could play kal-tho. And play it she could, to Tuvok’s astonishment. Spock saw him lift an eyebrow when Teresa’s move turned an entire quarter of the game into a coherent whole. She looked at Tuvok, her chin resting on her fist, smiling a faint and content smile.

“Most impressive”, Spock heard him say, as his Vulcan ears were more sensitive than human ones. “For a human, you have a very logical and disciplined mind.”

Naomi Wildman giggled.

“Thank you”, Teresa said graciously. “But I have also already played it several times before.”

“How many times?”

“Let me see.” She inclined her head to the side, delving into her memories. “Fifteen times, if I’m not mistaken.” Her eyes then fell on Spock and for a second, she looked slightly surprised and startled, but then she lifted the corners of her mouth a little and raised her hand to greet him. He nodded in reaction.

“Fifteen times are a very small amount, considering how well you already master the game”, Tuvok replied. “Most only achieve this level after years of practice. Did you play it with Commander Spock?”

“No, I’ve spent a few months on Vulcan and learned it there.”

They continued playing, with Spock still furtively observing them. Two minutes later, however, he was approached by Commander Chakotay. “How are things with you?”

“Satisfactory, apart from the fact that there is no progress on the wormhole.”

The Commander nodded but remarked in an amused tone: “To be honest, I think many of the crew would like to keep the two of you here”, with a glance towards the little crowd around the kal-tho table. “We’re not in a hurry to get rid of you. Still, we are doing our utmost to get you home, of course.”

“We appreciate your efforts”, Spock replied. “And I also consider Voyager a most agreeable place to be in.”

He was distracted by an exclamation by the Doctor by the kal-tho table, who announced: “If you were impressed by her mental skills, wait until you hear her sing!”

Teresa smiled a modest smile. “Doctor, you’re too kind.”

“Sing?”, Neelix asked. “I’d like to hear that.”

“Me too”, piped Naomi.

The Doctor unceremoniously gripped the blushing Teresa by the wrist and dragged her to the other corner of the room, where the band was playing. When they had finished their current song, he announced: “And now to a little interlude. Lieutenant Juárez is going to sing something for us.”

“Oh, of course”, Harry said, surprised and a little taken aback, but readily making way.

“Have you actually asked her whether she wants to, Doctor?”, Commander Chakotay called out.

“She will not mind”, Spock muttered, and he turned out to be right.

“It’s alright, Commander, thank you”, Teresa assured him, looking a little flushed, but self-confident. “Do you have… a guitar? Ah, yes.”

Most of the room had grown quiet and dozens of expectant eyes were directed at Teresa. She sat down on a chair, adjusted the guitar on her lap and played a few tones to make sure the strings were in order. Then, after a shy moment, she began to play, looking everywhere but at Spock.

“Gracias a la vida”, her voice rang, sweet and clear, but with the necessary depth for the song, “que me ha dado tanto. Me dio dos luceros, que cuando los abro, perfecto distingo lo negro del blanco y en el alto cielo su fondo estrellado… yen las multitudes el hombre que yo amo.

Gracias a la vida que me ha dado tanto. Me ha dado el oído que en todo su ancho graba noche y día, grillos y canarios, martillos, turbinas, ladridos, chubascos… y la voz tan tierna de mi bien amado.”

("Thanks to life, which has given me so much. It gave me two stars, which when I open them, perfectly distinguish black from white and in the tall sky its starry backdrop, and within the multitudes the one that I love.

She sang those words full of sincere emotion, but nothing was overdone. It seemed as though the people in the room had started holding their breath. Even Lieutenant T’Lara stared at her openly, her mouth slightly open.

Spock pressed his lips together; his throat suddenly felt constricted.

“Did you know she could sing like that?”, Chakotay muttered to him.

“Yes”, Spock replied quietly. “Though it has been quite some time since I last heard her.”

And what a difference that time had made! In earlier years, he had listened to her entertaining her crewmates in the Enterprise’s mess hall, sometimes together with Lieutenant Uhura, sometimes alone, once or twice accompanied by himself playing his lyre, had listened with appreciation of her musical skills and of the quality of her voice and expression. Rarely had she sung in Spanish, which brought out a side of her that was not often visible in their Starfleet work environment. And in these earlier years her voice had not had this paralyzing effect on him, piercing something deep inside of him, reviving the demons he thought he had managed to drive away again with the constant meditation of the past two days.

His hands clenched into fists, noticed by no one. He found it impossible to stay calm, listening, watching. Before the song was over, he had furtively slipped out of the mess hall and was back on his way to his quarters. Behind him, he could faintly hear people clapping and clamouring for more.

He fell on his knees in front of his little meditation table, breathing more quickly than should have been induced by his fast pace on his way back to his quarters. With his hand shaking slightly, he lit the candle again and then sank into a seat, staring into its flame.

“I am in control”, he breathed, leaning his elbows on the table, putting his fingertips together and bending his head forwards. “I am in control. I am in control.”

It took a long time for his breathing to return to normal.

Once again, his thoughts drifted towards the kolinahr.

After her little spontaneous concert for the crew, Teresa found herself surrounded by people who wanted to congratulate her and talk to her. Spock had vanished again; he could not have been in the mess hall for more than 20 minutes. The rest of the afternoon and most of the evening was then spent chatting with a dozen people, helping Neelix some more in the kitchen, eating her dinner and talking about jazz with Harry, who urged her to join his little ship band for their next rehearsal session. She barely had a moment’s peace and quiet until around 21:30 hours.

She left the mess hall and leant against the wall of the corridor outside. “Computer, where is Commander Spock?”

“Commander Spock is in his quarters.”

It was the fifth time she had asked the computer that question that day, and the fifth time she had received the same answer.

“No, I will not let you hide from me forever”, she whispered. “It doesn’t solve anything.”

And without any further ado, she set off towards his quarters, walking fast and with determination. When she had arrived at her destination, she took a few deep breaths to shake off the hustle and bustle of the last few hours that were still present in her mind and became very still. Then, she pressed a button on the outside panel and the door beeped.

“Come!” she heard him call with a small delay.

She found him sitting on the ground behind the small table by the sofa, much like the position she had assumed when he had helped her meditate to sleep. The meditation lamp was burning on the table in front of him, while the rest of the room was almost completely dark; it was so dark that Teresa was quite shocked. He had even drawn the window covers to block out the light from the stars. Spock was looking at her, his face like that of a statue and only lit by the lamp.

“Forgive me”, she said, dismayed. “This is a bad time. You are meditating.”

She was already about to turn back and walk out again, but he shook his head. “I have been meditating almost all day. There would not have been any ‘good moment’.”

“Almost all day?!”, she repeated.

He remained silent, his gaze lost in the flame.

Teresa slowly and carefully sat down on the ground on the other side of the table, facing him. “Well, I’m not going to stay long”, she said softly. “I just wanted to make sure you’re alright… and to say I regret that I have been making you uncomfortable.”

His eyes darted towards her, while his face remained serious. “I thank you for your concern”, he said blankly, “but you have done nothing wrong.”

“Oh, I know. That came out the wrong way. It was not meant as an apology, but as an expression of empathy… and a wish that it was different”, she assured him, her voice still gentle and quiet. “Let’s put it that way: you have been uncomfortable because of me. That saddens me.”

Spock’s eyes were back on the flame of the meditation lamp and he looked as though he was searching for a reply, but apparently, he did not find one. His jaw grew slightly tighter and he maintained his silence, for a distinctly longer period than was polite. While Teresa scrutinized him with a gentle and vulnerable expression on her face, he seemed to get lost in thought and did not seem to want to answer.

After around two minutes, she drew a shaky breath and broke into a sad smile. “Well, our relationship was maybe always going to end up this way”, she said quietly. “In silence.”

He pressed his eyes shut and his lips together for a moment, slightly lowering his head, before he looked at her again, his eyes full of dejected and unsaid thoughts that Teresa could not decipher. She thought she might understand this as I’m sorry, but that’s the way it is, so she returned his gaze with more of that gentle sadness, waited for another minute and then slowly got up again. She made her way back to the door even more slowly, fighting her tears.

“Wait”, he finally managed to say, when she was just a metre away from the door. She turned around, surprised. Their eyes met and interlocked for a brief moment, before he lowered his head again and professed in a grave and forced tone: “Forgive me… my… frigidity. I highly value our friendship. I do not want it to end.”

Her gaze grew tender and the piercing hurt she had been feeling eased off considerably.

“It is a friendship more… intimate and closer than I have ever experienced, than I would have thought possible”, he continued, still looking as though he was fighting every word that forced itself out of his mouth.

She drew another very shaky, but rather more relieved, breath and returned to her place on the other side of the table. “And that disquiets you”, she diagnosed sympathetically, considerably calmer and more collected. “You are not used to that.”

“No, I am not”, he confirmed, with a strained sigh. “But it is not only that.”

Still frowning thoughtfully, he stared into the flame again and searched for the right words, while Teresa waited patiently, directing her gaze to the ground.

“The ample leisure time given to me here on Voyager has provided me with the opportunity for this… extended meditation and introspection”, he then continued flatly. “It has allowed me to… ask myself a variety of questions.” His eyes flickered towards her and then back down. “I believe I can state that I still believe that exploring my own humanity is a worthwhile endeavour; however, …” His voiced trailed away, back into silence.

“You have been pushing yourself too fast”, she finished his sentence, understandingly.

“Yes.” Rubbing his nasal bone with his index fingers, he said: “I have been experiencing… an unusual amount of emotions.”

“And that worries you. You think it’s wrong.”

Sighing again, he nodded with eyes shut and lips slightly pressed together.

She looked at him thoughtfully for half a minute or so, then she said: “You know, I don’t think it’s possible that you can… explore your humanity without allowing your emotions to a higher degree.”

His eyes slowly travelled up until they came to rest on her face with an apprehensive gaze.

“At the same time”, she continued, “losing control would be disastrous.”

Now he was looking at her unflinchingly, with a piercing gaze and slightly agitated, closely following every word she was saying.

“Which means you need to find a balance. A balance that allows you to experience more emotions, but without things getting out of hand and your Vulcan… ‘savage’ impulses taking over. And finding and maintaining that balance requires a lot of effort.”

He nodded, continuing to stare at her, breathing slightly faster than he had been when she had first come in. “Maybe too much effort”, he whispered.

“Forgive me, but haven’t you always had to make quite an effort?”, she slowly remarked, emphasizing every word. “You’ve been supressing your human side for as long as I can remember, and since long before I first met you. You fight your emotions, every day. It’s a constant struggle than you’ve never completely won.”

A glimmer of pain appeared in his eyes, and he took a deep breath, still fixating his gaze on her face.

“But I don’t want to exaggerate the issue. You’ve been doing very well, most of the time.” She smiled encouragingly. “So, I think you are capable of making the adjustment of finding a new balance as well, it’s just going to be harder at first. But I think that, maybe, in the long run, it will be better for you.”

“Maybe”, he said after a moment’s silence.

Teresa smiled faintly. “But I could have been more careful, and I will be more careful in future.”

“My recent… crisis was the result of my own error, none of yours”, he made clear and sighed, raising his eyebrows slightly as he looked back into the flame. But he already seemed a little more pacified.

“I didn’t mean it was my fault; I meant I want to help you.” It seemed that she had to be more careful in phrasing such thoughts, in order for them to not be misunderstood as self-debasement.

Having regained more of his composure, he said quietly and gently: “You have already been helping me. In fact”, he admitted, “you have been trying to help me for a long time, and I highly appreciate that.”

She broke into a wide and warm smile. “Without intruding on your privacy, I hope.”

“No”, he assured her. “You have always been most tactful.” After a pause, he added: “If there is one of us who has ever intruded on the other’s privacy, it is me.”

She let out a small, surprised gasp and lowered her head a little. After another moment of silence, he said: “Well, I thank you for… checking on me.”

“You’re welcome”, she smiled. “I wanted to make sure you’re alright.”

“I will be”, he said slowly. “I am better already.”

“Good”, she said firmly and then got up. “I will leave you now. Good night.”

“Good night”, he replied, and watched her leave his quarters with a still thoughtful expression.

Chapter Text

The next morning at 07:00 hours, Teresa joined Neelix in the kitchen. Only minutes later, Spock walked in as well. “Good morning”, he said.

“Fancy seeing both of you here at the same time”, Neelix could not stop himself from commenting. “Of course I mean that this way, breakfast will be ready extra fast.”

“Good morning”, Teresa answered cheerfully, while Spock halted beside her and picked up a knife and some tomatoes to chop. “I suppose you haven’t been to the airponics bay yet?”, she asked in an innocent tone.

“Indeed, I have not”, he answered, glancing at her with a raised eyebrow. “I have no intention of ‘putting you out of a job’.”

“Glad to hear that”, she smiled. With a glance behind them, she thought she saw Neelix furtively observing them while he lit the fires under the pans, but he quickly looked away.

The next half hour passed in animated productivity, with Neelix chatting away with them about this and that. At some point, they saw Seven of Nine enter the mess hall and approach the kitchen with determined steps.

“Ahh, good morning, Seven”, Neelix said.

“Good morning”, she answered in a dignified voice.

“Any news of the wormhole?”, Teresa could not help but ask.

“Nothing of consequence”, Seven said curtly, then turned back to Neelix and said: “The Doctor has encouraged me to ingest more… natural food. Please prepare something nutritionally valuable.” She handed him a PADD over the food counter. “Here are the exact specifications for my nutritional requirements.”

“Will do”, Neelix assured her, taking the PADD.

Seven remained standing there, contemplating him with a sceptically raised eyebrow as though she thought she could not be sure to trust in his ability to fulfil her requirements.

“What does that mean, ‘ingest more natural food’?”, Teresa asked. “What do you usually eat?”

Seven was silent, so Neelix said: “Um, Seven’s physiology is somewhat… different from other humanoids’.”

“Oh, I see”, Teresa made, surprised. “I thought you were human.”

“I am human”, Seven replied in the same, slightly cold, voice.

“Forgive me”, Teresa apologized. “I did not mean – …”

“I was not offended”, Seven stated and then proceeded to sit down a table, looking at a second PADD she had brought with her.

Teresa looked after her with an intrigued expression. “I would love to hear her story”, she then muttered to Spock, having turned back to her chopping.

“Then you will be disappointed”, he muttered back.

Charming as usual, she thought. “I know, I know.”

When they were finally sitting down to their own breakfast as well, he put on a thoughtful expression and asked: “Do you now feel that your soul has… caught up?” He had recovered his gentle conversational tone that he had often employed during their first few days on the ship.

“What?”, she asked, and then realized that he was referring to the conversation they had had during their first breakfast on Voyager. “Oh.” She smiled. “Not completely, but it’s come closer. And yours?”

“It is… on an intriguing journey”, he hesitantly said. “A little closer, yes.”

As she looked at him with a great deal of empathy and curiosity about what exactly he could mean (probably he was referring to his recent struggles with exploring his humanity, she thought, but that may not be all), he continued: “As we are still in a… suspended state, waiting for the wormhole to reappear or for another means of returning to our own time and place to present itself, I am not certain whether our souls can fully arrive here, anyway.”

She swallowed a gulp of her toast. “Yes. This… ‘suspended state’ is truly a strange situation to be in. But the good thing is, I’ve been so occupied here lately, that I haven’t had too much time to think about home.”

“By ‘home’, you are referring to…?”

“Everything”, she answered vaguely. “Our own time, Earth, my family’s house, the Enterprise, you name it.”

“I have often observed that many humanoid species feel a strong connection to what they consider ‘home’”, Spock commented. “Hence the Voyager’s crew’s strong desire to return there.”

“Do you not… feel a connection to any place you consider home?”

“That would require an emotional attachment.”

“Spock”, she said gently. “I thought that by now, we were long past the point where you pretend to me that you are not affected by emotions.”

He looked at her with his usual calm but took a deep and slow breath. “I am… less affected than humans and most other humanoid species. However”, he admitted, “I do feel a… certain degree of attachment to my home planet, or the Enterprise. It is… a good ship, though no match to Voyager, of course, in terms of technological progress.”

“Not in terms of community, either”, Teresa observed. “This crew here is much more of a family than the Enterprise crew could ever be, although I think that many of us have formed significant bonds. But there can simply be no comparison to a crew that might be together for the rest of their lives; and each other is all they have.”

Spock was silent for a moment, before he said: “There still is a possibility that we ourselves will be part of this crew for the rest of our lives, too.”

Their eyes interlocked for a moment, and it was as though they were both trying to imagine such a future, decade after decade together on this ship, becoming part of the crew and living through all its adventures. What would their relationship be like?

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it”, Teresa murmured. “If we get to it.”

“Indeed”, he said absent-mindedly, looking very pensive.

Once again, Teresa had the feeling that someone was watching them. She turned around and found a group of people looking into their direction, among them Lieutenant Haron and Ensign Wildman. They gave her gracious smiles and then quickly looked away.

At 09:00 hours, they went to the airponics bay and worked there for around one and a half hours, talking about nothing else than their work and speculating more about the natural environments the plants they did not know might have originated from. They were mostly working on different vegetable boxes, but the few times they stuck their heads together to discuss a specific plant, any shyness or fear of contact had dissipated. Teresa hummed or quietly sang to herself, something she usually did while working whenever she had the chance. Spock registered this with mild astonishment, as he had never before witnessed this habit of hers (on the Enterprise, they only sometimes worked in the same location, and even if they did, the opportunity for her to hum or sing did not arise), but he said nothing. After all, listening to her was very… pleasant.

After having finished their work, she told him that she had promised Naomi Wildman to play with her some more and they agreed to meet again for lunch later.

“Neelix, what’s for lunch?”, Tom asked.

“I can recommend today’s special, a Betazoid vegetable stew. But there’s also Chili sin carne, Hasperat and leola soufflé.”

“The stew, please.”

“Same”, Harry and B’Elanna said.

“Any news on our future couple?”, Harry asked.

“There seemed to be some… complications during the last two days, thought I couldn’t tell you of what kind”, Neelix said. “This morning, they were the best of friends again.”

“Friends, huh”, B’Elanna said. “I tell you; I was right. When we talked to them at lunch two days ago, he was terribly cold-nosed. He doesn’t love her.”

“You don’t know him well enough to draw any conclusions”, Tom objected. “He seemed to have no qualms about showing her the holodeck a few days ago.”

“They went to the holodeck together?”, Harry asked.

“As far as I know.”

“Which program?”, Neelix asked.

“No idea.”

“But did anyone notice how yesterday, when she was playing the guitar and singing, he suddenly just left?”, Harry asked. “I didn’t know what to make of that.”

“Told you; he wasn’t interested in listening”, B’Elanna opined.

“I don’t think so”, Harry contradicted her. “It was more like he was… bothered by something.”

“‘Bothered’?”

“Oh, I’m not sure”, Harry said, uncertain. “Shut up, here he comes.”

“Spock!”, Tom exclaimed. “Would you mind eating with us again?”

“Not at all”, Spock replied with perfect politeness. “Though we should save a seat for Teresa; she should be here any minute.”

“Of course!”, Tom said, throwing a furtive, but meaningful look at B’Elanna, who simply looked back as if to say: That doesn’t mean anything.

“If I may ask”, Harry piped up, “are the two of you on a first-name basis or not? It’s just that, the other day, you called her ‘Lieutenant’.”

Tom gave him a slight kick against his foot, but Spock did not seem to find anything peculiar about this question. “That depends on the situation”, he declared. “On duty or generally, in formal situations, I naturally address her as ‘Lieutenant’.”

“But you weren’t on duty then”, B’Elanna continued Harry’s line of questioning.

“I honestly did not think about it.”

They did not pursue the matter any further, due to the risk of their reasons for these questions becoming too obvious. The four of them sat down, saving a seat for Teresa. When she arrived in the mess hall only a few minutes later, they called her name and gestured to the chair. When she saw them, and Spock sitting with them, she smiled and carried her tray to their table. “Hello”, she said affectionately to all four of them.

“Are you still settling in well on Voyager?”, Harry asked her and Spock.

“Very well, I think”, Teresa replied.  “But the rather important question remains: for how long a period of time should we prepare ourselves?”

“Hm”, Harry made. “Yeah, it’s already been six days.”

“Still, there is still a chance of the wormhole returning”, Spock announced. “Six days can be a very short period of time for a wormhole.”

“But this means we are keeping you from continuing your own journey home”, Teresa said apologetically.

“That’s okay”, Harry told her. “I don’t think there’s anyone on the ship who has hard feelings about that. We all understand the necessity of getting you two home.”

Tom and B’Elanna nodded.

“And how does the Voyager crew compare to the one on the Enterprise?”, Tom then asked.

As Teresa had just taken a bite, Spock was faster in answering. “Just this morning we remarked on how the Voyager crew is a much more close-knit community, due to its unique situation. When it comes to the crew’s performance, I simply have not gathered sufficient knowledge to make an informed comparison.”

“I like Captain Janeway”, Teresa added. “She seems to be a very able captain, very committed to you all. Also, she’s very nice. And there are not a lot of female captains around in our time, unfortunately.”

“What about Captain Kirk, what’s he like?”, Harry wanted to know. “You see, he’s also a quite well-known historical figure in our time.”

“Yes, we’ve been told that”, Teresa said. “What exactly do you know about him, that is, anything up to the year 2268?”

“Hm, my historical knowledge is not that detailed”, Harry said hesitantly.

“What I think can be mentioned”, Tom interjected, “is that, apart from his many achievements, there’s a bit of gossip about him being… quite a casanova.”

Spock raised his eyebrows, while Teresa burst out laughing.

“Well, is it true?”, Tom asked.

Teresa, who had recovered from her sudden burst of laughter, said in a more sober tone: “I would not want to violate his privacy. And Spock knows him better than I do.”

Everyone proceeded to look at Spock. He, eyebrows still raised, looked at Teresa for a moment and then said calmly and collectedly, looking at each of them: “I believe what can be revealed is that… Captain Kirk has fallen in love several times and that these feelings were usually reciprocated, but that circumstances have so far always prevented him from… forming a more long-lasting relationship. These circumstances were often of a nature that humans would consider… ‘tragic’. To employ another human phrase, he has so far had ‘bad luck’. But one should also add”, he continued, still speaking quietly, “that he takes his command very seriously, and as you probably know, command is, in many cases, incompatible with… long-term happiness in romantic love.” His gaze rested for a moment on Teresa, who looked back with poise, but to herself thought: Yes, yet another reason why I can never hope to be with him.

Everyone around the table was quiet for a moment, then Harry concluded in an embarrassed tone: “Well, that sounded a lot sadder than how people in their foolishness sometimes joke about him.”

“And what is that?”, Teresa asked in a friendly tone.

“Well, you know”, B’Elanna told her. “Something about a woman in every star system.”

Teresa gasped, slightly dismayed and exasperated. “That is a gross exaggeration.”

“Well, it’s not being said in a negative way”, Harry explained. “More like that he was irresistible and so on.”

“Age-old stereotyped ideals of virility”, Teresa discerned, amused, and then shook her head. “Casanova, really.”

“Well, was he as attractive as they say?”, Tom asked her.

“Well, he is a charismatic and attractive man, sure”, Teresa answered cheerfully. “And I know that several crew members have a crush on him.”

Spock looked at her with surprise and fascination.

“Including you?”, Tom said, winking.

“Me?” Teresa laughed once again. “Oh, no. He’s not my type.” And then she was silent, amused and slightly embarrassed at the same time, although she hid her embarrassment.

Spock was looking at the table.

“Leave her alone”, B’Elanna said, rolling her eyes at Tom.

“I was just joking”, he defended himself.

“Don’t worry”, Teresa said, winking back and smiling at B’Elanna, thankful for her allyship.

They spent the rest of lunch talking about more inconspicuous topics. Harry asked Teresa whether she would like to jam with his jazz band later, and she gave an enthusiastic yes; they agreed to meet in her quarters. When B’Elanna, Harry and Tom had left the mess hall, Teresa went up to the windows, looking out into space, searching for a sign of the wormhole. Spock joined her and so they stood, with their back to the rest of the mess hall, gazing into space.

“Six days”, Teresa whispered. “Is there really any chance?”

“Affirmative”, he said gently and quietly. “Do not give up hope.”

She sighed and smiled at him. “I’m not. But I sometimes wonder.”

“That is most natural.”

Suddenly, she chucked and rubbed her forehead. “It is strange to witness how events from our own lifetime have turned to myths and legends a hundred years later.”

Spock nodded pensively. “I wonder whether there are any myths or legends circulating about any one of the two of us, as well. Ones they can only mention in our absence.”

“Yes, I’ve been wondering about that, too. By the way, have you noticed how people seem to… observe us, especially when they think we’re not looking?” She carefully turned around to look back into the room and found Neelix gazing at them from the kitchen. Spock followed her example and looked behind himself, as well. Neelix quickly gave them a friendly and innocent smile and turned his attention back to his pots. “See what I mean?”, she whispered, when they had turned back to the window.

“Hm”, Spock made. “As the ‘morale officer’, I imagine that Neelix feels obliged to make sure we are… alright.”

“But it’s not only him”, she objected. “Others observe us closely, too. Haven’t you noticed?”

“I have”, he replied hesitantly. “But I imagine it is simply because we are… historical curiosities.”

“Yes, that’s probably it”, she sighed. “I’m just not used to drawing so much attention to myself all the time.”

“I am a little more used to it”, he said, and when she looked at him questioningly, he lightly tapped his pointy ear.

In the evening, Teresa had guests in her quarters. It was Harry’s band, which had turned out to be called Harry Kim and the Kimtones and was made up, apart from Harry himself, of Crewman Lewis, Lieutenant Commander Bernard and Ensign Trumari. They had jammed and sung together merrily for more than an hour when her door beeped.

“Enter!”, she called.

It was Spock. “Please excuse the interruption”, he said politely to all of them. “I was wondering whether you would allow me to listen while I read.”

“Sure!”, Harry told him, after having glanced at the others.

“Thank you.” Spock proceeded to sit on the sofa, a book in his hand. He had the aura of having recently meditated; Teresa had developed an eye for that. He was then even calmer and more composed than usual. She was glad to see him. After lunch, they had helped Neelix more in the kitchen for about two hours and then he had gone back to his quarters, leaving her to find ways of spending time on her own. After more strolling around the ship in one of her civilian dresses (and having been denied access to the astrometrics lab) and aimlessly talking to any crew member who was off duty and in the mood, she had had an early dinner with Captain Janeway in the mess hall. She had just started to wonder whether Spock had decided to hide in his quarters again, but here he was.

After around one and a half hours more of music and animated chatting (and Spock reading), the band started to leave her quarters.

“Good night”, Teresa smiled to one after the other. “Good night to you, too.”

“Do you wish me to leave as well?”, Spock asked, after having looked up from his book and nodded at every band member who had been leaving her quarters.

“No, it’s not that late yet”, she responded. “You’re welcome to stay.”

He nodded again but said nothing.

“What are you reading, anyway?”, she asked and sat down closely beside him on the sofa, trying to peak into his book.

He handed the book to her and looked at her with his serene Vulcan calm. “A philosophical work about the futility of existence. Written before 2268, of course. It was lying in a drawer in my quarters, so I decided to read it.”

“How cheerful”, she said ironically, gazing at the cover.

“I do not experience it as depressing.”

“Of course not.”

“It is quite fascinating.”

“Well, do you agree with it?”, she asked, looking at him, scrutinizing him. “That existence is futile? That life has no purpose?”

“No”, he stated placidly, returning her gaze. “I do not agree with it. But I can comprehend why someone might think that way.”

“Then, what do you think is the purpose of life? And please don’t say logic”, she continued, half-jokingly.

He raised an eyebrow. “Logic is a tool, not an end to itself.”

She smiled, relieved to hear that answer, and dug deeper, making sure she had understood him correctly: “A tool for what?”

“To solve problems and make beneficial decisions.”

“Alright”, she said, satisfied with this response, too. “But I’ve led you away from my initial question. What do you think is the purpose of life?”

“I believe every individual must find their own answer to that question.”

“Oh, I agree. And have you found an answer?”

“Maybe”, he said. She waited for more, but nothing came. Now it was her who was raising her eyebrows, looking questioning, and he looked back, calmly answering her question with silence. “What do you think is the purpose of life?”, he then asked her.

“You expect me to answer, after you’ve been so mysterious?” She smiled.

“Only if you wish to”, he replied gently.

“Alright”, she said and gazed into space for a moment, before she slowly answered: “Well, two things, I think. I have been born into this life, whether I wanted to or not, so I have to make the best of it. Which means that first, I want to experience this world, this universe, this dimension, you name it, that I was born into, experience it, explore it, try to understand it. A typical scientist’s answer, I know.”

“And what else?”, he asked quietly, observing her closely.

“The second thing is, well, the basic biological urges I was born with. To try to avoid pain and to obtain joy and fulfilment. What exactly causes pain or joy, is of course a different matter for every individual, although there are many basic causes most sentient beings share. And I think I shouldn’t only try to attain these goals for myself, but also for everyone else.”

“Hm”, Spock made, thoughtfully staring into space. “Many philosophers (human, Vulcan and from other species) have wondered whether pain and joy could exist independently from each other. Whether a sentient being would create the concept of joy without being able to compare it to pain, and vice versa.”

“I’m not sure”, she at first said quietly, but then added: “But I know that happiness, or joy, is more than the absence of pain. And pain can be caused by the absence of happiness.”

He turned his head to the side again to look at her and scrutinized her facial expression, wondering whether he was correct in assuming what had prompted her to utter that last sentence. He was fairly certain that she was speaking from profound personal experience and that the reason for the absence of her happiness was sitting right next to her. She looked back unflinchingly, but with a vulnerable expression in her eyes. Their faces were not more than 20 centimetres apart. She saw his pale green eyes wander over her face with a troubled glint, his lips opened slightly. Then the expression in his eyes became softer and for about two seconds, his face moved about an inch closer to hers. Before she could do or think anything, however, she saw his eyes flicker with a glimmer of dread and shock and he backed away, got up from the sofa and walked to the window, staring at the stars.

She followed his movements with an open mouth, sharply drawing breath as a wave of surprise, confusion and titillation hit her.

Still gazing at the stars, he said quietly: “I believe it is time for me to say goodnight, too.”

Teresa got up and approached him at the window. “Of course”, she said softly, carefully observing him, not getting too close.

He made no move to leave immediately, however, but looked at her, thoughtfully, frowning. They proceeded to stare at each other for a few silent seconds.

Suddenly, Teresa caught a quickly increasing blue light in the corner of her eye, so she tore her gaze away from him and looked into space. “Spock!”, she exclaimed a second later, wide-eyed. He followed her gaze and drew in a sharp breath himself.

At a few dozen kilometres distance off the starboard bow, a wormhole had appeared. Currents of blazing blue light were swirling around the pitch-black circle in the middle.

“It’s beautiful”, Teresa gasped.

For a few seconds neither of them managed to move, but then they looked at each other and Teresa pressed her communicator. “Juárez to bridge.”

“Chakotay here”, came the answer. “We can see it as well. We are conducting scans. Stand by.”

Spock and Teresa breathlessly stared in turns at the wormhole and each other, both having been painted blue by its light.

“Should we not… do something?”, Teresa said, her nerves stretched thin. “Like, go to the shuttle bay? Oh dear, where’s my uniform?”

“We do not even know yet whether it leads us back to where we need to go”, Spock reminded her.

“I know”, she replied, “but we could save some time in case it turns out to be - …”

“We are preparing to send a probe through it”, Chakotay told them over the communicator. “If it turns out to be stable, we will beam you directly to the shuttle bay.”

Another minute passed, during which neither of them spoke; they simply continued staring at the wormhole and at each other. Just when Teresa remembered that her uniform was lying in the bathroom, the wormhole collapsed and was gone. Her quarters were left a lot darker.

For another few seconds, they simply stared into the black vastness of space, dotted with minuscule lights.

“Sorry about that”, came Chakotay’s voice through the communicator. “The wormhole collapsed before the probe could reach it. Nonetheless, we have collected some telemetry. Seven says she will be ready to discuss it in the morning.”

“Thank you, Commander”, Spock said.

“Chakotay out.”

Teresa took a deep, shaky breath, not knowing whether she should be excited or disappointed. Spock empathically put a hand on her shoulder, looking a little distraught himself.

“Well”, she then said dryly, “maybe that was that one opportunity we were not allowed to miss. Your theory, remember?”

“Maybe”, he replied.

“On the other hand”, she continued, regaining her cool head, “as it’s already appeared twice here, there’s a very good chance it will appear again.”

“Indeed”, he agreed and let go of her shoulder, clearing his throat. “Well, then…”

“Good night”, she whispered, still wide-eyed.

“Good night”, he answered, and slowly walked to her door. In the open door, he turned back around to look at her, with the same thoughtful expression he had exhibited earlier. Then he was gone.

Once again, she was left standing alone in her quarters, looking after him, feeling agitated and confused. At first, she mainly thought of the wormhole and the growing hope that it was indeed stable and predictable and one day would open long enough to let them get through. Then, after the first excitement had waned away, she remembered the reason they had been standing next to the window in the first place. For a second, before he had backed away in shock at his own behaviour, it had seemed as though Spock had followed an impulse to kiss her.

Chapter Text

The next morning, after another somewhat restless night, Teresa found many reasons why last night’s moment had probably not been such a big deal after all. She might have been mistaken in that Spock had been at the point of kissing her. Maybe he had moved his head closer to hers in order to read her facial expression better and then had become aware that this action might be misinterpreted by her. Maybe she had inadvertently moved closer to him and not the other way around. This theory did not stick, however; she recalled the moment in perfect clarity. She also remembered how his gaze had grown softer, almost tender, just a second before.

Well, I already knew that he finds me attractive, she then told herself. No surprise there. He is trying to allow more emotions, so he probably simply did not control himself quite as well as usual. But the way he reacted then just goes to show that he will never allow himself to act on such impulses, let alone let himself fall in love with me or start a romantic relationship. Nothing fundamental has changed. I’ll do my best to avoid more moments like these, so that we don’t jeopardize our friendship again.

“Seven of Nine to Lieutenant Juárez”, her communicator interrupted her hair-brushing.

“Juárez here.”

“Report to the astrometrics lab at 07:30 hours.”

Charming, Teresa thought. That’s in ten minutes.

“Understood. Juárez out.“

In the corridor, she met Spock.

“Good morning”, he said with his usual innocence. “Have you been summoned as well?”

“I have”, she confirmed, smirking. “I suspect Seven of Nine needs to work on her interpersonal skills. Once again, I am curious about her story.”

“She does not seem like the kind of person who would share it”, Spock replied, while they stepped into a turbolift. “Deck eight.”

“Maybe”, Teresa speculated, while the lift began to move, “people simply can’t tell us because it would reveal too much about the 24th century. You’ve seen her implant. I wonder what it’s for.”

“Indeed, I was also intrigued by it”, Spock answered. “In our time, it is not usual to provide people with implants that do not seem to serve any medical purpose.”

“Well, maybe it does”, Teresa said. “A medical purpose not known to us.”

“Maybe.”

“She’s not Starfleet, either”, Teresa added. “So why is she on the ship? But she seems to have ample scientific knowledge at her disposal.”

“Without question.”

The turbolift doors opened onto deck eight, where there was no more opportunity to speculate about Seven of Nine, because they ran into Janeway, Chakotay and B’Elanna Torres.

“Good morning”, the Captain smiled at them. “I suppose you are very eager to hear what Seven has to say about the wormhole.”

“Indeed”, Spock answered.

“I just wish she had left some time for coffee”, Janeway sighed. “Well, later.”

Seven of Nine awaited them all in the astrometrics lab, standing next to a console. Spock and Teresa, who saw this room for the first time, looked around in stunned silence for a moment.

“Impressive”, Spock murmured.

“Oh”, Janeway groaned. “The astrometrics lab was probably not the best place to discuss this. You probably should not have seen it.” The lack of coffee seemed to have made her careless.

“Too late”, Chakotay said lightly, obviously not particularly troubled by this.

“It is the best place to illustrate our findings about the wormhole”, Seven of Nine said, unmoved, and pressed a few buttons on the controls before her. On a gigantic 3D-screen on the wall before them, a star map appeared, with three highlighted dots in the middle.

“Fascinating”, Spock murmured once again.

“The wormhole opened a second time three hours and 25 minutes ago, when most of the crew, including me, were regenerating”, Seven told her avid listeners. Teresa was puzzled by her use of the word ‘regenerating’ instead of ‘sleeping’ for a moment, but she did not think any more about it. “The night shift was able to collect more data about it, which is why, with the combined telemetry of yesterday’s probe, the Equinox’s shuttle logs, the dispersal of neutrino, verteron and tachyon particles in this region of space and the latest data I have been able to conclude that the wormhole is, with a 96.92% probability, predictable.”

“That’s wonderful news”, Janeway clapped her hands together, while Spock and Teresa exchanged an excited (or in his case, mildly pleased) look. “What more can you tell us?”

“Apart from it being predictable, its appearances follow a quite chaotic pattern”, Seven continued, “which I believe is self-evident after its two most recent appearances. To apply a more precise term to it, it is a spatial-temporal flexure, an intermittent, cyclical vortex. Its event horizon is 2.41 kilometres in diameter. It does not only appear at infrequent and irregular intervals; it also never appears in exactly the same spot. This” (one of the highlighted points on the star map blinked) “is the location where it appeared when Commander Spock and Lieutenant Juárez first encountered it. Its second point of appearance was here” (a second point blinked) “30 642 kilometres away. And its third appearance was here, 23 511 kilometres away from its second point of appearance. From the dispersion of neutrino, verteron and tachyon particles in the area and their decay rate, I have been able to extrapolate four further past appearances. My calculations indicate that with a 98.62% percent probability, it will reappear in five days and nine hours, and then again in seven days and seven hours, but each time for an insufficient period of time to safely send them through. The next opportunity for them to return to their own time and place will probably only arise in seventeen days and three hours.”

“Seventeen days”, Teresa whispered. “That sounds good.”

“Terrific”, Janeway made. “Next time we can make a fresh attempt to send through a probe, to see whether it is stable at the other end.”

“I recommend a self-destructing probe”, B’Elanna said. “That way, it won’t be found by anyone in the 23rd century in case the wormhole collapses before we can retrieve it.”

“Good idea”, Janeway replied. “Program it so that it self-destructs the moment it loses communication with the ship.”

“Understood”, B’Elanna nodded.

“Can you also predict the exact location of the wormhole’s future appearances?”, Chakotay asked Seven of Nine.

“Only with a 20.9% error margin”, Seven answered.

“I see”, Chakotay said. “Captain, I recommend moving Voyager to a safer distance from the wormhole’s previous points of appearance. Maybe a quarter of a lightyear.”

“So that Voyager does not get drawn into the wormhole itself”, Janeway nodded. “See to it.”

“It would also take us more time to reach it with our shuttle if we are so far away from it”, Spock raised a concern.

“If we still can’t predict its exact location in seventeen days”, Janeway decided, “we can simply place your shuttle closer to its previous points of appearance than Voyager will be situated.”

“A logical course of action”, Spock replied.

“And if we do determine that the wormhole is stable and predictable”, the Captain continued, “we could plan to erase your memories shortly before we send you back through it.”

“Yes, that’s true”, Teresa said, with an obvious lack of enthusiasm.

Captain Janeway looked at her regretfully. “I understand that you do not like the idea of having to forget everything about your stay here”, she repeated her words from a few days ago. “And we certainly would love you to remember us. But it is the most prudent course of action.”

“Definitely”, Teresa confirmed, smiling at her again.

“It is indeed unfortunate”, Spock agreed. “But an acceptable plan.”

“We will erase your memories, sedate you, place you in the shuttle and send you through the wormhole”, Janeway summarized the plan.

“But there’s one thing”, Teresa interjected, “If we are unconscious, who will navigate the shuttle into the wormhole?”

“The autopilot”, Chakotay said.

“Yes, but if we don’t know where exactly the wormhole will appear?”

“Then we will”, the Commander smiled. “Remotely.”

“I see”, Teresa replied, surprised once again. “I won’t ask how that’s done.”

For a moment, everyone was quiet, then she mused with a preoccupied expression: “Missing for 24 days…”

Spock looked at her with a serious face. “They will most probably have stopped actively searching for us by then.”

“We will replenish your shuttle’s energy reserves to full capacity”, the Captain promised. “And we can program it to send out an automated distress call. You can prerecord a message before we erase your memories. When you wake up, it will already have been transmitting for a while.”

“Understood”, Spock said, and Teresa added: “A good plan.”

“Until then”, Janeway beamed, “you can enjoy your time on Voyager and we will continue to have the pleasure of your company for another few weeks.”

“If the wormhole – or the spatial-temporal flexure – does turn out to be stable and the erasure of our memories a certainty”, Spock asked, with a glance at Teresa, who seemed to carry the same question on her lips, “will you allow us to learn more about the 24th century?”

“Merely to satisfy our curiosity for a while”, Teresa added, “even though, or exactly because, we will forget it all again, anyway.”

Janeway looked at them, both with a hopeful expression on their faces, exchanged a glance with Chakotay and then said: “Yes, maybe that will be possible. I will give it some more thought.”

“At least we could grant them access to some more systems, like the holodeck”, Chakotay suggested.

Spock and Teresa exchanged another glance. “Actually, Commander”, Spock calmly informed him, “we have already been to the holodeck.”

“You have?”, Janeway asked sternly.

 Spock nodded. “I entered it by accident already on our second day here. A member of your crew, who was there at the time, decided that there was no harm in explaining its basic functions to me, as I had already seen it. I thought his reasoning was… logical. And as I already knew about it, I only thought it… just to share this knowledge with the Lieutenant here.”

Janeway rubbed her forehead. “May I ask who that crew member was?”

“Lieutenant Paris”, Spock answered with some regret about having to divulge his name.

“Please”, Teresa said. “Lieutenant Paris was quite right. As Spock had already seen the holodeck, it was already too late.”

Janeway sighed, with a sceptical look on her face. “I’ll think about him, too. Well, I guess that in this case, I can allow you to keep using the holodeck. But we’ll make sure to restrict access to any programs that might contain information you’re not supposed to know.”

“Thank you, Captain”, Teresa smiled. “I did like it very much and would be glad to go there again.”

The briefing and discussion in the astrometrics lab meant that they arrived in the kitchen at a later time than they had wanted to. Neelix had already prepared most of breakfast himself and declined their offer of help with the rest. They ended up having breakfast with Captain Janeway, who consumed masses of coffee and entertained them with harmless (timeless) anecdotes about captaining Voyager. Unlike Tom, Harry or B’Elanna, she did not ask any awkward questions and Teresa was grateful that, as she knew about her feelings for Spock, she was careful not to put her on the spot.

“How are you this morning, Kathryn?”, Teresa inquired, giving her a warm smile.

Spock’s eyebrows formed a slight frown of surprise when he heard her addressing the Captain by her first name.

“Fine, especially now that we have good news about the wormhole”, Janeway answered and smiled back. Seeing Spock’s astoundment, she smiled more broadly and explained: “I’ve asked Teresa to be on a first name basis with me. You see, being captain, I only have very few people with whom I can be a little less formal. I thought her to be the perfect choice, as she’s not a regular part of my crew. And I like her.”

Teresa made a flattered sound, grinned and repeated her words from four days ago: “I like you, too, Kathryn.”

“Well”, Janeway smirked, “I’m glad that’s settled. You’re welcome to call me Kathryn, too, of course, Spock.”

He declined graciously. “I thank you, but I prefer ‘Captain’ for the time being.”

“He’s not much of a first name basis officer”, Teresa remarked in a friendly tone. “Though you do sometimes call Captain Kirk ‘Jim’, Spock. I’ve heard it.”

“That is correct”, he assented. “Captain Kirk and I have formed a close relationship over the years. However, being half-Vulcan, overt familiarity with a large number of crewmates is not in my nature. Teresa”, and he used her first name on purpose, “is an exception.”

“So I gather”, Janeway smiled. “By the way, Teresa, people have been in raptures about your musical performance. I’m sorry I missed it. Maybe you can repeat it sometime soon?”

Teresa blushed slightly and nodded. “Gladly. But it was really quite spontaneous. The Doctor forced me to”, she chuckled.

“Did you hear it?”, Janeway asked Spock.

He nodded. “On the Enterprise, she is in the habit of entertaining our crewmates, on her own or with others.”

“So you must do it again. The Doctor is also very eager to sing with you again.”

“The Doctor sings?”, Spock asked, astonished.

“Oh yes, I forgot to tell you about that”, Teresa said. “I paid a social visit to sickbay a few days ago.” And she told him about her conversation and spontaneous duet with the hologram. “He’s really exceptional”, she grinned.

“They say you could have been a professional singer”, Janeway remarked. “Why didn’t you?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?”, Teresa said in a friendly tone and cited the Starfleet motto: “I wanted to explore new life and new civilizations. I’m more than content with performing for the crew.”

“That is a very good reason”, Janeway agreed with a warm smile.

“Spock plays the Vulcan lyre very well, you know”, Teresa directed the conversation away from herself.

“Oh?”, Janeway asked. “And do you play it in private or in front of people, as well?”

“I do not mind playing in front of people, though I do not actively seek it”, he replied. “I have also accompanied Teresa a few times.”

“Now, that would be fabulous”, Janeway exclaimed. “If the two of you could play and sing for us.”

Spock nodded, but he raised his eyebrows and remarked: “Unfortunately, I cannot play without an instrument.”

“Hm”, Janeway made. “Maybe we can do something about that.”

“Does one of your crew own a Vulcan lyre?”, Spock inquired.

“I’m not sure”, Janeway evaded the question.

For a minute or so, they ate in silence. Then Spock spoke again. “Captain”, he said, “commanding a starship in this exceptional situation must be accompanied by all kinds of challenges you would not have to face under different circumstances. I was wondering whether you could enlighten me in that respect. Only as long as this does not include information we are not supposed to obtain, of course.”

“Certainly”, Janeway promised him. “Tell me, Spock, do you want to be captain one day?”

“Oh, he does”, Teresa assured her, while Spock said at the same time: “I admit, such a posting would not be unwelcome.” They looked at each other, Spock with raised eyebrows and Teresa grinning apologetically and with a little cheek. “Spock, I though modesty was illogical.” His eyebrows wandered even higher up his forehead, while Janeway observed them both.

 “Well, then”, Spock declared serenely, “I do harbour that goal.”

Teresa gave Janeway an amused told-you-so look. “The mean thing is”, she said to Spock, “that she knows exactly whether your wish will come true or not, but she won’t tell you.”

Captain Janeway could not help but grin herself. “That’s true. Nevertheless, I am happy to answer your question as best I can.”

25 minutes later, when they were bringing their empty trays away, Teresa felt someone tucking at her left sleeve. She had to look first to the side and then further down until her eyes fell on Naomi, who looked at her with an expectant expression. “Ah, good morning, Naomi.”

“Good morning”, the little girl replied. “Are you going to play with me again?”

“Well, right now, we have to go and work in the airponics bay”, Teresa answered, exchanging a glance with Spock.

“Can I come and help?”

Another exchange of glances with Spock. “Certainly”, he said and Teresa nodded.

So they set out in the direction of the turbolift, Teresa having taken Naomi by the hand and bouncing down the corridor with her.

“I still remember how to say the Spanish tongue twister”, Naomi announced proudly.

“Well, go ahead”, Teresa grinned.

Naomi made the necessary changes to her UT (Teresa had recently found out that on the Voyager comm badges, one could adjust the UT so that it would not translate what was being said for the interlocutors, without them having to turn off their own UT). “Pablito clavó un clavito en la calva de un calvito, ¿qué clavito clavó Pablito en la calva de un calvito? ”, she rattled off, then turned the UT to its normal setting again.

“Well done!”, Teresa exclaimed cheerfully, once again glad that Naomi had not asked what that sentence actually meant. ("Pablito nailed a little nail into a little bald man's bald head, what nail did Pablito nail into a little bald man's bald head?")

Spock looked impressed. “Indeed.”

“Did you know that she can speak ten languages?”, Naomi asked Spock.

“I do”, he answered. “In fact, she speaks even more. She speaks those ten fluently, but she has a rudimentary knowledge of several more. As linguistics is not her main occupation, it is a truly impressive amount.”

Teresa, flattered, broke into a faint grin. Spock had sounded almost proud of her. Almost. "But that's nothing in comparison to my friend Nyota", she revealed to Naomi. "Communicating in her main occupation and she speaks around 50 languages by now."

“Wow!" Naomi required a moment to recover from this impressive piece of information, then she turned back to Spock. "Do you also speak more than one language?”

“I speak the Vulcan standard and English, having learned them from my parents. Apart from that, I have partial knowledge of another Vulcan dialect and a few Andorian expressions. Due to the existence of the universal translator, foreign language skills have become mostly unnecessary, which is why learning another language has not been among my priorities.”

They stepped into the turbolift. “Then why do you speak so many?”, Naomi asked Teresa.

“Deck four”, Teresa said, and explained, while the turbolift was moving: “First of all, because it’s really easy for me. I have an extremely good memory, so I have always found memorizing vocabulary and grammar rules very easy. And then I just need to practice, by listening to the language, talking to people, reading texts. And why do I want to learn them in the first place? Well, they’re beautiful, but most of all: every language also has its own way of looking at the world. Or, to put it better, the people who have created it and who speak it share a certain way of looking at the world that is slightly different from other languages. If I learn another language, I also learn to look at the world with different eyes.”

“Like how?”, Naomi asked.

The turbolift came to a halt and all three of them stepped out.

“Well”, Teresa thought about a good example that was not too abstract for a child to understand, while they walked along the corridor. “Have you ever seen sand?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a good example, then. In the English language, there is only one word for the thing you know as ‘sand’. Now, Spock will tell you that in the Vulcan standard language, there are thirteen different words for ‘sand’ in common usage, which means that everyone knows them, not just specialists.”

“That is correct”, Spock confirmed.

“Why?”

“Because there are many different types of sand”, Teresa explained. “Now, in your mind, you connect the word ‘sand’ with a certain idea of what sand is. If you only have one word for all these different types of sand, you’re not quite as attentive and aware of the fact that there are actually many different types of sand on Earth, not just one. Maybe you don’t know it at all. But the planet Vulcan has a lot of deserts, and many Vulcans are surrounded by a lot of sand. They see it every day and therefore notice all the differences between the various types of sand on their planet. They also know the things you can do and create with the different types of sand. So, to tell them apart when talking to each other, they needed to create a different word for every type they knew. Most of the people speaking the English language don’t have a lot of contact with sand, so they have no need to tell different types apart.”

“Did you also see so much sand on Vulcan?”, Naomi asked Spock.

“I did.”

“And you know how to tell the different types apart?”

“I do.”

They had arrived in the airponics bay.

“So, you see?”, Teresa asked her, stopping with Naomi in the corner with the working utensils, while Spock went over to the vegetable stands, still listening attentively to their conversation. “And what I said about seeing the world in a different way does not only apply to things you can touch. It also applies to ideas. A language and the culture of the people who speak it are closely interrelated; one thing wouldn’t be the same without the other. Andorians have four different words that, in English, would all be translated as ‘friendship’, because they’re different types of friendship. On the other hand, they have no separate word for ‘trust’, because the concept – the idea, that is – of trust is already part of three of these four types of friendship; of the idea of them.”

“What type of friendship would you call that between the two of us?”, Naomi inquired.

Teresa smiled, adjusted her UT and knelt down in front of Naomi. “Xhgueshara”, she said gently.

Naomi tried to imitate it. “Which languages do you speak?”

“Hm, my mother tongues are English and Spanish. I speak most of Earth’s most spoken languages quite fluently, so, in addition to English and Spanish, that is Mandarin Chinese, Arabic, Hindi, French and Portuguese. French and Portuguese were very easy to learn for me because they’re very similar to Spanish. I also speak Andorian – their most spoken language, Andorii, that is – and the Vulcan standard, but my Vulcan is better.”

“That is only nine”, Naomi remarked.

“Oh, true”, Teresa made. “I forgot one.”

“Quechua”, they heard Spock’s voice from between the vegetables.

“Oh, yes, thank you”, Teresa grinned. “I told him that once. He’s got a very good memory, as well.”

“And what else? He said you spoke even more than ten.”

“Well, I know a little of Russian, Italian, and another Federation language, Tellarite. But what I most need to work on is my Klingon. Qap’la!”, she grinned.

Spock returned to their corner, in search for the water sprayer. “I sometimes wonder why you did not train to become a communications officer instead of a biologist”, he remarked.

“Well, one has to make a choice”, she smiled, standing up again. “And what would the Enterprise be without Nyota?”

“Lieutenant Uhura is certainly a highly capable and valued crew member.”

“But I must admit, part of me has often wanted to be a bit of a Hoshi Sato”, Teresa conceded, to which he amicably raised an eyebrow. “But these would have been very big shoes to fill. Right. Come on, Naomi, let’s see how the sikiri leaves are progressing.”

They stayed in the airponics bay for a longer time than usual, because Naomi was running from each to the other every few minutes, asking questions about the plants, the soil, the utensils, the planet Vulcan and the thirteen types of sand (actually, there were even more, but not all had a proper term assigned to them), who Lieutenant Uhura and Hoshi Sato were, what this and that word meant in this and that language and so on. Spock answered all her questions to him with Vulcan patience and civility, though Teresa could see that he was not very accustomed to talking with children. Some of his answers were too brainy and scientific even for the clever Naomi. Nevertheless, she seemed to have a great time and was very eager to harvest those cabbage heads that were ripe.

When they came back to the mess hall (and Naomi had left for her quarters), it was already lunch time. Neelix was not perturbed by the fact that they had not helped him make lunch, especially when he heard how they had been entertaining and teaching Naomi.

They found themselves at a table with Commander Chakotay and a female Denobulan ensign in yellow, who introduced herself as ‘Onyezal’.

“Oh, I haven’t met any Denobulan in many years”, Teresa said happily, beaming at her.

“There are not many in Starfleet”, Spock remarked. “At least, in our time.”

“Well, I am the only one on board”, Onyezal laughed.

“Exactly how many different species are on Voyager?”, Teresa asked both her and Chakotay.

“Eighteen”, Commander Chakotay answered. “The majority of the personnel are human. But we have Onyezal here, B’Elanna and Naomi, of course, nine Vulcans, eight Andorians, five Tellarites, seven Rigelians, three Bolians, a Talaxian, four Betazoids, six Efrosians, three Deltans, four Coridanites, three Grazerites, two Kasheeta, an Algolian and… three Bajorans. Eight of these are species hybrids.”

“Bajorans”, Spock repeated. “Are these the individuals with the nasal creases, whose outward appearance otherwise does not differ from humans’?”

Chakotay nodded.

“I have heard of Bajor”, remarked Spock.

“And this is where this topic has to end”, Teresa joked, with a measure of resignation. “Because we’re not allowed to hear the story of how Bajorans came to end up on a Starfleet vessel.”

“I’m afraid so”, Chakotay confirmed apologetically.

“So, what are we allowed to speak to you about?”, Onyezal wondered with a friendly smirk.

“Until now, people have mostly either asked us a ton of questions or shared those pieces of their personal information that do not reveal any historical, technological or cultural facts we don’t already know about or could learn in our time as well”, Teresa summarized their conversations of the past week. “For example, Commander, is that an indigenous tattoo?”

Chakotay nodded.

“Which tribe?”

“We are descended from the ancient Central American Rubber Tree people.”

“Unfortunately, I’ve never heard of them”, Teresa said.

“We are a very small tribe”, he told her not to worry. For a few minutes, he gave them an intriguing insight into his tribe’s beliefs, which of them he shared and which rituals he still observed, explaining most of all the medicine wheel and spirit animals. Spock, fascinated, pointed out the similarities to some Vulcan spiritual beliefs.

After a while, Teresa turned back to Onyezal. “What is it like for you, being on Voyager?”

“Well, it’s a good ship and crew, but like everyone here, I miss home. Most of all my siblings and my two husbands.”

“Only two?”, Teresa asked, and knowing that Denobulans usually did not mind to openly discuss very personal topics with strangers, cheerfully added: “Well, still one to go.”

Onyezal laughed. “Actually not. Spouse number three works in engineering.”

“Ah, wonderful”, Teresa smiled. “That must make it a little easier.”

“A little”, the ensign affirmed. “But I still miss the other two. And I wonder what they would say if they found out that spouse number three is a female.” She broke into a mischievous grin.

“Are there negative attitudes towards bisexuality in Denobulan society?”, Chakotay inquired.

“Not exactly. It’s rather that I had not even encountered the concept before spending more time among members of other species. Does it exist in Vulcan society?”, she asked Spock.

Spock, as always a little hesitant when it came to discussing the most intimate aspects of Vulcan life, looked at her for a short moment and then said, as calmly as always: “Bisexuality and homosexuality exist among Vulcans, but they are not widespread.”

“And how do Vulcans feel about it?”, Onyezal dug deeper, with cheerful interest.

“It would be illogical to harbour prejudice against naturally occurring phenomena such as these, if that is what you mean.”

“Vulcans are generally monogamous, are they not?” Onyezal said this with the mild amusement of someone remarking on an intriguing curiosity.

Spock nodded. “Generally, yes.”

“Hm”, the Ensign made, and added with a wink: “I suppose that’s because they consider having more than one mate an illogical, or inefficient, use of their time.”

“That is certainly one reason.”

The conversation would probably have gone on in a similar fashion for quite some time, but Teresa rescued Spock by directing Onyezal’s attention towards the fauna on Denobula instead, as she was not very familiar with it yet. The rest of their lunch was spent on similarly inconspicuous topics.

Finally, once most of the Voyager crew, their two table companions included, had finished their mealtime break, Spock and Teresa were left sitting on their own in a mostly empty mess hall.

“Well,”, she made, relaxedly leaning back into her chair. “What now?”

“We should help some more in the kitchen”, Spock replied. “And then…” He lifted his eyebrows, wearing his most innocent expression. “The Captain did give us permission to visit the holodeck again.”

She broke into a wide smile. “An excellent idea.”

“Should we look for a different program?”, Spock asked, eyeing the panel.

“I really liked the one we chose last time”, Teresa said. “I would like to go there again.”

“I concur.” Spock pressed a few buttons and the holodeck doors opened onto the sun-lit lawn once more.

They stepped into the sunlight, the doors closing behind them. Teresa closed her eyes and gave a deep, fulfilled sigh. “I could stay here all day.”

“Nothing prevents you from doing that”, Spock remarked.

She chuckled. “Except a need for nourishment in the evening. How about we walk into a different direction this time?”

“Agreed.”

They walked in silence for a while, observing the landscape. Teresa took in all the impressions as best as she could: the warm sunlight, the gentle breeze, the lush flora, the sounds and smells, birdsong, the rustling of little animals amid the vegetation.

After about 20 minutes, they chanced upon a little, clear-watered stream, which burbled quietly over some highly polished rocks.

“Wonderful”, Teresa made, and without any further ado, she sat down at its bank, took off her shoes and dipped her feet into the water, letting it caress her ankles.

Spock had stopped short next to her, watching her with some astonishment.

“What?”, she laughed. “Have you never seen anyone put their feet into the water before?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I have seen Vulcan children do it. At hot springs.”

“Well”, she smirked, “Humans do it as adults as well. At cool streams as well at hot springs. Why don’t you try it?”

“No, thank you”, he said politely. But he sat down in a cross-legged position next to her, running his fingers over the grass, watching the water flow by.

“The sound of the water has quite a calming effect”, she told him. “Listen.”

For a minute, they were silent, while the stream burbled and gurgled past them. Spock let out a quiet sigh. “Indeed”, he then murmured.

She gave him a warm and tranquil smile and then looked back at the stream. When she turned to look at him half a minute later, she saw that he had closed his eyes and was seemingly meditating.

She smiled even more widely, turning her attention back to the nature around them. But she could not stop herself from soon observing him again, the peaceful and restful expression on his face, the softness of his closed eyes and lips, the sunlight dancing together with the breeze in his black hair. As so often, she was left speechless by how beautiful he was, how precious, how soft and strong at the same time, how Vulcan, how human, how extraordinarily wonderful.

He opened his eyes and found her looking at him, probably before she had managed to moderate the expression on her own face. But this time, he did not seem taken aback or perturbed in any way. He simply took a quiet breath, looking back at her, knowing, but at peace.

“You are right”, he said placidly. “The sound has a meditative quality.”

She smiled and turned her attention to the water around her feet, splashing around a little, then she held her face up towards the sun, closed her eyes herself and took a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders.

The next thing she heard was that he was taking off his own shoes, throwing them into the grass. Astonished, she opened her eyes in time to see him carefully lower his feet into the stream. She could faintly see the green veins under his yellowish skin.

“Fascinating”, he said.

She was speechless for a moment, then she remarked: “You have become a yo-yo, Spock.”

He looked at her apologetically. “A surprising, though apt choice of metaphor. You are correct. I apologize if my frequent behavioural changes are causing confusion.”

“That’s alright”, she assured him. “I’m glad you are discovering the appeal of immersing yourself in nature, not just studying it. Even if it’s only a holo-projection.”

“It is the human way of immersing oneself in nature”, he told her gently. “Vulcans rather consider themselves… constantly one with nature. On Vulcan, I have often ventured out and ‘immersed myself’ in the landscape, although this was most of the time less of a physical experience and more of a spiritual one. One could almost call it a ‘mind meld’ with nature.”

At the mention of the word ‘mind meld’, Teresa shifted around uncomfortably. The movement was almost imperceptible, but Spock noticed it, nonetheless.

“However”, he continued softly, “I do recognize the appeal of putting one’s feet into the water.”

“It sounds like I have a lot to learn from you, as well”, she smiled, pulling her feet out of the water and letting the sun dry them. “Although these activities like swimming, lying in the grass or climbing a tree have always been more than just physical experiences to me, but spiritual as well.”

“That does not surprise me. I was probably over-hasty in my assessment.” He pulled his feet out, too, and shook the water off.

After a few further minutes of silent contemplation and letting the sun dry their feet, they put their shoes back on and proceeded to walk along the thin path that followed along the stream. Only a short while later, however, Spock caused Teresa even more astonishment when he stopped in front of a particularly juicy patch of grass, sighed, looked as though he was taking a courageous decision and then lay down flat onto the ground, staring up at the sky with an expression he usually wore when he was musing on a scientific problem.

“How do you like it down there?”, she asked, amused.

“It is… pleasant.” He squinted his eyes, holding his hand before his face to shield them against the sunlight.

“How about you close your eyes?” She could not help but laugh.

He sat up again, frowning. “I can see you are entertained.”

“No, carry on”, she said, with a more serious expression. “It’s just… you really are a yo-yo.”

“Hm”, he made, getting up again, which Teresa was sorry to see. “I suppose in the attempt to find a new balance, it is a natural phenomenon to first swing towards the extremes.”

You consider lying in the grass the extreme?, she thought incredulously, but she did not say it out loud. “I suppose it’s also, as I’ve mentioned before, the extraordinary situation we find ourselves in”, she said instead, empathically, as they started to walk again. “As we’ve already said: being so far away from our lives, the uncertainty and suspense, the large amounts of leisure time… it takes us out of our routine and set habits, it provides room to think, for introspection, to turn our attention to things we have been pushing aside. Life on the Enterprise is most of the time too busy and too… regulated for that.”

He was silent for a little while and when she already thought that he would rather not continue down the path of this topic, he said quietly: “That leads me to mention – … to pick up on the conversation we had on our first morning here. It was cut short.”

For a moment she did not know what he meant, then her heart sank. “On the way to the Captain’s ready room, you mean?”

“Yes”, he confirmed carefully, observing her.

“Well, what is there left to say?” She was still walking, looking into the trees to their right.

“You are angry”, he said.

“I – …” She stopped short. “Angry”, she repeated blankly.

“With me.”

She said nothing for a while, and then took a deep, shaky breath, her back turned to him. “And what if I am?”

“I get the impression that you are not addressing, or facing, this anger.” He seemed to have learned quite a few things from Dr. McKennah since she had come aboard the Enterprise.

She laughed bitterly. “Oh, Mr. counsellor, I assure you I am fully aware of this anger, I have looked at it from all sides and am letting it die a slow, natural death. I have just not shared it with you.”

“Maybe you should”, he said firmly, and she could feel his gaze in her back.

She turned around to look at him, standing several metres away on the path shaded by trees, suddenly feeling her anger wallow up. “Alright”, she said forcefully, “I am angry. But there’s no point in directing it at you because you apologized most sincerely. And I forgave you.”

He looked at her, his eyes faintly glistening with apprehension and dismay. “It seems that forgiveness and persisting anger for an injury caused can coexist”, he said gently.

“They can”, she confirmed with a thick voice, shaking with suppressed emotion.

“You can vent your anger at me. Maybe it will help; you are human. I do not mind; I probably deserve it.”

“How generous of you”, she laughed. “I mean it; you’re so generous. You’re such a good person! And yet, you - … alright, let me tell you how I feel. I feel violated, Spock.” She forced the word out of her mouth, enunciating every letter, a hand pressed against her chest. “Violated! By you of all people!” She almost shouted the last sentence.

The pain now became clearly visible in his eyes. He was listening to her with a pale face, his lips pressed together.

“As I have already said, I understand why you thought it necessary; if you hadn’t done it, the Captain and the Doctor would probably have died. I know how sorry you are. I know I said it was justifiable under the circumstances. It was. But I can’t help feeling violated. You pressed me against a rockface with your… damn Vulcan strength and invaded my innermost self!”

He closed his eyes and lowered his head for a moment, but went back to staring at her, breathing more laboriously than a moment ago, with slightly opened lips.

“And there was nothing I could do, nothing I could hide from you, you saw everything I had been so careful and successful at keeping from you. I had been so curious about mind melds – I still am – but instead of a transformative, exhilarating, fascinating, wondrous joining of two minds I got… this!” She spat out the last word, her voice drenched in pain and humiliation.

“I am… so. sorry”, he breathed, looking desperate.

“I know”, she replied, half-laughing, half-sobbing with pain and anger. “There’s nothing you can do, nothing I expect of you; you can’t undo it.”

“No”, he panted.

“So I’m angry. But that’s not the only reason. I am also angry because I love you – deeply, desperately – and you know it, although I would never have told you. And it’s making everything between us more difficult. And I feel… exposed, naked – in a metaphorical sense, of course –, because you have seen the deepest secrets of my soul, although I had been trying so hard – so hard – to keep them from you. And now I have to look into your eyes every day to see how sorry you are and how uncomfortable all of this makes you, which also is just another confirmation of the fact that you will never, never - …”

She stopped herself, gasping, her chest heaving, her eyes moist, and put her hands against her temples. “No”, she then said, breathing a little more calmly and shaking her head. “No. That’s going too far. I won’t go down that path. There’s no point. It’s madness.”

Spock looked more shocked and utterly miserable than ever. She had never seen him this emotional (apart from these two times when he had not been himself). “I am sorry to cause you so much pain”, he said quietly, but desperately.

She exhaled sharply. “It’s not your fault.”

He took a deep breath, still fixating his gaze onto her, but said nothing. Now that her outburst was over, she observed him more attentively and slowly came closer until she stood directly before him, scrutinizing his face. “That’s absurd”, she said softly and breathlessly. “You are in pain.”

“Absurd?”, he asked, with a tight jaw. “No.”

“Unnecessary”, she corrected herself. “It’s not your fault you don’t love me.”

Spock looked at her as though all the air had been knocked out of his lungs, his mouth slightly open.

“It happens all the time”, she said calmly, but with emphasis. “Unrequited love is part of the human condition. Something we just have to accept.”

With difficulty, he opened his mouth. “Still…” His voice trailed away.

“I can take it”, she assured him, with resounding confidence, almost nonchalantly. “I’m strong, I can take it.”

“I know you are”, he replied.

“So”, she said gently, “there’s really no point in talking about it. Or about my anger ever again. It just makes our relationship unnecessarily difficult. As you said yourself, I value our friendship too much to want to burden it with all this… pain, drama and awkwardness.”

He took another deep breath, his gaze not leaving her face for a second. “I care about you”, he said quietly. “I cannot help but… be affected by your pain.”

Her eyes grew wide and tender. “That is very… human of you.”

“I suppose so”, he said softly.

She took his right hand, lifted it up and pressed it, which he registered with a wide-eyed expression. “Thank you for caring”, she said warmly. “But we’re fine. I’d still rather have us spend our time more pleasantly. After all”, she continued in a matter-of-fact voice, but smiling, “we still have to spend seventeen days together here on Voyager, or if something goes wrong, maybe the rest of our lives. And if we get back, more than a year on the Enterprise. Maybe more; who knows where our next postings will be.”

He nodded, returning the grasp of her hand. Then, he asked with a frown: “Would you refuse your next posting if it placed you on the same ship with me again?”

Her facial expression grew blank. “To be honest”, she whispered, “I don’t know.” They looked at each other in silent sadness. Then she chuckled dryly: “What if you were my captain next?”

He took a tense breath. “Difficult”, he admitted.

She smiled a sad, but warm smile, and let go of his hand. “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.” Taking a few steps backwards, she said: “Why don’t we keep walking for a bit?”, and then turned around and walked up the slight slope they had been standing on.

Spock remained immobile for a few seconds, flexing the fingers of his right hand and taking another deep, controlled breath. His eyes followed her handsome figure up the slope, while his hands clenched into fists, trying to crush the intense emotions and desires that were threatening to overwhelm him. Slowly, he followed her up the slope.

Teresa was walking quite fast, as though by walking she could exhaust all the emotional energy that was pumping through her body. After a while, she looked back to see if Spock was still behind her, which he was. He met her gaze with a stoic face. She allowed him to catch up with her, so that they were walking next to each other.

They walked in silence for almost fifteen minutes, until she let out a relaxed sigh and said: “I love this place“, mainly to break the silence and start a more innocent conversation.

“The holodeck or this particular program?”, he asked.

“Oh, this program”, she specified.

He did not reply, so she offered: “But we can change the program again, if you like.”

“That won’t be necessary”, he replied. “I agree, this place is… pleasant.”

She suddenly felt the urge to laugh. “‘Pleasant’”, she said. “‘Unfortunate’.”

He glanced at her sideways.

“These are the most emotional adjectives in your stock vocabulary, are they not?”, she grinned.

“It is possible.”

“I get the impression“, she continued, “that for you, ‘pleasant’ covers an impressive range of meanings. It can be just plain and simple ‘pleasant’, but also your equivalent of ‘amazing’.”

He hesitated. “Maybe.”

The silence returned. She felt a little silly for having brought it up, but she had wanted to banish the silence and lighten the mood.

Ten minutes later, they reached a peak, from which they enjoyed an impressive view. The last few metres had been a little demanding, which is why she said: “Finally, it’s getting a little more exhausting. You know, I just realized that I haven’t really worked out for more than a week. This walking/hiking is very nice, but it’s not demanding enough.”

“Indeed”, he concurred, taking in the view. “Neither have I.”

“Voyager must have training facilities”, she mused. “Maybe holodeck training programs.”

“Maybe”, he said, “but on one of my walks around the ship I also found a gymnasium where some crew members were engaging in hand-to-hand combat training.”

“Oh, very good”, she said. “I think I’ll try it tomorrow. I suppose there’s no reason why we shouldn’t be allowed to use it.”

“I can think of none.”

He was staring thoughtfully into the valley before them. His posture was not relaxed anymore, like it had been at the beginning of their foray into the holodeck, but tense. Teresa felt a sinking sensation, while she observed him out of the corner of her eye.

“Spock”, she gathered the courage to brush on the topic again, “we’re fine, aren’t we?”

Finally, he turned around to truly face her again. He exhaled, relaxed a little and looked at her apologetically. “Of course we are”, he said quietly. “Forgive me. I do not mean to reintroduce any uneasiness into our interaction. And after all, it was me who encouraged you to… open up to me.” He gazed at her gently. “It is only that… I believe I need some time to process what you have told me.”

“I understand”, she said.

“Only a century ago”, he mused, “mind melds were a taboo in Vulcan culture. They were reintroduced because of a relaxation in social conventions – …” She raised her eyebrows at the idea that Vulcan culture could be regarded as ‘relaxed’, so he paused, looked at her more lightly and continued, “ – believe it or not – and because of the usefulness of their application. But I understand why they were considered a taboo not so long ago, and I often must remind myself to apply them with care and deliberation, and only if truly necessary. Even when their use is logical, it is by no means always ethical.”

She was observing him sympathetically. “You chose to bend all kinds of rules to save the Captain and the Doctor. It was a comprehensible choice. And just because I am… scarred by the incident, that does not mean that I am not content with having had to sacrifice my… privacy for their lives.”

He returned her sympathetic gaze. “Nonetheless, where the red line can be found is a complex ethical question.”

“No doubt.”

“Furthermore”, he continued, his voice becoming even more gentle, “rest assured that my knowledge of your feelings for me will not negatively affect my behaviour towards you in any way. As you yourself have phrased it: I can take it. I am sure that thanks to my Vulcan nature, I can be above such things.”

“Oh?”, she made, puzzled and less than convinced. “But during the last months…”

He ignored this objection, which left her unsatisfied and most sceptical, a circumstance he must have been aware of, but he brushed over it, nonetheless. “And one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Do not think that I can ‘read you like an open book now’; that you have no privacy left. That is not true.”

She made a touched noise and smiled wryly, looking at the ground.

“And”, he continued, now more gently than ever before, “do not think that I was… repelled in any way by anything I saw in your mind.”

She looked up again, taking a deep breath, feeling most vulnerable, embarrassed, relieved and grateful at the same time. Smiling her wry smile again, she bit her lip, while she could not help but recall every passionate embrace or mental joining she had ever dreamt up.

He observed her tenderly. “On the contrary; you have a wonderful mind.”

Coming from him, this was the greatest compliment he could give her. Stunned and deeply moved, Teresa looked into his eyes. Right around the black pupils, the pale green colour of the irises transitioned into a light brown. She was not sure what she was seeing. There was more tenderness there than she would ever have expected to be directed at her or at anyone, which was disconcerting, and she could not help but feel a nervous flutter in her chest and an almighty impulse to run her fingers over his face, which she (naturally) resisted.

A few seconds later, Spock looked as though he had maybe said too much, took a small step back and cleared his throat. “Now that this has been clarified, I believe I will withdraw to my quarters and meditate.”

Teresa blinked, as though she had just been released from a hypnotic spell. “Of course”, she said, with all the poise, dignity and tact she could muster. “Will I see you for dinner?”

“I am not certain”, he replied. “I might eat in my quarters.”

“Understood”, she smiled respectfully.

“Arch!”, he called. The holodeck doors appeared only a few metres from their position on the top of the hill. He went through them without another glance back at her.

Once again, she was left standing there, staring after him. She was now certain that there was something he was not telling her, something he was holding back because the consequences of admitting it were too dauting a prospect. She did not know whether his Vulcan or his human side would win, or whether they would remain in an excruciating deadlock forever.

“May you find peace and clarity”, she whispered.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Teresa was the first in the kitchen, aside from Neelix, of course. He was humming merrily while opening the store cupboards and readying his pots and pans. For the next half hour, they were enwrapped in cheerful busyness, while Neelix enthusiastically explained to her the versatility of leola root. Teresa was snacking on a fig-like dried fruit.

Then the doors opened, and Spock entered the mess hall, making straight for the kitchen.

“Good morning, Mr. Spock Vulcan”, Neelix said.

“Good morning”, Spock answered in a friendly tone, and then looked at Teresa. “To you, too.”

“Morning”, she smiled, lifting another dried fruit to her lips and observing him with glinting eyes.

Spock averted his gaze and began chopping some roots. He seemed perfectly serene, at least on the outside, but Teresa thought she sensed some kind of disequilibrium not too deep under the surface, and suddenly she could not help but feel titillated by the almost certain knowledge that she was the reason.

Her body was full of nervous energy that she did her best to contain. She had slept only lightly, but felt perfectly awake, alert and a little reckless. It did not help that her body was approaching the most fertile days in her cycle, which always heightened her senses and physical excitability.

Therefore, she did not return to her tasks immediately, but strolled over to his spot in the kitchen, munching on her fruit and asking nonchalantly: “So, how did you spend the rest of the day yesterday?”

He threw her a furtive glance and then quickly looked back at the knife he was wielding over the leola roots. “As I told you, I meditated.”

“All evening?”, she asked, slightly incredulously.

“No.”

Chop, chop, chop. He kept his head bent over the roots.

She leant against the table he was working on. “… Well? What else did you do? If I may ask.”

She became aware of that her voice, her movements, her whole behaviour were somewhat more sensual than usual. Considerate enough not to startle him, she managed to reign most of this in, but a small degree remained, a small degree that some stubborn part of her wanted to display, to taunt him, to satisfy her burning curiosity, to make him know it.

He noticed.

Somewhat reservedly and reluctantly, he told her: “I read a book.”

In another corner, Neelix was stirring a soup for far longer than was necessary, listening intently. Teresa ignored it.

“Which book was it?”, she asked.

After a few seconds’ silence, Spock replied with perfect calm: “A Terran novel. One hundred years of solitude.”

Teresa’s hand lifting the next dried fruit to her mouth stopped and hovered in mid-air. “Gabriel García Márquez?”, she asked, astonished.

“Yes.”

After a moment of speechlessness and more chopping on Spock’s part, she inquired: “And what did you think of it?”

He paused, in order to reflect on her question, and finally looked at her again. “It was… intriguing. But I am afraid I lacked the cultural and historical background knowledge to fully grasp its meaning. There were many things that did not make sense to me.”

“Hm”, she made understandingly, while his gaze remained on her face. “Much of the most famous Latin American literature of this period was dominated by a style called ‘magical realism’. It stemmed from the belief that the Latin American condition and life experience could not be described and expressed by strictly realistic writing alone.”

He nodded. “That certainly explains a lot. I suppose that the ghost of a murdered man, a flying carpet and a beautiful and apparently ‘otherworldly’ young woman suddenly floating up towards the sky and vanishing forever cannot be called anything but ‘magic’.”

Teresa let out a short laugh that was a clear as a bell. “What do you think it means?”, she asked, taking the next bite from her dried fruit, observing him with glinting eyes.

“I am not certain”, he said, turning his attention back to the chopping board.

She chuckled. “Neither am I. Though I have some ideas.” Finally renouncing to pick up another fruit, she started chopping a tomato next to him. “And why did you choose this book in particular?”, she could not stop herself from inquiring.

“The computer recommended it”, he answered dryly.

“Ah”, she made, not very convinced that this was the whole truth. Cien años de soledad (One hundred years of solitude) sounded more like a title that the computer would recommend after one had asked it for a selection of the most influential and critically acclaimed literary works of Latin America, Colombia in particular.

“Well, what did you do yesterday evening?”, he asked her, probably eager to change the subject.

“Oh, I had dinner with Samantha and Naomi Wildman”, she told him. “And then I… danced.”

He turned his head to look at her and asked with studied disinterestedness: “Who with?”

“Oh, just myself”, she said. “In my quarters. I do that quite often.”

“I did not know.” His chopping had slowed, and he was gazing at her with mild fascination. “Although I am not surprised.”

“Of course; how could you know if I haven’t told you until now?”, she smiled. “Apart from being enjoyable, it’s also a very good way to express and exhaust myself.”

“I see”, he made and cleared his throat.

You should stop clearing your throat when you’re flustered, she thought decidedly. It’s a tell-tale sign.

His eyes darted towards her and he drew a sharp breath, as though he had heard her thoughts. His face was suddenly pale and he was looking at her with a startled frown and a slightly opened mouth. She looked back in surprise. Could he really have heard that thought? How would that be possible? Had she spoken out loud without noticing? No; she was sure of it.

He took a deep breath through his nose, his jaw slightly tighter, gripped the chopping board with all the leola root on it and walked over to the other side of the kitchen, handing the board with its contents to Neelix.

Extremely confused, she decided to stay as far away from him as possible for the rest of the breakfast preparations.

Around fifteen minutes later, the first crew members dropped in for their meal.

“Hello, B’Elanna”, Teresa said affectionately when she saw the Chief Engineer approach the kitchen.

B’Elanna smiled. “How’s it going?”, she asked Teresa and Spock, who had come closer, now looking as though absolutely nothing was troubling him, Vulcan serenity and innocence competing for radiance on his face.

“Fine”, Teresa answered. “Ah”, she suddenly remembered, “do you think there could be any reason why we could not use the gym? I haven’t done any training in over two weeks.”

“No, I don’t think so”, B’Elanna said. “I was planning on going there later, at 10:00 hours. Why don’t I take you? Spock, what about you?”

“That would be most welcome”, he replied amiably.

“That’s settled, then”, B’Elanna announced. “I hope you’re good fighters.”

Teresa chuckled. “You are, no doubt.”

“You can bet on it.”                      

Teresa and B’Elanna decided to sit down for breakfast together.

“Enjoy”, Spock said in passing. “Tuvok has asked me to eat with him.” He gestured with his head towards the other side of the room, where, indeed, Tuvok was sitting, his head bent over a PADD.

“Of course”, Teresa said, taken by surprise. Spock nodded politely and walked away.

“Let them have their logic talk”, B’Elanna muttered to Teresa.

“You don’t seem to like Vulcans very much”, Teresa remarked.

B’Elanna looked apologetic. “No, it’s not that so much. I have an… ambiguous attitude towards them. I highly respect Tuvok. He is a very decent person. But you know how it is with them”, she gestured with her head towards the other end of the mess hall. “You never see them smile.”

Teresa laughed quietly. “True. At least”, she mused, “almost never.”

“Oh?”, B’Elanna made, and Teresa realized she had said more than she should have. “Have you ever seen a Vulcan smile?”

“Once”, Teresa admitted.

“Was it by any chance”, B’Elanna asked with eyebrows twitching in the direction of Spock and Tuvok again, “that particular Vulcan?”

“He wasn’t his usual self at that time”, Teresa tried to be as unspecific as possible, biting a piece off her toast.

“Ah”, B’Elanna made. “I know what it means if a Vulcan is ‘not himself’.”

Now it was Teresa’s turn to make “Oh?”

“Keep this to yourself, okay?”, B’Elanna muttered.

“Of course”, Teresa assured her with a friendly smile.

“Okay”, B’Elanna began in a lowered voice, “Do you know Vorik? He works under me in engineering.”

“I’ve heard of him”, Teresa muttered back.

“Well, a few months ago, Vorik went through this… Vulcan seven-year-cycle special phase, and for some unfathomable reason he thought it was a good idea to approach me.”

“Oh dear.”

“I said I wasn’t interested, but he lost control over himself and almost assaulted me, trying to initiate a mind meld. I knocked him down, but not before he had managed to meld with me for a second or so. And in that second, he managed to… infect me with his… condition.”

Teresa’s eyes grew wide. “I had no idea this was possible.”

“Neither did I. I hadn’t even known about pon farr before that. As you know, they’re very secretive about it.”

“Indeed.”

B’Elanna looked at her and said: “I’m not going to ask how you know about it. Anyway, I went on an away mission shortly after that. I had no idea why I was suddenly feeling so strange. And then I got separated from the others in a cave system, because I went crazy and ran away. The others then had to mount a rescue mission to find me and explain to me what was happening to me.”

“Was it dangerous for you?”

“The Doctor thought I would die if I didn’t resolve it.”

“So, how… did you resolve it? If I may ask”, Teresa inquired carefully.

“It turned out that you can also resolve the blood fever by fighting for your desired mate, if you’re challenged, you know. So, Vorik and I ended up fighting each other. I won.”

Teresa let out a little intrigued gasp. “You mean, he fought to get you and you fought to… not have to mate with anyone?”

“That’s it.”

There was no way for Spock to choose this option, Teresa thought. No one to challenge him. “A clever solution”, she grinned. “But only because you won.”

“Oh, don’t tell me”, B’Elanna groaned.

“Wait a minute”, Teresa then continued, horror-struck. “Vulcans have to fight people who challenge them for their desired mate? Why doesn’t the desired mate have a say in this?”

“Don’t ask me. Biology, as far as I know. As stupid as it sounds.”

“Yes…” Teresa’s voice trailed away and they finished their breakfast in silence.

“Talking about fighting”, it then occurred to her, “I don’t have any appropriate clothes. Neither does Spock, as far as I know.”

“I’ll take care of it”, B’Elanna promised, getting up from her chair. “Duty calls. See you at 10:00 hours.”

Teresa nodded with a smile and then remained sitting at her table alone, lost in thought. The more she learned about the pon farr, the stranger it became. And the more contrary to anything else she knew about Vulcans. It seemed that their bodies needed this counterpoint of madness to their usual composure, that one time they could let out their natural over-aggressive and over-passionate impulses.

“Teresa”, she heard Spock’s voice behind her.

She started and turned around. “Oh, it’s you. Have you finished your breakfast?”

“I have”, he said. “Airponics bay?”

“Yes, of course”, she replied, getting up. “Let’s go.”

“Although there is very little to do today, I believe”, he mused, while they embarked on their journey through the corridors.

“We’re meeting B’Elanna in the gym soon, anyway. By the way, she said she would get us the right clothes.”

“Good.” Spock was silent for a moment, then he said: “Lieutenant Torres is…”

Teresa smiled wryly. “She’s got a kind of rough charm.”

“I get the impression that she does not particularly like Vulcans”, he remarked in a neutral voice.

“Oh, I talked to her about that. It’s not that. She said she highly respects Tuvok, but that…”

“Yes?”

“Well, she said it bothered her that Vulcans never smile.”

Spock slowed down his pace, until he came to a halt in the hallway and observed her. “And I assume you agree”, he said in a matter-of-fact voice.

“Oh, well.” Teresa lifted her shoulders. “I’m human. I can’t help but think it would be nice to see a Vulcan smile now and then.”

“Hm”, he nodded, hands clasped behind his back. “It would be… illogical to expect a Vulcan to smile.”

“I know”, Teresa replied. “That’s why I didn’t say I expect it, only that I think it would be nice.” She looked at him in amusement.

“Well”, he sighed and gave her a dignified look, “I’m afraid you will be disappointed.”

“I’ll try to bear it”, she replied in a tone of faked seriousness. Spock looked puzzled by this choice of words, but when she gradually started to smirk, it dawned on him. “A joke”, he attested.

“Yes”, Teresa informed him, looking even more amused.

He sighed and resumed his way down the corridor.

There was truly little to do in the airponics bay, but they carried out their work in concentration. Teresa hummed to herself a little again. Then they made their way to the gym, where they found B’Elanna with two sets of white robes in her hands.

“Here”, she said, throwing the clothes over at them and then gesturing to two sets of side-doors. “Changing rooms are over there.”

There were a few other crew members engaging in different workouts, but they all declined to practice their fighting skills with them.

“Then we must alternate”, B’Elanna said. “How about we go first, Teresa? Spock, you can make suggestions on how to improve if you want.”

“With pleasure”, Teresa said and Spock nodded.

They positioned themselves on the mat, while Spock had nothing to do but look on. Teresa tried to estimate B’Elanna’s skills; they were probably quite advanced. She also prepared herself for a good measure of Klingon aggressiveness.

She was proven right. But it was just what she needed. While she and B’Elanna danced around each other, engaged and broke apart again, B’Elanna growling, Teresa panting with the adrenalin, she felt that this fight was a satisfying outlet for all the nervous energy and sexual excitement she was carrying around inside of her. She fought with tenacity and dedication, channelling all her desperation and bottled-up impulses into her muscles and movements.

They were almost evenly matched; B’Elanna was only a little better. Probably thanks to her Klingon genes, she was stronger, but Teresa made it up in strategy and agility. Each threw the other one onto the mat a few times, but they always got up again and continued their fight.

After around 25 minutes, B’Elanna held out a hand to Teresa, who had been thrown onto the mat again. “You’re very good”, she said in acknowledgement. “I can handle most of Voyager’s crew much more easily.”

“Thank you.” Teresa grabbed her hand and let her help her up. Her muscles were aching and she was breathing heavily, but she felt immensely gratified. “My insanely accurate memory”, she explained. “I remember a lot of the moves I’ve ever made or have had to counter.”

“Any suggestions for improvement?”, B’Elanna asked Spock. Teresa started slightly; she had even forgotten he was there.

“Only very few”, he said. “But I did not want to interrupt. You were both very engrossed.” He did not look at Teresa.

“How about I take you on next, then”, B’Elanna said, in a challenging and curious tone.

“Certainly.”

So Teresa sat down at the side, allowing her breath to return to normal and observing the fight. This time, it was B’Elanna who was slightly outmanoeuvred, although she fought her corner well. Spock was stronger. B’Elanna’s growling grew louder. Apart from following, analysing, and memorising their movements closely, Teresa enjoyed the aesthetics of the fight. There was certainly much to be said about two well-trained and graceful bodies engaging in this dance, testing their strength, manoeuvring around each other. Also, she had never seen Spock train before. On the Enterprise, they always went to training at different times. And during the few skirmishes with hostile aliens on away missions she had been part of or witnessed, there hardly had been time to observe and admire his movements.

He was magnificent: strong, beautiful, agile, graceful, his hair an appealing mess. Teresa felt her agitation increase again to an almost unbearable level and yearned for another fight. With B’Elanna.

Alas, it came differently. When Spock and B’Elanna had broken apart for good, B’Elanna said: “Alright, I need a break. Why don’t you two have a go.”

Spock was panting, bending over, resting his hands on his knees. When he saw Teresa approaching him, however, with courageous determination, he straightened up and eyed her apprehensively, still panting. But he nodded, pressed his lips together slightly and assumed an anticipative position.

They measured each other up, estimating each other’s capabilities. Teresa knew that if she wanted to have any hope of overpowering him, she would have to use his strength against him. The only time they had ever engaged in a struggle, it had not ended well for her. She was sure that he was reminded of the occasion, too, as they stood there, sizing each other up.

And then it began. Teresa managed to evade and deflect his attacks, which aroused a triumphant feeling inside of her. She found fighting him exciting. Just like with B’Elanna, she managed to channel her bottled-up nervous energy, but the problem with fighting with Spock was that the titillation was being replenished at an even higher rate than she managed to wear it out. At times, Spock seemed a little hesitant to attack her, but he quickly overcame this hesitancy each time and attacked with even more determination.

After a few minutes, she had him lying flat on his back. “Ha!”, she exclaimed triumphantly, looking down on him haughtily and feeling that this victory made up for her defencelessness on Taurus IV.

Spock was contemplating her from the floor with an acknowledging and slightly belligerent glimmer in his eyes. “Well done”, he panted, “but I’m not through with you.”

This was rather out of character for him. Teresa gulped, equally panting. Spock got up and assumed a new offensive position. A few more minutes of dogged struggle ensued.

And then suddenly it was him who had her lying with her back on the mat, with him on top of her, pinning her down, his hands around her wrists and his knees on her thighs.

Desperate, she tried to free her arms, but it was no good. They remained immobile in this position for a moment, him looking down on her, and Teresa suddenly froze. While she stared up at him, into his eyes, her memory superimposed another, very similar image over the position they were in. Recalling the only other occasion he had ever been on top of her, his hands on her wrists. She felt a thrill and dismay shooting through her body in equal measure, like an electric current.

Her eyes widened and she gazed at him in shock. It took him only a second to catch on and for a short moment, they stared at each other, unable to move. Then, he let go of her wrists in horror and sat down on the floor next to her, equally wide-eyed.

Teresa quickly got up. “Thank you”, she said breathlessly. “That was enough for today, I think.”

His eyes flickered over her, and he nodded, trying to catch his breath.

Without another word, she turned on her heel and marched into one of the changing rooms, trying to hold herself together until she was out of sight.

Spock stared after her until she had vanished behind the changing room door, then he slowly got up and took a deep breath. B’Elanna, looking mystified, approached him from the side. “Do you know what that was about?”, she asked.

He nodded. “I think I do.”

B’Elanna observed him, waiting for an explanation, but nothing came. She made an impatient noise and followed Teresa into the changing room. Spock was left standing alone, his lips pressed together and looking grave.

B’Elanna found Teresa sitting on the bench, clutching its rim with her hands and shaking, her chest heaving. She was breathing heavily, and B’Elanna was sure that this was not only caused by the exertion of the fight. She looked very upset.

“Are you alright?”, B’Elanna asked.

Teresa let out a bitter and frustrated laugh. “I suppose right now there’s no point in pretending I am.”

Without any further ado, B’Elanna sat down next to her and said: “You know, I have a rule.”

“And what is that?”, Teresa asked with a shaky voice.

“I should only practice fighting with a man am attracted to if I have a good chance of doing more than fighting with him soon.”

“Oh”, Teresa made, dismayed and still breathing agitatedly. “Was I that obvious? I guess I was.”

“Only in the end”, B’Elanna consoled her. “Though I can tell when someone fights to blow off steam.”

Teresa let out another laugh, a desperate one this time. “There is something about being on Voyager”, she complained, “that has made me lose more and more of my self-control. Believe me or not, but I’m usually very good at hiding my feelings when it’s necessary. I don’t suppress them; I just don’t let them show when I don’t want them to be seen. I let them out at appropriate times. But lately…” She gasped, feverishly rubbing her forehead.

“I believe you”, B’Elanna told her. “But I guess we all can only bend so much before we break.”

“You’re probably right”, Teresa panted. “Oh, damn, what must he be thinking? How could I just storm off like that?”

“I asked him whether he knew what this was about, and he said: ‘I think I do’.”

“Of course he does”, Teresa said, frustrated. “He’s just never seen me react this way. He’ll think I’m losing it.” She chuckled unhappily. “And he’d be right.”

“May I ask what exactly happened there?”

“I’ve never fought with him before”, Teresa whispered. “And the problem is that I’ve been so plagued by… desire…” (another sad, breathless chuckle) “especially lately, and when he suddenly was on top of me like that, I remembered - …” She eyed B’Elanna nervously. “Never mind.”

“What? What did you remember?”

“It’s not only my secret to keep. I shouldn’t betray his trust.”

“I think you need to talk to somebody”, B’Elanna retorted. “Look at the state you’re in.”

Teresa let out another small gasp and then tried to pull herself together a little more. “I guess I am in quite a state”, she admitted, wiping away a tear.

“You are.”

“Alright”, Teresa muttered. “But please, keep it to yourself. I will kill you if you don’t.”

“I’m sure you will”, B’Elanna said ironically, but continued: “I promise I’ll keep it to myself. Upon my Klingon honour.” The part about ‘Klingon honour’ sounded quite sarcastic, but Teresa understood that she was serious about her promise.

Teresa broke into a faint grin. “Well”, she began, still very agitated, “only six weeks ago, I helped him through his pon farr.”

“You ‘helped him through’?!”

“It’s not what it sounds like. It’s not what he intended. He had been planning to overcome it with intense meditation and it was all going to plan, but then the Enterprise passed through a field of lambda radiation and the shields were down, which wrought havoc on his brain chemistry. He was suddenly suffering from a blood fever five times stronger than normal. He would have died within hours if I hadn’t helped him.”

“I see.”

“I did it gladly. Actually, it was wonderful. But now, of course, I have no hope of ever being with him again, and that’s… very hard. You see, I…”, she was looking B’Elanna straight in the eye now and speaking with calm conviction; “I love him. Wholeheartedly. He’s the man I want.”

“Him?”, B’Elanna asked facetiously. “That green-blooded block of ice?”

“Exactly him”, Teresa smiled. “He’s not at all like you seem to think.”

“Well, I guess you know what you’re talking about”, B’Elanna replied, now in a friendly voice. “And why do you have no hope of ever being with him again?”

“We only got intimate in order to save his life”, Teresa explained. “It wouldn’t have happened otherwise.”

“You mean he doesn’t want you now.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He…”, Teresa hesitated, now considerably calmer and more thoughtful than desperate, “some part of him desires me, too. But he fights it; of course he does, he’s half-Vulcan. I can feel his agitation; it’s impossible for me to overlook. In a way, it’s infecting me, too, making my own, already existing, agitation much worse.”

“That sounds very complicated.”

Teresa laughed. “It is.” To her annoyance, more tears started running down her cheeks.

“Does he know you love him?”

Teresa groaned. “Yes, he does. Not that I told him.” She quickly summarized the incident on Taurus IV, explaining the circumstances.

“Terrific”, B’Elanna said in the end.

“You can say that again.”

“But are you sure that he’s only physically attracted to you? Vulcans do have emotions, after all. Can you be sure it’s not… more than that?”

Teresa took a deep breath, wiping her last tears away. “If it is”, she mumbled, “I don’t think I’ll ever find out. Maybe. I don’t know. I know he feels a lot of affection for me; he’s told me that. In his weakest moment.” She chuckled. “But love? I’m not sure he would ever allow himself such an emotion, let alone live it. Lately, I have sometimes had reason to think that maybe… he… after all… but I can’t be certain, and I don’t want to get my hopes up with wishful thinking. And so we remain, trying to save our friendship, trying to not let this… tension get in the way. Of course, you‘ve read my file”, she suddenly remembered, “if you could, you would maybe tell me that in a few years or so, I will get married or something, to someone, someone else. Whether that will mean that I have forgotten Spock, though… it probably won’t.”

B’Elanna had been listening in silence, with an impenetrable expression. “No, I can’t tell you”, she said. “But I’m happy to be your friend here on Voyager, someone you can open up to.”

“You’ve just been that”, Teresa replied, now looking a lot more composed, and smiled at her warmly. “Thank you. I will gladly be the same for you… provided that you only tell me things I’m allowed to hear.” Then she slowly stood up, examining her face in a mirror on the wall. “At least one can’t really tell that I’ve cried. In case he’s still out there.”

“Let’s go and find out.”

They stepped out of the changing room. The gym was empty.

“He’s gone”, Teresa said, relieved. “Probably to give me privacy, bless him.”

Teresa thought it best to have lunch by herself, alone in her quarters. After treating herself to one of her favourite dishes, to some more dancing and meditation, she felt that she had caught herself enough to venture into the crowd and face Spock again, if he was there. Therefore, at around 15:20 hours, she entered the mess hall, to see how she could assist Neelix some more in the kitchen.

She saw Spock sitting at one of the tables, surrounded by admirers once more. Stifling a laugh, she approached the kitchen, to which Neelix was returning at the same moment as her.

“What are you doing, Neelix?”

“I am making some desserts for the next few days”, he told her. “I like to treat the crew to something special now and then.”

“You are such a caring person, Neelix. You were made for the job of morale officer.”

“That’s very kind of you. Is there any way I can boost your morale?”

“Oh, just let me help make desserts. It sounds like a lot of fun.”

On the other side of the food display, Spock appeared. “What needs to be done?”

Teresa gave him a faint smile. He looked back with a kind, but most dignified expression, which told her that he was set on acting as though nothing had happened, to which she was most happy to play along.

Neelix proceeded to explain to them his plans for the desserts. Spock listened with an affable expression, but when Neelix asked him whether he was a dessert person, he said, with even more dignity: “No.”

“Let me guess, you have no regard for ‘nutritionally deficient’ food”, Neelix said. “Just like Tuvok or Seven.”

“Affirmative. But that does not mean that I have any objection to preparing it for others who enjoy it.”

“Well, I like desserts”, Teresa smiled at Neelix. “Even if I don’t indulge in them often.”

“Alright”, Neelix said and placed a large bowl in Spock’s hand, “you can beat the cream, and you”, he gave Teresa a second bowl, “you can knead this dough.”

They set out to perform their tasks (Teresa smiling at him politely), standing next to each other in silence for a few minutes. Once or twice, Spock looked like he wanted to say something, but he apparently decided against it.

“So, who were you talking to just now?”, Teresa asked him.

“An Ensign Young, Ensign Vorik, Ensign Parsons, Crewman Huang and Crewman Chell. He’s Bolian.”

“The one with the blue skin? So that’s what they look like.”

“As expected, I was unable to determine whether Bolarus IX is a member of the Federation in this century.”

“What did you talk about?”

It took him a second longer than usual to answer. “They asked me a lot of questions about my father, which they seemed to consider the safest topic to brush on without mentioning things about me I do not know about myself yet.”

“Ah”, Teresa made, knowing that Spock did not much care to talk about his parents. However, she could not keep herself from commenting after a short pause: “Nobody ever seems to be interested in your mother.”

Again, it took him a little longer to answer; he continued to look at the cream he was beating. “That is not surprising, as she is not considered to be an important historical figure, unlike my father.”

“I am curious about her”, Teresa said lightly.

“Of course”, he replied quietly.

“But I know you’re not very keen on talking about your parents, so don’t worry, I’ll leave you alone about her”, she told him gently.

He turned his head to look at her. “That is considerate of you.”

She smiled.

“My mother”, he suddenly told her after another pause, “I believe you would consider her ‘kind’.”

Teresa gave him a surprised, but warm and appreciative smile.

“Unfortunately”, he continued, “kindness as a personal quality is not valued as highly among Vulcans as it is among humans.”

“I see”, she replied quietly. “And if I may ask… – you’re welcome not to answer – do you think she’s happy? A very human question, I know.”

“As you are human and she is, too”, he remarked, “it’s hardly unnatural for you to ask a human question.” He frowned thoughtfully for a moment and then said: “The last time I saw her, she seemed content.”

Teresa did not quite know what to reply to that. I guess that answer will have to do, she thought. She could hardly start asking Spock what marriage with a Vulcan was like for a human, and even if he wanted to answer, he would probably not be able to speak about the current state of their marriage, as he had had so little contact with them for such a long time. So she only smiled lightly, and then they were interrupted by Neelix, anyway, who came to check on their progress.

The next two hours were spent talking about nothing but the food they were preparing. They did not only make desserts, but also started preparations for dinner. During a calmer moment, she asked him: “Do you miss your science station?”

“For the moment, I do not mind our current occupations”, he answered. “But if we were to spend a considerably longer time period on Voyager, I would want to return to scientific work, yes. What about you?”

“Same”, she said. “I do miss the lab a little, but I actually enjoy growing vegetables and preparing food… for the moment. And have you learned to endure all this leisure time?”, she asked, lips twitching.

“I assume you are employing the word ‘endure’ with humorous intent.”

“What else.”

“I believe that so far, most of this leisure time has been spent in… useful and agreeable ways.”

She smiled. “Good. You know, the longer I am on Voyager, the sorrier I am at the thought of forgetting it all again. The wonderful and fascinating crew, the impressive ship, the conversations, the relationships forged, the holodeck, anything.”

“I concur”, he said quietly. “With everything.”

Teresa glanced at him out of the corner of her eye; was he forming an attachment to Voyager, just like she was, or did his appreciation of their stay there merely extend onto an intellectual level?

“But the prohibition to learn about the future is really starting to irk me”, she then continued. “We’re surrounded by countless mysteries we’re not allowed to solve.”

“A less emotional reaction to this fact might assist you in adapting to this circumstance”, he suggested sagaciously.

“Oh, don’t tell me that you are not consumed by curiosity as well”, she scoffed amicably, knowing full well that Spock was always driven by a powerful need to understand and that he must dislike existing in a state in which this drive was curbed and stifled by outside influence.

He took a terse breath through his nose. “I admit, it is… unfortunate.” And then, remembering her remark about his stock vocabulary, he looked at her, frowning slightly, while she looked back in mild amusement, and revised his statement with poise: “…most unsatisfying.”

Soon after, the mess hall started to fill up with crew members who were there to have an early meal or simply to socialize and have a drink. Teresa and Spock learned from Neelix that in this century, alcohol had been replaced by a substance called ‘synthehol’, which tasted like alcohol but lacked its intoxicating qualities.

“Imagine Mr. Scott hearing about this”, she joked to Spock. “He would be appalled. ‘Nothing like a good and proper Scottish whisky’.”

“I highly approve of this innovation”, Spock remarked.

Of course he did. “So do I, believe it or not”, she assured him. “But I am glad for Scotty that this has happened after his time.”

They called it a day in the kitchen and began conversing with various crewmembers. After a while, Tom Paris passed by, greeting them.

“Lieutenant Paris”, Spock told him, “I hope that my having had to admit to Captain Janeway that you have explained the functioning of the holodeck to me has not gotten you into trouble with her.”

“Aww, no, Spock, thanks for your concern”, Tom replied, patting him on the shoulder and winking. “She did tell me off a little, but it wasn’t a formal reprimand.”

“That is fortunate.”

Shortly afterwards, Tuvok arrived, his kal-tho set in his hands. “Lieutenant”, he addressed Teresa, “would you be interested in another round? Commander, you are most welcome to join.”

“Certainly”, she smiled, while Spock nodded.

Therefore, they found themselves at a table with Tuvok, congregating around the kal-tho set, mostly in silence as each of them concentrated on the best moves. Teresa was very thankful for the opportunity to focus her mind on such an intricate exercise because it helped to calm her a great deal after her emotional upheaval in the morning. Spock seemed equally content, only glancing at her from across the table from time to time when she made a move. Only when she made an especially successful move and smiled triumphantly, his glances increased in duration, and he met her eyes with a slightly furrowed brow and a trace of that pensive expression that he had bestowed on her so many times during the last few days. Teresa’s mastery of the game was not as advanced as Spock’s, but the difference was not too pronounced (which is why, once again, both Vulcans were highly impressed with her mental faculties), while Tuvok was clearly the most accomplished. However, he was already 110 years old, an evident advantage in terms of experience.

Concentrating became much harder, though, once Harry Kim and the Kimtones had set up in the corner again and had started playing. Teresa declined their invitation to join them and sing, but she got up and stood in a corner close to them, listening, eating a dinner sandwich and tapping her toes. Spock, having started a conversation with Tuvok, for a while did not pay attention to her anymore. The next time he looked into her direction, she was dancing to the jazz music with Naomi Wildman, bending down towards the little girl, beaming, mouthing the lyrics of the song and whirling Naomi around on the spot.

“Lieutenant Juárez is a very vivacious individual”, Tuvok remarked, observing first her, then him.

“Indeed, she is”, Spock replied.

35 minutes later, once the band had stopped playing, she drifted past their table, cheerfully informing Spock: “I’m going to fulfil my promise to the Doctor and sing with him. Have a nice rest of the evening!”

Chapter Text

On the following morning, Spock arrived in the kitchen only minutes after Teresa. “Good morning.”

“Morning”, she answered lightly, giving him a friendly smile, but otherwise acting in a decidedly sober way. Having remembered that only four days ago, she had told him that she wanted to be more careful around him, she felt a little remorse at how she had cast her caution to the wind the morning before. Even though her physical excitability had even increased since then and she felt as though, with his presence, a strong magnet had entered the kitchen, she was now a paragon of decorum. The mild shock from yesterday’s incident in the gym, a somewhat sobering influence, had also contributed to curbing her incipient flirtatious tendencies.

“By the way”, Neelix announced cheerfully, “it's my free day tomorrow. So no kitchen work for you, either.”

“Oh, that's great, Neelix”, Teresa replied. “I have been wondering when you would get a proper rest. You work so hard. So, I suppose it's replicators for the whole crew tomorrow.”

“Thank you”, Neelix beamed. “That's right.”

Neelix proceeded to tell them about his plans for the next day. When he had turned his attention back to the broth he was cooking, Spock approached Teresa and inquired: “How was your singing session with the Doctor last evening?”

“It was great fun”, she grinned. “But he had me singing opera at first. He is a great fan of Puccini. I am afraid, though, that due to my lack of classical training, I did not entirely live up to his expectations.” She chortled. “After all, I'm not Maria Callas. So we ended up singing jazz instead. That was perfect. I was Ella Fitzgerald; he was Frank Sinatra.”

“Ella Fitzgerald”, Spock repeated, kneading bread dough.

“Yes”, she smirked. “I can do a decent imitation of her.”

“No doubt.”

Peeling a potato, she partially changed the subject. “By the way, there is something about the Doctor that struck me as odd.”

“And what is that?”

“He doesn’t have a name.”

“I thought he was called the EMH.”

“I mean a real name.”

“He is a hologram.”

“Yes”, she confirmed slowly, glancing at him sideways with lifted eyebrows. “A hologram who loves singing, whose favourite composer is Puccini and who spends leisure time in the mess hall, socializing with the crew.”

“I see. So why does he not have a name?”

“Well, you’re right in that in the beginning, he was ‘just’ a hologram, which is why he was only given the title of EMH. But since he became the ship’s full-time medical officer, he has expanded his program much more than was ever envisioned by his creator and he was encouraged by Kes – the woman who used to be in charge of the airponics bay – to choose a name for himself. The problem is that in all these years, he hasn’t been able to decide on one.” Her lips twitched.

“So, ‘Doctor’ it is after all.”

“Yes. It seems to me that he has expanded his initial programming to such an extent that he cannot be regarded as ‘just’ a hologram anymore. It’s almost as if he is a person.”

Spock paused his dough-kneading, pondering the issue. “An intriguing phenomenon. We are faced with a type of artificial intelligence that is so far advanced that the question of an independent consciousness arises.”

“Yes, isn’t it absolutely fascinating?”, she quietly exclaimed with her characteristic enthusiasm. “I wish I could learn more about his programming.”

Spock witnessed her enthusiasm with a trace of what could almost be called mirth.

“Indeed it is”, he agreed. “It appears that among the Voyager crew, the Doctor and Seven of Nine are the individuals who pose the greatest mysteries.”

“Well, maybe we’ll be allowed to unravel them”, Teresa said hopefully, having finished her potato peeling and reaching for one of the sandwiches lying on a pile next to them, as she had decided to just have her breakfast on the go this morning. “I have been asking myself whether Seven of Nine is somehow a… partially cybernetic individual. You heard how, in addition to her facial implants, she talked about ‘ingesting more natural food’ and ‘regenerating’. Of course it’s only a theory, but my best one so far. Right, Neelix?”, she said with a trace of amused annoyance to the Talaxian, because he had clearly been listening attentively to their conversation once again.

“No comment”, Neelix spluttered.

Teresa looked at Spock with twitching eyebrows. He looked back, eyebrows equally raised, but pointed out: “I would be highly astonished if Starfleet had started experimenting with cybernetics to this extent, on biological entities; a human, no less. It would be a blatant breach of Federation values.”

“Well, she’s not a Starfleet officer”, Teresa reminded him.

“No, but she is on a Starfleet ship, where her skills are being made use of.”

“As long as we don’t know more about the circumstances”, Teresa sighed, “we’re just stabbing around in the dark.”

“Well, to dispel your concerns about your Federation or your Starfleet”, Neelix had some mercy on them, “Seven did not become what she is today there.”

“Well, that is a relief”, Teresa sighed again, but this time, it was a happy sigh. Spock nodded. “But you are just making it sound spookier”, she then added, worried about what might have happened to Seven.

“It is very spooky”, Neelix certified with a preoccupied pout. “But she is among friends now.”

Teresa’s cheerfulness had evaporated. Spock looked equally concerned.

The rest of their time in the kitchen was spent talking about nothing more than the food they were preparing. Spock also had his breakfast in between his tasks. They walked along the corridors to the airponics bay mostly in silence, with Teresa wondering which dark mysteries this future might hold.

When they were in the turbolift, she could not stop herself from remarking: “‘Seven of Nine’. Sounds like a registration number.”

“You should not draw hasty conclusions”, Spock reminded her gently.

“I’m just speculating. But you have to admit, no human would ever call their child like that.”

“It is highly unlikely”, he conceded, looking somewhat disquieted himself.

She let out a sarcastic laugh. “The seventh of nine children? I don’t think so.”

They carried out their work in the airponics bay without talking about anything but the tasks at hand. After what she had learned about Seven of Nine (or what she had not learned), Teresa did not feel like humming. Spock seemed to be quite deeply in thought, too. Sometimes he threw her calculating glances, as though he had some mysteries of his own to solve. When they were finished, they went back to the kitchen as usual, where Neelix was chattering cheerfully about his role as the ship’s ambassador in the Delta Quadrant, sometimes addressing Spock as though he was a colleague. Spock, somewhat perplexed, as his days as ambassador lay far in his future, shared some of his insights into his father’s work as ambassador to Earth instead.

At lunch, they were joined by Harry Kim and a very young and zealous dark-skinned human woman in turquoise with beautiful braids. “Ensign Onagawa”, she introduced herself eagerly, shaking Teresa’s hand and giving Spock a respectful nod. “I’m also an exobiologist”, she then told Teresa, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for days. You see, I’ve read your papers on…” She paused and chuckled nervously, realising her mistake.

Teresa looked at her expectantly. After all, she had written a few papers. “Yes?”

Ensign Onagawa chuckled once again. “Well, papers you haven’t written yet.”

Laughing, Teresa replied: “I see.”

“They’re excellent!”, the Ensign exclaimed. “Ground-breaking in the field.”

Spock looked at Teresa, lifting his eyebrows.

“Really?”, Teresa asked, very pleasantly surprised, and then equally chuckled: “And I thought Spock was the famous one.”

“Well, he is more famous overall. Your fame is more limited to the academic sphere; though not exclusively, I should add.”

“Mbezi!”, Harry berated her. “Remember the Captain’s orders?”

“Well, Spock knows he’ll be ambassador”, Ensign Onagawa retorted. “It’s only fair.” Teresa marvelled at the fact how even crew members they had never spoken to before seemed to be very well up to date on what they did and did not know. The crew must truly be having lively conversations about them in their absence.

Spock gave Teresa something that closely resembled a told-you-so look. “It seems that the Captain was not merely being polite after all”, he muttered to her, referencing the conversation they had had on their first morning on Voyager.

Teresa laughed, feeling undeniably self-satisfied, and smiled at him. “Thank you”, she addressed the Ensign, “but we should leave it at that.”

Therefore, Ensign Onagawa asked her about her work on the Enterprise instead. Teresa, always most eager to talk about exobiology, had no difficulty spending the whole lunch on this topic.

“These two have found each other”, Harry muttered to Spock, grinning.

“Evidently”, Spock agreed. He joined in their conversation a few times but spent most of the time talking to Harry. When he had finished his lunch, he excused himself and left the mess hall.

“By the way”, Harry then remembered. “Talking about scientific papers. Just now, I did a lot of digging into the research on wormholes and found a little-known fact that unpredictable wormholes sometimes also leave behind concentrations of epsilon particles.”

“Is that a fact I should be told about, Harry?”, Teresa smirked, raising her eyebrows.

“Aww, no”, he made. Ensign Onagawa looked at him in amusement, too, as he had only half an hour before told her off for disclosing the wrong information. “You know, it is very difficult to pay attention and keep my mouth shut all the time”, Harry defended himself. “All I meant to say is, I don’t know whether Seven is aware of that. I wasn’t there when she programmed the probe, so I don’t know whether we actually also scanned for epsilon particles.”

“Why don’t you ask her?”, Teresa suggested.

“Oh, I will. It’s just that right now, Tom is expecting me on the holodeck, for his Captain Proton program.”

“‘Captain Proton’?”, Teresa repeated, grinning even more widely. “Wasn’t that some… early 20th century science fiction comic?”

“Yeah”, Harry made, looking embarrassed. “Tom likes those kinds of things. Rescuing planets and damsels in distress from cheesy alien villains. He’s Captain Proton, of course. I’m the sidekick.”

Teresa could not stop herself from giggling and was joined by Ensign Onagawa. “Well, enjoy”, she then wished him, trying to look more serious again. “I’m sorry I laughed. Tom and you can like whatever you want, of course. And I can ask Seven. I have nothing else to do now.”

“Ah, great, thanks. But Teresa… if Seven is in cargo bay 2, don’t go there.”

“Oh, I know that cargo bay 2 is forbidden territory for us”, she assured him. “The Captain told me.”

Soon after, her two lunch companions wished her a good day and went their ways, too. Teresa was left sitting alone at the table.

“Computer, locate Seven of Nine”, she said.

“Seven of Nine is in the astrometrics lab.”

Alright, Teresa thought, I’ll go and ask her there. I’d like to see that lab again, anyway.

A few minutes later, she had arrived at the lab.

“Seven?”, Teresa asked, stepping into the room. It was empty. “Oh”, she made.

As she could see programs running on the consoles, she assumed that Seven had only left the lab for a short moment, so she decided to stay and wait for her. At first, she maintained a safe distance from the consoles, but she could not stop her eyes from wandering around the room, for the first time unable to completely reign in her curiosity about 24th century technology. She took a few steps closer towards a panel, inspecting its design.

“No”, she murmured to herself just a few seconds later, “Stay professional, Teresa.”

She was just about to retreat further back into the middle of the room, when her gaze fell on an open file that featured Spock’s name at the top.

Teresa did not think; there was no inner voice inside of her that told her to look away. She was compelled to step closer. Before she even realised what she was doing, her eyes had already raced through almost the whole file. And then she froze and her heart stopped.

Among the additional headline labelled ‘personal information’, the entry included:

Parents: S’Chn T’Gai Sarek (“Sarek of Vulcan”)

                Amanda Grayson

Spouse: Ltd. Cmdr. Dr. Teresa Juárez (married on stardate 36936.3 (May 27^th, 2269))

For more than half a minute, Teresa could do nothing but stare at this line while the lab seemed to vanish around her. Naturally, it was mainly not the added titles to her name that so utterly captivated her attention. After the first shock, she registered that right under that line, the file also listed the names of three children and four grandchildren, which knocked the air out of her lungs once again. She took a deep breath and read the rest of the file with unstoppable curiosity, but her eyes kept darting back to that line that said Spouse: …

“Lieutenant”, she suddenly heard a voice behind her, which gave her the most tremendous start. She wheeled around. “Seven!”

Seven of Nine approached her, throwing a glance at the panel. “You are reading Commander Spock’s file.”

“Yes, I – “, Teresa breathed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I came in her to ask you something, but you were gone and I thought I’d wait for you to come back… I shouldn’t have read it, I know, I just couldn’t stop myself.”

“It’s my fault”, Seven said after a short pause. “I opened it to check again on any information it might contain about the weeks and months after your date of disappearance. I was forced to leave the astrometrics lab abruptly and did not close the file or seal the door.” She scrutinized Teresa more attentively and said in a diagnostic voice: “You seem agitated.”

“Well, I… yes. Yes. I am a little… startled.”

“Have you read all of it?”

“Yes.”

“You were not aware of your future betrothal to Commander Spock”, Seven of Nine diagnosed.

“No.” Teresa felt something like a hiccup in her throat at the word ‘betrothal’ and took a deep breath to get a better grip on herself, then she pointed with her thumb at the file behind her and said: “Everybody’s been aware of that since the beginning, haven’t they? There must have been an awful lot of talk.”

“I believe so”, Seven replied, “though I myself have not engaged in it.”

“Oh, never mind, I don’t blame anyone for talking about that”, Teresa gulped. “I, ah… once again, I apologize.”

“It cannot be helped now.”

“No”, Teresa nodded. “I’ll leave you to your work now.”

“Thank you.”

 Her heart hammering in her chest, she made her way to the doors. When she was almost out of the room, Seven of Nine remembered to inquire: “What is it that you came here to ask me?”

“Oh”, Teresa made, turning around again. “Oh dear. Of course. I was supposed to ask you something from Ensign Kim.” And she explained his question about the epsilon particles.

“I was already aware of that”, Seven informed her in her habitual, slightly cold voice.

“I see. Well, that’s… that’s good.” Once again, she began to leave and then turned around again. “Oh, and Seven. Not a word about this to Spock, please.”

“Understood.”

Captain Janeway found Teresa on the holodeck, standing in the sunshine on a beautiful lawn next to a forest, looking at a small stream that was gurgling at her feet.

“I hope I’m not intruding”, Janeway said.

Teresa gave her a distracted smile. “That’s alright.”

“Seven told me what happened”, Janeway told her with an empathetic facial expression.

“Ah, of course”, Teresa mumbled. “I suppose she had to.”

“How are you?”

Teresa took a deep breath, still staring at the stream with a glow in her eyes. “Most of all… stunned? Confused? Amazed. Surprised. Or not surprised, I’m not quite certain. I need some more time to think.”

“That’s understandable.”

“Of course, you have known all this time”, Teresa then finally looked at her.

“Yes”, Janeway smiled. “I must say it was strange and a little frustrating to hear you talk about unrequited love and not be able to tell you that all will be well.”

“‘All will be well’”, Teresa repeated pensively. “Yes, that’s what it sounds like, isn’t it?”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“I don’t know yet”, Teresa said, still looking as though she was miles away. “I probably shouldn’t. I’m not sure whether he’s ready to hear it.”

“That makes sense.”

“I mean”, Teresa thought out loud, “if he will think that marrying me is a good idea, shouldn’t he arrive at this decision by himself?”

“That sounds logical. But maybe he needs a little help.”

“Maybe…” Teresa’s voice trailed away. “But then… it probably doesn’t matter, doesn’t it? If you’re really going to wipe our memories, we’ll lose that knowledge again and nothing that happened on Voyager will have any impact on our future.”

“if everything goes to plan, yes. If not…”

“If not”, Teresa whispered. “If not, if not… then, what would be the right thing to do??”

“You know, I have to ask myself”, Janeway admitted, “whether I’m doing the right thing by wiping your memories, now that you have found out about your marriage. What if by doing that, I prevent the two of you from getting together and that way am responsible for exactly what I want to avoid? Changing the timeline?”

“I have no idea”, Teresa said. “But if Seven’s calculations about the wormhole are correct, we still have a lot of time to think about that.”

“That’s true”, Janeway sighed, rubbing her forehead. “That means that I am sorry to have to ask you to keep me informed about any… significant developments in your relationship. Usually, I wouldn’t dream of invading a crew member’s privacy like that.”

“I understand”, Teresa smiled. “I don’t mind telling you, Kathryn. I just… need time to think. There are so many ‘what if’s, so many different scenarios, uncertainties, questions and possible explanations, my head is spinning.” She chuckled incredulously and covered her cheeks with her hands. “Married. Married. To Spock. How did that happen?”

“You’ll find out”, Janeway smiled, patting her on the shoulder.

“Probably”, Teresa nodded, wide-eyed and excited. “But of course there’s still the small possibility that when we were sucked into that wormhole, everything changed and nothing will turn out the way we now think it will.”

At their usual dinner time, Spock saw no trace of Teresa in the mess hall. Neelix had not seen her for hours. A little preoccupied, Spock asked the computer where she was. It told him she was in Lieutenant Torres’ quarters. When he asked the computer the same question again two hours later, he still received the same answer.

At 21:30 hours, after having meditated, he asked for a third time and was now told that she was in her own quarters. He debated with himself whether he should leave her alone or not (maybe she was still shaken by the incident in the gym) but decided to pay her a visit after all.

“Enter!”, she called when he had rung at her door.

She was sitting on the sofa, looking out at the stars. It was dark in her quarters, apart from one very small light and the faint glimmer of the stars. “Spock”, she said warmly when she saw him.

“I hope I am not intruding”, he said as usual.

“Oh no, you’re never an intrusion.” She got up and approached him, stopping some two metres away from him, her face veiled in shadows. “Almost never, that is”, she chuckled.

“You were not in the mess hall for dinner, so I wanted to… see how you are.”

She broke into an affectionate smile. “I had dinner with B’Elanna.”

He said nothing, merely observed her.

“It’s nice of you to drop by, but to be honest, I’m rather tired and want to turn in early”, she continued.

“Understood”, he said. “Well, then… sleep well.”

“You, too.” Something about the way she was looking at him was different from usual, but he could not pin it down. He therefore kept gazing at her for longer than he otherwise would have, with her looking back with a friendly, but slightly guarded expression. “Good night, Spock.”

“Good night.”

Chapter Text

The next day, Spock had breakfast alone in his quarters, as it was Neelix’s free day. When he arrived at the airponics bay (it was still early in the morning), he was surprised to see that Teresa was already there, giving the plants some extra water.

“Good morning”, he greeted her, after the doors had closed behind him. He remained close to the entrance, looking at her with a slightly questioning glance.

“Oh, hello”, she smiled. “I did not expect to see you here so early.”

He raised his eyebrows slightly. “I could say the same thing.”

“Oh, you know, I went to bed so early yesterday, so I woke up very early, too, and as there was nothing else to do, I decided to come here already. And actually, I’ve already taken care of everything. Sorry.” She grinned.

“There is no need to apologize”, he told her.

“Oh, I know, but you look so bemused.” She came closer, smiling some more.

“It is not worth mentioning”, he assured her. After contemplating her for a few seconds, he asked: “And so… what now?”

“I promised to play with Naomi”, she answered, looking somewhat apologetic. “And Samantha, that is, Ensign Wildman, has asked me to have lunch with them in their quarters later.” She added nothing else, not extending the invitation to him. She looked as though she maybe was aware of that because her apologetic expression deepened a little.

“I see”, he said. “In that case, as humans say, ‘enjoy’.”

“Thank you”, she smiled. Her demeanour towards him was just as warm and affable as always, but something gave him the impression that she was not eager to talk to him. He returned her friendly look, but with a slight frown. “I’ll see you around”, she then said gently and was on her way.

He was left standing alone in the silent airponics bay, suddenly aware of how their roles had been reversed. Conscious of the fact that only three days ago, she had implored him to not allow any uneasiness back into their relationship, he had the inkling that something was not quite right. Maybe she was beginning to consider their recent closeness too hard to bear after all, in spite of what she had told him. He was aware that this was only speculation on his part and that maybe he was reading too much into her behaviour, but as he now was extremely susceptible to even subtle changes in her mood and demeanour, this suspicion was hard to ignore.

He himself was much more startled by what had happened in the kitchen the morning before last than by the moment in the gym. Vulcan telepathic abilities were very limited and that he could have heard one of her thoughts as clearly though she had spoken it out loud was mindboggling, after a mind meld that had been brief and such a long time ago. And what she had thought had also told him that she was at least partially aware of his own particular struggles regarding her.

He spent most of the day in his quarters, reading, meditating, engaging in light exercise. In the afternoon, he decided to determine her whereabouts again, only to be told by the computer that she was now in Ensign Kim’s quarters, together with the members of his band. He decided not to intrude because of his suspicion that she was trying to avoid him.

At 18:24 hours, his door beeped.

“Come!”, he called, thinking that maybe she was not trying to avoid him after all.

It was Tom Paris. “Hello, Spock”, he said. “How it’s going?”

Spock laid down his book next to him on the sofa. “I am well”, he replied. “And you?”

“Fine, fine”, Lieutenant Paris said, strolling and looking around his quarters, but as Spock had no personal possessions on Voyager apart from the little suitcase he had taken with himself to Andoria, there was nothing to see. “I came to tell you that a lot of us are spending the evening on the holodeck, eating our dinner there and socializing, and thought maybe you want to join.”

After a brief moment of consideration, Spock said: “Certainly, thank you. What program?”

“It’s one of mine that’s quite popular with many of the crew, a café in Marseille, France, where I spent many evenings during my time at the Academy. It’s called Chez Sandrine.”

“Then it is a 24th century setting”, Spock submitted.

“Yeah, but it isn’t any different from any 23rd, 22nd or 21st century café. Nothing forbidden for you to see.”

“I understand. Are you going now?”

“Yep.”

“Very well, I will join you.”

On their way to the holodeck, Paris told him: “I would have asked Teresa as well, but I think she’s still with Harry’s band. I suppose Harry will tell her.”

Spock nodded.

Having arrived at the café, Spock saw that there were 29 of the Voyager crew, eating their replicated food, drinking, talking, laughing and playing billiard. Spock was a little surprised to see Tuvok there, playing billiard with Neelix. Someone was playing soft jazz music on a piano.

Spock sat down to dinner together with Paris and Lieutenant Haron, whom he had not spoken to in quite some time. After having finished their dinner, Paris encouraged him to have a go at the billiard table as well. As it was a helpful exercise in geometric thinking and coordination, Spock followed the suggestion.

Nine minutes into their game, a fresh group of people came through the café doors, among them Ensign Kim and Teresa. She grinned when she saw him playing billiard, apparently pleasantly surprised, and gave him a small wave with her hand. Spock nodded at her with a friendly expression, focused on his move. Teresa sat down with Ensign Kim for dinner, at a table close to the game. They were talking animatedly, but she observed the game and grinned whenever Spock managed to sink a ball.

Spock played a further two rounds with Paris before he decided that he had had enough. Lieutenant Haron engaged him in further conversation, asking questions about the different techniques Vulcans employed to practice and uphold their mental discipline.

Teresa remained at her table for more than an hour, but she eventually strolled over to Spock, giving him a leisurely smile. “Had you ever played billiard before?”

“A few times, at the Academy.”

“Ahh”, she made, nodding. “You know, I know almost nothing about your time at the Academy.”

He looked at her with a friendly gaze and slightly elevated eyebrows, inquiring: “What would you like to know?”

“Oh, whatever you find worth telling. But not now; I want to watch that game”, she said, gesturing to Kim and Paris, who had just set up a new round.

This was a peculiar answer; Spock highly doubted that it would be impossible for her to listen to him and watch the game at the same time. She gave him another smile (she was altogether smiling at him even more than usual), walked away again and stopped next to the Captain, who had just entered the holodeck. The Captain whispered something in her ear, and she subtly shook her head, looking at quite a loss for a second. Spock frowned and looked away.

When Ensign Kim and Lieutenant Paris had finished their game, Kim asked: “Spock? Would you be interested in another round, with me this time?”

“Of course”, Spock answered, as there was hardly anything else to be done. He would have liked to talk to Tuvok, but he had left the holodeck.

So they played, but Spock’s attention was soon somewhat diverted from the game, as in the corner of his eye, he saw an unfamiliar male crew member approach Teresa, who was still standing close to the table. As his ears were very sharp, he could not help but hear their conversation.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you for days”, the man said. “Let me introduce myself: Joaquín Mendez.”

“Oh, a fellow Latino”, Teresa laughed. “Nice to meet you. And you even dressed for the locale!” He was wearing a shirt with a French cut. It did not escape Spock’s attention that Mendez was quite handsome and a second later he was astounded by the fact that he was paying the circumstance any attention at all. Slightly pressing his lips together, he focused on the ball in front of his billiard stick.

“I like to do things properly”, Mendez laughed. “By the way, we’re from the same corner of Earth, you know. I also grew up in Cartagena.”

“Oh, how wonderful!”, she exclaimed. “Wait a moment.” There were a few seconds of silence, and then Spock barely understood another word she said. “¿Podrías ajustar tu TU?” ("Could you please adjust your UT?")

“Ah, of course!”, he beamed and fumbled around his communicator. “¿Mejor así?” (Better?")

“Perfecto”, she grinned. “He tenido tan pocas oportunidades de hablar español en los últimos cuatro años, ¿sabes? Hay poca gente hispanohablante entre la tripulación de la Enterprise y siempre que está presente una tercera persona hay que usar el TU.” "Perfect. I've had so few opportunities to speak Spanish in the last few years, you know? There are few Spanish-speaking people among the Enterprise crew and always when there is a third person present, one has to use the UT.")

“Ah sí, sé que te encantan las lenguas”, he said. “Hablas algo como diez lenguas, ¿no? ¿Y hablas inglés con los tripulantes y tu TU normalmente está ajustado a inglés? Tengo mucha admiración por eso. Desde que se inventaron los TU, casi a nadie le interesa aprender otros idiomas. Me alegra oír un español verdadero; estoy en la misma situación como tú aquí en el Voyager.” ("Ah yes, I know that you love languages. You speak something like ten languages, right? And you speak English with the crew and your UT is normally adjusted to English? I admire that a lot. Since UTs were invented, almost nobody is interested in learning other languages. I'm glad to hear real Spanish; I'm in the same situation like you here on Voyager.")

“Spock, it’s your turn”, Harry said.            

“Ah, of course”, Spock replied, bending down again. He tried not to listen to this conversation in Spanish, especially as he could make out only a few words, anyway, but did not manage to focus his full attention on the game again. His next move was less than successful.

“You were so good when you were playing with Tom”, Harry remarked, puzzled.

Spock raised an eyebrow. “It is true that my performance has deteriorated”, he admitted. “I shall endeavour to do better.”

“Don’t worry, it’s only a game.”

Teresa laughed out loud at something Mendez had said. Spock was once again astonished to notice how outgoing she could be, especially when she got in touch with anything to do with her Latin American cultural roots. She usually did not display this side of hers to this extent when she was interacting with him. This did not mean that this calmer (more Vulcan) Teresa was any less authentic; she simply could alternate between a much wider range of behaviours than any Vulcan would ever be able or willing to. Still, Spock could not help but marvel at how someone so outgoing, passionate and enthusiastic could be drawn so strongly to someone as reserved as himself, although he was fully aware of all the reasons why she loved him.

“Oh, no”, Harry made, when Spock’s next move was even worse. “Are you alright?”

“Yes”, he replied. He saw Teresa throw him a bemused and preoccupied look and at this moment, he gritted his teeth and pulled himself together, not giving her and Mendez any more thought or attention.

At least until both the Captain and Crewman Mendez thought it a good idea to ask Teresa to sing again. “It’s the perfect time and place”, the Captain opined, which was certainly logical.

Spock and Kim had finished their game by then, with Spock closely winning after he had regained his concentration. Teresa agreed to fulfil their wish, which is why Lieutenant Paris ordered the computer to create a small platform, a guitar and a microphone in the corner of the café.

Teresa sang a handful of songs in different languages and musical styles, like Spock was used to; he recognised most of them from her past performances on the Enterprise. Everyone seemed very moved and impressed, which was nothing new, either. He himself was very aware of the new effect her singing was having on him, but it was not overwhelming him as it had done the last time, so he stayed to listen, deeply in thought and self-searching contemplation.

“As you may have noticed, I have a foible for 20th-century music”, Teresa chuckled at some point. “Now, that one’s the last one I’ll sing; I’ve only recently learned to play it. It’s one of the most famous songs of the 20th century. You may know it, it’s ‘Yesterday’ by The Beatles.”

Quite a few people made enraptured noises.

“Yesterday”, Teresa sang, “all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they’re here to stay. Oh, I believe in yesterday.”

Chapter Text

The next morning in the kitchen, she was just as affable as ever, but conducted most of her conversation with Neelix while they were making breakfast. Spock decided to oblige her and did not attempt to engage her in any meaningful exchange.

When it was time for their own breakfast, Teresa scanned the room and said: “Look! There’s Tuvok.”

Tuvok was sitting alone at a table, studying a PADD, as always. Teresa smiled at Spock and lost no time in approaching Tuvok and asking: “Good morning, Lieutenant Commander, would you mind if we sat with you?”

“Not at all”, Tuvok replied.

They talked about the wormhole and stellar phenomena in general, including some of the ones the Enterprise had encountered. While the conversation was very interesting, Spock once again had the distinct impression that Teresa was unwilling to speak to him alone. She would not be able to avoid it for much longer, though, he thought.

And so it came. They went their way to the airponics bay, the first time alone together since the morning before.

“I believe the sikiri leaves will be ready to harvest”, Spock commented while they were walking along the corridor.

“Oh, yeah”, she answered. “And the cucumbers.”

They walked in silence until they reached the turbolift. While they waited for it to arrive, he noticed her taking a slightly deeper breath than usual before she asked: “Have you continued reading One hundred years of solitude?”

“I have”, he answered in a friendly tone.

“Any new insights?”, she smiled.

“I must admit that I did not expect the story to actually take place over the course of a hundred years”, he declared. “I had assumed the title to be metaphorical.”

They entered the turbolift, the doors closing.

She chuckled. “They say the novel represents the history of Colombia in the 19th and 20th centuries. It is actually required reading in school in Colombia, together with more recent works. I know because I read it in school.”

He nodded, remarking: “There is very little I know about your youth there.”

Teresa broke into a faint smile. “Well, what would you like to know?”

“Anything you consider worth telling”, he repeated her own words from the evening before.

She chuckled heartily. “Alright”, she said, “let’s see. I spent the first nine years of my life in Loma de Arena, which is a small town outside of Cartagena de Indias, next to the sea. I used to play by the sea a lot with my siblings; I could probably still describe to you every corner of those beaches and the wildlife you could find there. Then we moved to Oxford, England, for four years.” Spock found himself in the position of pretending that he did not know all her places of residence already, because he had read her full CV back on the Enterprise, purely out of curiosity. “Have you been to Oxford?”, she asked him. “As it’s still a famous travel destination.”

“I have”, he replied. “When I was at the Academy. But only for one day.”

“When was that?”

“In August 2249.”

“That’s when I lived there!”, she exclaimed excitedly. “Of course, I was only ten at the time.”

“It is of course possible that our paths crossed”, he remarked.

“Oh, I don’t think so”, she said decidedly. “I never forget a face. Especially not – “. She interrupted herself for a second and threw him a self-conscious glance. As she probably thought that he anyway knew what she had been about to say and why, she finished her sentence (more soberly): “… – yours.”

His eyebrows twitched. “Evidently.”

The turbolift doors opened and they continued their journey along the corridor.

“Anyway”, she resumed her account calmly, “I loved the charm of these beautiful historic buildings and streets and this mesmerizing atmosphere of knowledge and learning exuded by the university. When I was thirteen, we moved back to Colombia, to Cartagena this time. That’s where I read One hundred years of solitude in school. Cartagena is beautiful, just like Oxford is, although in a very different way. I’ve been very fortunate with my places of residence; I’ve been spoiled by beauty.” She laughed. “Just like when I was in Granada, Spain, on a long holiday. And then, I’ve also lived in Sichuan Province, as you already know, in the outskirts of Chengdu. And, for three months, in Fez, Morocco. I don’t know whether all of these places mean anything to you.”

“I have heard of them”, he told her, while they walked through the airponics bay doors. “What seems to be evident to me is that this frequent change of residence shows your eagerness to explore different cultural settings. Did you not say you had siblings?”

“I do”, she answered. “Two.” For a moment, she looked as though a distracting thought had occurred to her, but then she continued as before: “An elder sister and a younger brother.”

“What are their names?”, he queried. They made no moves to start working; instead, they simply stood next to the vegetable bed stands, facing each other. Her reluctance to talk to him alone seemed to have vanished, or maybe it had been an incorrect assumption on his part in the first place.

“My sister is called Alejandra”, she smiled. “And my brother Ricardo. Typical Spanish names, really.”

“What do they do?”

“Alejandra works with the regional administration in Venezuela and Ricardo is a lecturer of South-East Asian literature at the university of Nairobi. I haven’t been there yet; I was planning to visit him once our five-year-mission is over.” She suddenly looked a little cast-down.

He looked at her gently. “Probability indicates you will.”

She took a deep breath and smiled. “Yes.”

“What about your parents? What do they do?”, he asked, while beginning to collect the cucumbers and putting them in a crate.

“Papá works in the sustainable development office and mamá is a marine biologist”, she said, reaching for the water sprayer and smiling affectionately. “You see? I got it from her.”

He nodded, remarking: “I have often observed that you have a greater interest in animate matter than in inanimate matter. May I ask why?”

“Oh, I…” She paused, ceasing to spray extra water on the lettuce. “It’s simply that… life is something so wondrous, so endlessly mesmerizing. The many forms it can take, its tenacity and drive to survive, the sheer endless ways different lifeforms experience the universe and manage to thrive in it, the constant realization that our own perception and mode of being is so incredibly limited and the intellectual stimulation one can derive from obtaining a small glimpse into the existence of another lifeform, even if it’s ‘only’ a microbe.”

Spock had been listening attentively and now also paused his cucumber picking. “Considering the many conversations we have had over the years, this is exactly the type of answer I would have expected to hear from you.”

She let out a soft laugh. “After almost four years, you know me quite well.”

“It seems that way.” He resumed his picking of the cucumbers.

“Is it really any wonder, after I’ve bombarded you with questions about your mind melds with various life forms countless times, like with the Horta. There I am, burning to know as much as I can about how other sentient life forms experience the world, and then you come along with the actual ability to connect with their consciousness. I must admit I’ve been quite envious.” She laughed.

“Understandably”, he said with affability.

“At least that way, I’ve been able to find out more than I would ever have been able to without you”, she laughed again. “’Envious’ is actually not the right word here. ‘Grateful for the opportunity’ is more like it.”

“I thought one can be both.”

“True.”

There were a few seconds of silence, during which their eyes met and they probably thought the same thing: If they connected through a mind meld, he would be able to transmit this knowledge to her much more comprehensively than he ever could with language. This was a very dangerous path to go down, though, so he changed the subject: “So, you are the first one in your family to join Starfleet, if I am not mistaken?”

“Yes.”

He nodded, suddenly looking thoughtful. “And what did they think of this decision, if I may ask?”

“They supported it”, she said, in a matter-of-course voice. “Although they did not like the idea of not seeing me for years. Neither did I, but the temptation to travel the stars was too great.”

There must have been something in his face because she suddenly put on a more serious, searching and empathetic expression, approached him and inquired softly: “What about your parents? If I may ask.”

He interrupted his activity once again and looked at her in an immobile posture, hesitant at first. But then he said quietly: “My father… did not approve.”

Teresa opened her mouth slightly, observing him gently. “I see.” She bit her lip and then continued very carefully: “Why?”

Taking a quiet breath and still keeping his gaze fixated on her, he said very slowly: “I was… admitted to the Vulcan Science Academy. I turned down the offer.”

She gasped quietly, the expression in her eyes getting even more empathetic, and stepped even closer until they were only about half a meter apart. “That is a tremendous honour.”

“Indeed”, he said, with slightly raised eyebrows, looking grave and vulnerable at the same time.

“Why did you? Turn it down?”, she asked even more carefully. “Again, if I may ask.”

He stayed silent for more than ten seconds, contemplating her, pondering. “I am not in the habit of discussing such private matters”, he whispered.

Teresa nodded respectfully, turning off her questioning glance and looking at his elbows.

“But… our relationship is… special”, he continued.

She looked back into his eyes, smiling most warmly and affectionately, waiting for him to go on.

After an even longer silence, during which he did not look away once, he finally admitted: “I was not certain whether I would be taken entirely seriously there.”

“What?”, she breathed, stunned.

Frowning slightly, he explained while she listened with wide eyes: “As I have already indicated to you in several former conversations, my part-human identity has always somewhat set me apart in the eyes of other Vulcans. What I have not told you is that throughout my life on Vulcan, I have often experienced that, due to my human genes, many people expected me to… perform worse than other Vulcans my age. Most of the time, I was able to prove them wrong. Nevertheless, constantly having to… defy expectations was… tiring.”

“I understand”, she said sympathetically and dismayed. “But I could never quite understand how Vulcans can be prejudiced. Isn’t prejudice illogical?”

“Indeed it is”, he confirmed, “but you are forgetting that in this case, the expectations are at least in part reasonable. Statistically, Vulcans tend to have more advanced abilities than humans, in many aspects. Of course, there are many humans whose abilities highly exceed the average – present company included – “, he interjected, looking at her kindly, and she smiled a wry smile, “but all in all, the statistical probability of a Vulcan-human hybrid being less intelligent, less logical, is high.”

“Still, they should also be aware of the possibility that you are not a statistical average. Not taking this possibility into account is illogical.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“What I still don’t understand is this: they admitted you into their Academy, which means that they considered your abilities to be exceptional. Why, then, did you expect these exact same people to underestimate you, or not take you seriously, as you have phrased it?” She contemplated him kindly.

“Firstly”, he explained, still looking at her with the same guarded vulnerability, “the individuals who choose between the candidates do so on the basis of anonymous data, which means that they did not know about my being part human. Secondly, these individuals were not the same as the ones who would have taught me. Suffice it to say that I visited the Academy and engaged in conversation with some of the teachers. And I was not convinced that they would consider my contributions as a student with the same seriousness as those of other students and that I would be able to achieve my full potential in this environment. Alas, Vulcans have developed a higher respect for humans in the past 200 years, but many still do not consider them intellectual equals, with some justification.”

“Based on their understanding of what constitutes intellect, or intelligence”, Teresa could not help but politely protest.

“Of course.”

“Vulcans are not the measure of all things, you know”, she smiled with a certain, carefully measured pique. “Neither are humans, of course. What I mean to say is, we all have to find our own way.”

“Indeed, and this is what I set out to do. Instead of attending the Academy, I decided to join Starfleet, in the hope of encountering an environment there that is better accustomed to species diversity than the Vulcan Science Academy.”

She was still listening attentively and affectionately. “I understand. Only… whatever happened to the Vulcan credo of ‘infinite diversity in infinite combinations’?”

“As we have addressed in many of our former conversations, reality is usually more complex than ideals, no matter how laudable and necessary they are.”

“Yes”, she sighed. “I am only… sorry that this has had such a significant impact on you.”

He lowered his gaze to the floor and Teresa sensed that there was something else he was not saying.

“Wait a minute”, she whispered. “You’ve been asking yourself all this time whether in joining Starfleet instead of the Vulcan Science Academy you made an emotional decision, haven’t you? And whether by doing that, you proved them right after all.”

He looked back into her eyes, caught, ashamed and touched by her correct assessment, saying nothing.

“Spock”, she breathed softly and imploringly, “do you think you made the right decision for yourself? Or do you think joining Starfleet was a mistake? Not in the Vulcan Science Academy’s eyes, not in your father’s eyes, not in any other people’s eyes, but your own?”

“No”, he said quietly, and then more loudly and decidedly: “No, not at all. It has been the correct path for me.”

“Then let go of these doubts”, she said in a low, but determined voice, while he stared at her, riveted. “So what if it was an emotional decision? It was a good one! We can’t always make decisions based on logic alone; sometimes there’s more to it. Especially when it concerns our own lives! You’re half human. Stand by it. You’re allowed to let emotion influence important life decisions. You’re allowed to find your own way.” After this impassioned speech, she suddenly chuckled and relativized: “Of course, that is only my very human standpoint. I don’t expect you to agree.”

Spock said nothing; he only kept contemplating her with this riveted, pensive, slightly vulnerable expression on his face, a faint frown on his forehead, his lips parted slightly, and breathing quietly.

Probably in order to not press the matter any further, she changed the subject and asked in the same careful voice she had employed before: “So, is that the reason why you are estranged from you father? Because he does not approve of your career choice?”

“One of them”, he replied.

She nodded slowly, not asking any further.

For a moment, they simply stood there in silent contemplation of each other, then he said: “Thank you… for your perspective. I highly value your… insights.”

“Anytime”, she assured him, smiling gently. “And thank you for confiding in me.”

He nodded curtly and politely in response and as an indication that this conversation was now concluded and returned to the cucumbers.

They finished their tasks in the airponics bay, only talking about the work at hand, but in an atmosphere of comfort and trust. They put part of their harvest into storage and brought the rest to the kitchen.

“Sikiri leaves, wonderful!”, Neelix exclaimed. “They’ll make a very nice addition to the leola root soup. By the way, Teresa, Naomi has asked for you again. You know, I think she can’t get enough of you.”

Teresa let out a flattered and concerned chuckle. “Oh dear. But we probably won’t be here for very long.”

“Still, I think it will benefit her more than hurt her if you become her friend”, Neelix told her, patting her on the shoulder. “She’ll be sad to see you go, but we all have to learn about the pain of farewells one day.”

“I suppose that’s true”, Teresa muttered.

“Why don’t you go and help her study now?”, Neelix suggested.

“Shouldn’t I help you here?”

“Oh no, Spock and I will manage, won’t we, Spock?”

“Certainly.”

“Alright”, she smiled. “See you later.” And away she went.

She did not return for lunch and not in the afternoon, either. Spock ate his lunch with some members of the crew again but did not pay a lot of attention to the conversation; his mind was still occupied with their earlier exchange in the airponics bay and what she had said to him.

In order to have something to do, he soon resumed his post in the kitchen around 15:00 hours, cutting up the cucumbers for cucumber sandwiches several crew members had requested.

Neelix, who had just returned from his lunch break, remarked: “Teresa still seems to be with Naomi.”

“Probably”, Spock answered, slicing the cucumbers with a large and sharp knife.

“I’m really glad Naomi likes her so much”, Neelix continued. “And I’m not surprised. I think she’s absolutely delightful, and a very good influence on her. And she’s very intelligent, too!”

“Ah”, Spock made. He dropped the knife and grasped his left hand with his right. A few drops of green blood dripped onto the cutting board.

“Oh dear, oh dear, that doesn’t look good”, Neelix said. “One has to be careful with these knives. I don’t have a dermal regenerator here (although, considering this, I should probably get one); you’ll have to go to sickbay.”

Spock looked at his hand. Somehow, he had managed to make a clear, long cut between his thumb and index finger. The back of his hand was quickly filling with blood.

“Take this.” Neelix handed him a clean kitchen towel. “So, this is what Vulcan blood looks like. I had been wondering.”

“Thank you”, Spock answered, wrapping the towel around his hand. “I shall re-join you later.”

He quickly proceeded to sickbay, pressing the towel, which was slowly turning green, on the cut in his hand.

Sickbay was empty.

“Computer, activate EMH.”

The hologram materialised in the middle of the room. “Please state the nature of the medical emergency. Ah, it’s you. Our famous visitor from the past”, he attested with a look at him, and asked dryly: “Is this a social call?”

“No...”

“I see. What ails you?”

“I cut my hand in the kitchen.” Spock held it out to him.

“Hm, it’s not as bad as it looks”, the Doctor ascertained, examining his hand, then he went to get the dermal regenerator. “You could have paid me a social call, you know?”, he then remarked, returning with the device. “Your fellow time traveller already did that several days ago.”

“I am not as sociable as she is, Doctor”, Spock replied, while the Doctor ran the regenerator over his hand and the cut closed within seconds.

“Evidently”, the Doctor said dryly. “I am surprised you cut your hand. A lack of concentration is not something I would expect to happen to a Vulcan. You can wash your hands here.” He gestured to a sink in the corner.

Spock did not say anything in answer to this remark; he simply held his blood-stained hands under the water. “Thank you.”

“Hm”, the Doctor made, now standing behind him. Spock suddenly realised that he was scanning him with a medical tricorder. “Elevated activity in the mesiofrontal cortex. Have we been uncommonly emotional lately?”

Spock turned around towards him, eyebrows raised. “… Maybe”, he said reservedly.

“Oh, there’s no cause for concern”, the Doctor EMH brightly assured him. “The levels are well within safety limits.”

Spock did not answer, but his jaw tightened.

“Aha. I see you really are worried”, the Doctor made after a glance at him, spraying an antiseptic on his hand.

Spock examined his hand, which was as good as new. “Thank you, Doctor. Anything else?”

„No“, the Doctor answered, his eyebrows now equally raised. “Just be more careful with the knife. I don’t want to have to stitch a finger back on next.”

“I shall endeavour to do so.”

“Good!”

Chapter Text

Teresa was only to be seen again the next morning. She came into the kitchen, her usual cheerful self. “Morning, you two. Spock, I’ve already had a look at the airponics bay. There’s really nothing to do there today. I’ve adjusted the environmental controls, that’s all.”

“Understood”, he replied.

“How was your time with Naomi?”, Neelix asked.

“Very nice; she’s a very bright young girl”, Teresa answered, snacking on the cucumbers. “She told me she wants to be captain’s assistant in a few years.” Her lips twitched. “In our century, the Federation has very little contact with the Ktarians, which is why I barely know anything about them. She told me that because of her Ktarian father, she grows at twice the rate of a human child, which explains why she is at the development stage of a human six-year-old but is actually only three. But even for a human six-year-old, she is astonishingly clever”, she told Spock.

“I see”, Spock said. “Does that mean that Ktarians also have half the life expectancy of humans, or even less?”

“I don’t know”, Teresa shrugged. “To a Vulcan, this must seem even more ridiculously short than to a human.”

“Kes, the Ocampa who used to live with us on Voyager”, Neelix said with much affection, “only has a life span of nine human years.”

“What?”, Teresa made, shocked. “And I don’t think we’re supposed to know that, Neelix.”

“I don’t see why you acquiring such knowledge about any species living in the Delta Quadrant could hurt the timeline”, Neelix said slightly defiantly. “There is no contact between the Alpha and Delta Quadrants in your century, anyway. What about you, Spock? Is your life expectancy somewhere between a Vulcan and a human?”

“I do not know”, Spock answered. “There have existed only six Vulcan-human hybrids in my time so far; four of them are still alive, and of those two who have already died, only one has died of old age. She had also suffered from a degenerative disease, however, which probably had accelerated her aging process. This is not a sufficient data basis upon which one can determine a conclusive statistical average. It seems certain, however, that I have a longer life expectancy than a human. And as my Vulcan genes are dominant in many respects, it is also reasonable to assume that my life expectancy is significantly closer to a Vulcan’s.”

“So, you mean you don’t know whether you could still be alive now?”, Neelix asked.

“Precisely.”

Teresa was silent, contemplating the cucumbers.

“No doubt you would be able to enlighten me in that matter”, Spock remarked to Neelix.

“I could”, Neelix answered, “but I won’t.”

“Huh”, Teresa chuckled, “Imagine meeting yourself, a hundred years older.”

“That would be fascinating”, Spock mused, then he turned to Teresa: “Did you spend the whole day with Naomi?”

“No”, she answered with a faint glint in her eyes. “I had dinner with B’Elanna.”

“You seem to be developing a friendship with her”, he observed.

“She’s not as hard as she seems at first glance”, Teresa smiled. “And you? How was the rest of your day?”

“He cut his hand”, Neelix could not resist informing her.

“What?” She looked back and forth between Neelix and Spock, who sighed.

“He cut his hand with one of the big knives when he was slicing the cucumbers”, Neelix explained. “Had to go to sickbay.”

“Oh dear!”, she made.

“It was nothing”, Spock assured her.

“I’d never seen that green blood before”, Neelix told her, while she listened with raised eyebrows and a slightly amused expression. “Have you ever seen Vulcan blood?”

“I have.”

“It looked like the skin of the cucumbers.”

Teresa chortled and then looked with an apologetic expression at Spock, who had assumed a frown.

They set out preparing breakfast, but after half an hour Neelix said: “You know what, we have so many leftovers from yesterday that I don’t have to cook a lot of new food today. You don’t need to help me any more today. Why don’t you do something nice instead, like a visit to the holodeck or something.”

“Are you certain?”, Spock asked.

“Yes!”

“In that case”, Teresa admitted, yawning, “I think I’d like to get a little bit more rest; I didn’t have the best night.”

“Did you have trouble sleeping?”, Spock inquired.

“Oh, nothing serious”, she assured him, smiling. “Just a lot on my mind.”

“I see”, he made, although he didn’t quite see.

“Oh”, Neelix said, sounding disappointed for some unknown reason, “you do that, then. Lie down a bit. Rest well.”

“Thanks”, she said, patting the Talaxian on the shoulder and giving Spock a friendly smile in passing. “See you later.”

Once again, he was left to his own devices. It was strange how quickly he had gotten used to her company for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and in-between as well. Yesterday, after their confidential conversation in the airponics bay, he had thought that maybe she had not been trying to avoid him after all. Now the suspicion had returned. He was not used to entertaining speculations of that sort, about personal relationships. What he was used to was assessing situations based on tangible facts or their absence and he usually did not concern himself with interpreting the meaning of other people’s behaviour towards him mainly on the basis of what humans would call a ‘gut feeling’. Now, however, his gut feeling was telling him very clearly that there was something Teresa did not want to talk to him about.

He returned to his quarters, conducted an additional meditation session and had lunch on his own. At 15:07 hours, he decided to take another stroll through the ship.

After nine minutes, he met Harry Kim in the hallway, trailed by Naomi Wildman.

“Hello, Spock”, the Ensign said.

“Hello”, Naomi piped.

“Good day”, Spock replied, walking alongside them.

“How are you?”, Ensign Kim inquired.

“I am well, thank you. And you?”

“Oh, same old, same old”, the Ensign smiled. “How’s Teresa? I haven’t seen her since the day before yesterday, either.”

“Well, I believe”, Spock answered.

“‘You believe’?”, Harry said. “You mean, you don’t know?”

“Only because I have not seen much of her for the last three days, either”, Spock replied, trying to make this sound unimportant. Not much in comparison to the days before, that was.

“Oh, but I thought you two were always eating together and so on”, Harry continued.

“Not for the last three days”, Spock replied in as neutral a voice as he could muster.

“Hm”, Harry made.

“I suppose it’s because she can’t decide whether she should tell you about your marriage”, Naomi suggested.

“What?!” Spock stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Naomi.

“Naomi!”, Ensign Kim exclaimed in an exasperated voice, glaring at the girl reproachfully and despairingly.

“Oops”, she made, but it did not sound very convincing.

“What did you say?”, Spock asked sharply.

“Not another word, Naomi!”, Harry told her, but Spock, ignoring this, went down into a squat before Naomi, contemplating her with a piercing gaze. “Did you say ‘marriage’? Whose marriage?”

“Yours and hers, of course”, she replied, while Harry groaned. “It’s too late, now, anyway”, she said to the Ensign. “Sorry.”

Spock slowly got up again, pinning Harry down with his gaze. “Is this true?”

The Ensign let out a deep sigh, looking very apologetic. “Yeah.”

“Tell me what you know.”

“Well,”, Harry sighed, “records state that you and her got married, six months after the stardate you were pulled into the wormhole.”

Spock’s brain began working furiously. First, he kept on staring at Harry, then he looked at the ground, eyes darting from side to side.

“And you say that she knows this?”, he asked Naomi after a few seconds’ silence.

She nodded.

“Are you certain?”

“Yes”, she assured him with her squeaky child’s voice. “The other day, I was passing by the astrometrics lab and saw that she was talking to Seven. From what I heard, I think she walked into the lab while Seven was away and saw that your file was open. So she read it. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop”, she apologized, “but I did.”

Spock stared down at her while many things were suddenly beginning to make sense.

“Spock? Are you alright?”, Harry asked tentatively.

“Yes”, he said distractedly. “If you would excuse me.”

He left them standing in the hallway, watching him walk away.

Barely noticing where he was going, he quickly walked along the corridors, his thoughts racing. Crew members were greeting him and he gave them an automatic response but did not stop to talk to them. Fifteen minutes later he found himself standing in front of her quarters, without having actively decided to go there. He pressed the panel, but there was no response.

“Computer, locate Lieutenant Juárez.”

“Lieutenant Juárez is in the airponics bay.”

“Airponics bay?”, he murmured. Had she not said there was nothing to do there today? Maybe it had been a spontaneous decision on her part to go there again.

And so he set out once more, his thoughts still racing. Seeking her out was not a conscious decision; he was following an automatic impulse while he perceived the ship like through a tunnel.

And then, he was finally standing before the entrance to the airponics bay, suddenly aware of his surroundings again. He took a deep breath and entered.

Teresa was standing among the vegetable bed shelves, examining a broccoli plant. She looked up when she saw him. “Spock!”, she greeted him in a surprised, but friendly tone, but looked questioning when she saw the expression on his face.

“I know”, he informed her, stopping at a few metres distance from the doors, but still at a safe distance from the vegetable bed shelves surrounding her.

Her eyes grew a little wider, but she remained composed. “I see!” She contemplated him for a moment and then asked: “How?”

“Naomi”, he answered.

“Of course”, she made. “Who else.” Her lips twitched into a wry smile for a second, but then she regarded him with an earnest and empathetic gaze again and inquired: “When did you find out?”

“Just now.” He gestured distractedly at some undefined point behind him.

“And what exactly did she tell you?”

“That we - …” His voice broke off and he cleared his throat, as he still had major difficulties wrapping his head around this piece of information, “that we will get… married. Soon. In - … in a few months. That is, Ensign Kim told me that… that last bit.”

Her lips twitched once again; he did not understand why she should be amused. For several seconds, they stared at each other over the vegetable beds, him unable to utter another word, her expectantly. Then, he gulped and asked: “Why did you not tell me?”

“Isn’t that obvious?”, she said, slowly advancing a few metres towards him. “I wasn’t certain whether you were ready to hear it.”

He inhaled sharply and pressed his lips together, still staring at her.

Teresa nodded almost imperceptibly, as though his reaction had been a confirmation. “And anyway”, she continued more agitatedly, “that’s not the way these things are supposed to happen, isn’t it? You usually don’t find out that you will get married before you’ve even decided to do so.”

He frowned, appreciating the logic of that statement.

“And now that we’re here”, she said, “maybe things have changed! What if we will have to stay on Voyager after all? At the moment we think that we will most likely return, but what if we don’t? Will it still happen? What if it doesn’t? What if it happens because I don’t tell you, or what if it doesn’t happen because I ruin things by telling you too early, when you’re not ready? Or, what if it only happens because by telling you, I give you the push you maybe need? What if, by avoiding your company because I don’t know what to say and how to behave, I drive you away from me? And further, of course, if we do get back to the Enterprise, they will probably have wiped our memories, which is why nothing that happens here will matter because we won’t remember a thing? And if for some reason we’ll get back with our memories intact, I face the same problems again. Should I tell you? Should I not tell you? Am I… unnecessarily complicating things by overthinking it? I must say, these temporal mechanics are really beginning to get on my nerves.”

“That is understandable”, was all he managed to say, while he looked at her empathetically and at an utter loss at the same time.

“And I have so many questions”, she pressed on. “Most of all… Why?”, she asked emphatically, now coming so close that she was standing directly in front of him, gazing up at his face. “Why did we get married? These records only contain the cold, hard facts about important life events; they say nothing about the motivations behind them.” She gently scrutinized the expression in his eyes, trying to find answers. “I am confused, because… no matter how much I love that person, I didn’t think I could marry someone who doesn’t love me.” He winced slightly, his eyes not leaving her face. “… or alternatively”, she revised this statement softly, “who doesn’t want to love me. Who fights it, every day. Who considers it some kind of personal failure.” His agitation visibly increased, and he stared at her gravely, speechlessly. “Or… what if…”, she added even more slowly, “you simply decided to marry me because you came to consider me a logical choice? Am I that?”

“Of course you are!”, it broke out of him rather forcefully, almost reproachfully for her doubting it, and he started pacing from side to side, throwing her nervous glances, unsuccessfully trying to contain his mounting distress.

“Oh”, she made, as though he had just told her an interesting curiosity.

“Isn’t it obvious?”, he snapped.

“Well, I ’ve often thought so”, she said loftily and enumerated all her merits while he listened with mild impatience, still pacing around in front of her, nodding at every point she made. “We get on very well… we have lots to talk about, we share many interests and values… I am more than sufficiently intelligent and probably logical enough for you to consider me, I can usually perfectly control my emotions when necessary, I have an interest in and respect for Vulcan culture, we both want to spend our life in Starfleet, and I want to be with you.”

“All very good reasons”, he confirmed breathlessly, throwing her a glance in passing.

“Yes, but I am also very human”, she continued, while her voice assumed a dangerously enticing tone and he slowed down and stared at her wide-eyed, “emotional. Passionate”, she breathed, and concluded, her face now only 20 centimetres from his, “sensual”, in a decidedly sensual and provocative way.

“You are very attractive”, he rephrased this last word brazenly, taking up his pacing again.

“Thank you”, she smiled. “But that makes me a threat. To your composure. Your Vulcan self-control and peace of mind.”

He slowed down once again, only staring at her wordlessly, his jaw tense.

“So you see”, she concluded, “it doesn’t make sense. Is that… it?”

He took a deep breath. “No. It’s more than that.”

“I’m all ears.”

“There are… several other things”, he said faintly, while she looked at him patiently. “First of all…” (this seemed to him the easier thing to reveal) “there’s something I have not told you about the pon farr.”

“The pon farr?”, she repeated, astounded.

He nodded, gathered his words and then explained, still breathing rather agitatedly, while it was her turn to listen with wide eyes: “When two Vulcans undergo it together, it creates a kind of… bond between them. It’s not emotional in nature, at least not as you would understand emotion. Just like pon farr itself, it changes the neurochemistry of the brain. It is referred to by the name of koon-ut-fal. It endows the two mates with a sense of… belonging to each other, to the extent that they never wish for another mate. It is the main reason Vulcan couples mate for life, and for that reason, designated mates are usually already telepathically bonded long before their first pon farr, often already in childhood, to make sure they undergo pon farr at the same time and to prevent – …” He stopped and hesitated, looking at her with discomfort.

“- … to prevent that an individual undergoing pon farr might develop that bond with the first-best person who just happens to be at hand at that moment?”, she dryly offered to finish his sentence, almost whispering.

He took a strained breath. “Yes, but that is not exactly where I am going with this. It is true, mating with you is not something I had planned”, he said despondently and contritely, “and I did not tell you about the bond that night because my first priority was to survive, and I had… neither the time nor the patience to complicate the already very sensitive situation with talk of neurochemical bonds and life commitment. Moreover, I was not sure whether I, being only half-Vulcan, would be affected by such a bond at all. I thought that if I should be affected, I could deal with the consequences later. Needless to say”, he panted after this long speech, “I have been affected.”

 Teresa was unable to speak for a moment, looking at his face with a soft expression and realization dawning on her. “So, that’s what you’ve been struggling with?”, she asked empathetically, but slightly incredulously and disappointedly. “The fact that you now feel… bound to me?”

“No”, he negated, “at least, that’s only part of it.” And he looked at her with a dozen emotions edged into his face at the same time: tenderness, agitation, defeat, an eagerness and inability to speak at the same time, hesitancy, longing, fear.

“Tell me”, she said gently.

He continued to gaze at her, chest heaving, his face uncertain whether it wanted to press his lips together, breathe through his open mouth or tighten his jaw, going through all options at short intervals.

“Tell me”, she whispered, drawing closer and looking up into his eyes with infinite tenderness and patience.

He looked back, still unable to utter the words, looked down at the ground, evading her gaze, looked up again. Then he inhaled deeply, trying to steady himself, and said with all the gravitas and courage he could muster: “I love you. Very much.” And then he let out a shaky exhale, exhausted with the effort this had cost him.

Her gaze became, if possible, even softer. A profound glow appeared on her face and her lips twitched into a subtle smile, but then she regarded him with a dignified and prideful expression, lifting her chin up slightly. “That must have been very difficult for you”, she said quietly.

“You have no idea!”, he burst out, taking up his pacing again, with more agitation than ever before, while she watched him sympathetically and at the same time elated and extremely gratified by his declaration. “Shon-par’hel, love, is the most dangerous emotion of all”, he recited one of the key lessons he had been taught in his youth. “It produces many other emotions: jealousy, shame, rage, grief. A Vulcan must be able to suppress them all; otherwise, he will be consumed by them.”

“Have you experienced any of these?”, Teresa asked, frowning with even more empathy.

He halted and took a sharp breath, looking at her with a piercing gaze. “… Not yet.”

She broke into a tentative smile, trying her best to be encouraging while at the same time taking his legitimate concerns seriously. “Might that have something to do with the fact that you know exactly how I feel about you?”, she said gently. “That there is no reason whatsoever for jealousy, shame or rage?” The only thing she exempted was grief, a fact they were both most aware of.

“I – “, he made, unable to go on.

“And have you not left out quite a lot of other emotions love can engender?”, she continued earnestly and slowly, emphasising every word. “Happiness, joy, fulfilment, connection… The strength and peace of mind one can draw from genuine, profound, reciprocated… love.”

His eyes flickered and he took another shaky breath, his gaze glued to her face. “Nevertheless”, he then said, “it is… very… dangerous.”

Teresa contemplated him earnestly. “To a Vulcan”, she then responded and added, ever more softly: “Humans can of course also be consumed by all the emotions you have named. But I think you are better prepared than most to control them. And it often happens in life that we must run a certain risk in order to obtain a higher reward. And forgive me, but judging by the state that you’re in, the state you’ve been in for quite some time now, not giving in to your emotions has an equally destructive effect on you. Maybe even more so.”

Spock blinked, as her words seemed to hit the mark. “Yes, to a Vulcan”, he confirmed the beginning of her last speech and resumed his agitated pacing in front of her. “It is, of course, logical to take into account the possibility that, for me, it might be different; that my own emotions are not quite as volatile as those of a full-blooded Vulcan. And the fact is… I have tried to master these emotions, but I cannot”, he explained, looking at her frequently with desperation. “So, when it became clear that we would spend a lot of time together here on Voyager, I thought: Fine, I will try to ‘explore my humanity’. If this is how it is meant to be, I should try to embrace it, learn to live with it, to find this ‘balance’ you have been speaking of. I deliberately exposed myself to more… intimate situations with you, to see how it would affect me.”

More realization dawned on her as she remembered all their interactions during the past days. “But you overdid it”, she continued gently, recalling the evening they had danced in her quarters. “It was too much for you and you were afraid that you would end up losing control.”

He nodded, his agitated breathing accelerating. “I spent almost two entire days meditating, but it was no use”, he gasped, shaking his head in desperation. “At some point, it got so bad that I seriously considered undergoing the kolinahr if I ever got the chance to return to Vulcan. Finally, I managed to calm down enough to decide to make a second attempt, but I have not excluded any option so far.”

“The kolinahr?!”, Teresa asked with horror and alarm, holding back the addition of ‘oh god, no! Are you mad?’. “Now I understand what you meant by ‘swinging to the extremes’”, she muttered.

Spock simply kept pacing around there, panting like he had been running a mile, fists clenched, all composure lost.

“Spock”, she said firmly, drawing very close and gazing at him. “Listen to me. Listen.”

He stopped his pacing and stared down into her face, breath still very agitated, fists still clenched.

“I read all of your file, you know?”, she told him lovingly. “Once I had begun, I couldn’t stop myself. And you know what? It turns out we were together for a very long time and even had… three children, can you believe it? I wasn’t even sure whether I wanted to have children, but that’s another matter. My point is, this didn’t break you or turn you into some kind of uncontrolled, savage Vulcan maniac, no, quite the contrary! You thrived. You had a distinguished Starfleet career, and yes, of course you became a captain, and you continued to go on diplomatic missions until around seven years before my death as an old woman, and you only returned to active service some ten years after my death. Of course, one can only speculate that this means that my death hit you quite hard, but I think it’s a reasonable assumption. To this date, you haven’t married again. But grief didn’t break you, either. And yes, you’re still alive today, at least to Voyager’s knowledge. And you know what you were doing at the time Voyager disappeared in the Delta Quadrant? You were on Romulus”, she told him, grinning incredulously and proudly, “leading a clandestine movement that teaches Vulcan philosophy to Romulans who want to learn and that works towards reunification! Can you believe it?”

He stared at her, taking in every word, his breathing having calmed considerably, although it was still not back to normal.

“So, you see?”, she whispered. “You’ll be alright.”

He frowned, still struggling to master his agitation.

“Do you want to know what I think your main problem is?”, she asked and he nodded. “I don’t think it’s your feelings for me that agitates you so much, but your resistance to them. It’s basic human psychology, really; you can ask Elise about such psychological processes if you don’t believe me. You’re afraid of what your emotions might do with you, so you fight them and this makes you incredibly tense, but you don’t succeed and you grow desperate. I’m convinced that you’ll be much calmer once you actually allow them and stop resisting. The whole Vulcan method of logical deconstruction followed by meditative suppression probably does not completely work for someone who is partly human, especially not in this situation, hm?”

Still staring at her, he gulped and slowly nodded once again, trying to comprehend, which made her smile slightly. “I can help you”, she promised.

“I know you can”, he discerned with a murmur, “you have already helped me in the past.”

She broke into a wide, warm smile and watched him tenderly while he stood before her, attempting to follow her advice, but of course still struggling because he could not simply turn a switch. His fists remained clenched, his breathing agitated, his face strained with effort and desperation.

Gently and carefully, she reached for his hands that were hanging by his sides, softly grasping them, caressing them, and slowly, slowly, attempted to loosen his fists by pushing her thumbs between his clenched fingers, all the while gazing into his eyes with a tender, patient, and soothing expression. Eventually, she was successful at relaxing his hands and his breathing, and he stared back into her eyes, with incredulity at what had transpired between them, his gaze gradually turning mellower and finally more fully aware of their proximity and filling with silent yearning.

Having completely opened up his left hand, she ran her fingers over it and lifted it up, so that their hands were touching and entwining at the height of their shoulders. She had elegantly turned her calming exercise into a Vulcan intimacy ritual, while her face once more assumed the dignity and tender pride it had exhibited when he had told her that he loved her. It was a glowing pride in being able to call him her partner.

Spock’s breathing had lost almost all of its agitation, or at least had assumed a quiet agitation of a different kind. He looked at her thoughtfully, fascinated by what was happening (though still a little sceptical), his eyes wandering over her face, her lips and her hair, while their hands continued their dance in mid-air, intertwining, running over each other, fingertips touching and letting go. He closed his eyes and took in the sensations this touching of their hands created in him, a confusing mixture of restfulness and titillation.

And then he looked at her again and saw that she grasped his hand more tightly and slowly led it to her mouth, where she pressed her lips onto it, closing her own eyes, taking a deep and elated breath, running her lips along his fingers. He watched her with a soft and amazed expression.

Subsequently, she carefully lifted the index finger of her left hand to his face and gently brushed the tip of it along his skin, his eyebrows, his temples, under his eyes, all the way down from his forehead along his nose down to his lips, all while he watched her in stunned and moved silence and felt the softness of her touch.

When she had concluded this exploration of his face and simply gazed at him again, her right hand still intertwined with his left, he raised his right hand with some hesitation and trepidation and brushed his fingers over her cheek, ran his thumb over her lips. She pressed a careful kiss onto it, which made him hold his breath with surprise for a moment.

Teresa kept observing him lovingly, a faint smile on her lips. Then, she saw resolution forming in his eyes, and he carefully lifted her chin, hesitated for a moment, and then slightly bent his head down to kiss her.

The kiss was very soft and careful, but she felt an intense electrical current shooting through her entire body. After a few seconds, he broke away and backed his head off a few centimetres, observing her thoughtfully and assessing the effect it had on him. He seemed to decide that there was nothing to worry about, so he pressed his lips onto hers once more, his hand still on her cheek.

For several minutes, they slowly, tenderly and carefully kissed like this, lips meeting and breaking apart softly, exploring the rest of each other’s faces as well, Teresa breathing irregularly and overwhelmed with emotion and desire, but careful not to startle him with too passionate a display, continuing to gently run her fingers over his face, his hair, his neck, his shoulders covered in his blue uniform. His hands went similar ways, grasping the back of her head, brushing over her neck and upper chest, embracing her chin, caressing her cheeks, temples, hair. Her lips had broken into a beaming smile as she placed one gentle kiss after another onto his lips and face, an uncontainable excitement mounting in her chest and a glowing warmth in her diaphragm. They kissed with alternately closed and opened eyes, observing each other, exchanging glances of love and tenderness. Even though his expressions were still somewhat guarded, she could sense the emotion underneath his mental wall of protection, and he took in the experience with wonder and fascination. Their hands repeatedly entwined once more, as well, and they kissed them, too.

After a while, the behaviour of his hands changed. She felt the fingers of his left hand hovering over her temple, hesitantly, tempted, indecisively. When she realised what he was trying to do, she put her hand over his in an act of encouragement, but he almost imperceptibly shook his head and pulled his hand away from under hers, resuming their kiss instead, pulling her closer. She fell onto his chest with gratitude, wrapping her arms around his neck, but still careful to keep the embrace soft and not too passionate. Nonetheless, she could not stop a soft moan from escaping her throat, to which he replied with an even firmer grasp on her shoulders. His hand wandered up to her temple once more, but he pulled it away yet again.

Time seemed to have stopped, the airponics bay to have vanished around them. Teresa was only very faintly aware of the fact that this was a public space where anybody could come in at any time. She did not care. They all knew anyway. All she wanted to do was to meld into him, to nourish the insatiable yearning in her chest. Spock seemed equally unperturbed, unable and unwilling to end their kiss.

“Janeway to Commander Spock”, his communicator announced.

Neither of them reacted; they had barely heard it. She breathlessly kissed the corner of his mouth.

“Commander Spock, come in, please.”

He let out something between a gasp and a sigh and broke away from her. Staring at her in disbelief, he pressed his communicator and said: “Spock here.”

“I advise you and Lieutenant Juárez to report to the bridge. We are about to launch the probe into the wormhole, which we expect to open in ten minutes.”

Teresa’s eyes widened. They had both known about the exact time of the coming opening of the wormhole and the launch of the probe, but they had both entirely forgotten about it.

“Acknowledged”, Spock replied, somewhat breathlessly. “We’ll be there shortly. Spock out.”

They looked at each other with wordless incredulity for a moment, until she said: “We should go.”

“Indeed”, he replied. Instead of turning around to leave, however, he lowered his head once more, pressed another gentle kiss on her lips and grasped her hands. She broke into a wide grin, returning the advances of his mouth but trying to break away every few seconds or so, only to repeatedly fail in this endeavour and place another kiss onto his lips.

After around one minute, though, she pulled herself together, and he did, too.

“Let’s go”, she murmured. “There’s more than enough time later.”

“Agreed”, he confirmed and reluctantly let go of her hands.

She tried to reign in an idiotic grin that had taken control of her face, chuckled, and straightened up. He nodded curtly, becoming a little more his Vulcan self again, and walked next to her out of the airponics bay.

They walked in discrete silence to the bridge, only throwing each other furtive glances now and then along the way, even though Teresa could have jumped, danced and cheered in ecstasy and jubilation along the corridors. Spock was no doubt aware of that because there was something knowing in his gentle glances. He himself was still too astonished and dazed by the major turn his life had taken in the last hour. Teresa knew that, too, which is why she at some point gently pressed his arm for a few seconds when she was sure no one was around.

On the bridge, there was an air of busy anticipation.

“Ah, there you are”, the Captain said, inviting them to come forward. “The wormhole should open any moment now.”

In the corner, at the operations station, stood Harry, who eyed both Spock and Teresa with a mixture of nervousness and burning curiosity.

For a few seconds, there was silence on the bridge, while everyone stared expectantly at the viewscreen.

“There it is”, Tuvok then said, “the wormhole has opened at 381-mark-56.”

“On screen”, Janeway said. “Harry, now!”

“Programming course…”, Harry announced. “Probe launched.”

Once again, the room was flooded with bright blue light as the wormhole appeared on screen. The probe was too small in comparison to the wormhole to be seen with bare eyes, but Harry kept them updated. “200.000 kilometres… 100.000… 30.000… the probe has entered the wormhole.”

“Seven, are you receiving telemetry?”, Janeway asked.

“Affirmative”, Seven of Nine answered through an intra-ship communications channel.

“It hasn’t come out on the other side yet”, Harry informed them.

Teresa and Spock exchanged a glance.

“Now it’s through”, Harry announced.

“Scanning”, Seven said, and a few seconds later: “Transmitting data.”

Silence filled the bridge.

“Let’s hope it stays open long enough to – “, Janeway began, but the wormhole started to collapse in front of their eyes. “Destroy the probe!”

“Understood”, Harry said regretfully, and then, “Probe destroyed”, just as the bright blue light extinguished itself. All in all, not more than a minute had passed since it had opened.

“Seven?”, Janeway asked apprehensively. “Have you gathered enough data?”

“I believe so, Captain”, Seven of Nine answered. “Join me in the astrometrics lab in ten minutes.”

“Acknowledged”, Janeway said. “Bridge out.”

“Seven was right”, Teresa muttered to Spock. “The wormhole was active for too short a time for us to safely get through it.”

He nodded.

“Well, it’s what we expected”, Janeway sighed. “Seven’s calculations were very accurate.”

Teresa was certain that Spock wished he was allowed to have a look at these calculations.

“Thank you for letting us witness the operation, Captain”, Spock said.

“Ah, you’re welcome”, she smiled. “We didn’t really use any technology you don’t already know about. I bet you miss being on the bridge.”

“I would welcome serving on a bridge again, yes.”

“Let’s hope we have just brought you a step closer back to that. Let’s go to the astrometrics lab.”

 Spock and Teresa stepped back into the turbolift, with the Captain joining them. “Deck eight.”

After a few seconds of silence during which he put on a pensive face, Spock said: “Captain, you should know that there is no further necessity for any effort to keep information from my personnel file from me.”

“Really?”, the Captain made, surprised, and looking at Teresa, she asked: “Have you told him everything?”

That Janeway knew that Teresa had read his file was news to Spock, who looked at both of them with surprise.

“Not absolutely everything in his file yet, no”, Teresa answered. “There hasn't been any time for that yet.”

“But you will tell him the rest?”

Teresa and Spock exchanged a glance. “I don’t think that can be avoided”, Teresa said, while Spock wore his most innocent facial expression.

Janeway looked at both of them with a face that asked: ‘Does that mean…?’ Teresa gave her a faint smile and the smallest nod, so she beamed, but only for a second. With a glance at Spock, she put on an expression of respectful discretion. “Well, thank you for letting me know, Commander. It makes our conversations a little easier if I don’t always have to take care to not accidentally mention something you’re not supposed to know.”

“You are welcome”, he replied, and then continued, once again looking pensive: “Captain, I believe this only increases the need to erase our memories before we fly back through the wormhole. After all, I do not think one is supposed to be aware of the course of almost one’s entire life in advance. Neither is anyone else”, he added, with a glance at Teresa.

Teresa was a little surprised to hear him address this topic so quickly, as they had not even spoken about this matter amongst themselves yet.

“Yes, but I’ve been asking myself…”, Janeway inquired, “... do you think you can be sure that certain developments will not only take place because of what you have learned here?”

Spock, looking genuinely taken by surprise by this objection, raised an eyebrow while he looked at Captain Janeway. He then turned his head to look at Teresa, remembering that this was a question she had raised as well. They contemplated each other for a moment, Teresa with a kind and questioning glance, Spock thoughtful.

“I believe so”, he then said in a dignified manner, which made Teresa’s eyes grow slightly rounder and Captain Janeway smile. “In all probability, these developments will… take place independently. But I need more time to ponder this question.”

“Of course”, Janeway responded, as the turbolift doors opened. “You’ve probably got almost two weeks to think about it.”

Seven of Nine was waiting for them in the astrometrics lab.

“What can you tell us, Seven?”, Janeway inquired.

“The probe gathered enough telemetry to be certain that the wormhole leads to the same region of space through which Commander Spock and Lieutenant Juárez were travelling when they were sucked into it”, Seven informed them in her business-like tone. “Although not exactly the same location, but some 146 000 kilometres away from it. Here.” She showed the two spots on the star map. “In this respect, the wormhole is exhibiting unusual behaviour on its other side, as well.”

“That’s great news”, Janeway said. “But is it also the same time?”

“Based on the positions of the stars and an Andorian communication the probe picked up, I would say yes.”

Teresa let out a deep sigh of relief and excitement. Spock did not appear indifferent to this information, either. They looked at each other.

“When the wormhole opens up again in two days”, Janeway said, “We’ll send through another probe to confirm these findings. Until then, I believe we can cautiously congratulate you”, she turned to Spock and Teresa (Teresa’s eyes were glowing), “on soon getting back home.”

“Oh, Captain”, Teresa burst out, “I hope Voyager can share in our good luck.” She threw a look at Spock, who had raised an eyebrow at the words ‘good luck’. “Just an expression.”

“I know”, he replied, all innocence and ease.

“Oh, I’ll consider you two our good luck charm”, Janeway smiled. “Anything else, Seven?”

“No.”

“Very well. Dismissed.”

The Captain, Spock and Teresa stepped out of the astrometrics lab. Janeway left them alone after throwing Teresa a friendly and encouraging glance and went her way. They remained standing in the corridor, facing each other. Spock looked at her with an expectant expression, which she returned.

“Well, I think we have a lot to talk about, don’t you?”, she said.

“A great deal”, he confirmed.

“Are you ready for that?”

“I believe so.”

She smiled. “Your quarters?”

“Agreed.”

None of them said a word while they walked to his quarters; they could hardly start discussing any serious and extremely personal topics in a public space, and any other topic felt trivial at this moment. They exchanged frequent glances, however, overwhelmed by the turn of events, wondering what would come next.

Once they stood in front of his quarters, he sighed, looked at her and opened the door. They stepped in, and when the doors had closed behind them, Teresa strolled right over to the windows, to stare at the stars. Spock followed her, a little more slowly, and positioned himself next to her. She turned around to face him and looked at him with calm tenderness.

He looked back, letting his gaze wander over her entire face and hair. To her delight, he carefully grasped her chin and placed another mindful kiss onto her lips, but only one this time. He retreated slowly, contemplating her with darkly shimmering eyes.

She thought it best to give him more time to adjust to this new, colossal increase in intimacy between them, so she tuned down the glowing radiance on her face, put on a more sober expression and announced: “There’ something else you should now.”

“Tell me”, he said softly.

“Your file also mentioned the names of four… grandchildren”, she informed him, sounding slightly incredulous. “The point is, it turns out that by what looks like yet another incredible coincidence, one of them is on Voyager.”

His eyes widened, while realization dawned on him. “T’Lara”, he said.

She nodded. “All this time, she wasn’t allowed to say a word.”

He clasped his hands behind his back and slightly lowered his head. “This also explains why, from the first day on, she has seemed uncommonly curious, but strangely unwilling to talk to me. Have you told her that you know?”

“Oh, no”, she replied. “I didn’t want to say anything before we…” She broke into a faint, shy grin.

“Reasonable”, he remarked.

Teresa continued to regard him with a sparkle in her eyes. “But I would like to talk to her soon. Maybe tomorrow. Or whenever you’re ready. I’m sure there is much she can tell us. Maybe she can also help dispel some of your… misgivings?” She smiled kindly.

“I think that you have already successfully dispelled most of these ‘misgivings’ yourself”, he told her gently. And the fingers of his left hand sought those of her right.

“Oh?”, she made, and joked: “Had I known it would be that easy…!” He only reacted with slightly elevated eyebrows, intertwining his hand with hers again. The soft touch of his fingers distracted her and made her heart beat faster. For a moment, she closed her eyes and took a deep inhale. When she opened them again, she looked at him in awe and murmured: “You said you love me.”

“I did”, he confirmed, following the dance of their hands with his gaze, but then fixing his eyes on hers. “I do.”

For a moment, she felt as though she could not breathe. “I don’t understand how I could not see it”, she then said. “There I was, priding myself on being able to read you better than anyone else, but this… I missed.”

“I have been asking myself the same thing”, he confessed, and he looked almost amused. “There is a certain irony in that.”

“Irony?”, she repeated, amazed. “That doesn’t sound very Vulcan.”

“I am beginning to better understand the concept of humour, especially irony. On an intellectual level, that is. I doubt you will see me ‘smile’, let alone ‘laugh’, anytime soon.”

“By all means, be yourself”, she said lovingly. “You’re already wonderful.”

“Thank you. As are you.”

She maintained a fine, glowing smile. “To be honest, it’s wrong to state that I missed it completely. I have long harboured the suspicion that your affection for me was greater than you were letting on, especially since we came here. But I was too afraid of being wrong to even dare to think the word ‘love’.”

“Most understandable”, he said a little contritely. His fingers were running over the back of her hand.

“And I… just thought it couldn’t be”, she continued, scrutinizing him. “You are more emotional than those who are fully Vulcan, but would you ever allow yourself to love, let alone admit it? I mean, how did that happen?”

“Not few Vulcans do experience something like love for their partners, I believe”, he said. “But they do not say it, maybe they don’t even realise it. There is no need to, anyway. Even among those who have not been assigned a mate in childhood, courtship is not shrouded in the same vocabulary and requirements as that of humans. I revealed my emotions to you because you might not have accepted me otherwise. You have said so yourself.”

This sounded a little too logical and practical to her to be the whole story. “Are you telling me that it also happens to other adult Vulcans that they struggle with emotions of love as violently as you have been?”

He hesitated, but then admitted with a frown: “No. I do not think so. Although, even if they did, they hardly would let others see. Still, I believe it is more difficult for me… after all, I am half human.”

“Have you struggled this violently with any other emotion in the past?”

“No.” Looking into her eyes once more, he professed, while the words still seemed to have difficulty leaving his mouth: “I have never felt anything as strong as this. Something so entirely… out of my control. I believe I know what is happening to me, I can intellectually deconstruct it just as I have learned, but I cannot stop it.”

“It can be an especially strong emotion”, she tried to comfort him, while she felt her face grow hot.

“No, the reason does not… lie in the nature of this emotion, at least not only”, he tried to tell her. “The reason is… you.”

Teresa was speechless when she understood what he was trying to say, emotions welling up in her chest and constricting her throat. He looked at her and felt her agitation, so he carefully grabbed her face once more and gently pressed his lips against hers until her breathing had calmed down sufficiently.

“You are not the first woman to captivate my attention“, he told her, her face still in his hands, “but the first I have not been able to resist, the first to cause such… profound and enduring emotion within me. Eight years ago, there once was someone who wanted to be with me. Had I been entirely human, I would probably have embarked on this relationship, but I resisted this temptation, I mastered any feelings I might have experienced without any great difficulty and have not looked back. You, however, you are too wonderful, too extraordinary. It is impossible to disregard the emotions you evoke in me.” Spock took a deep breath, because this revelation seemed to have cost him a great effort once again. He let go of her face and took a step back.

Teresa understood that therefore, despite this passionate admission, this was not the time to fall into his arms. She assumed her air of calm and dignity and watched him silently, while he pulled himself together again.

“How long have you known this?”, she finally asked quietly.

“I have long held you in high regard”, he muttered. “But I did not fully realise until…” He looked at her meaningfully and continued: “The mind meld on Taurus IV was… a transformative experience for me. You had hidden your emotions very well. I was wholly unprepared. Not only was the direct contact with your mind… an extraordinary experience, but I was confronted with the full force of your emotions and desires… this mixture of… intense physical attraction with something much more profound, this… deep yearning for a spiritual connection…” He looked at her just as thunderstruck as he had been among the rocks on Taurus IV, once he had broken off the meld. “Understanding all the rational reasons why you love me, none of which seem superficial or misguided to me, on the contrary… After that, after having become aware of your emotions and yearnings, it became impossible to ignore or misunderstand my own.”

“Are you saying”, she whispered in amazement, “that if you had not melded with me then, we would not be having this conversation now?”

“Maybe”, he said, somewhat stumped. “I do not know. Maybe it would have simply taken me longer to realize. Maybe I never would have. Maybe your resolution to never reveal your emotions for me to me was that which was misguided. But I probably would never have been able to understand it properly without a mind meld.” He gently observed her consternation. “You have been looking back at this mind meld as an unwelcome intrusion, a violation, and that it was, without dispute. But it was also a powerful catalyst for our relationship. I wish it could have happened in a different way.”

“We’ve already talked about this; there’s nothing further to add”, she said gently, picking up his hand again. “So you are basically saying”, she smirked, “that in a way, I infected you with my emotions.”

“In a way”, he confirmed with a sceptical frown. “A very incomplete way.”

Teresa kept smiling, caressing his fingers.

“And then, of course, came the pon farr”, he went on. “And there was only one person aboard I could imagine for this… situation. That’s how I explained it to you. The whole truth is that you were the only person I wanted, could imagine wanting, not only on the ship, but anywhere.”

Teresa looked into his eyes, not able to contain the arousal wallowing up inside of her. Of course he noticed. He slightly pressed his lips together, assuming a more dignified stance, but staring down at her with something resembling desire, too. Forcing himself to continue in a tone of composure, he explained: “I was resolved to not choose a partner based on my emotions and physical desires, not only because I wanted my choice to be based on logic and because I did not want a mate at this point in my life or maybe ever – on that, I have since changed my mind – , but also, as you now know, because I was afraid of them. And at this point, I did not understand them yet properly. But I got a taste of what intimacy with you would be like. Needless to say, it was extremely alluring, even without the additional mental connection Vulcans forge and that you are so clearly yearning for… and I am as well.”

“Yes, you…” she began, grasping his hand more tightly, “... earlier, in the airponics bay, you seemed tempted to initiate a mind meld, but you stopped yourself.”

“It was hardly the right moment, or more precisely, the right place, to do so.”

“You did not consider it the wrong place to kiss me”, she teased him with a faint smirk.

“Indeed”, he made, replying to this taunt with a sagacious frown, “but that activity can be more easily interrupted when necessary.”

“Undoubtedly.” She kissed his hand, while he observed her with that glimmer in his eyes. “I just want to say”, she told him fervently, “that I understand if you’re not ready to initiate a proper mind meld with me. This has all been very sudden for you. But I think you know that I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“I am acutely aware of your eagerness, yes”, he said softly. “I share it. But you are right, I might need some more time to… prepare myself.”

“Take all the time you need”, she told him.

“I will. But I think I will require less time than you think.” Nevertheless, he suddenly seemed a little distressed by his own desires again.

She smiled warmly, pressed his hand and then let go of it, stepped away from the window and approached the replicator in the corner instead, to give him some breathing space, and also because she was legitimately thirsty. “Water, 10 degrees”, she said, and then inquired: “Do you want anything?”, turning back towards him.

“No, thank you”, he answered, looking at her in appreciation of how expertly she recognised and respected his need for a little room to breathe.

She took hold of the large glass of water that had materialised and carried it to the sofa, where she sat down and emptied it almost entirely. Then, she smiled “Just a moment” and vanished in the bathroom.

Spock was left alone in the silence of his quarters, taking a deep breath. All of a sudden, though, he did not feel agitated or tense at all anymore. He sat down on the sofa, staring at her almost empty glass that was standing on the table in front of the sofa, already missing her.

He did not have to wait long, however. She came back, and when she saw him sitting on the sofa next to the spot she had occupied only minutes before, she strolled over to him and sat down by his side. “Then let’s talk some more”, she grinned.

He nodded. “I am sure you have many questions.”

“That I do”, she confirmed with a sigh, and then said tentatively, even a little sheepishly: “There’s especially one topic that is not very clear to me yet.”

“Let me enlighten you, then”, he said graciously. “No, Vulcans do not only mate once every seven years. A not insignificant number might live like this, but many others, to my knowledge, do not.”

She could not help but let out a small sigh of relief and laughed. “I see.”

“Maintaining the species would be difficult otherwise”, he stated. “The pon farr only makes sure we at least mate once every seven years. Of course, a truly dedicated and disciplined individual might also dispel its effects with intensive meditation every single time.”

“But that is not you”, she concluded.

“No”, he said. “Not now, anyway.” And he took a strand of her hair that had come out of her elaborate bun and played with it.

“Another thing I had been asking myself”, she went on, while her heart was hammering in her chest in reaction to his gesture, “ – you see, I have been on Vulcan, but as you know, these matters are never discussed, especially not with members of other species – … what I have been asking myself is whether Vulcans only ever mate when they think it is a logical time to have children, or also simply for the sake of it.”

“I am sure that is different for every couple”, he replied. “Some are stricter about abstention than others. Again, to my knowledge. As these things are not shared with others, usually not even with the closest friends, I am truly unable to tell you what Vulcan couples do in private.”

“But are these things not even discussed when Vulcan youths are taught about reproduction?”, she asked, bewildered. “How else is anybody supposed to know what is considered a ‘normal’ or ‘acceptable’ sex life in Vulcan culture?”

“In Vulcan culture”, he said in the same tone that he used when expounding any scientific topic, “sexual urges are mainly considered to be a purely biological function and therefore ‘acceptable’. Emotion rarely comes into play when this is discussed (of course this only applies to modern Vulcan contexts and not when the sexual habits of other species are mentioned). I should add, however, that sexual urges are of course only considered ‘acceptable’ when they are acted on in ‘acceptable’ circumstances.”

“Which are?”

“That is not easy to answer. Suffice it to say that similar rules apply as in many other cultures. It should be done in private, there should be no adultery or coercion, and sexual relations between individuals who have not been assigned to each other are at least… frowned upon. This last part is certainly different from modern human social norms.” He regarded her with a knowing expression and then said, now abandoning his Spock-giving-a-lecture tone: “Of course, what you really want to know about is my attitude. What our relationship will be like.”

“I had been wondering”, she smirked, in a clear understatement.

He inhaled deeply and raised his eyebrows slightly, assuming a considerably softer tone of voice and taking up her strand of hair again that he had dropped at some moment during his explanation of Vulcan mating habits. “I do not mind engaging in intimate relations ‘simply for the sake of it’. Especially as I also must take your needs into account. If you were a Vulcan woman, things might be different, but you are not.”

“Most considerate of you”, she murmured with gratification and mounting excitement, the smirk on her face intensifying at the same time, and could not help but lean closer. Spock inhaled once more, more sharply this time. Teresa moderated her seductive behaviour immediately and assured him: “… but let’s take things slowly. By no means do I want to… overwhelm you with my… exuberance.”

“You have been holding back”, he murmured, grasping her hand again that had been lying on her thigh, “I am aware of that. I thank you. But rest assured… I think the time will come when you can act freely.”

“Absolutely freely?”, she chuckled. “Are you sure?”

He looked at her, pressing his lips together, his eyes widening slightly.

“Well, in seven years at the latest”, she could not stop herself from saying. He grew slightly pale.

Immediately sorry, she disentangled her hand from his and budged a few centimetres away from him. But this time, her appraisal of his emotional state had been wrong.

“No”, he muttered and took her hand again. “I am well.” He contemplated her silently and tenderly for a long moment, then he said, with the slightest frown: “And I am ready.”

“Ready?”, she asked, but then she understood and made: “Aaahh! Are you certain?”

“Yes”, he said firmly.

“Now?”

“If you want.”

“Of course I do.”

“Under different circumstances, I might have waited longer to give you the opportunity for us to ‘get to know each other better’, as humans are generally accustomed to, and then to decide whether you truly want to spend your life with me. I might also have taken more time to assure myself that such close mental contact would not produce unwelcome side effects for either of us”, he confessed, “but with the knowledge about our future that I now already possess, I believe there is nothing to be concerned about. Nevertheless, a mind meld should always be undertaken with the greatest of care. And know that once you have melded with me, it might be possible that you will also be affected by the koon-ut-fal, the bond.”

“Understood.”

“Very well.” He took a deep breath, then he got up and brought the meditation lamp to the table. With slow and mindful movements, he lit it and placed it into the middle of the table, moving it around until it was standing in the exact position he wanted it to. Then, he laid aside the lighter, turned to face her again and told her quietly, his face now illuminated by the faint and warm glow of the lamp: “We should assume at least a partly meditative state beforehand.“

Teresa nodded and closed her eyes. For about ten minutes, there was silence while each tried to reach an inner calm. Then, she opened her eyes again and found him observing her, a peaceful and at the same time expectant expression on his face.

“Ready?”, he asked.

She nodded once again and turned around on the sofa a bit, so that she was facing him directly, gazing at him with the same calm and dignified expectation.

Spock slowly and gently placed his thumbs, index and middle fingers of both hands onto her temples, her cheekbones and her jawbones, taking a quiet breath. Teresa looked at him, completely still, her chest slowly rising and falling.

“Your mind to my mind”, he murmured softly, “my thoughts to your thoughts. Our minds are coming together. Our minds… are one.”

Teresa had the peculiar sensation that a part of her was falling into his eyes, into a sea of green, while another part stayed seated on the sofa with his fingers on her temples. And then she felt it, another consciousness reaching out to her, foreign thoughts intermingling with her own, thoughts that had not originated within herself. She looked at Spock and saw herself sitting in front of her at the same time. At first, she could not make out single, coherent signals among the onslaught of impressions that were flooding her mind, but after a few moments, different impulses, images, memories and information units began to take shape, and she inhaled sharply like someone who had suddenly come to life, her eyes wide, their hearts beating in unison, a communication taking shape, the most wondrous thing she had ever experienced. Part of her mind still perceived Spock looking at her, somewhat victoriously, his lips slightly parted, while she also saw her own eyes, of a warm brown, wide open and filled with wonder.

Welcome, he thought, smiling. It was not an outward smile, but the fullest expression of joy and contentment she had ever perceived in him. It was also the most resounding welcome she had ever experienced, a greeting that welcomed her to every facet and corner of his mind, his life, his consciousness.

I am honoured, she replied.

He closed his eyes, and so did she. They felt like they were hurtling into even more profound depths.

It helps to envision my mind like a house, he told her, with an infinite number of rooms. You are welcome to take a stroll and open the doors. Although there are many things I want to show you, too.

Show me, she thought. While I find my feet.

She felt him readjust his grip on her face slightly, while her mind and heart were flooded with emotions that were not her own, even though they were similar in many respects. At the same time, they were distinctly alien. After a short moment of confusion, she realised with wonder and deeply moved that they were feeling his love for her. With a growing warmth and glow that originated in her, reached him and rebounded towards her, in an infinite ripple effect, they began to explore every facet, every rational reason and rationally inexplicable motivation for his love, every desire, every anxiety, everything he was curious about. Getting to know him like this revealed facets of his personality and intellect she had not known about, while the things she already knew about him now appeared with infinitely more clarity, as though she was listening to a full symphony in an opera house, which before that moment she had only ever heard from a hissing old recording at low volume. Teresa absorbed it all with an insatiable curiosity and gratitude (which he registered with tremendous satisfaction and increasing affection), the fact that he loved her kindness, her intelligence, her endless curiosity about the world, her goodness, her wisdom, her love of life, the brilliance of her mind, her empathy, her strength, her vulnerability, her respectful manner, her sense of ethics, her balance of logic and emotion, even her humour, which he seldom understood, her face, her eyes, her voice, the way she looked at him, the way she spoke to him, her hair, her figure, the softness of her touch, the sensation of her lips on his, her wonder and joy at this mind meld, the way she had responded to his touch during the night they had spent together. And, for the first time, he did not hold back on the physical side of his love, the attraction he felt, the yearning to be close to her, to explore her, to make her glow. Their mutual mental and physical attraction began to meet, blend together, bounce off each other, intensify each other until it felt like they were bathing in a sea of light, love and intellectual and sensual stimulation. Before they could drown, however, he pulled her out of these depths and instead took her on a journey through the last days, weeks, months, years, showing her what every moment had been like from his perspective, immersing themselves in his memories, which she eagerly completed with her own exhaustive recollections, showing him details he had long forgotten. When they came to the incident on Taurus IV, he noticed with dejection that her hurt and anger were still there, but it was a wound that had almost healed. Her logical mind had long forgiven him and she trusted him. She wondered whether her seductive dancing at the Hernández wedding, apart from stemming from her astonishment and titillation at the fact that it unsettled him, and from her curiosity to find out just how much he was attracted to her, had also been a way for her to get her own back, to taunt him, to make a crack in his Vulcan composure. She was sorry, because attempting to provoke a Vulcan, trying to solicit an emotional reaction, was at best a stupid and at worst a cruel thing to do. He forgave her, sending out a new wave of affection. They had both learned their lesson. And she experienced with wonder how his discovery of her love for him had shaken him to his core, had started a process of self-discovery and realization. With horror and commiseration, she felt the agony and the half-mad, ravenous and delirious need of his blood fever. The next time, they would not let him come even remotely close to that stage again. And then, she learned with amazement how he had spent the ensuing weeks, using almost every free minute he had had to meditate, to make sense of what had happened, to understand the nature of the bond to her he was experiencing, waiting in vain for it to subside or weaken, considering in earnest whether he should simply accept the way things had developed and ask her to become his permanent mate (as she wanted it so badly, anyway), but as he had been terrified of his emotions for her, which existed independently of this bond and which he could not master no matter how long he meditated and how much he tried, he had remained in a state of paralysis, unable to take the final step.

When they thought they had soaked up enough of each other’s love for the time being, she followed his invitation to stroll through the corridors in his mind, opening doors, to the most logical corners of his mind (although logic could be found pervading almost every other facet of his being, too), to his immense scientific knowledge and curiosity, memories of his childhood, his parents, his time at the Academy and on the Enterprise. They relived many of his emotions along the way, simultaneous to his lack of emotion and his purely rational reaction to many things she could never have experienced with such indifference. For the first time, she experienced his Vulcan mind and body as though it was her own, understanding how he thought, felt and acted more comprehensively than she could ever have thought possible. She felt the strength, nature, texture, flexibility and weaknesses of his mental control. Carefully and respectfully, she also attempted to take a few steps down into his unconscious, to those darkest corners of his Vulcan mind that were not even fully accessible to him, but she encountered something that felt like a membrane of resistance.

Maybe not this time, he told her.

Understood, she replied, a little remorsefully. Upon feeling her remorse, he responded with a fresh wave of affection and the assurance that there was nothing to be sorry about.

They had only brushed on some aspects of his being and memories, but a lot of time had passed already.

Even if we melded for hours every day, he told her, we could never fully know each other.

And I like that, she responded. It would be unfortunate if one day, there was nothing left to explore, nothing to be surprised by anymore. Would you like to finally stroll through my house again?

He immersed himself in her being with eagerness, exploring memories, thoughts, facets of her character. Her love of life and her insatiable curiosity, her great knowledge and understanding of animate matter, the life forms she had studied to the last tangible detail, her sense of right and wrong paired with her eagerness to learn about and comprehend different viewpoints and ways of seeing the world. The way she felt when she was singing or dancing, the way she felt the sunlight on her face, the way she experienced personal relationships. The most significant relationships she had experienced. Her love, not only for him, but also for all those dear to her, for all life in general. The way she, like him, strived to perfect her logic, but also the way she had managed to reconcile logic with emotion fairly well. He knew that he would return to this aspect many times in the future, trying to comprehend, to learn. Of course she also shared the remaining details of his personnel file with him and they spent some time marvelling at everything and wondering at the stories behind each entry. Their silent communication continued for what seemed like an eternity, until many times, they could not be certain in which of their minds a thought or emotion had originated. One of the many things that amazed Teresa was that, even during this experience that felt like time was standing still and entire days were passing at the same time, he still had a fairly reliable sense of how much clock time was passing. After around two hours, they both were sensible enough to realise that maybe they had melded for long enough, for the time being. But their relationship had changed forever. It was as though they had put down roots in each other’s minds, forging connections that would never entirely break up again. They had started becoming one, a process that would never be completed and never ought to be but had innumerable unique and invaluable stages along the way.

It felt like Spock was slowly pulling them up from the bottom of a deep pool. They began to disentangle their beings and their thoughts, until they slowly opened their eyes to look at each other again and he slowly let go of her face, shaking his arms of which he had not even noticed that his muscles had grown weary of assuming the same position for two hours.

They stared at each other, in the certain awareness of the fact that everything had changed. What startled Teresa was that she had the impression that she could still faintly hear fragments of thoughts that were passing through his mind.

This is normal, he reminded her. The more frequently and intensively we meld, the stronger it will become.

“Oh!”, she made.

She thought she saw the faintest smile on his lips. “Yes”, he murmured. “But if we cease the melds, the effect will wear off in time.”

Extraordinary, she thought. Oh, how very wonderful. She had not expected for an enduring connection to emerge so quickly, if at all. Neither had he.

He brushed his hand along her cheek, and then became aware of how dry her throat was.

“More water?”, he suggested, and she nodded. So he got up and brought two full glasses from the replicator. When he handed one to her, she leant forward to reach for it and then suddenly gasped because her right leg felt like a chunk of wood. She had been sitting on it the entire time. “Oh, dear”, she laughed and grasped it with both hands, trying to pull it out from under her left thigh. “Ow.” She laughed once more.

“Hm”, he made, emptying his glass within seconds and then putting it away. “Let me.”

He gently placed his hands on her leg and began massaging it carefully, until she began to feel quite painful needles and pins all over it.

“Can you sense how it feels?”, she asked, still amazed, drinking up her own water.

“Yes”, he answered, equally dazed by this circumstance. “But that is only because the meld is so recent…”

Eventually, the blood in her leg had begun circulating normally again. Teresa found the touch of his hands to be pleasant, however, so he did not stop immediately. A few seconds later, when her attention was not consumed by any numbness or pinching in her leg anymore, she began to become aware of his physical proximity and the sensations his touch evoked in her and she remembered what they had shared during their meld. Her heartrate increased and she began to feel an almighty pull towards him as arousal welled up inside of her.

Spock slowed down and looked at her as the change in her mood hit him, at the same time as he had become fully aware of the intimacy they found themselves in. Their eyes met with one electrifying charge and he inhaled sharply, the memory of the physical desires they had shared still fresh in his mind. His hands ceased their activity on her lower leg and ankle. After one suspenseful moment of hesitation, he put his hands on both her thighs and leant forward, pressing a kiss onto her lips.

This kiss was not like the others they had exchanged so far that day, not gentle and careful, but hungry and urgent. Teresa let out a moan and returned it, grasping his face with both hands.

They kissed like this for a few breathless minutes, sitting opposite each other on the sofa, hands running along each other’s bodies, gasping quietly, swaying back and forth. Spock’s demeanour had been depleted of all caution and reserve, a fact they both registered with astonishment and exhilaration. Maybe having come into direct mental contact with her unsuppressed human desires and voracious passion had broken down some kind of barrier within him; maybe the effect of the mind meld with her was still too present in his flesh and brain to be reined in by his Vulcan control again. He kissed and held her with a desperate need, opening her hair, running his fingers through it, pressing his lips on her chin, her neck, her collarbone. Teresa felt an exaltation and a pull of desire in her chest that was almost painful. As he was still susceptible to her sensations, he soothingly placed a hand on that spot on her sternum where she felt this pull.

They toppled backwards on the sofa (that is, Spock toppled backwards, while Teresa flung herself onto him). Every once in a while, she wondered whether there would come a point when he would say ‘wait, this is too much, slow down’, but he did no such thing, instead he grasped her shoulders, pulling her as close as possible until she pressed her body fully against his, pushing her hands under his uniform to feel the skin underneath. As she equally still felt the aftereffects of their mind meld, she thought she could sense his excitement as well as her own, much more strongly that she had been able to before this strengthening of their connection.

And then she felt a hand approaching the side of her face again, fingers connecting to her forehead and temples, and she comprehended that his curiosity to experience her sensations as well as his own was too great, or the wish to let her know how their embrace made him feel.

She let out a gasp when their minds connected again. Every touch, every kiss, every welling up of emotion was now felt on both sides, intensifying each other, spinning into higher and higher realms of ecstasy. Teresa felt her heart might burst, and he put his other hand on it, feeling her heartbeat, placing a soothing kiss on her forehead, just as incredulous as she was at the forces their spiritual and physical union had unleashed.

It did not take long until their clothes were lying on the ground. Teresa wanted nothing more than meld into him completely, to not know the difference anymore between where her being ended and his began, a desire that he fulfilled as best as he could by maintaining their mental connection through everything that followed. Neither of them had ever experienced anything remotely similar. It took a long time until they had calmed down again, still grasping each other in their loving embrace, lips seeking each other once again, silently communicating to each other all their amazement, wonder, tenderness, exhilaration and fulfilment at finally having joined, in every manner they could imagine.

Exhausted, he finally fell down by her side, holding her close so that she would not slip off the narrow sofa. Their bodies remained intertwined, while she quietly and gently ran her fingers over his skin, all the way from his thighs to the pointed tips of his ears. He felt nothing but calm and contentment; for the moment, his distress had vanished. She smiled with radiant warmth when they both noticed this. Instead, he felt…

“Happy”, she whispered with a look of absolute delight. “You’re happy.”

He took a deep inhale and gulped. “It seems that way”, he answered breathlessly. It wasn’t only her own happiness that was mirrored back to her; it was his own.

She ran her fingers along his brows. His hair was an appealing mess, one that mainly she was responsible for. “I love you”, she said, and then quietly laughed with joy. “I can say that freely now.” Even though I don’t have to say it out loud anymore, she thought. Still, it feels good to say it out loud.

He placed a soft kiss on her lips. “And I you.” It has become easier to say it. She felt his astonishment at the fact that with her, it suddenly felt like he could allow his emotions to surface, without them feeling threatening. It feels like… you have become an extension of me, a new limb I have grown, a safe place where this neglected side of my personality can thrive… where I can be more… human.

And yet, I wouldn’t miss your Vulcan side for the world, she responded.

There is no danger of that, he assured her.

She chuckled. “Is there any need left to talk?”

It was a rhetorical question and he knew that, but he still replied, combing her hair with his fingers: “The effects of the mind meld with wear off soon enough; they will grow weaker the more time has passed.”

She nodded and smiled. “And as much as I like this new telepathic communication, I don’t want to miss hearing your voice.” He knew how much she loved his voice, this calm, thoughtful and smooth baritone, which exuded confidence, wisdom and a quiet authority and at the same time revealed to Teresa a precious vulnerability and so much more about himself that he had long endeavoured to conceal.

“And I yours.” Her voice was like a warm stream of water: sometimes quiet, calm, gentle and profound, sometimes burbling along merrily over rocks and down brief falls, and when she was working, a steady river, confident, precise and determined to reach its destination.

Another gentle kiss.

If we meld frequently, she wondered, not certain how she should feel about that, does that mean that we will become more like each other?

Possibly, he answered, but not necessarily. You are still your own person, as am I.

I think I can feel the bond, she then realized. It is a strange sense of… possession. It doesn’t feel like something I would have developed on my own. A lot more like what you have shown me.

Yes, I can sense it. He frowned. This sense of possession must appear somewhat disturbing to a modern human. I try to ignore it. But he sensed that she wasn’t disturbed, because she knew that he would always respect her autonomy. Fascinating, he then thought, that your brain chemistry can be affected by this alien phenomenon.

Oh, pon farr can affect other species, she informed him and thought of what B’Elanna had told her.

Fascinating, he made once again.

Teresa could feel his thoughts beginning to slip away from her a little. She was downright disappointed and thought she could feel him laugh inside at her reaction.

You do have a sense of humour, she remarked. You do feel laughter. Then why do you never show it, now even now?

It is among the most un-Vulcan things I could do.

Zipped-up killjoys, she could not stop herself from thinking with indignation.

Now, now, he frowned.

Sorry. “That is the downside to you hearing my thoughts”, she murmured. “You experience the unfiltered, sometimes unkinder version of me.”

“As do you of me”, he replied, brushing a finger over her lips. “It requires a great deal of trust to open up to one another like this, am I am deeply honoured that you have placed this trust in me.”

“How could I not?”, she whispered. “When I’ve desperately wanted to join with you for so long.”

They sank into another kiss, with him taking her face into his hands and her wrapping her arms around his torso in order to not fall down.

“It is unfortunate that I had to make you wait for so long”, he murmured when they had broken apart again.

“It doesn’t matter. You needed to be ready.”

“Indeed.”

“But”, she chuckled, “I am grateful to Naomi. She probably thought we needed a push, and she was right.”

“Yes; it does not seem unreasonable to assume that she told me on purpose”, he said, remembering the incident that had only happened a few hours ago, but already felt like many days ago.

“There’s this human saying”, she began, and he finished the sentence together with her, having anticipated it from her thoughts: “… children and fools tell the truth.”

“Exactly”, she smirked, but then her face fell. “I don’t want to forget this. Not even a second of it.”

He looked at her with preoccupation. “Neither do I. But… we will find each other again.”

“Do you really think so?”, she asked, remembering Captain Janeway’s question.

“It will probably take me longer to get there, but I believe I will… eventually. After all, it is the only way. It will only take me longer to realise that. The bond will not fade. Do I have any other choice?”

“But what about your fear of your emotions?”, she insisted, preoccupied.

For half a minute or so, he observed her in thoughtful silence, running his finger along her arm. “As a Vulcan, I have learned how to overcome fear”, he then said confidently. “I also believe it is probable that the Doctor, while he has the means to erase the conscious recollections of our stay on Voyager, may not be able to, or indeed not need to, reverse the emotional development I have undergone here. After all, we are speaking of different areas of the Vulcan – and human – brain. I will ask him, should the moment indeed come when they explain the procedure to us.”

“Alright”, she made, slowly climbing onto him until she was lying on his chest, placing her chin on her hand somewhere on his sternum to look at him. “I can wait a little longer.”

At first, he seemed a little startled by this new position, but then he relaxed and put his hands on her hips. “You certainly are patient.”

“It is an indispensable quality when it comes to you. Anyway, it’s more than worth the wait.”

He brushed over her cheek with a finger. “As records show that, should we truly get back to the Enterprise, we will get married in less than six months, you will not have to wait long anymore.”

She chuckled and buried her face in his chest. “I can’t help but imagine everybody’s faces when they find out that you of all people are getting married, and not to a Vulcan, oh no. Me.”

“Dr. McCoy will no doubt question your sanity.”

“The Captain won’t stop smirking.”

“Dr. McKennah will tell everybody that she has always seen this coming.”

“Mr. Scott will get his hands on some Romulan ale for the occasion.”

“Lieutenant Uhura will want to sing at the wedding.”

“Do we actually want a ceremony?”, Teresa interjected, and then wondered: “And why are we talking about this already?”

“Because we know it will happen”, he said, running the fingers of his left hand along her spine, which made her shudder slightly, but in a pleasant way. “And Vulcans are certainly a private people, but we do stand on ceremony.”

“Illogical fuss and ornamentation”, she suggested.

“Cultural heritage. Why would I not want a ceremony? I see no need to hide our union.”

She smiled warmly and kissed his chin. “That’s not what I meant. Only that you will either have to admit to having feelings for me (because everybody will wonder and some will ask, because they’ll be worried about me), or you have to lie. And Vulcans do not lie… usually. Of course, even if we don’t have a ceremony, we would have to let people know, but a ceremony attracts even more attention.”

“You just gave yourself the reason. People will ask, anyway. And I will tell some of them the necessary minimum. The others… have no right to know.”

“Very well”, she murmured and placed another careful kiss on his lips, brushing a hand over his own again. So their hands began dancing once more, while they further enjoyed the softness and sweetness of each other’s lips and the sensation of the direct contact between their bare skin. However, she could feel him taking subtle calming breaths through his open mouth now and then (they were almost imperceptible, but nothing escaped her attention now), which told her that she should probably not overdo it anymore, for the time being. After some five more minutes of physical bliss, she slowly removed her mouth from his and straightened up a little, staring down at his face. “I could do this all day, …”, she began.

“As I expected.”

She gave him a little amused nudge. “… but I appreciate the fact that you might want to meditate. And it’s getting quite late; we haven’t had any dinner so far.”

“Very perceptive of you.”

“Spock, is that irony?”

“Complete earnest”, he contradicted her, trying to sit up, but continuing to cling to her at the same time. “I do need to meditate. And ingest nourishment.”

“Very well”, she sighed, resigned to the mundane facts of life. She put a last tender kiss on his forehead and then managed to get up. Before she could do so, however, he pulled her into one last embrace before they had to leave the sofa, holding her close while she was sitting in his lap, letting his mouth and hands work a little more passionately than neither she nor he had expected at this moment. Teresa moaned, almost forgetting herself again. Before she could become too fervent again, however, he gently pushed her away. “That will do for the moment”, he murmured breathlessly and gulped.

“Quite”, she breathed, inhaled deeply and curbed her excitement. With great regret, but without exhibiting it, she got up. Of course he was aware of how she felt and appreciated her consideration. He gently gripped her shoulders and placed a single, but much more platonic kiss on her forehead.

While they picked up their clothes from the floor and put them back on, she asked: “What would you like to do first? Dinner or meditation?”

“… dinner”, he decided. “As it is late. I suggest the replicator.” They looked at each other and both felt that it was impossible to go to the mess hall at this moment and act like nothing had happened, in addition to the fact that they very much wanted to be alone.

She nodded and smiled slightly. “And… do you want to meditate on your own, or can I join you?” She thought she already knew the answer, and she was right.

Looking a little apologetic while he was putting his shirt back on, he said: “I believe it would be prudent for me to meditate alone.”

“I understand.” She smoothed down her uniform.

“However, I suggest that, after leaving me, you return after about half an hour and we can meditate some more together, if you so wish.”

Teresa regarded him warmly. “I would like that.” Following an impulse (there was one thing she had not done yet), she cautiously approached him again, but not to kiss him. Slowly, she put her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder, her hands resting on his shoulder blades.

Spock had not been hugged since he was twelve years old (by his mother), at least not like this. At first, he was a little tense, because the gesture felt most unfamiliar to him and would have caused him discomfort if carried out by anyone but Teresa, but then he slowly relaxed and held her close, too, burying his face in her hair.

After a minute or so, she disentangled herself from their embrace, a fine smile on her lips. They finally sat down to dinner, facing each other.

Spock noticed she was eating slowly. “Not hungry?”

“Not really”, she answered, shrugging sheepishly. “Still too much adrenalin, I think.”

“I know what you mean.”

“It’s just…”, she began, slowly munched on her bite, swallowed, and then continued: “There are so many things I can’t help but wonder about. Your file has certainly answered many questions, but I feel it has raised even more.”

“Such as?”, he queried, not quite able to clearly make out her thoughts anymore. “I can think of many, too.”

“The other day, when we were having lunch in the mess hall with B’Elanna, Harry and Tom”, she reminisced, “and we were talking about Captain Kirk, you said that command is often incompatible with long-term relationships. It gave me yet another reason to not get my hopes up.”

“And yet, here we are”, he replied gently, “with my file stating clearly that we will get married and stay married.”

“Precisely.”

“This obviously means we will find a way.”

“Yes, but what will that be like?”, she inquired. “Of course we can’t know that yet, but I’m wondering. For the first time, I really wish I could see my own file, too. You’ll be captaining the Enterprise yourself in a few years, but we don’t know whether I will be on the same ship with you. On the holodeck, you yourself believed that being my captain would be ‘difficult’. Our relationship has obviously changed since then, but wouldn’t it still be difficult, even more so, in fact? And I don’t even want to start on the children. Three. How on Earth…? Where will they be raised, and who will raise them? Those four years of break in your active service record around their birth are obviously only a small part of the story.”

“Maybe we should have a look at your file”, he suggested.

“I daren’t”, she mumbled. “Not without permission.”

“This is one of the few times when you are more rule-conforming than I am”, he remarked. “As we know my file now, isn’t it fair to see yours, too?”

“I would be very surprised if they hadn’t restricted access to all this information from both our quarters.”

“I am sure some other officer would oblige us.”

“Maybe”, she nodded. “But then, on the other hand, usually I would never get the chance to find out such things in advance, anyway. Maybe I should just let life surprise me.”

“You are worried that we will find ourselves in a situation where you will see yourself forced to slip into antiquated gender roles and to put your career on hold in order to rear our children, or alternatively, that these children will grow up far away from their parents”, he told her gently. “I think that putting your mind at rest for the moment is worth the infringement. Besides, I am equally curious about the answers to these questions because I do not wish for such developments, either. Also, it would be unfortunate if we were not on the same ship.”

Teresa looked at him with tremendous affection. “What if we don’t like the answers?”

Spock frowned, contemplating her. “We cannot change anything that will happen if we get back. As our memories will most probably be erased, we can only satisfy our curiosity for the duration of our stay here, anyway. Furthermore,” he went on, returning her affectionate gaze, “knowing you and being aware of my own desire not to injure you in any way, I am confident that we will find a solution acceptable to both of us.”

Teresa was touched, even though, especially after their mind meld, she was not in the least surprised. “Very well”, she sighed, partly relieved and partly apprehensive. “I’ll ask Kathryn tomorrow.” Suddenly, she ate with more appetite. After a few minutes, however, her pace slackened once again.

“What is it?”, he asked gently, although this time he thought he could sense what was weighing on her soul.

“Oh”, she made with a wry smile. “It’s something neither of us can do anything about, and there’s no point in fretting about things that can’t be changed, but it saddens me nonetheless.”

He took a deep breath, knowing what was coming.

She gazed at him with tender and heavy eyes. “I’ll die, long before you. And it looks like it might take you ten years to get over that enough to go back into diplomatic service.”

“Maybe that interpretation of the information is incorrect”, he suggested, but somehow, he knew that she was probably right. He did not need to say it; she saw it in his eyes. He cleared his throat and continued: “I am accustomed to this. My parents are the same.”

“Does that really make it any easier?”, she doubted.

“Possibly.” Slightly pressing his lips together, he went on: “As you have stated, it cannot be helped.”

“No.” She took a deep breath, trying to be less gloomy and emotional about it. More Vulcan. He registered this with a mixture of satisfaction, approval and pity. And then the other aspect that bothered her broke out of her: “And I’ll already be a frail old woman, when you will still be… almost in the middle of life.” She was sorry for herself and for him at the same time.

“You will live long, for a human”, he reminded her. “And whether you will be frail… that remains to be seen. Most importantly, however”, he assured her, “I do not mind.”

“Really?”, she smiled a warm and wry smile, resting her chin on her hand, “not even a little?”

“Maybe a little”, he admitted. “But it cannot be helped. The alternatives are far more disagreeable, anyway.”

Teresa’s face was glowing with love. “Indeed”, she murmured, putting a hand onto his, which he grasped.

“You are 29 years old”, he reminded her tenderly. “Do not burden yourself with events so far in the future.”

“It’s because we are in the future”, she said with another wry smile. “It reminds oneself of one’s own mortality. And of course the fact that I now know when I will die. Who wouldn’t think about that?”

“True.”

“But you’re right”, she gave herself a kick. “Enough of that.” She ate a few last bites of her dinner, then she got up and put the rests back into the replicator. “I’ll let you meditate now”, she said affectionately. “But I’ll be back.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Oh, and…”, it occurred to her, “would you like to sleep alone? I know that many Vulcan couples do, at least if one can trust their separate bedrooms.”

He had expected this question. “We are, strictly speaking, only a quarter of a Vulcan couple…”

“That doesn’t mean we have to do everything the human way”, she grinned.

“No, certainly not”, he agreed. “We should do everything the way we like. And I… would like you to sleep here. Least of all because I need to determine what it is like. And I know it is what you wish, what you are used to from… former relationships.”

“Good”, she replied warmly and very pleased, approached him, bent down and kissed his forehead. “Until soon.”

Some 45 minutes later, she was back, after having done nothing but pace and dance with joy around in her quarters, too overwhelmed by the day’s events to do anything else, apart from getting ready for bed. Carrying a small bundle, she tiptoed back into his quarters, as he was still sitting in a meditative position. However, he opened his eyes immediately when she came in, looking very much at peace.

“Hello there”, she whispered.

“Hello.” His eyes fell on the bundle.

“Nightgown”, she explained.

“Which one, I wonder.”

She chuckled. “I have no need any more to hide my ‘many attractions’.”

“No, indeed not”, he remarked. He himself was already wearing something resembling the Vulcan robe she had seen the night of his blood fever. “Do you still wish to meditate?”

“Yes”, she said with conviction. “But I’ll follow your advice from last time and get ready for sleep first. I would have already changed in my quarters, but that was obviously not an option. I saw some ensign I don’t know throw me curious glances when he saw me close to your quarters at this hour. Well, now they have something more to gossip about.” She began to rid herself of her uniform, standing next to his bed.

Following an impulse, he got up and suggested innocently: “Let me help you.”

“Oh?”, she made, her cheeks suddenly feeling warm.

“You just imagined it.”

“Did I?”, she chuckled, slightly flustered. “I guess I did. And you could… ‘hear’ that?”

“I could”, he confirmed, slowly slipping her uniform over her head.

“Why do I get the impression that especially my naughtier thoughts get through to you, even when nothing else does?”, she wondered, shuddering when his fingers brushed over the skin of her shoulders, creating goosebumps. “Like that one time in the kitchen.”

“Your ‘naughty’ thoughts are especially loud”, he explained, bending down from behind her to kiss her neck, his hands on her shoulders.

“I see… oh dear. My goodness, you’re actually following the screenplay”, she murmured, her breath getting slightly irregular.

“It has its advantages to know the ‘screenplay’”, he remarked. “But I assure you that I will not follow every one of them.”

“Indeed not”, she gasped, while his lips travelled along her throat. “Several especially silly ones of them are quite out of character for you.” Then she groaned, slightly embarrassed. “And you can see every one of them now.”

“I can.”

“Wonderful”, she made, her voice thick with irony. “Oh no!” Just as it was bound to happen, her brain started to do the exact opposite of what she wanted it to: it began to dig out every memory of every fantasy she had ever had about him and even began to merrily produce new ones.

“Teresa…”, he made, bearing witness to the images surfacing in her mind.

“Aahh”, she laughed in embarrassment. She tried to fight it, but it would not stop. The more she resisted, the more outlandish the images became, simply because they could. “Don’t take that seriously”, she advised him feebly, burying her face in her hands and shaking her head, but unable to contain a certain excitement the thoughts aroused in her.

“I am not”, he assured her, gripping her shoulders to calm her and turning her around to face him. “I understand what is happening. You have encountered one of the pitfalls of our mental connection. You used to be safe in your own head in my presence; you need to get accustomed to feeling so… exposed.” He picked up her nightgown and slid it over her head.

She took deep, soothing breaths, partly laughing and partly moaning in mortification, panicking slightly. Although she exactly knew the mechanisms her brain was following (she had explained a very similar process to him only a few hours ago, in the airponics bay), she could not stop them yet. When, after a moment, the flow of images still had not ceased and he sensed her distress, he began to frown. “You are losing control”, he attested gently, but with some dissatisfaction, even though a small part of him was also somewhat amused. “How then do you expect me to maintain it?”

“Just a moment”, she said firmly. “Right. Think of something else. How about flowers. Yes, flowers.”

The flow of images ceased within seconds, replaced by faint impressions of chrysanthemum and aristea spiralis, and she let out a relieved sigh. “Sorry about that.”

He gazed at her, eyebrows raised especially high. “Well done”, he lauded her recovery after a moment, but the damage had already been done. After contemplating her for another few seconds with a slightly thoughtful and fazed expression, he suddenly gripped her, pulled her close and pressed a passionate kiss onto her lips.

Teresa let out a gasp and buried her hands in his hair while they swayed on the spot. For a moment, she was worried that she had unsettled him too much, but his impulsiveness only lasted for a short while. After a few seconds, his movements became more mindful and calculated. A little while later, they sank to the floor.

They exchanged craving, fervid, and drawn-out kisses, leaning against each other, hands gripping each other’s jaws or lightly resting on collarbones or shoulders. Teresa was consumed by desperate longing, suspiring quietly. At this particular moment, Spock retained a considerably greater degree of presence of mind, experiencing her onslaught with utter amazement, but also satisfaction. Though the effect of their last mind meld had weakened considerably, he could still faintly sense the state she was in. The need that was consuming her was far beyond sexual, more than spiritual; it seemed to stem from the very essence of her being. She was once again breathing irregularly, making faint noises of delight and anguish at the same time while she held onto his face as though for dear life. He was not unaffected by this but managed to retain a basic level of control so that they did not drown in this eruption of emotion.

Once the urgency of their embrace has died down a little, he whispered: “Remarkable. How… extraordinary.”

She laughed faintly (it still sounded more like a gasp), aware of the astonishing nature of her behaviour. “It’s simply because I love you, I love you so much”, she breathed, not ceasing the advances of her mouth, “I love you, I love you, I love you…” It trailed away to a whisper. At this moment, she was completely at his mercy, powerless to do anything about it. But he understood that it had been a conscious choice on her part to let go like this, to allow all her dependence and vulnerability to surface, not to hide anything, not to hold back anything, to lay bare her soul, precisely because she knew that it was safe to do so, as he had already seen it and embraced it, and would be met with understanding and appreciation, that her uncontainable love would be returned, that at this moment, there was no danger of overwhelming him. He was in control.

He returned her kisses with gentle emphasis, brushing his fingers over her face, her neck, her shoulders, her arms. “Teresa”, he murmured, awestruck, tender, soothing. “Teresa…”

Her skin tingled with every touch of his fingers, and she let out something between a gasp and a sigh, her eyes half closed. She was nothing but a bundle of emotion and sensation at that moment.

Fascinated, he slowed down the brush of his hands, merely running a finger along her collarbone, because even the faintest touch elicited a strong response within her. She opened her eyes fully and observed him with an expression that was completely mellow, tender, enraptured, transported, slightly delirious. It was late, her most vulnerable time of the day; she was tired, exhausted by the inordinate excitement of the day, but at the same time still limitlessly excitable.

“My love”, he whispered (it sounded so strange and wonderful at the same time), and she smiled happily, eyes closed once again, lips parted slightly. His finger paused for a moment, then it gently brushed over her arm instead, and she sighed once more. Next, it touched her lips, eliciting yet another soft gasp, while she observed him observing her. With glinting eyes, he kept stroking her skin with touches that were light as a feather. Her breath calmed down entirely, while the expression in her eyes stayed the same. Their heads came closer until they leant their foreheads and noses against each other, eyes closed, breathing quietly.

And then she slowly sank against his chest, her hands resting on his sternum, in a state of complete relaxation, bliss and contentment, in the certain knowledge she could lean on him as he could on her. Spock was speechless and extremely moved. He carefully placed a hand on her temple for a moment, in order to understand her condition more fully, exhaled quietly and closed his eyes. Then he severed the connection again, wrapped his arms around her and murmured: “Know that I will honour you, honour and cherish this trust you have put in me. I will cherish it. Cherish you.”

Teresa still could neither move nor speak, but she smiled. He felt her breath on his skin. Remembering what they had planned to do before this interlude of devotion, he took one of her hands that were resting on his chest, folded his fingers around hers and closed his eyes once again, guiding her into a meditative state exactly where they sat, without any change of posture.

Fifteen minutes later, she opened her eyes, looking peaceful and exceedingly more sober, but still just as loving. They gazed at each other, in the certain knowledge of everything that united them.

With a fine smile, she then murmured: “Time to sleep.”

He nodded.

They slid into the bed, nestling against each other. “Computer, lights off”, he said. And then, there he lay, Teresa’s arm around him, the length of her body leaning against his and her head next to his shoulders, her breathing rapidly becoming deep and regular, while he stared into the darkness, trying to comprehend and process the strange and wonderful turnaround his life had taken.

Starfleet Personnel File: S’Chn T’Gai Spock (S 179-276 SP)

                                                 (Selected Extracts)

Rank: captain

Species: Vulcan/Human hybrid

Access biometric identification

Born: stardate 33008.6 (January 6^th, 2230) in ShiKahr (ShiKahr District), Vulcan

Starfleet service record

Attended Starfleet Academy: stardate 34826.5 – 35009.5 (2247 – 2250) (access reports)

Served on USS Kongo (NCC-1710): stardate 35063.5 – 35453.5 (2250 – 2254) access reports)

           As cadet: stardate 35063.5 – 35142.5 (2250 – 2251) (access reports)

           Promoted to ensign and assumed position of computer assistant on stardate 35142.5 (2251) (access report)

Served on USS Enterprise (NCC-1701): stardate 35476.5 – 37021.5 (2254 – 2270) (access reports)

          Assumed position of science officer and promoted to lieutenant on stardate 35498.5 (2254) (access report)

          Promoted to lieutenant commander on stardate 36142.5 (2261) (access report)

          Promoted to commander on stardate 36497.5 (2264) (access report)

          Assumed position of first officer and science officer on stardate 36504.5 (2265) (access report)

Promoted to captain on stardate 37004.5 (2270) (access report)

Commanded USS Enterprise (NCC 1701): stardate 37152.5 – 37725.5 (2271 – 2277) (access reports)

On extended paternity leave: stardate 37325.5 – 38124.5 (2277 – 2281)

Field instructor at Starfleet Academy: stardate 38124.5 – 38693.5 (2281 – 2286) (access reports)

Served on USS Enterprise (NCC 1701-A) as first officer and science officer: stardate 38721.5 – 39324.5 (2287 – 2293) (access reports)

Commanded USS Sha-hor Tel (NCC 2037): stardate 39307.5 – 39874.5 (2293 – 2298) (access reports)

On extended leave: stardate 39845.5 – 40198.5 (2298 – 2301)

Field instructor at Starfleet Academy: stardate 40250.5 – 40543.5 (2302 – 2305) (access reports)

Commendations

Vulcan Scientific Legion of Honour

2 Starfleet Awards of Valour

Starfleet Award of Valour for actions during the esper battle of 2270 (access reports)

Preantares Ribbon of Commendation for participation in the 20^th century humpback whale time travel mission of 2286 (access reports)

Palm Leaf of Khitomer Peace Mission for role in the preparation of the Khitomer accords with the Klingon Empire and thwarting of the Khitomer conspiracy of 2293 (access reports)

Additional information

Served as Federation ambassador

                                 stardate 40583.5 – 43407.5 (2305 – 2334) (access reports)

                                 stardate 43523.5 – 46836.5 (2352 – 2368) (access reports)

Death of his wife: stardate 44287.4 (October 14^th, 2341)

On an unauthorized, clandestine personal mission to Romulus, working towards the promulgation of Vulcan philosophy among Romulans and the reunification of Vulcan and Romulus: stardate 46833.9 –  (2368 – )

Personal information

Parents: S’Chn T’Gai Sarek (“Sarek of Vulcan”)

               Amanda Grayson

Spouse: Ltd. Cmdr. Dr. Teresa Juárez (married on stardate 36936.3 (May 27th, 2269))

Children: Elise Juárez T’Gai (born on stardate 37362.1 (2277))

                Soval Juárez T’Gai (born on stardate 37362.2 (2277))

                James Juárez T’Gai (born on stardate 37649.2 (2279))

Grandchildren: Elaine Juárez T’Gai

                        Federico Juárez T’Gai

                        Mariana Juárez T’Gai

                        Ltd. T’Lara Juárez T’Gai

Attended the T’Mord Learning Centre in ShiKahr (ShiKahr district), Vulcan: stardate 33572.5 – 33748.5 (2235 – 2237)

Attended the Sural Learning Centre for the highly gifted in ShiKahr (ShiKahr district), Vulcan: stardate 33775.5 – 34742.5 (2237 – 2247)

Chapter Text

When Teresa woke up, Spock was still sleeping. She smiled, tiptoed into the bathroom and then slid back into bed as quietly and softly as she could. He did not stir. She lay there, watching him sleep, his lips slightly parted, his hair ruffled. Never had she felt lighter and more contented.

A few minutes later, his eyelids fluttered. She smiled once more, not making a sound. After another moment, he opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling, but a second later he seemed to remember and turned his head to the side. A startled breath escaped from his mouth when he saw her, but then his facial expression relaxed and he exhaled once again, his gaze turning soft.

“Good morning”, she whispered with a bright voice. “Surprised to see me?”

“For a moment, yes”, he admitted, turning around the rest of his body to face her. A few seconds passed during which he simply stared at her, quietly breathing through his slightly opened mouth, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. She looked back, kindly and patiently. “How – how did you sleep?”, he finally asked.

“Oh, a bit short, but very well”, she told him gently. “I hope the presence of another person did not disturb you too much. I know that it takes some getting used to.”

He blinked, rubbed his face with his right hand and brushed the hair out of his forehead. “Indeed, I could not sleep at first. But whether that was solely due to the fact that I had too many things on my mind or also because you were lying next to me, I am not certain.” He looked at her once again, still with a slightly incredulous expression. “But it was… pleasant.”

Teresa broke into a wide smile. “Good! Because I think so, too.”

“I already knew you found it pleasant to share a bed.”

“Well, I hadn’t tried it out with you so far”, she objected cheerfully, but still quietly.

He nodded. “You fell asleep immediately.”

“I was very tired. And”, she murmured, carefully brushing a finger along his eyebrows, which made him abruptly draw breath, “it is a scientific fact that direct bodily contact with and close proximity to another person has a calming effect on humans. We are… conditioned for ‘cuddling’; most of us, at least.” She grinned, because using the word ‘cuddling’ in association with a Vulcan seemed quite out of place.

“I see”, he said. “I had not been aware of this particular piece of information.”

“Well”, she said with a certain measure of flirtation in her voice, “now you know.”

“Indeed I do”, he confirmed. “Know that I will not stand in the way of you spending the following nights here, as well.”

“Very generous of you”, she smirked.

His eyes grew slightly wider. It seemed that after the interlude of a few hours’ sleep, he again needed to get used to the new way in which she was addressing him: even more playful than ever before, flirtatious, intimate, unperturbed by anything. All this time, she had been holding back on her most human characteristics in his presence. Yesterday, all these walls had caved in. Certainly, she could erect them again in seconds if need be, but there wasn’t any.

She frowned slightly, worried by his temporary insecurity. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then he slowly and deliberately drew closer to her, brushed his hand over her cheek and placed one soft and searching kiss on her lips. She closed her eyes and opened them again, a mellow expression in them, when he drew back slightly and observed how the effect of it reverberated within him. He gave a quiet sigh, beginning to remember how he had managed to retain his sanity the evening before.

Faintly, he perceived the urge within her to continue this kiss, to draw closer and closer, to press every possible inch of her body against his, but she did none of these things. Instead, she took his hand and started to dance with it again, while he followed the movements of their hands with his eyes.

“What time is it?”, he then asked.

“Shortly after 06:30 hours”, she answered in a tone of light conversation. “We shouldn’t let Neelix wait too long.”

“Indeed not”, he said, but made no move to get out of bed and instead kept watching the dance of their hands, while more and more memories of the previous day came flooding into his mind and he started to wake up more fully. He began looking at her with a growing awareness of everything that had transpired, while she watched his face, registering every tiny movement in it.

“Yesterday was a most… significant experience”, he murmured.

“That is one way of putting it.”

His fingers began to abandon her hand and travel down her arm to her shoulder and even further down, past the curvature of her breast, over her ribcage, her waist, her hip, while he followed the progress of his hand with his eyes.

“I must say”, she commented slowly, “the mind meld I had expected, yearned for, and it was even more wondrous than I could ever have imagined, but I had not expected our relationship to be quite so… physical.”

His finger paused on her thigh and he looked back into her face. “I am not sure what I expected. I think I was too occupied trying not to expect or want anything. But you are correct”, he continued. “The intensity of the physical aspect is also a surprise to me.”

“I expected you to be… more reserved”, she smiled.

“Naturally.” With a thoughtful frown, he let his fingers travel back up her body. “I believe it is a mixture of the fact that my own… physical desires are stronger than I have wanted to admit, and obviously of the mental contact with you, an individual who is very comfortable and at ease to act out her sexuality. You do it with confidence, and you are free of the worries I have been subject to.”

“Does that mean that I am a steadying influence?”, she wondered.

“I find that you are a puzzling and fascinating paradox: you are a stabilising and a destabilising influence at the same time… there is a fine line I must learn to walk.”

“I’ll do my best to help you walk that line”, she promised, and then added: “But we will seldom have this much time to… indulge in such things, anyway.”

“Indeed”, he agreed, “at the moment, we only have few responsibilities, but usually…” His gaze fell on her lips and lingered there, and he frowned.

“You’re doing it again”, she commented, in amusement and understanding.

“What?”

“You’re resisting the urge to kiss me. Of course you should resist it, at inappropriate moments, but that is not the case now”, she murmured, her eyes glowing kindly. “The only thing that is keeping you from doing it right now is some Vulcan notion of… heroic restraint.”

“‘Heroic’?” he raised his eyebrows.

Teresa chuckled. “Grant me some human ironic hyperbole.”

“That is my problem with human ironic exaggeration”, he sighed. “It is applied so often, especially by you, and I am seldom certain whether you truly are exaggerating, and to which degree.”

“I know”, she smiled. “I’ll try to be more transparent in the future.”

“Thank you”, he whispered, and then he drew closer, pulled her towards him and stopped resisting. Teresa’s response was not passionate this time, but tender and intensely happy, her face radiant. Their kiss flowed along like a gentle stream for a few minutes, both sighing with contentment, caressing each other’s faces.

She softly broke away, placed a single kiss on his nose and began arranging his hair, while he watched her. “Time to get to the mess hall soon. However, I will join you there a few minutes later. I need to pay a visit to sickbay first.”

For a second, he looked puzzled, then he comprehended. “Ah.” Pursing his lips slightly, he continued: “Nobody gave you a contraceptive this time.”

“No”, she confirmed, continuing to arrange his hair. “It’s a bit too early for these three children. My only question is… should I only ask the Doctor for something to make up for last night or is there any necessity for something slightly more… long-term? Like for the next one and a half weeks.”

He took a slow and controlled in- and exhale, gazing at her with slight apprehension. “That would at least be prudent”, he then said. “Just in case.”

“Very well”, she said in a very dignified manner, but her eyebrows twitched. “Then I have one concern: It would have to be something that cannot be detected in my body once we get back to the Enterprise.” He pressed his lips together, comprehending all too well, while she carried on: “Imagine we come back safe and sound, but with not a single recollection of the last three and a half weeks, and Dr. McCoy conducts a scan on me and finds a contraceptive.”

“That would be awkward at best”, Spock said, “and extremely disturbing at worst.”

She nodded.

“We will have to see what the Doctor says”, he concluded.

“Yes”, she agreed. “Well, maybe he has something for you that fits these criteria.”

“Certainly an option.”

“Very well”, she smiled, and with one very sorry sigh, she sat up and swung her legs out of the bed. He followed her example and for the next few minutes, they were both busy getting ready to leave his quarters.

“Oh, one more thing before we face the outside world”, she joked while she put her hair into place of front of the mirror, “would you prefer to keep the latest developments in our relationship to ourselves or do you not care who hears about it? Because from what I gather, almost the whole crew is extremely nosy about the current… nature of our relationship. To put it more bluntly, we are a constant subject of gossip. ‘Are they already a couple, are they not, are they in love, are they not…? Will they get together here on Voyager?’ Benevolent gossip, and everybody wants the best for us, but still gossip.” She had learned from B’Elanna to which extent the crew had been invested in this topic.

He frowned and sighed; the resigned word ‘humans’ written all over his face. “I am not the type for public shows of affection”, he stated, adjusting his uniform, “so I do not believe that my behaviour could be revealing. But if somebody asks me, I have no objection to telling the truth.”

“Oh, I think most people would be much too terrified to ask you”, she laughed. “Vulcans appear much too grave and stern for anybody to ask impertinent questions.”

“A definite advantage.”

“Quite”, she smiled. “Very well, I will also refrain from any… obvious show of affection.”

“That would be uncharacteristic for you.” But he understood that she did not want to cause him any discomfort, which he highly appreciated.

“Well, I am a multi-faceted individual”, she shrugged unperturbedly.

“That you are”, he confirmed, approaching her and placing his hands on her shoulders. “A highly fascinating one at that.”

“Just like you”, she smiled lovingly up into his face, brushing her fingers over the back of his left hand. He returned the brush and let his fingertips travel along hers.

“Even though I am determined not to display affection for you in public places”, he murmured, lifting up her hand slightly and continuing to stroke it, “it will not be easy.”

“You are in control”, she reminded him softly.

“Yes”, he pressed her hand and then let go of it. “Very well. Let us leave.”

The Doctor was already active when Teresa arrived.

“Ah”, he smiled. “Lieutenant. What a pleasant surprise.”

“I am very sorry, but this is not a social call”, she apologized. “But it is good to see you.”

“Oh, well”, he made. “It is good to see you, too. Then what can I do for you? I see no cut hands; that is a good start.”

“Oh, that”, she smirked, now knowing the reason why Spock had been so distracted when he cut himself.

“I did not know that you found Commander Spock injuring himself amusing”, he remarked.

“It was not a serious injury, after all”, she said with a slightly bad conscience. “And his hand is not any worse for it.”

“No”, the Doctor answered dryly. “No one who comes into my sickbay will receive anything but the best treatment. Now, why are you here?”

“I need a contraceptive, Doctor”, she said unflinchingly, but she blushed with a delay after all. “… For afterwards.”

“Ahh”, the Doctor made, raising one eyebrow very high. “The species of your sexual partner? It is relevant for the choice of the most appropriate substance.”

“Vulcan”, she replied, with a ‘why do you even have to ask’ expression. “Half-Vulcan, I mean. Half human.”

“Hm”, he made dryly, walking to a corner to fetch a hypospray. “I see the happy union between you and Commander Spock has finally been consummated.” And he added, even more dryly: “Congratulations.”

“Well…”, she made. “Thank you.”

“You are not surprised that I knew about it in advance”, he commented, injecting her.

“No”, she confirmed. “I’ve seen his file.”

“Ah”, he made again and scanned her with his medical tricorder. “Any mind melds?”

“Yes”, she said. “Why?”

“That would explain these neurological readings.”

“There’s nothing wrong, is there?”

“Oh no. As I have stated before, I have both your medical records on file. Had there ever been any complications arising from your… excessive melding, I would know.” From the tone of his voice she nevertheless surmised that he probably held a dim view of mind melds in general.

“‘Excessive’?”

“Yes”, he said, still in his lofty voice.

“Fascinating”, she murmured.

“I see the contamination has already started”, he remarked with mild irony.

“It is a common word, Doctor.”

“No doubt.”

“Well, there’s one other thing”, she said, slightly red-faced again, and explained to him her need of a more long-term protection that would not be detectable back on the Enterprise.

“Hm”, he made once again. “That would prove difficult. I should tell you that human-Vulcan conception is quite hard without some extra help, anyway. But of course you want to be absolutely… safe.”

“Doesn’t the fact that he’s half human make conception easier?”, she inquired.

“Only insignificantly.”

“Well, you’re right, though. I really don’t want to return to the Enterprise pregnant with the first officer’s child, not knowing how that happened.”

“Understandable. Well, you are in luck, I think. There will be no need to… restrain yourselves;” (she blushed once again, properly this time) “I believe there is something I can give Spock, the traces of which can be neutralized before you fly back though the wormhole. Tell him to come here.”

“Thank you, I will”, she nodded, having recovered a dignified expression.

“I suppose you will have no time for singing with me now anymore”, he sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

“Nonsense”, she said, patting his shoulder. “How about… tomorrow?”

“Certainly”, he replied, looking pleased. “17:00 hours? That is, if there is no medical emergency.”

“I look forward to it”, she assured him, smiling widely. “And I know I can rely on your doctor-patient confidentiality concerning… well, this.”

“Of course!”, he said, indignant that she had even brought it up.

“Yes, sorry”, she apologized with a guilty face. “It’s just because of the inordinate interest everyone here has in the status of our relationship.”

“I have never engaged in any chitchat.”

“Of course you haven’t”, she said.

“I might have… listened to the chitchat of some members of the crew”, he conceded. “But I have never participated.”

“Oh, I don’t blame you, or anyone”, she assured him. “Famous visitors from the past, some romantic mystery… it must provide a welcome entertainment for a crew far from home.”

“I suppose.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I’ll help in the mess hall now. Until soon.”

“Morning, Neelix”, Teresa said in her usual cheerful way when she arrived in the kitchen. “How are you today?”

“Morning, Teresa”, Neelix answered. “I am fine. You should know the kitchen has another free day tomorrow.”

“Oh, very good”, she said with a glance at Spock, whose face remained impassive. With buoyant steps, she went over to her habitual spot next to him and began cutting up potatoes. When she was quite sure Neelix wasn’t paying attention, she whispered to him: “You’ll have to go.”

He understood her meaning easily. “I see”, he muttered. “I will. Later.”

She nodded, smiling.

“Did you have a good rest yesterday?”, Neelix asked her with studied innocence, when he came over to them to fetch some ingredients. “As you said you were tired.”

“Oh yes, I took a nice nap”, she said, adding in her mind: In the morning. Spock cleared his throat.

“May I say that you are especially radiant this morning?”, Neelix continued in his tone of exuberant flattery.

“Oh, thank you, Neelix”, she beamed.

“Any… particular reason?”

“What makes you say that?”, she responded innocently, laughing inside, her eyes glinting, wondering whether Naomi or Harry had told him anything about their encounter with Spock the day before. Spock was still very enthralled by the tomatoes he was cutting.

“Oh, nothing, nothing”, Neelix made, slightly embarrassed. “Ah, but of course”, he saved himself, “Captain Janeway told me yesterday that the wormhole seems to be stable.”

“Indeed”, Spock made. “It is very good news.”

“Yes, I am very glad for both of you”, Neelix commented. “Although a part of me wants you to stay on Voyager”, he sighed.

“You’re a darling, Neelix”, Teresa smiled. “We will be sorry to leave this ship… I think”, she added with some delay, looking questioningly at Spock, suddenly very aware of how she had used the plural, pretending she did not already know what he thought. The next second, she thought she was overcompensating; after all, they might have talked about the topic.

“I concur”, he said collectedly.

“We should throw you a farewell party when the time has come”, it occurred to Neelix.

“Oh, dear”, she laughed. “That would certainly be nice. We wouldn’t remember it for long, though…”

“Hm, yes”, he made. “Still. We would.”

“That is true”, she smiled.

He went back to his pots and pans, humming to himself while he threw spices into the porridge. Teresa and Spock worked in silence for a few minutes, but when Teresa was quite sure Neelix had his back turned to them, she carefully extended the little finger of her right hand to touch the little finger of his left hand for a second, which was placed next to hers on the table. He drew breath, slightly taunted and pleased at the same time. Although he did not look at her, she could feel affection emanating from him like warmth from a heater. She broke into a fine smile, while he regarded her out of the corner of his eye.

Some ten minutes later, the first people started dropping into the mess hall. Teresa handed out the dishes to them, conducting short friendly conversations. Then came Harry Kim.

“Morning, Teresa”, he made, slightly flustered, and said even more nervously: “Hello, Spock”, when Spock appeared next to her.

“Good morning, Ensign Kim”, Spock replied serenely. Teresa kept a straight face, but she allowed her eyes to glint in amusement once again. Harry stared at her, then at Spock and then at the food.

“What would you like?”, Teresa asked.

“Oh, just a sandwich”, he replied. “Thanks.”

Minutes later, the Captain arrived. “Morning”, Teresa beamed, and after she had served the equally grinning Janeway her breakfast, she asked, “May I have a word?”, taking her aside, while Spock watched them out of the corner of his eye. Even with his Vulcan ears, he could not quite make out what they were saying because they were speaking in such low voices, but he knew what they were talking about. Captain Janeway looked understanding and accommodating.

Teresa came back, looking pleased. “I’m quite hungry myself now”, she announced. “Neelix, do you mind if we leave the food dispensation to you now?”

“Oh, sure, sure”, he made. “You two sit down and have a good breakfast.”

So they did, choosing a table in the quietest corner of the room. Teresa noticed that, like so often, a few pairs of eyes followed them and then quickly looked away.

“What did the Captain say?”, Spock inquired, lifting a piece of bread to his mouth.

“Well”, Teresa made, speaking in a low voice to make sure that only he with his Vulcan ears could hear, “if the results of tomorrow’s probe turn out to be favourable and if we are certain that we want to go through with the memory erasure despite yesterday’s developments in our relationship, she has decided that she will indeed lift the restrictions she has put upon us, which means we can look up and ask for any kind of information we want, because, as you know, our return through the wormhole can be perfectly planned and prepared in advance, the erasure of our memories included.”

“I see”, he made, looking thoughtful. “Though I would certainly highly welcome the opportunity to satisfy my curiosity, at least for a short period of time, I cannot help but wonder whether it would not be prudent after all to learn as little as possible about the 24th century, in case some unforeseen circumstances prevent the erasure of our memories, or we remember more than we should.”

“You did not have these reservations last time we addressed this topic in the astrometrics lab”, she remarked, taking a spoonful of porridge.

“Since then, I have pondered this question further.”

“Kathryn seems to think that the risk of this happening is very small”, she told him. “And as she said, the procedure is very reliable.”

“You were very sceptical of this procedure when she first proposed it”, it was now his turn to remind her.

“Oh, I still want to learn about it, rest assured”, she replied. “I want to know exactly how it works. But I now have a much higher trust in her, the Doctor and Seven of Nine, and defer to their judgement.”

“That is reasonable”, Spock nodded. “My trust in their judgement has likewise increased on closer acquaintance.”

“I think they’re all getting quite tired of having to keep everything from us”, Teresa remarked. “We’re getting better and better acquainted with them all the time, but they can barely tell us anything about themselves or their experiences, because it would reveal too much about this century.”

“Nonetheless, Captain Janeway should not let such considerations influence her decision.”

“Do you not consider the risk of something getting in the way of erasing our memories negligible?”, Teresa asked. “If the wormhole is predictable and appears frequently, I don’t really see a scenario where we manage to get through, but with our memories intact.”

“There is always the possibility of something unexpected happening”, he said with a faint air of logical superiority, good old Spockness.

“Yes, but I think it to be most unlikely.”

“You are willing to disregard this small risk in order to satisfy your curiosity”, he told her gently.

She grinned. She loved how Vulcan he was about it; she wouldn’t have it any other way. He regarded her with a furrowed brow, not quite sure why she was grinning. Her gaze became loving instead of amused, and he thought he understood.

“Don’t we know too much already?”, she still argued, while he chewed on his bread. “There’s an awful amount of information about important historical events in your file because you somehow managed to be part of so many of them. And…” it occurred to her and she just enjoyed the mental experiment of speculation now, which he seemed to sense, “who knows whether things did not turn out as favourably as they did exactly because you knew what was going to happen in advance.”

He sighed. “The pitfalls of temporal mechanics again. Still, our stance, and the Captain’s, until now has been that it is best not to remember anything.”

She equally sighed. “It all boils down to those two questions: whether we will become a couple for a second time, without remembering anything that happened here, and whether the risk of anything not going as planned is negligible or not.”

“Precisely”, he confirmed.

“And you think the risk of something unforeseeable happening is too high”, she said.

“I am not certain.”

“Spock!”, she quietly exclaimed in feigned shock. “For someone who usually calculates probabilities to the decimals, that is a very uncharacteristic thing to say.”

He sighed once again. “I do not know enough about this ship or the region of space we find ourselves in to be able to calculate the odds with any certainty and reliability.”

“Oh, I know; I was only teasing.”

“I suggest we adjourn this discussion until we have the results of tomorrow’s probe.”

“I see your point, and share your concerns”, she said, finally in complete earnest. “Very well; let’s wait until tomorrow. For my own file as well.” His eyebrows twitched thoughtfully, as only the night before, he had encouraged her to look up her own file, but he did not object to her caution now. She took a spoonful of her porridge. “Does that also mean you want to postpone a conversation with T’Lara?”

“No”, he said quietly. “That is different. This is an area where… my own curiosity is too strong. It is a meeting I do not want to forego under any circumstances.”

She looked at him tenderly. “Emotional motivations”, she remarked.

“Admittedly, yes.”

“Good”, she said resolutely. “I’m glad you feel that way. Nonetheless, I would have asked to meet her on my own even if you had not wanted to.”

He raised his eyebrows, but not sternly. “I see”, he replied quietly. “That is your prerogative, of course.”

They looked at each other, suddenly aware of how their mutual position in the area of tension between joint decision making and independence had slightly shifted. There was a difference between reaching decisions as fellow officers (moreover, of unequal rank) or close friends and reaching them as a couple. Consideration for each other and defiance were in the process of being freshly negotiated and acquiring new meanings. Teresa’s lips wore a faint smile; Spock’s pale green eyes glinted with a friendly expression of cognizance.

She broke the silence with a more practical observation. “It’s probably best if you ask her to meet us. If she has ever met me at all, she was quite small. The only person who she could have a meaningful personal relationship, adult relationship, with is you.” B’Elanna had told her that T’Lara was 41 years old, one of the many facts Teresa had already shared with him during their mind meld yesterday.

He nodded. “A reasonable consideration. Very well, I shall approach her.”

Teresa checked that nobody was watching them or was close enough to be able to hear anything they said, and then she muttered: “By the way, when I was in sickbay earlier, the Doctor told me that conception is unlikely, because, as we are not entirely of the same species, it is hard to achieve without some extra help.”

He nodded and answered quietly: “I know. Unlikely, but not impossible.”

“What about you?”, she inquired, smiling affectionately. “Were you the product of medical intervention?”

“Not that I know of”, he answered.

“Were you a planned child?”

“I believe so.”

“Hm”, she made, grinning warmly. He seemed to have quite a good idea about what she was thinking, but he was thankful that she did not pursue the topic of his parents’ intimate relations any further.

“There was something else the Doctor said”, she then continued, still in a very quiet voice. “He conducted a scan on me and asked whether there had been any mind melds. I said yes, to which he replied that that would explain his neurological readings. I asked whether there was anything wrong, and he said no. You remember he said that he has our medical records on file? Well, he told me that if there had ever been any detrimental effects of our – and I quote – ‘excessive’ melding, he would know.”

“‘Excessive’?”, Spock repeated, as astonished as she had been.

“Yes”, she confirmed. “I don’t know how he defines ‘excessive’. I should have asked.”

Spock looked thoughtful for a moment, then he said softly: “This does not surprise me.”

Her gaze grew mellow. For a moment, the desire to meld again was etched on both their faces and they were oblivious to their surroundings, only perceiving each other’s eyes. Then, Spock’s attention was caught by something behind Teresa and he frowned slightly.

“Don’t tell me Neelix is watching us again”, she whispered, as she was sitting with her back to the kitchen.

“He was”, Spock confirmed, raising his eyebrows slightly and looking back at her. “I believe that in the attempt to evade attention, we only made ourselves more suspicious.”

She chuckled. “Staring at each other dotingly does not help, either. Should we put him out of his misery?”

Inclining his head to the side, he said indifferently: “If you so wish.”

Teresa turned around in her seat with the intention of smiling at Neelix, but her attention was diverted halfway when her eyes fell onto the entrance to the mess hall. “Look, there she is”, she said.

Sock followed her gaze and then nodded. “I shall speak to her now.” He got up and discreetly made his way through the room until he had approached T’Lara. “Lieutenant”, he addressed her quietly, “may I speak with you for a moment?”

Her eyes widened slightly, but apart from that, she remained unmoved. “Certainly.”

“Outside”, he suggested. She nodded and followed him out of the mess hall, with Teresa’s eyes on both of them until they were out of sight.

They turned a corner in the corridor and stopped in an empty spot not far from the mess hall.

After taking a measured and collected breath, Spock said: “Lieutenant Juárez and I have recently become aware of your relation to us.”

“I see”, she answered in a dignified tone, but contemplated him with a certain measure of curiosity. “I was not aware the Captain had changed her policy regarding the two of you.”

“We came upon this information by accident”, he explained. “Needless to say, it was a considerable surprise to us.”

“Naturally.”

“We would like to speak to you and get better acquainted with you, if you have no objection.”

“I would welcome it”, she declared, still in a dignified voice, but an amiable one.

“Very good”, he replied, his demeanour immediately lighter. “When would be an acceptable time?”

“You may visit me in my quarters at 17:30 hours, after the end of my shift”, she informed him.

“Agreed”, he nodded, equally amiable. “I look forward to it.”

She returned the nod politely. “As do I. Until then.”

Without any further words, they returned to the mess hall. Spock caught Teresa’s eye and nodded almost imperceptibly, while T’Lara approached the food assortment. Teresa looked very pleased. She got up and brought their trays away, giving T’Lara a fine and friendly smile in passing.

“Airponics bay?”, she asked.

“Yes”, he said. “One more thing, though.” He had seen Neelix vanish in the storeroom and thought that now was as good a time as any. Teresa followed Spock into the storeroom with a curious expression.

“Neelix”, he said when they had arrived. “We shall go to the airponics bay now, or do you need any more help at the present moment?”

“Oh, no, thanks for asking”, Neelix answered, bending down and rummaging in a crate.

“Very well”, Spock made, clasping his hands behind his back. “I should also tell you that there will be no need for you any more to withhold any information from my personnel file from either of us. We are both aware of its contents.”

“Is that so?”, Neelix made, astonished, and resurfaced from the depths of the crate.

“Yes”, Spock said, with his utmost level of serenity and dignity. “Furthermore, I believe you will be pleased to know that Teresa and I have…”, he turned around to look at her, “… formed a commitment.” She looked back at him, pleasantly surprised by his initiative and the manner in which he was breaking the news to Neelix.

Neelix’s mouth fell open for a few seconds, then he caught himself and tried to be at least half as dignified about it as Spock was, but he succeeded only very moderately. “I – oh – that is – yes, I am pleased to hear that!” He came closer and grabbed the startled Spock by the shoulders, exclaiming: “How wonderful, Mr. Spock Vulcan!” He proceeded to grab Teresa by the shoulders as well and then pulled her into a hug. “I was wondering how long that would take.”

Teresa chuckled. Spock had become a pillar of salt after that unsolicited physical contact, but he maintained a polite facial expression.

“Far from it being for me to pry”, Neelix said, having let go of Teresa and taken a step back, “but you know everything from your file?”

“Affirmative”, Spock answered serenely, having relaxed again. “From the main file, that is. We have not read any of the more detailed reports.”

“Have you seen your file as well?”, Neelix inquired, looking at Teresa.

“Not yet”, she answered.

“So am I to keep quiet about the contents of that one?”

“For the time being”, she nodded.

“Ah, shame”, made Neelix. “Because I think you would like what it says.”

“Is that so?”, she smiled, while Spock observed her from the side with a gratified expression.

“Oh yes.” Neelix rubbed his hands together, beaming at both of them. “Oh, that is very good news this morning. You know, I knew it was only a matter of time. The day before yesterday, I was told that, apart from the many other things you two are known for, you’re also known among some for your great loyalty and devotion to each other throughout your lives.”

Teresa was speechless for a moment. She looked at Spock, who looked back at her, equally struck. She drew a shaky breath. “Thank you, Neelix.”

Neelix kept beaming, then he realised: “Ah, that’s also why you approached T’Lara earlier?”

“Yes”, Spock replied.

“Poor woman, everyone’s been asking her questions, me included”, Neelix said, slightly embarrassed. “By the way, do you want me to keep this news to myself?”

“That won’t be necessary”, Spock said. “And it is futile, as our union is common knowledge, anyway.”

“It’s no secret”, Teresa nodded, smiling at Spock. He looked back at her, and she could see the impact of what Neelix had told them still lingering in his eyes. At this moment, she very much wanted to be alone with him, and she knew he felt the same.

“Very well”, Neelix beamed some more. “Well, I won’t keep you from the airponics bay any longer.”

In the corridor on their way to the turbolift, Teresa remarked: “Now that we’ve given Neelix permission to tell others, the whole ship will know before the end of the day.”

“Indeed; I cannot imagine him containing his eagerness to spread the word”, Spock replied. It was spoken in neither negative nor positive judgement.

“Maybe people will stop observing us so much”, she wondered. “Because the mystery has been solved.” She chuckled.

“Maybe”, he made.

When they had finally stepped into the turbolift and the doors had closed before them, Spock said: “I believe I have now received the ultimate assurance that embarking on this relationship with you will not have any detrimental effects on my mental balance, at least no serious ones.” He observed her with a soft expression, his hands behind his back.

“You mean, what Neelix has just said?”, she asked, and then she realized: “Ah, of course. What the Doctor has told me.”

“Well, both”, he said gently, and then murmured to himself: “Remarkable.”

“It is not something you ever expected to happen to you”, she remarked.

“Certainly not. I never expected to experience a relationship of such depth and intensity, should I ever take a mate.” There was infinite tenderness in his eyes; Teresa got lost in his gaze for a moment.

“Well, neither did I”, she said quietly. “At least, not until I met you.”

“You knew”, he realized. “Something inside of you must have understood the possibilities, long before I could. Which is the reason why you felt so drawn to me.”

“Probably”, she smiled warmly.

His fingers moved towards hers, but the turbolift was slowing down as they had reached deck four, so he changed his mind and pulled his hand back. They nodded politely at two crewmen who stepped into the lift. Teresa stepped out, but Spock did not follow. She looked back questioningly, so he told her: “I will join you in the airponics bay shortly. Deck five”, he said to the computer. The doors closed in front of him and the other two crewmen, while his gaze remained on her until she was cut off from his view.

Of course, she thought. Sickbay. And she smiled with a warm feeling in her belly.

So, she started work in the airponics bay on her own, but she did not have to wait long until he came back. Gently placing a hand on her back, he said: “The Doctor has given me an injection, the traces of which he has assured me can be neutralized before we return.”

“Good”, she smiled, straightening up.

“He equally scanned me for the effects of the mind meld”, he continued. “Needless to say, he found even more highly increased neural activity, but nothing to cause concern.” He sounded thoughtful, but highly gratified.

“Even better”, she said, gazing at him lovingly.

For a moment, the fingers of his right hand found those of her left and he bent down and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Her heartrate immediately doubled and she took a deep breath to calm herself, neither of which escaped his attention.

“Hm”, he murmured, retreating. “Duty first.”

“Exactly”, she agreed, glad that Spock would remain Spock in terms of discipline, no matter how alluring he found spending intimate time with her. It would also help her hold onto her own discipline, which she would hate to suffer, no matter how tempted she was to let love take over everything.

For a few minutes, they completely concentrated on their work, only conversing about the plants.

Then, she paused and commented: “It’s gone, by the way. I can’t perceive a single thought of yours anymore.”

“I would be surprised if it was different”, he replied while checking the humidity of the soil. “It is already quite remarkable how long the connection persisted yesterday and, to a certain extent, even this morning.”

“Still, I now know what you meant when you said that you had ‘become more susceptible to my moods and thoughts’ since the mind meld on Taurus IV. I also feel this… undercurrent of impressions, like transmissions that are too weak to get through properly, but are detectable, nonetheless. And it’s like… I can now receive your transmissions on more frequencies than I could before.”

“An apt analogy”, he remarked.

“Oh, an obvious one”, she laughed. “I find this very exciting and fascinating.” She went back to clipping the thorn-like endings of the leaves of a strange edible cactus that was probably native to the Delta Quadrant. “Of course, humans are also capable of reading each other better and better the closer they get acquainted, but this is… on a completely different level.”

She sensed his gratification. “Many humans would not be able to bear the intimacy”, he said. “You, however, welcome it. I recall the day you first questioned me about this type of Vulcan relationship. You seemed so eager, but I doubted whether that eagerness would persist if you were actually given the chance to experience such a connection. I see now I was wrong to doubt.”

“Then, you did not know who I was eager to experience such a connection with”, she responded, turning her head to look at him. “I can’t imagine being comfortable with this with anyone else.”

“I am honoured”, he said gently, and she smiled warmly.

“There is still the question of that one time five days ago when you could clearly hear a thought of mine, though”, she then slightly changed the subject.

“That was most peculiar”, he remarked. “I cannot explain it.”

“I have a theory”, she said.

“Please tell me.”

“Well”, she began, while she continued clipping the cactus, “the most obvious part is that I wanted to say this to your face. Of course I resisted the temptation, but it is the reason why this thought was particularly… coherent and, well, loud. Part of me wanted you to hear it, even though I thought you wouldn’t be able to.”

“You were very… forward that morning”, he remarked.

“Well, you know how I felt that morning”, she smirked, referring to the fact that during their mind meld, they had relived this moment alongside many others. “And that brings me to part two of my theory. We were both so… focused on each other at that point, so oversensitive to anything the other said or did, so… finely tuned into each other, so eager to be close – there was a peculiar kind of tension – that this particularly determined thought of mine got through to you. The aftereffects of the mind meld on Taurus IV, although very faint, must have been more persistent than either of us realized.”

“It is a plausible theory”, he said. “You were right, by the way. I do tend to clear my throat when I am… ‘flustered’. I had not been aware of that before.”

“You’re welcome”, she grinned. “But please, do not stop. I like it.”

Spock looked at her over the vegetable patches with slightly widened eyes and took a deep breath. He was still not used to her flirting with him. Vulcans did not flirt. Teresa could not help but relish the fact that her flirting got him flustered, a circumstance he was very much aware of. She looked back at him, her expression something between amused, titillated and apologetic.

“In that case”, he then declared quietly, still gazing at her, “I shall endeavour to maintain it.”

She broke into a wide smile. “Good”, she said warmly.

His mesmerized gaze remained on her for a few seconds, then he seemed to catch himself, shook his head a little and turned his attention back to the plants.

“By the way, when are we going to meet T’Lara?”, she inquired.

“Oh, of course”, he remembered. “17:30 hours, in her quarters.”

“Very good”, she made, pleased. “How did she seem when you told her that we know she’s our granddaughter?”

“She reacted just like I would have expected; her behaviour was very collected and unmoved”, he replied. “But she was friendly and said she was looking forward to our meeting.”

“‘Looking forward’? That sounds promising.” Teresa was even more pleased now. “By the way, I wouldn’t have been able to tell that we are related just by looking at her.”

“Indeed not”, he agreed and then hesitated before he continued: “I did, however, notice that her eyes are very similar to yours.”

“Her eyes?”, Teresa repeated, surprised.

He cleared his throat. “Yes. It had before escaped my attention.”

“Mine as well, but then I hadn’t seen her from as up close as you had.”

“Before, I had not actively searched for similarities.”

“Naturally.” She smiled. “So, my eyes, huh?”

“Yes”, he repeated.

From their mind meld, she knew how much he liked her eyes.

“I’m going to have to take a close look, then”, she remarked, still smiling. “And maybe I will find some similarities between you and her.” Your lips, maybe, she thought.

“Maybe.” By the way he looked at her, she was not too sure whether he had heard that thought again.

When they had finished their work in the airponics bay, she asked: “Well… what now? Go back to the kitchen and help with lunch?”

“That is the habitual thing to do”, he answered, aware of the fact that she would rather do something else, directing a friendly gaze at her.

“Indeed”, she agreed. “But let’s see whether Neelix wants us back at all.”

“It is true that yesterday he tried to coax us into going to the holodeck”, Spock nodded, reaching out his hand. “A strand of your hair has come loose.”

“Oh?”, she made and smiled. “By all means, you’re welcome to fix it.”

While he therefore came closer and tried to push the strand back into her bun, she remarked, her lips twitching: “Yes, Neelix has been trying to be a bit of a matchmaker.”

“He has not been the only one”, Spock murmured, still fiddling around with her hair. “I now see Lieutenant Paris’ suggestion that I show you the holodeck in a new light.”

“He’s also the one who has asked the most questions”, Teresa agreed.

Spock had finished the task of fixing her hair, but he was slow in taking his hands out of it and stepping back. She observed him with another of her faint smiles on her lips and sparkling eyes.

“Well, why don’t we go to the holodeck, in the afternoon”, she proposed. “I would like that.”

“So would I.”

“Wonderful”, she beamed, drew closer, wrapped her arms around him and gave him one gentle kiss. “But duty first.”

He nodded.

Back in the kitchen, they found that Naomi had joined Neelix in the preparations for lunch. He had placed her on a low chair so that she could stir a sauce.

“Teresa!”, she exclaimed when she saw them come in. “Hello, Spock.”

“Hello, Naomi”, Teresa said cheerfully. “It’s good to see you. Are you learning how to cook today?”

“Yes, but he won’t let me chop anything.”

“Well, it’s too dangerous for someone your age”, Neelix said. “You could hurt yourself. Even Spock hurt himself the other day, and he’s a very experienced adult. So you see, one has to be very careful.”

“If I cut myself, I can go to sickbay, just like Spock”, Naomi argued in a very precocious voice.

“Caution is still paramount”, Spock told her. “There is not always a sickbay near when one sustains an injury.”

“Then why were you not more careful?”, Naomi asked.

Teresa supressed a smirk.

“I was at fault. I lacked concentration”, Spock said calmly.

“I can happen to the best of us”, Neelix said. “Which is why one has to be careful.”

“Neelix says you two are together now”, Naomi changed the subject without batting an eyelid.

“We are”, Spock answered.

“Naomi thinks it was her doing”, Neelix added. “Oh, and you can peel the Torakian potatoes.”

Teresa and Spock began peeling the potatoes.

“Well?”, Naomi asked. “It was my doing, wasn’t it?”

Teresa’s lips twitched and she looked at Spock, not sure how much he wanted to reveal. He looked back at her and then at Naomi with a small frown. “To a certain degree, yes”, he replied.

“Ha!”, Naomi made. “See, Neelix, keeping a secret is not always the right thing to do.”

Neelix looked uncomfortable. “Well, Naomi, that depends on the circumstances. It depends on what kind of secret it is, who told you about it and who you are keeping it from.”

“Sounds very complicated, doesn’t it?”, Teresa muttered to Naomi, smiling.

“A bit.”

“Many decisions we have to make are difficult, because we have to weigh a number of considerations against each other. Still, there are things we should never do.”

“I know”, Naomi said. “Are you going to play with me again?”

Teresa did her best not to look uncomfortable. “Today, you mean?”

“Not today, Naomi”, Neelix said. “I think she’s got other plans.”

Spock cleared his throat, almost imperceptibly.

“Okay”, Naomi said, still stirring the sauce. “With him?”

“Yes”, Teresa replied kindly. “I’ll play with you tomorrow, alright? I promise.”

“Alright”, Naomi made, and then suggested: “Spock can come, too, then you can spend time with me and him.”

Spock looked at Naomi and Teresa with an elevated eyebrow, and then commented: “Logical.”

“Great”, Naomi said enthusiastically. “I’ve been wanting to play with you. Can you teach me the Vulcan neck pinch?”

Teresa smirked.

For a moment, Spock looked at the girl with a slightly incredulous expression and hesitated, but then he said graciously: “I can try, if your mother allows it. But not on real people. It can be quite painful.” And he gave Teresa an apologetic look, remembering Taurus IV.

“Oh, yes!”, Teresa said, looking back at him with a challenging glimmer in her eyes. “An excellent idea, Naomi. I want to try it, too.” She thought that if any non-Vulcan was given the opportunity to learn it, it should be her. The most mischievous part of her even wanted to get her own back at Spock, to avenge herself, to be able to render him unconscious, too. She hoped he wasn’t able to hear this thought.

“Yay!”, Naomi made.

“I should tell you, though, that non-Vulcans who attempt to perform the nerve pinch are rarely successful”, Spock warned her. “What makes the nerve pinch so powerful is the bioelectric chemistry Vulcans are endowed with. Or do Ktarians have a bioelectric body chemistry, as well?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t know”, Naomi said. “Still, I want to try.”

“Very well”, Spock answered, though he looked highly sceptical.

“Alright”, Teresa said, coming over to Naomi’s spot in front of the pot. “Have you already seasoned this soup, Neelix?”

“No”, he answered.

“Can we do it?”

“Go ahead.”

“Sooo”, she made, smiling at Naomi. “Let’s see how well you can season this soup. Here are the spices. Which ones do you like?”

Neelix, watching them, slowly came over to Spock to take over from Teresa at peeling the potatoes.

“She’s very good with children”, he muttered to Spock, having picked up the peeler.

“Hm”, Spock made. “Teresa is good at many things. I would more generally state that she has what humans call ‘interpersonal skills’.”

“Which includes children”, Neelix insisted on his initial observation.

“No doubt.”

Neelix sensed that there was no eagerness on Spock’s part to talk about children, so he left it at that.

After a few more minutes, the first crew members started to drop in for their next meal. Once again, Teresa gave out the portions, this time with help from Naomi. Eventually, B’Elanna showed up.

“Hello”, Teresa greeted her and then muttered with a fine smile: “B’Elanna, I’ve got some news…” And she slightly jerked her head into the direction of Spock, with a small nod.

“Oh, you mean – “, B’Elanna made.

As though he had been summoned, Spock appeared behind Teresa once again, giving B’Elanna a friendly and expectant look.

Teresa nodded once again, her smile widening, Spock watching her serenely.

B’Elanna now also smiled, but only for a moment. Then, she asked Spock: “Well, what took you so long?”

His eyebrows formed a slight frown and he replied politely: “I assume this is a rhetorical question.”

The ensign who came next in line after B’Elanna looked at all three of them with puzzlement and curiosity, so B’Elanna smiled faintly, left it at that and went over to a table with her lunch. Teresa gave Spock an apologetic look, but he seemed unperturbed, as usual.

A few minutes later, they set out themselves in search for a table.

“Sorry about B’Elanna”, Teresa muttered to him.

“She has somehow seemed a little protective of you”, he remarked, in a neutral tone.

She chuckled. “She thought you don’t love me.”

“She was wrong”, he said quietly, in a matter-of-fact voice. He understood that Teresa’s nod and smile to B’Elanna had actually meant that: a confirmation that she was more than just a logical choice.

“Spock! Teresa! Over here!” Tom Paris was waving at them, who was once again sitting at a table with Harry and B’Elanna.

Teresa smirked. “Our regulars.”

“Very well”, Spock said.

During their journey through the room, eyes followed them from all corners and they could hear hushed, excited whispering.

“Hi, Tom, Harry”, Teresa made, sitting down at a corner of the table with Spock. “How are things?”

“Oh, fine”, Harry answered, still looking slightly nervous at the sight of them.

“Well, is it true what Neelix is saying?”, Tom dived straight into the matter. “Are you two a couple now?” Harry looked at him, horrified. B’Elanna seemed to have kept quiet about the news and slightly rolled her eyes.

Spock and Teresa looked at each other and then said, almost simultaneously: “Yes.” Teresa laughed.

“Well, finally!”, Tom exclaimed, leaning back in his chair. “Now we can stop asking you dumb questions.” Harry let out a profound sigh.

“And dumb they were”, B’Elanna agreed. Tom did not look so happy about this sideswipe.

“Oh, it’s quite alright”, Teresa assured all three of them. “Had I been in your position, I would also have been curious.”

She would have been more discreet about it, Spock thought, while Teresa looked at him out of the corner of her eye, guessing his thoughts. Out loud, he added: “We are also both aware of the contents of my personnel file now, so there is no need for you keep this information from us.”

“But still not yours?”, B’Elanna asked Teresa, who nodded and started on her lunch.

“Don’t you wanna know?”, Harry inquired, cutting up his food.

“Oh, I do – we do”, Teresa said.

“It seems only fair, now that we know about mine”, Spock confirmed.

“But?”, B’Elanna asked.

Teresa explained to them their qualms (mostly Spock’s qualms) about the likelihood of things not going to plan. She left out the other question they were considering, as this was too personal a topic. All three of the Voyager crew were quiet for a moment, then B’Elanna said: “I think the chances are negligible. This region of space is quiet. There’s nothing going on here. And Voyager is running smoothly, we have enough energy reserves for several months; I don’t see that anything could go wrong.”

“And hey”, Harry added, “isn’t it already a real shame that your memories have to be wiped?  Why don’t you at least… make the most of it while you are still here and can still remember?”

“It would certainly be fascinating to learn more about your time”, Spock nodded. “However, we thought it best to postpone the decision until tomorrow, when we have the results of the next probe.” Teresa also nodded.

“Fair enough”, Tom said. “But now we can at least talk about your personnel file. What would you say surprised you the most?”                             

Spock mused on this question for a moment, looking at Teresa and at his food. “There are many surprising things, most of them only hinted at in one sentence: the return of the espers, a battle to defeat them, a journey back in time to bring humpback whales into the 23rd century? What I find most surprising, or gratifying, however, is that our crew, including me, played a not insignificant part in the Khitomer accords.” With this, he looked at B’Elanna.

“I suppose that, without these accords, you would not be here today”, Teresa said to her.

“Probably not”, she agreed. “But my story is a little more complicated.”

“It is possible that you can tell us about it soon”, Spock said. “I am sure it is intriguing.”

B’Elanna scoffed. “You could call it that.”

“What do you think about the fact that right now, at least to Voyager’s knowledge, you’re on Romulus?”, Tom asked.

“I was wondering”, Teresa interjected, “isn’t that supposed to be classified information? How come it’s freely accessible in his file? Romulan intelligence will have no problem finding out about it.”

Spock looked at her, registering the fact that she was worried about the safety of his future self with a great deal of affection.

“Oh, it is classified”, Tom reassured her. “It’s just that on Voyager, things work a little differently. As we’re so far from home, the word ‘classified’ has lost its meaning a bit. There are two types of classified information here now: information that really only the Captain knows about, and then there are things that are not such a great secret anymore, like Ambassador Spock’s whereabouts. I suppose someone lifted the restriction on the file because everyone now knows about it, anyway. If you read the same file on any other Federation ship, that information would not appear.”

“I see”, she made, letting out a small sigh of relief.

“Well, what do you think about it?”, Tom repeated his question to Spock.

“I certainly think the idea of reunification to be appealing”, Spock answered with usual calm. “But at the present moment, that is, in the time we are from, the idea appears… utopian. Naturally, I have no knowledge of future developments and the motivations of my future self. Circumstances might have changed.”

“Not really”, said Harry.

“Harry”, B’Elanna made.

“Oh”, he realised too late. “Too much information about the 24th century. Sorry.”

Teresa smirked.

“I would have been highly surprised if it was any different”, Spock reassured him. “In that case, I cannot help you as to the reasons that will lead me to Romulus.”

“Oh, well”, Tom made.

“If Voyager finds a faster way back to the Alpha Quadrant”, it suddenly occurred to B’Elanna, “and if Ambassador Spock is still alive and we can find him, we could tell him that we met the two of you – that is, if T’Lara doesn’t tell him, for some reason.”

Spock and Teresa looked at each other, quite struck by the idea. “I am sure he – that is, I – would be thankful for that information”, Spock then said.

“We could tell you all about your time with us”, B’Elanna continued. “As you’ll most probably have forgotten.”

“Indeed”, Spock made, looking thoughtful and taken with the idea.

“You could even leave yourself a message”, Harry suggested.

“Yes!”, Teresa made. “Oh, I wish I could meet him.”

Spock looked at her gently. “I am certain he would relish the opportunity of meeting you again.”

For a second, they got lost in each other’s gaze, but then they remembered that they were being watched and looked at their table partners, who had faint smirks on their faces.

“Well, that’s settled, then”, B’Elanna said decidedly. “We’ll try to pay you a visit.”

“Thank you”, Spock said with slightly more emotional emphasis than was habitual for him to do in front of others.

Shortly afterwards, everyone got up and the three Voyager crewmembers went back to work.

“Holodeck?”, Teresa asked.

“Yes”, he made, and as Neelix told them to go and enjoy themselves, they left the mess hall.

Once again, they found themselves in program 16-beta, in the Chushan valley. Teresa had admitted to having formed a certain attachment to the place (so many memories there already), a sentiment that Spock was not completely unaffected by, either.

“Is there any particular place you want to go?”, Spock inquired once the holodeck doors had closed behind them.

“Oh, yes”, she grinned, “there’s something I want to do, if you don’t mind.”

“I believe I know what that is”, he replied, following her down the path.

After a few minutes of silent walking and enjoying the sun, they came upon the small gurgling stream again. Teresa let herself fall down on a juicy patch of grass, lay down and stretched her arms and legs. “Ahhh”, she made, eyes closed. Then she opened them again in time to see him lie down beside her, slightly stiffly and a little slowly, but he did it. He came to rest on his side, looking at her, the left side of his face lying on his hand and adorned by blades of grass.

She chuckled and wiped some of them away from his cheek while he observed her, the stream gurgling at their feet. The last time they had been in this spot, she had wanted nothing more than lie in the grass with him, running her fingers over his face. He was aware of that.

“If this wasn’t the holodeck where anybody could come in at any time”, she murmured, “I would dare you to swim in the stream with me.”

“That will have to wait, then”, he murmured back.

Chuckling once again, she turned onto her belly, resting her upper body on her elbows, so that their bodies almost touched, and looked down into his face. In response, he rolled onto his back so that he could better look at her.

“Shame”, she made, running her fingers over his left hand, which was still lying next to his face.

He gave a quiet sigh, relaxed and closed his eyes, breathing through parted lips, taking in the sensations of her touch, returning the caresses of her hand.

“I must say, I find the idea of the Voyager crew visiting my older self and telling me about our time here quite captivating”, he said after a while, opening his eyes again. “I wonder how I would react to such information.”

“For that, we would have to know more about this Ambassador Spock”, she said tenderly. “Maybe T’Lara can enlighten us a little in that respect.”

“Indeed”, he made. “On the other hand, the chances of such a meeting actually taking place are probably low.”

“Still, I like the idea of sending yourself a message”, she mused. “I would definitely like to send you a message.”

“What would you say?”

“I don’t know yet”, she said softly. “That I love you? That I’m proud of you? That I hope you’re well? A lot of cliché phrases, but I do mean it.”

“I am certain I would know you do.” He gently pressed her fingers.

“I’ll think of more to say”, she said resolutely. “It is only difficult to find the right words for a version of you who is more than a hundred years older and of whom I have only a small idea of what he is like.”

“Of course”, he murmured.

Silence returned to their patch of grass, a silence that was only complemented by the gurgling of the stream.

“I do now see the appeal of lying in the grass like this”, he then revealed softly, his eyes closed once again, his hand still entwined with hers.

“Good”, she smiled.

A thought occurred to him and he opened his eyes slightly to look at her. “Have you ever been to the water caves at P’Nar Bet?”

“No”, she replied regretfully. “There was no time. I visited quite a few places on Vulcan, but not the water caves.”

“Then I will take you”, he decided, gazing at her with a mellow expression.

“Yes, please”, she smiled.

“I do want to show you”, he professed, but then he remembered: “Of course, I can also easily show you now.”

She understood, smiled once again and readily drew even closer when he lifted his right hand and put the tips of three fingers on her temple, cheekbone and jawbone. Both sighed with contentment when their minds touched again and closed their eyes.

Spock took her through his memories of visiting the caves. They were an oasis of freshness, coolness and calm in an especially arid and geologically active part of Vulcan. There were hundreds of caves, big ones, small ones, all of them holding ponds, streams and waterfalls of different shapes and sizes, caves filled with lush vegetation and small fauna or caves with nothing but crystal-clear water in barren stone basins, filled with the silent drip-drop of the smallest rivulets. Not everywhere was the water crystal-clear, though. Quite a few of the ponds were glowing with the colours of different minerals dissolved in the water, interspersed with beautiful swirls of strands of a higher concentration of minerals. In yet other caves, the silence was almost deafening. Here and there in the quietest corners, one could find solitary Vulcans immersed in deep meditation. In their minds, Spock and Teresa bent down to dip their fingers into some of the pools and listened to the silent drip-drop of the water. In the vegetation-filled caves, they inspected little insects and plants that could be found nowhere else on Vulcan. They sat down in a small cave filled with an orange glow and meditated.

Part of them was still aware of their real surroundings, so Teresa, whose arms began to feel a little tired of being leaned on for so long, turned around and nestled against his left shoulder, without him losing his grip on her face. He put his left arm around her and moved his face closer to hers.

When they had had enough of the water caves, they did not interrupt the connection. Instead, Teresa’s mind began digging in his memories for his mind melds with other people and creatures, those they had spoken about two days before. He readily supplied her with all the information he could give her. They found themselves digging tunnels through solid rock, deeply worried about their thousands of children and the survival of their species as the Horta, scraping around traumatic memories of a Gorn planetary nursery for clues as to defeat this vicious species as La’an Noonien Singh, and desperately fighting against the assault on them by three Tellarite merchants as the Orion enslaved woman, Lolani. In addition to these individuals’ emotions, Teresa felt and shared in Spock’s own emotional reaction to them. Both were still dismayed by the way Lolani’s story had ended. But Teresa experienced in wondrous amazement the impression of being someone else, another lifeform, with all the differences in perception of the world that accompanied it. Sensing her gratitude, he pulled her even closer and intensified his grip on her face.

In return for these gifts from him, she proceeded to show him with as much detail as she could muster all the wondrous places she had been to, mostly on Earth. They took a stroll through the Alhambra in Granada, adorned with the most delicate Arab decorations, over the Great Wall of China, through her borough in Cartagena, Stonehenge, the Sahara Desert, the Great Barrier Reef, the bazaar in Fez, that jazz bar in New Orleans, the Silver City on the Moon. They watched the joyful and colourful processions of the carnival in Barranquilla, an exuberant celebration of life. They swam, together with her mother, with manta rays in the Gulf of Mexico.

This led him to be more curious about her family, so she began to introduce them to him in more detail. Her father, humming to himself during whatever he did, giving her dancing lessons in the garden. Her mother with her never-ending curiosity, dragging her children to countless museums, art galleries, concerts, famous sights and Teresa even all the way to Vulcan. Her sister Alejandra, always up to no good, sneaking out with Teresa in the middle of the night to immerse themselves in the nightlife of Cartagena. Her brother Ricardo, reading all day long and involving Teresa in hours-long conversations about the texts he had read, discussing ideas, literary styles, genres and plot devices. Her paternal grandparents, living happily on the moon. Her maternal grandmother, cultivating rice, sugarcane and a beautiful garden in the Colombian countryside and chatting with friends all day long. From there, they strayed away from the family theme and met Guaro, the Vietnamese-Peruvian who had given Teresa her first kiss behind a bush in her grandmother’s garden when she was sixteen. Spock was quite interested in all her amorous adventures (obviously, he could not hide it), so they made dumplings from a traditional family recipe with Sòng Huá in Chengdu and spent an entire weekend in bed with Andrew at Starfleet Academy. Spock could not help but feel slightly uncomfortable and Teresa chuckled. She could not resist the temptation of showing him the passionate one-time encounter with a nameless and hopelessly attractive man she had met and danced with half the night in a bar in Guadalajara; once she had thought about it, it was too late and impossible to spare him the details, anyway.

After that, she tried to further satisfy her curiosity about his parents. For the first time, he revealed his strong suspicion that his father loved his mother, even if he had never admitted to it, not even in front of his son and possibly not even to her. Spock wondered how his father was handling these emotions. He had great respect for his father, his wisdom and emotional control, but at the same time he was, if he was entirely honest, hurt and upset by the disdainful and supercilious way his father often spoke of humans and even treated his mother. On several occasions, he had even expressed that he found it unfortunate that his son had inherited so many human characteristics. Spock had internalised this criticism, which explained his own, sometimes slightly unfavourable, behaviour towards humans and other overtly emotional species in earlier years. Teresa learned that Spock had never managed to tell his mother that he loved her and that she had had a hard time to show him as much affection as she had wanted to, because his father and Vulcan society disapproved. What bothered Spock the most, however, was that he himself had in part inherited and perpetuated some of the disparaging behaviour of his father towards humans and even towards his mother. I want to set it right, he told her. I am finally beginning to understand this.

You will, she promised him. I’ll help you.

He stirred, which made her aware of their surroundings again. His right hand partially glided away from her temple, but not entirely, while his left hand grabbed her cheek and he pressed a gentle and thankful kiss onto her lips. Once he had started, he did not want to stop. She smiled and turned around until she was lying on his chest, her lips not leaving his for an instant, her hands digging into his hair. His breathing accelerated slightly, but the kiss stayed mostly gentle. They were both too aware of the fact that the holodeck was not the most private place on the ship. Nonetheless, their embrace was most heartfelt, and their mental connection was still strong, even though his hand had by now completely slipped off her face and was holding her close instead. They both noticed that after a mind meld, Spock found it the easiest to succumb to physical intimacy, because the mixing of his mind with hers pacified his stronger, maybe dangerous, latent Vulcan impulses that should be handled with extreme caution. His lips wandered over hers with an unbridled need and an insatiable curiosity, his left hand caressing her cheek, grabbing her chin, the back of her neck, her hair, while he felt the weight of her upper body on his. Once again, Teresa felt a strong pulling sensation in her chest, and once again, he put a hand on that spot on her sternum to soothe it. Her left leg slid onto his. She sighed with joy.

After a while, he broke away for a moment, looking at her slightly breathlessly. She looked back, elated, and chuckled faintly. He ran his fingers over her lips, so she kissed them, too. He did not lose any time in pressing his lips against hers again, carefully pulling her as close as he could without hurting her.

Almost half an hour passed in this fashion, before she broke away, kept up to date on the time by his inner clock, and sat up with a very sorry facial expression. “T’Lara”, she said.

“Indeed”, he made, sitting up as well, once again looking slightly fazed by what had transpired.

“And I am insanely thirsty”, she laughed, brushing the grass out of his hair and bringing some order back into it. “Also, I think we should calm down a little before we go to see her.”

“Most logical”, he gulped, took a deep breath and looked down at the ground. “Teresa, you - …”

“What?”, she smiled lovingly, although she could already partially register what was going on in his head, and pulled a concerned frown.

He took another deep breath, widening his eyes slightly and closing them for a second. “You are a… challenge to my composure.” With a third deep breath, he relaxed considerably.

Her gaze grew worried. “I’ll be more careful, then.”

“No, it - …”, he said, “I started it.” Finally looking at her again, he added: “And I would do it again, but… yes, let’s be a little more careful.” After one last deep breath, the calmness had almost completely returned to his face. Cautiously, she held up her hand, and he, understanding what she was on about, slowly pressed his palm against hers. They remained like this in silence for almost a whole minute, her looking at him with pronounced tranquillity. He looked back, the last traces of disturbance in his eyes slowly dying down.

Half an hour later, they found themselves on deck thirteen, in front of the door of crew quarters, room 15. Spock, back to his usual self, looked at Teresa and then nodded. She nodded back and pressed the button.

The door beeped. A few seconds later, they heard the call: “Enter!”

The doors opened and they stepped into the room. It was quite well lit, with only a faint red glow that emanated from a Vulcan lava lamp standing in the back right corner. The quarters were only sparsely decorated, but they could make out a few Vulcan artifacts, among them the indispensable meditation lamp, and some distinctly human items. Teresa was astonished to see a jade figurine she herself had brought from Guangzhou and that was, in her time, adorning her own quarters on the Enterprise. Spock saw it, too, his eyes widening slightly. On the wall to their left, there also hung a few photographs of people, something Teresa had never seen in any Vulcan household and not in Spock’s quarters, either. Some of the faces looked eerily familiar.

T’Lara cleared her throat. Only a few seconds had passed since they had entered and become distracted by the room, but it had been enough. Their granddaughter was standing in the middle of the room, in front of the large sofa that could be found in all quarters, looking at them with an impenetrable expression. “Welcome.”

“T’Lara”, Teresa made and strode over to her with a few large steps, but then stopped at a respectful distance, not sure how this 5/8 Vulcan woman would react to a too direct display of affection. “I am very glad to meet you properly.” Spock followed her more slowly, contemplating her with a mild show of curiosity.

“As am I”, T’Lara replied graciously. Her demeanour was mostly devoid of emotion, but she seemed to have no qualms about returning human niceties. She gave Spock a respectful, an almost little reverential, nod, which he returned. To Teresa, she stretched out her hand. Thankful, Teresa took it and pressed it gently.

“Please take a seat”, she said, sitting down in an armchair facing the sofa.

Spock and Teresa readily followed this invitation, sitting down on the sofa. T’Lara seemed to register that they were sitting a little closer together than mere friends or colleagues would, and she nodded slightly. Then, she followed Teresa’s gaze back at the jade figurine from Guangzhou. “Yes, that is your figurine”, she confirmed. “Qing Dynasty, 1712 AD. A collector gave it to you as a token of gratitude because you saved his garden from an infestation of Dramian flower beetles that his son had inadvertently brought with him on a shuttle. In fact, you stopped this invasive species from taking hold on Earth.”

“Yes!”, Teresa softly exclaimed. “You’ve been taking good care of it.”

“My mother gave it to me”, T’Lara revealed.

“That would be Elise, then”, Teresa said. Spock’s file had not been any help in figuring out which grandchild was whose child, but as there was only one daughter, the answer to T’Lara’s parentage now seemed obvious. It also seemed obvious that this daughter had been named after Dr. McKennah.

“Yes.”

Teresa smiled. There was a few seconds’ silence, then T’Lara said: “As I understand, you are now aware of the content of his personnel file.” She gave a slight nod in Spock’s direction.

“Affirmative”, he replied. “But not yet of Teresa’s.”

“I see”, she made. “I believe that I will not cause offence by asking you the question a considerable part of the crew has concerned itself with. Am I right in assuming that you have now formed a commitment?”

“Yes”, Spock said firmly.

“Very good”, she replied, “then I can speak more openly. However, already the fact that you have come here together was indication enough. You had not yet formed that commitment when you first arrived on Voyager, correct?”

“Correct”, Spock confirmed once more.

“Then, when you return to the Enterprise with your memories erased, that commitment will also have been forgotten”, she deduced, looking slightly concerned.

“I think I know where this is going”, Teresa remarked. “You are concerned that, if our memories are erased, we might never become a couple and as an ultimate consequence, you and all of your family might never exist.”

“The thought has crossed my mind.”

Spock and Teresa looked at each other. “I believe there is no cause for concern”, he then stated calmly. “The Captain has declared that she will forego on the memory erasure if we deem it necessary. We have not yet reached a decision in this respect. However, I had already been close to approaching Teresa before we came here. I believe I will eventually do so, after some more… introspection.”

Teresa smiled, not able to completely ignore the warm feeling that was spreading through her belly.

T’Lara looked at them with slightly elevated eyebrows, registering the devotion radiating from both of them, most of all Teresa’s youthful human heart flutters.

“I see”, she made. “Very well.”

“T’Lara”, Teresa could not bear the curiosity any longer, “have you met me?”

“Yes”, she answered. “Many times. You used to let me sit on your lap, sing to me and tell me riddles and stories.”

“I did?”, Teresa beamed, not bothering to hide her emotion.

T’Lara nodded.

“But I died when you were ten years old.”

“Yes. I was there.”

“Oh!”, Teresa made, the warmth in her stomach now turning into a knot. Spock’s jaw had tightened.

“However, there is no need to go further into this topic”, T’Lara was considerate enough to say.

“How well do you know Spock?”, Teresa asked, because she sincerely wanted to know and also to get her mind off her own death.

“I know him very well”, T’Lara answered, looking at him unflinchingly. “He was my mentor.”

Spock looked back earnestly, eyebrows elevated.

“‘Was’?”, Teresa asked.

“He has since gone to Romulus”, T’Lara explained. “I have not heard from him since, as any communication would be dangerous in this situation. And now, of course, I have been unable to learn of his fate for the last three and a half years.”

Something in the way she conveyed these sentences made Teresa suspect some hurt, hidden behind her mask of Vulcan serenity. Spock, still able to perceive many of Teresa’s thoughts, asked: “T’Lara, did I… abandon you?”

T’Lara’s face remained unmoved. She was quiet for a moment, then she stated in a most dignified manner: “I believe that your final decision to go to Romulus must have been made in haste, due to the circumstances. Once you had gone into hiding, there was no way for you to contact me again. I am sure you wanted to, but it was not possible.”

“I see”, he made, looking even more earnestly. “I am sorry.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “It is illogical for you to apologize to me, as you have not yet performed these actions.”

“Nevertheless”, he said gently. “In the absence of my older self who does not get the chance, I undertake this duty.”

“Very well”, she replied, inclining her head slightly. “I accept.”

“You say I was your mentor”, he continued. “Which kind of guidance did I provide you with?”

The thinking face that T’Lara now made colossally reminded Teresa of Spock. “Most of all”, she said composedly, “you taught me how to reconcile my Vulcan with my human nature. As you are the only member of my family whose genetic mix almost completely resembles my own, you have best been able to understand me. Naturally, my Vulcan side is even stronger than yours. But I do experience some… effects of my human genes. You have been able to make me appreciate my human heritage better than anyone else could have done.” With a look at Teresa, she continued: “You also often spoke of her. You told me that a great deal of what you were teaching me, you had first learned from her.” She now observed Teresa with a noticeable measure of curiosity.

Teresa’s eyes grew wider. She exchanged a glance with Spock, who looked back with a healthy measure of cognizance, his eyes telling her: This does not come as a surprise.

Adding fuel to the fire, T’Lara continued, still looking at Teresa: “He loved you very much. He was greatly affected by your death. He still is.” It was beyond strange to hear this most emotional, most intimate, information uttered in such a dispassionate Vulcan fashion.

Without thinking, Teresa reached for Spock’s hand, gulping. He squeezed it rather hard, taking a deep breath, but otherwise staying outwardly calm. T’Lara observed them, nodding once again.

“Thank you”, Spock said.

She assented. “I assumed you would like to know.”

“Indeed.”

When she had regained her composure, Teresa commented: “It must be strange for you to meet us, especially as we’re even younger than you are yourself.”

“No doubt”, T’Lara confirmed. “Equally strange as it must be for you to meet me. However, I am mostly spared the emotional upheaval.” This was stated in a matter-of-fact way, with no disdain for Teresa’s emotionality. “He always said that for a human, you had a high degree of emotional control, already when he met you”, she commented, now with a slightly puzzled frown.

“She hides her emotions only when she wants to, or when she deems it necessary”, Spock explained. “If she shows them to you now, it reveals her trust in you.”

Teresa, slightly amused and touched by how he spoke up for her, grinned and nodded. “Yes, exactly.”

“I see”, T’Lara made once more. “I am honoured.”

Spock and Teresa looked at each other once again. They had used that phrase amongst themselves too many times already.

“Please tell us more about yourself”, Teresa then said to her granddaughter. “We’ve already been talking about ourselves for so long.”

“What would you like to know?”

“Anything you would like to share with us.”

“Very well. I am a geologist, if you do not know that already. I have been in Starfleet for fifteen years. Before that, I graduated from the Vulcan Science Academy and continued there as a researcher for two years. My mother, Elise, is the only among her siblings who lives on Vulcan permanently and the only one who married a Vulcan. My three cousins are mostly human. Like all of my Starfleet crewmates on Voyager, I joined this mission assuming it would only take three weeks. And as you know, unlike most of the other members of the crew, my higher life expectancy gives me a higher probability of returning to the Alpha Quadrant.”

“What is it like for you, being on this ship that has been flung to the other side of the galaxy?”, Teresa inquired.

“I have adapted to the circumstances”, T’Lara said in a very Vulcan manner. After a short moment of consideration, however, she seemed to decide that if there was anyone she could be slightly franker about her emotions to, it was them. “Nonetheless, it would not be truthful if I said that I do not experience any… nostalgia for my home and family at all. I am afraid that my mother, most of all, must feel my loss. However, this is an exceptional ship and a capable crew. I might have settled down on some planet in the Delta Quadrant, but as they are all so eager to get home, my main purpose now is to contribute to achieving that goal for all of us.”

“Your mother, what is she like?”, Spock asked, apparently suddenly not concerned anymore with the timeline.

“She has a strong personality”, T’Lara said. “She is an artist, and she married a Vulcan artist. She is also very musical”, she continued, while Teresa smiled. “As can be expected, she has fewer difficulties to experience and express emotion, but as you know, Vulcan genes are dominant, so she is not as human as you might expect. However, she has spent most of her youth among humans and has been raised by you with a great measure of appreciation for both Vulcan and human cultures and a very enlightened outlook on other alien cultures in general.”

“She has spent most of her youth among humans?”, Teresa could not help but repeat.

“Yes, on Earth, and on your starship.”

Teresa and Spock looked at each other once again, remembering the questions Teresa had asked herself the evening before. “On our starship”, Spock repeated.

“Yes, Starfleet has become more family-friendly since the 2260s. The re-fit Constitution class, to which belonged the Enterprise-A, and especially the Excelsior class, of which the Sha-hor Tel was one, had facilities for a small number of children of the crew. The requests for the changes made to the Constitution class refit came from officers such as yourselves.”

Spock was most satisfied to hear that they would not be separated from either their children or each other in their duty as parents, as they had feared yesterday, but at the same time he was also astonished that he would be among the officers who would request that Starfleet become more family-friendly. He considered this to be a rather risky development, but this was not the time to discuss it further. At any rate, in their case, it seemed that all would be well.

“Oh”, Teresa meanwhile made, delighted, but now also very much aware of the resolution they had reached this morning. “I see. Thank you. But we have already asked too much.”

“You do not wish to learn more about your future”, T’Lara concluded.

“We do wish it, at least for the duration of our stay on Voyager”, Spock explained. “But we are not yet sure whether it is prudent.”

“And yet, you are here.”

“We decided to make you an exception.”

“I see”, T’Lara made once again, and she looked almost pleased now. “Thank you. It gratifies me. Ever since you came on board, I have wondered whether I would ever have the opportunity to speak with you frankly.”

“Most understandable”, Spock said. “I hope that I will be able to compensate you at least to a certain extent for the absence of my older self.” Teresa was pleased to hear him say this. He elevated his eyebrows slightly and added: “Although I am certain that I lack much of his wisdom.”

“I will be the judge of that”, T’Lara said in a friendly tone.

They spent the rest of their conversation that evening on lighter topics. T’Lara told them more about her life on Voyager and Spock was also quite interested in her time at the Vulcan Science Academy, as he had not gone there himself. T’Lara told him that he had encouraged her to attend the Academy if she wanted to, finding it to be less prejudiced in her time. Furthermore, T’Lara congratulated Teresa on her musical skills, as she had witnessed her singing and said that she now understood where her mother had her musical talent from, but that Spock playing the lyre had also always been a most agreeable experience. As Teresa could no longer restrain her curiosity about the photographs on the wall, T’Lara took one of them down and handed it to them.

“My mother, Elise, and my father, Jal”, she said, a trace of yearning now perceivable in her voice.

Teresa took the photograph into both hands, took a deep breath and held it so that Spock could see it, too. “It’s surreal”, she marvelled. “One can clearly see who her parents are. It’s so surreal.”

“Fascinating”, he made.

“You see”, Teresa said to T’Lara, “having children is not something I have ever wished for. I had nothing against it in particular, but it didn’t seem to go together with a career in Starfleet and renouncing it was not a difficult decision for me.”

“I did not know”, T’Lara replied. “They have always called you a dedicated and loving mother, though ambitious in your work. The same as you”, she added, looking at Spock.

“I never thought I would have children”, he professed.

Teresa chuckled. “Well, it seems we’ll change our minds.”

Or maybe, she faintly heard him think, we did not plan it, but accepted it once it happened. As they had already surmised, the first two could very well have been conceived during his next pon farr in seven years. She broke into a faint grin and looked at the photograph more attentively.

“She’s smiling, Spock”, she remarked cheekily. “Even while standing next to a Vulcan.”

“I can see that”, he replied, his eyebrows twitching.

“She has inherited your tenacious gaiety”, T’Lara conceded. “Her most human characteristic.”

Teresa puffed with delight. “Well, what more could I wish for?” Spock observed her gently. After a look at him to seek his approval, she slowly handed the photograph back to T’Lara. “Thank you.” She felt the strong desire to see photographs of their two sons and the other three grandchildren, as well, and faintly registered that Spock harboured similar thoughts. Both resisted the temptation to ask for them.

“You are welcome”, T’Lara replied.

They had already spent more than two hours in her quarters. Teresa sensed that T’Lara had had enough for that day, and she understood. No matter how much more Vulcan than Spock she was, meeting them and discussing all these highly emotional family matters must be taking a toll on her.

“I suppose it’s time for us to leave”, she said.

T’Lara assented slowly. “It is my usual time for meditation.”

“Understood”, Spock made, getting up and contemplating T’Lara serenely. “I look forward to further conversations, T’Lara.”

“As do I”, she responded.

Teresa also got up, gazing at her affectionately.

“You may embrace me”, she said to Teresa. “That is what you wish, is it not?”

“Oh!”, Teresa made, pleasantly surprised. “Well, yes, if I am honest. Thank you.” And she pulled her own granddaughter, a woman more than ten years her senior, into a careful hug that lasted a few seconds before she broke away, smiling warmly, while Spock watched, not entirely unaffected.

“You’re right. She has my eyes.”

They were having a quick and quiet dinner in his quarters, to escape the bustle of the mess hall. The replicator was full of wonders, anyway. Teresa sensed that Spock was slightly churned up by all the emotional excitement of the day, as she was, or maybe because she was. At this precise moment, they were not sure whose emotions they were feeling. Probably they had originated in both of them. So she spoke in a soft voice, seeking to pacify the troubled waters.

“As does her mother”, he replied.

“It still feels so surreal”, Teresa expressed once more, knowing that she was repeating herself and stating the obvious, but not able to resist. “I can’t believe we saw a picture of our own daughter. Spoke with our granddaughter. All of this only one day after throwing our lives together, so to speak.”

Spock only sighed, observing her tenderly.                 

“I’m glad the kitchen has a free day tomorrow”, she continued. “I’m glad for the opportunity to take a breath.”

“As am I.”

A few minutes passed in silence, while they ate and each was lost in thought, fleeting fragments of thought passing between them, intermixing and evaporating. Their mental connection already seemed a little more persistent, even though it was still quite faint. But both felt the other’s thoughts like a continuous background noise, now and then amplified by an especially decided impulse.

Once they had finished their dinner, Spock sat down on the sofa, thoughtfully staring into space. Teresa, without any hesitation, joined him there and leant against him, resting her head on his shoulder and bending her legs that were lying on the sofa. He put his arm around her and began running his index finger over her face. Tentatively at first, he brushed his lips over hers. They kissed like this for a few moments, lips barely touching, softly caressing each other’s faces with only their fingertips. Teresa felt light as a feather.

Quite suddenly, though, his kisses became more urgent, his touch firmer. Teresa was surprised, but she readily went along, excitement quickly mounting in her chest. He pulled her close, breathing quickly, pressing his lips onto her neck. A hand approached the side of her face, fingers outstretched. And almost in the exact moment when their minds began to merge, she suddenly felt a violent surge of emotion emanating from him, hitting her like a strong electric shock. They both gasped, and she felt his terror as he let go of her and backed away, panting, eyes darting from side to side, hands contracting into fists.

“Spock – …”, she made.                                    

He jumped up from the sofa and stumbled towards the bathroom sink, where he turned on the tap with shaking hands and irregular breath and splashed cold water into his face. Teresa followed him, wide-eyed, feeling his turmoil in her own body and watching him as he bent over the sink, his hands grasping its rim so tightly that his knuckles turned a greenish white, shaking and taking deep breaths through gritted teeth to calm himself. He had never experienced anything like this.

Somewhere inside her, a switch turned, and she gulped. “Spock”, she said in a gentle, but firm and commanding voice. “Spock, look at me.”

He ignored her, shaking his head as though to free himself of something.

“Spock, look at me”, she repeated, a little more loudly.

He let out a groan, still panting, and then his eyes met hers. There was a fierce glimmer in them, intermingled with panic. She could feel waves of agitation emanating from him like from a beacon. She met his gaze with absolute stoicism, her face radiating inner strength, concentration, and a soothing calm. “Listen to me”, she told him softly, but firmly. “It’s alright. It will pass.”

He squinted his eyes together in desperate bewilderment and stared at her, still panting uncontrollably.

She took his face into her hands, her eyes an oasis of tranquillity and measured affection. “Listen to my voice. You’ll be alright. You’ll be alright. It will pass. You are safe. I am safe.” She patiently repeated these phrases several times more.

Very slowly, his breathing decelerated a little, the fierce glimmer in his eyes vanishing and re-emerging several times, until eventually, the predominant expression in them was shock, and a perturbed vulnerability.

“It’s alright. Let it pass”, she whispered. “Look at me. Let me steady you.”

When his grip on the sink had slackened a little, she carefully took his hand and let him towards the bed, which was situated close to the bathroom. “Come here. Sit down.” They sank down on the edge of the bed, while she held onto his hand. “Now, say it with me.” She took a mindful inhale, and then slowly recited: “Structure. Logic. Function. Control. A structure cannot stand without a foundation. Logic is the foundation of function. Function is the essence of control. I am in control. I am in control.” There was no keethara at hand to accompany these words, but she considered this to be of no great significance. And it was not. Spock, catching on and gripping her hand so tightly that it almost hurt, started mumbling the familiar words along with her when she repeated: “Structure. Logic. Function. Control. A structure cannot stand without a foundation. Logic is the foundation of function. Function is the essence of control. I am in control. I am in control.” They repeated it for a second time, and a third, and a fourth, Spock eventually looking back into her face, his voice growing steadier and more aware, until his agitation had died down almost completely, his muscles had relaxed, and the distress had left his eyes. He was still far away from his usual serenity; he was still shocked, confused, concerned. But the storm had passed, leaving a certain emptiness behind. He stared at her, incredulously. And then slowly leant forward until their foreheads and noses touched. She placed her hands on his upper arms close to his shoulders and they both closed their eyes for a long moment, breathing in unison, ever more quietly.

Finally, he straightened up slightly, staring at her again. “How – how did you do that?”

“What?”

“It was as though”, he said blankly, “you turned a switch. You were startled, you were frightened and worried. You shared my agitation. But a few seconds later, you…” His lips moved, but they formed no further words, while his eyes flickered over her face.

“I did what was necessary”, she explained. He shook his head slightly, frowning, still uncomprehending.

“Let me tell you what I think happened, hm?”, she made, gently reordering the hair on his forehead.

He nodded.

“Well”, she said gently, “you let your emotions and desires overwhelm you, so you panicked, which added fuel to the fire, and ran away. And then you really lost control. Next time, stay with me. Let me calm you.”

“Yes”, he made, slightly breathlessly, reordering his thoughts and assumptions, “I - I can see that now. But… how did you do it?”

“It was easy”, she smiled faintly and warmly. “I love you, and nothing matters to me more than your wellbeing. Well, that’s not entirely accurate”, her lips twitched and, in a decided understatement, she relativized, “galactic peace, the preservation of the Federation and my own wellbeing are also quite nice to have.” Seriously again, she continued: “But I can do what needs to be done. If necessary, I will switch from the most inordinate emotion or exhaustion to a razor-sharp focus and the most profound calm just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “I have learned a lot from your lessons in Vulcan mental control… and I think those mind melds with you have strengthened my own mental control, as well. My human emotions are more manageable than yours. I can be the source of the control that you have lost. I will always do my utmost to protect you from yourself. I will do it every time until you have found that new balance we have been talking about and you can calm yourself, no matter how long it takes. Only few things matter more to me, so I will always be able to do it as long as I have any strength left in me.”

Spock was still staring at her, listening to every word she said with a slightly open mouth. She took his face into her hands once more and placed a gentle kiss onto his forehead.

“Time for you to meditate, I think”, she stated softly.

He nodded, dazed. “Undoubtedly”, he breathed.

She got up, went into the main room to fetch his meditation lamp and the lighter, and placed them in front of him, while he stared into space. Then, with a fine smile, she left him alone in the bedroom, carefully closing the doors behind her.

Alone in the sitting room, she slowly approached the window, staring at the stars. After a few minutes, she began to feel her own shock and agitation wallow up inside of her. Her own breathing became heavy and irregular now, her eyes filling with tears. With a nervous laugh, she registered that her hands were shaking. Focusing on her breath, she tried to let out her distress in controlled, deep exhales and quiet sighs. On remembering the violent surge of emotion he had experienced and the fierceness in his eyes, she covered her face with her hands and sank to her knees. Aware of the fact that with his sharp ears, he would be able to hear her from the other room if she made too much noise, she cried in almost complete silence, folding her hands in front of her chest, contemplating the stars once more. Maybe their mental connection was still too strong in order for her controlled outburst to go unnoticed by him, but he did not leave the bedroom. Probably he was too concentrated on his meditation to notice. She did not mind if he knew, because he was by now quite well aware of how she handled her emotions, but she did not want, or need, to encumber him at this moment when he needed to regain his own self-control and peace of mind. She did not need his help at this moment. She did not need to suppress her emotions; she let them out, and at this moment, she did not need him to console her. He probably knew that, if he was at all aware of what was going on in the room next to him.

When her tears had dried up and she had stopped shaking, she did some of her own meditating, as well as some of the yoga exercises she sometimes practiced.

Although she had successfully managed to calm him down and knew she could do it again, she was nonetheless dismayed by the fact that his emotions for her and the new intimacy between them had led to exactly what he had been afraid of and what he had been trying to avoid: a loss of that so very carefully cultivated Vulcan self-control. For the first time, she had seen first-hand what a real loss of control could mean for a Vulcan (the pon farr didn’t count). Still, she knew that renouncing their union and their intimacy was not the answer, and as history seemed to prove, it was not necessary, anyway. After all, his emotions for her would not go away if they simply broke up, and these emotions alone had already been enough cause for agitation. Even if he tried to undergo the kolinahr, it was not certain if he would succeed, and neither of them wanted that now, anyway. The only way was forward, more carefully and with mutual support. Finding a way of being with each other.

It took Spock over two hours before he emerged from the bedroom. Teresa got up when she heard the doors open and saw him approach her, contemplating her with his serenity re-established almost completely. With Vulcan dignity and grace, he placed his hands on her shoulders.

“You are very strong”, he stated. “And very wise.”

She broke into a touched and loving smile.

“Reconciling my Vulcan with my human side is a most difficult undertaking”, he continued gently. “But I can imagine no one more qualified for the task of helping me achieve this goal than you.”

Teresa could not help but be extremely moved. She looked at him with this tender pride again, a single tear running down her cheek. He softly caught it with his index finger.

“I love you”, he declared.

“And I you”, she replied with emphasis. Being able to say this without difficulty, she though, you have already come a long way.

Indeed.

She smiled, pleased by the fact that they had once more managed to communicate without opening their mouths.

He held up his hand, a fresh invitation that she followed. Their hands intertwined and engaged in dance.

“I assume you would like the spend the night here again”, he then said.

She smirked. “If that’s what you want.”

Elevating his eyebrows slightly, he asserted: “I believe that the sensation of missing you would probably cause me more distress than any physical proximity to you ever could, and of a much more unpleasant kind.”

Her smirk broadened. “My nightgown is still here”, she remarked.

“A most logical argument in favour of you sleeping here”, he confirmed, his eyes glittering.

“There’s that sense of humour again”, she grinned.

“If logic can be humorous… I will not deny it.” The tips of his fingers ran over her palm.

20 minutes later, they crawled into bed, exhausted. Spock did not require any encouragement to put his arms around her waist, pulling her close so that her back touched his chest. He placed two soft kisses onto her naked shoulder and the side of her jaw and inhaled the smell of her hair. She closed her eyes, savouring the sensations of his touch, and clasped his hand, which was resting on her upper belly. Sighing relaxedly, he equally closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

This time, it was her who woke up last. As soon as she remembered where she was, she turned her head and found him looking at her, just as she had done the morning before.

“Ah!”, she made. “You’re awake.”

“Yes.”

“Of course.” She rubbed her eyes. “You need less sleep, you lucky devil.”

He raised an eyebrow. However, he was more than familiar with this kind of human jibes and with this particular expression as well. “Correct.”

“How long have you been lying there, watching me?”

“A while.”

She chuckled. “Say that again?”

He knew what she meant; his information was usually ridiculously precise. “22 minutes.”

“Oh!”, she breathed, feeling flattered.

“Before that, I meditated some more, for exactly 41 minutes, if you wish to know.”

“And how are you now?”, she inquired slightly anxiously, remembering the drama of the last evening.

He opened his mouth to say something, but then he pursed his lips, and with a soft expression in his eyes, simply extended his hand to touch the side of her face. She felt a pleasant peacefulness and stillness pervade her, which was only disturbed by a distant echo of the violent agitation and panic he had experienced the evening before and by a warm and steady glow that occupied a not insignificant part of his consciousness. Enveloped in this glow, and its cause, was her, or more precisely, his mental image of her. She also saw this state expressed in his eyes.

This is certainly a much more comprehensive and faster way of telling me how you are, she smiled, extremely gratified by what he was showing her.

Indeed. I believe that without your help yesterday, regaining this state of tranquillity would have been considerably more difficult, he thought affectionately and gratefully.

As a response, she pressed his hand.

Well, not exactly my old kind of tranquillity, he relativized. I still have to get used to the fact that the days of feeling almost nothing, that is, keeping all my emotions under control for most of the time, are over.

It’s like mixing music, she thought. And she evoked the image of the program in question in her mind, with its large number of instrumental tracks, each with its own volume control. The volume control for the instrument ‘love’ was stuck above quite a high level, could not be muted, could only barely be decreased and had a slight tendency for overmodulation. Most of the other emotions in their instrumental tracks, however, those which had nothing to do with her, could be kept at a low volume, even when he was not able or willing anymore to mute them completely. Even though the volume of the ‘love’ track might be a little too loud for comfort, his only alternative to bearing it was the attempt to shut down the whole program, which would be an unwelcome action and might not be successful, anyway. All he could do was constantly try to prevent the ‘love’ track from overmodulating.

A fascinating and fitting analogy, she heard him think.

She smiled again.

As you are a fellow experienced sound technician, I am grateful for your help, he added.

Her smile turned into a grin. Then, for a moment, her mind was occupied with the question of what awaited her (or them) that day. It was a free day for the kitchen, so they did not have to get up immediately and would eat in their quarters. At 14:23 hours, Voyager would send another probe through the wormhole. They might decide whether or not to give up their caution concerning information about the 24th century. Naomi was waiting to learn the Vulcan nerve pinch, and the Doctor was looking forward to a singing session. She was not hungry yet.

I see no reason to get up immediately, either, he thought, having witnessed her mundane ruminations. But of course, he had already gotten up. And then lain down again, an action that was very uncharacteristic for him.

I am very happy to hear this, she assured him. Nevertheless, she had to get up at least for a little while, to freshen up a little. So, with a sorry sigh, she gently removed his hand from her face, stood up and vanished in the bathroom, humming quietly. Less than ten minutes later, she was back, lying down to face him, her eyes wandering over his face.

Spock did not need to perform another mind meld to perceive what she was thinking of. He looked at her with a knowing expression in his eyes; there was almost a glimmer of amusement.

There seems to be barely any time when you are not eager for physical intimacy, he thought.

“Well”, she murmured. “You’re irresistible. How could I not?”

He said nothing and only elevated his eyebrows in response. The glimmer of amusement in his eyes intensified.

“I mean, have you any idea how attractive you are?”, she continued.

“I know how attractive you find me.”

“So, there”, she said, as though she had proved a weighty point. “You’re the most beautiful man I have ever seen.” Even though he already knew that, too, she felt she was putting more emphasis on this fact by saying it out loud.

“Thank you.” That I find you exceptionally beautiful, too, you already know.

I do, Teresa smiled warmly, feeling a slight flutter in her chest. “But just because I want it all the time”, she returned to his initial observation, “does not mean that I expect it. It’s like… dessert.” The association sprang to mind because only a few days ago, they had made desserts in the kitchen with Neelix. “I almost always have an appetite for it, but I seldom indulge in it.”

“‘Dessert’”, he repeated, his eyebrows wandering up even higher on his forehead.

“Yes. Well, no. That’s actually a poor comparison. You are infinitely better than dessert.”

“I should hope so”, he remarked.

She chuckled and brushed with her index finger over his eyebrows. “So, you see. I might find it hard to stop thinking about it, but I don’t expect you to do anything.”

“Hm”, he made. For half a minute, he gazed at her silently with a soft and thoughtful expression. Then he slowly came closer and began caressing her right hand with his fingertips. “Upon further consideration…” He hesitated, but then he placed a soft kiss on her lips. And another one. And slowly pulled her closer.

Teresa was thrilled, but she asked: “Shouldn’t we be careful?”, the memory of his loss of control still very present in her mind.

“I am being careful”, he murmured between kisses. And he was right. He moved slowly and cautiously. His kisses were slow and cautious, too, but they were nonetheless very enticing. Teresa’s breathing somewhat accelerated and she did her best to not get carried away. The familiar pulling sensation in her chest returned. As he was accustomed to by now, he placed his hand on the spot in question. He moved ever closer towards her, until he was tenderly pressing his body against hers. Teresa thought it best to let him decide how close he wanted to get. The soft, cautious and enticing kisses continued and she took deep breaths, trying to soothe the mounting titillation she was feeling. She felt her body wake up, her skin and muscles tingle, the blood pulsate through her veins, the softness of his delicious lips, the sensation of his fingertips caressing her face. He briefly placed his fingers on her temple again, to experience her sensations more fully and to let her share in his.

Although his movements remained slow, Spock registered that there seemed to be no cause for alarm. They both stayed vigilant to his emotional equilibrium all the same. His lips leisurely wandered over her cheek, down her throat and along her collarbone. Teresa’s breathing grew increasingly irregular, but she made it stay quiet.

“You are holding back”, he muttered, grateful for her consideration. “However, let us see how far we can… carefully… go.”

She could not say anything, but she did not need to. He could feel how her heartrate accelerated.

A few minutes later, he cast most of his restraint to the wind and they got lost in their embrace. For an exquisite moment, there was, apart from her and her elation, only him, his thoughts and emotions, which she could still perceive quite clearly, and nothing else in the world.

When it was over, they did not break apart their tight embrace, but resumed their gentle kissing while the excitement slowly died down, or at least returned to a manageable level, and his breathing grew tranquil again. She chuckled quietly, happily. He looked at her, somewhat astonished by what had happened. They realised that her actions the evening before had made him feel considerably safer and thus more confident. Her fingers combed through the hair on his forehead, as she lovingly returned his gaze. He led her hand to his mouth and kissed it.

For a few minutes, neither formed any coherent thought and they only communicated their emotions and sensation to each other, eyes wandering over each other’s faces or lips softly meeting again. She bit her lip and looked at him in a slightly flirtatious manner, more than gratified by what the physical side of their relationship was turning out to be like. Even if he had been much more Vulcan about it (whatever full-blooded Vulcans were like in such situations), she would have been content and overjoyed to be with him. Now, however, it seemed as though, even if only once in a while, even her most basic human desires could find fulfilment, to a greater extent than she, until recently, would ever have thought possible. And it was infinitely more than gratifying to see that his desires for her were almost equally great and that she could fulfil them, too.

He returned her flirtatious gaze with his characteristic lifting of his eyebrows, aware of what was passing through her head. You are welcome.

You make it sound as though you were mainly doing me a favour, she chuckled.

I gave the wrong impression, then. He was almost equally gratified. He might care slightly less about physical satisfaction and slightly more about mental intimacy than her, but as she relished their mental connection beyond measure, too, there was no substantial difference.

She quickly kissed the tip of his nose and broke into another broad smile, still filled to the brim with joy and contentment. He tenderly returned her gaze, sharing her emotions, and then, for just the shortest moment, his own lips widened to such an extent that she could call it nothing but…

“Spock!”, she exclaimed softly, her eyes wide. “You smiled.”

“Did I?”, he asked, immediately perfectly serious again. “Very well, it does seem to be the case.”

Very grateful for her sharp memory, she conjured up the image in her mind for him. And then also the two times he had smiled on the evening of his blood fever.

“Fascinating”, he made, in the same tone that he used when commenting on a scientific curiosity.

She let out something between an irked groan and an amused laugh at his dry reaction. She would simply take his smiles as rare gifts bestowed upon her. She did not want Spock to be anyone but Spock, anyway.

Although she did not say that out loud, he perceived these thoughts, nonetheless, and ran his fingers over hers.

“Breakfast?”, she suggested with glowing eyes after a minute of these manual caresses. Part of her wanted to keep lying in bed the whole morning, but she could not imagine him spending his time like that. And they still had to fulfil their tasks in the airponics bay.

“Yes”, he agreed, but lowered his head down to kiss her again, slowly, mindfully, holding her close, letting the sensations flow through him, thankful for how she gently tried to bring out and nurture his human side, without wishing him to be more human than he was. Teresa returned the kiss lovingly, but mostly without any of the passion that had pulsated through her a few moments before, simply enjoying the sweetness of his lips, the delicious softness of his skin that was in contact with hers almost all over her body and the gentle flow of his thoughts that were, at this moment, solely occupied with her.

After several minutes, he finally broke away and disentangled his limbs from her, coming to a seat in front of her and looking at her with parted lips. His emotional state was not quite as still and peaceful anymore as it had been when she had woken up. Following an impulse, she assumed a cross-legged position in front of him, took his hands and looked at him with much of the same tranquillity she had exhibited already twice the day before. He looked back, understanding and appreciating what she was doing. They both closed their eyes for two minutes, breathing quietly. They could feel the mild breeze, which had begun to stir the waters of his interior again, slowly die down. He opened his eyes to look at her again, at peace, and extremely grateful.

Teresa gave him a faint smile and then got up from the bed, picked up her uniform and put it on, singing quietly. Spock did the same, barely able to make out the lyrics of the song she was singing but understanding enough to raise his eyebrows.

“Who knows how long I’ve loved you; you know I love you still. Will I wait a lonely lifetime? If you want me to, I will…” She interrupted herself, found him looking at her with his lifted eyebrows and chuckled. “It’s just a song.”

“Of course.”

“The lyrics don’t quite fit our situation, anyway, you’ll see.” She continued more loudly, while she went over to the looking glass to arrange her hair: “For if I ever saw you, I didn’t catch your name. But it never really matters, I will always feel the same. Love you forever and forever, love you with all my heart. Love you whenever we’re together, love you when we’re apart. And when at last I find you, this song will fill the air, sing it loud so I can hear you, make it easy to be near you, for the things you do endear you to me, oh, you know, I will. I will… hmmmmm hmmmm da da da da da da daaa…”

“How can one love someone one has not even met yet?”, he inquired, tucking down the shirt of his uniform.

Teresa laughed. “It doesn’t have to make sense. It’s just a nice melody. Probably it’s about a hypothetical, idealised partner. Don’t take the lyrics too seriously.”

“I see.”

“But I have to admit”, she blushed and grinned, “The song did not occur to me just now for no reason whatsoever.”

“So I gathered”, he answered kindly, but with a glimmer of mirth in his eyes. “20th century again?”

“Yep.”

“I never thought I would learn so much about Terran musical eras.”

“Oh, I want to sing Vulcan songs with you again. That one time I sang I'kushizhau etek salan in the officer’s mess with you playing along was one of the most wonderful moments I’ve ever experienced.”

His eyes flickered. “That was indeed… stirring.”

They sat down to eat, once again grateful for the existence of the replicator and the sheer endless food selection it had to offer. For a few minutes, they could not stop themselves any longer from speculating about how its technology functioned, because it was far more advanced from the food synthesizer of their own century. The matter-energy conversion matrix had to be considerably more sophisticated and the database enormous. They resisted the urge to open up the device to look inside, however.

“You know, I think that’s how they made our clothes as well”, Teresa commented. “They must have expanded their replicator technology beyond food. There’s no other explanation for the speed with which it was done.”

“Indeed, that is the most plausible explanation”, he agreed.

“Then I wonder what the limits of this technology are”, she speculated. “Could they, for example – I don’t know – replicate an entire shuttle?”

He frowned, pondering the possibilities. “That would – even if possible – require an enormous amount of energy.”

“Which Voyager has to conserve”, she assented.

“Indeed”, he said, and then, suddenly looking serious, he changed the subject, laying aside his fork. “Teresa.”

“Yes?”

He looked at her gently. “What you did last night… was remarkable.”

She sighed quietly and gave him a grateful smile. “As I said, I have learned a lot from you, and from my time on Vulcan. I did what had to be done.”

“And you did that magnificently”, he told her and then observed her with quiet empathy. “Later, you cried.”

“I did”, she confirmed calmly, smiling faintly.

“Please do not think that you still need to… conceal any of your emotions from me.”

Teresa broke into a warm, earnest smile, gazing at him lovingly. “I know. And I know that even if I tried, it would be impossible now. But I thought you understood. It’s my way of dealing with my emotions. I didn’t need you. And I thought you needed peace and quiet after what had happened.”

“That is certainly true”, he replied, looking somewhat dismal because of that fact. “But you were understandably distressed after what had happened and although I am extremely grateful for your strength to help me when I could not help myself, you do not need to be strong all the time. I hope you know that…” He paused and seemed to struggle with his thoughts, because he was still not very used to speaking about and understanding human emotions, “that you do not need to exclude me from situations of distress or other strong emotions in order to… protect me.”

“Don’t I?”, she smiled, very grateful and sceptical at the same time. “Last night, I think I did.”

“Last night”, he said resolutely, “was an exception. And it will stay an exception, I will make sure of that.” He looked at her with a softer expression and added: “As you will, too; most expertly, as I now know.”

Her smile now assumed a distinctly self-satisfied character.

“You can… ‘lean on me’, as you felt you could the night before last”, he assured her.

She regarded him with a radiant glow on her face and quietly replied: “I know.” She knew it more fully than she could ever have without their mental connection. “And I did. That is the beauty of a functional relationship”, she continued. “I can be there for you if you need it, and the other way around.”

“Good”, he said, looking relieved, and added, shaking his head slightly: “This is all new to me.”

She chuckled, still observing him lovingly. “You are used to addressing your interior issues all by yourself, in your quarters, in front of a meditation lamp. No other Vulcan can ask you the question: how do you feel? And you can’t ask them.”

Pulling the slightest frown, he shook his head in confirmation of that statement.

“And now, suddenly”, she continued gently, “you also have to contend with the intimate presence of another person, her emotions – her very human emotions – and many of her thoughts.”

“The situation is not exactly familiar to you, either”, he pointed out.

“No”, she agreed. “The telepathy is very new to me. But talking about my feelings to others? Not at all.”

“You barely told anyone about your feelings for me.”

“True, that has been an exception”, she conceded. “Well, let me tell you how I handled them”, she said, as they had not really touched on this part of her recollections in their mind melds yet. “And I could, you know? For a long time. I haven’t always been able to manage my emotions so well; of course I had to learn as well. But I had developed certain habits years before I met you, so here’s what I did: meditation and all these other kinds of calming exercises help me, of course, but it’s not enough. As you know, my emotions for you are very strong, and the… attraction was sometimes almost unbearable.” She broke into a smirk, quite a wry and slightly flirtatious one, while he listened avidly, somewhat flustered. “I used to vanish in my quarters and exercise them out, dance them out, sometimes cry them out, sometimes even scream them out” – his eyes widened (the images of her memories of these moments faintly got through to him) and she smirked knowingly and sadly, remembering her anguish most clearly – “yes, I am very thankful for the noise insulation around Enterprise crew quarters. However, after your pon farr…” She paused and saw that he assumed a trace of this grave expression of his again, his jaw tightening, because he was sorry about how his inability to tell her then and there that they could become permanent mates had caused her to suffer. “After your pon farr”, she continued more gently, “for a few days, I really thought I was fine. But then, one day, it hit me, and I just cried. For quite a long time.” He looked moved instead of grave now. “Not only because I thought that this wonderful experience would never be repeated and that I would never be with you, but also because I became aware of how worried about you I had been, how afraid of losing you when they told me you could die. We all know the risks when we sign up for Starfleet, but this was a kind of danger I had not anticipated, which is why it completely took me by surprise. Now, of course, it does look like I will never lose you. What a privilege it is to know that, at least for a short time”, she ended on a musing note.

He slowly nodded, digesting this long speech of hers, and then remarked: “This would not be possible for me. I do not believe I would be able to exhaust my emotions in this manner. Instead, it would only make them worse, and less manageable.” He exempted from this his emotions for her, which he had begun to feel safer to act upon.

Teresa smiled empathetically. “No, I cannot image you doing something like this, either.”

Spock nodded once more, looking grave again, and said reluctantly: “You have not yet seen a Vulcan… genuinely lose control. Yesterday was… a mere crack in the surface. A large crack, no doubt, but still only a crack.”

She took a deep, slightly shaky breath. “I know.” But she looked him in the eye unflinchingly. “I know what I have gotten myself into. But we can do this. Remember what the Doctor said?”

He assented, pressing his lips together slightly, with a trace of that incredulous amazement he had exhibited so many times during the last few days. “I remember”, he answered gently. “And I remember all the times during the past few days when I did not lose control, not to mention again your actions last night. Furthermore, melding with you seems to… pacify me.” His gaze grew mellow now, and he reached out a hand and gently pressed her fingers.

She returned the gesture, smiling her wry smile again and quoting his own words from the morning before to him: “A destabilising and a stabilising influence at the same time?”

“Precisely.”

They finished their breakfast and made their way to the airponics bay. The vegetables were thriving; Teresa was extremely satisfied that her expertise concerning plants was paying off. She whizzed around the vegetable bed stands with bouncy steps, alternately humming and singing and throwing Spock frequent glances, a part of her still not able to believe her enormous luck. Spock was less exuberant (it was not in his nature), but he carried out his work with a greater calm than he had done in many months, returning her glances with a great deal of affection and replying to anything she said about the work at hand with a healthy measure of geniality and a little mirth.

When all the tasks had been accomplished, she turned to him, beaming. “We’re a good team.”

“I agree”, he replied, observing her kindly. His fingers sought hers and after half a minute of manual caresses, she stepped closer and gave him a tender kiss.

Spock had no qualms about reciprocating it; he gently took her face in his hands and pulled her closer, his fingers slowly running over her cheeks. Her hands wandered over his shoulders, up his neck and over the pointed tips of his ears, while they got lost in the sensations of their lips on each other’s.

They registered the noise of the airponics bay doors opening with a three-second delay. Immediately letting go of each other, they both took a step back, with Spock clearing his throat and clasping his hands behind his back, putting on a dignified expression. Teresa looked around the airponics bay, but for short moment, she could not discern anyone. Then she saw who it was when the child emerged between the vegetable bed stands. “Oh, hello, Naomi.”

“Hello”, Naomi returned the greeting, unperturbed. “Were you kissing?”

Spock, ever the Vulcan unable to utter a falsehood, replied, with even more pronounced dignity: “… Yes.”

“You don’t have to stop because of me”, Naomi informed them in a matter-of-fact voice.

Teresa stifled a chortle and bent down towards her. “That’s alright. How are you?”

“Fine”, Naomi replied and asked Spock: “Are you going to teach me the Vulcan neck pinch now? Mummy says I’m allowed.” And she pressed her communicator. “Naomi Wildman to Ensign Wildman.”

“Yes, darling?”

“Tell them, Mummy.”

They heard Ensign Wildman laugh. “Alright. Commander Spock, Teresa, Naomi has my permission to learn the Vulcan neck pinch. Ensign Wildman out.”

Spock raised his eyebrows and exchanged a glance with Teresa, who was not at all opposed to this idea. “Well”, she said, “our work here is done.”

“Indeed”, he made and directed his gaze back at Naomi. “Very well; I shall.”

Naomi did a little leap and clapped her hands.

Ten minutes later, they stepped through the holodeck doors, after Spock had chosen an appropriate training program. They were greeted by a hologram of a human woman on a mat, wearing a training suit. “Who wants to go first?”, she asked.

“One moment”, Spock told her.

“Oi! You wanna fight or not?”

He raised his eyebrows and looked at her sternly. “In a moment.”

“I don’t have all day, you know”, she complained, hopping up and down on the mat.

“This simulation has not turned out as I have hoped”, he muttered, while Teresa sniggered. “Computer, freeze program”, he then commanded. The woman immediately became immobile, her mouth just having opened for another impatient retort. Spock addressed Naomi: “Are all holograms this… obstinate?”

“No”, she shrugged.

“Very well”, he made, going down into a squat before Naomi. “I will attempt to teach you the technique, as promised, but you must promise me that you will not use it inconsiderately or irresponsibly. Do I have your acquiescence?”

“Inconsiderately? Like how?”, Naomi inquired.

“You must only use it in a genuine emergency”, he explained. “If you need to defend yourself or someone else against a genuine attack; only if someone poses a real danger.”

“He means you should never do it just for fun”, Teresa added. “That would be very wrong of you.”

“Okay”, Naomi made, obviously having no problem with this limitation.

“Good”, Spock declared and got up again. Scrutinizing the still immobile woman on the mat, he mused with a frown: “Her size is impractical for our purposes.”

“You mean, we need someone smaller?”, Teresa asked.

“Affirmative.”

“That’s easy”, Naomi made. “Computer, display a human child, seven years old.”

Within the fraction of a second, her wish was fulfilled. A little boy stood before them, wearing the same kind of training suit the woman was wearing and equally immobile. “Is that better?”, Naomi asked.

“Indeed”, Spock made, once again impressed by the technology. In the Enterprise’s new rec-room, the technology was by far not yet advanced enough for the computer to create characters as fast and easily as this. He exchanged another glance with Teresa, who simply crossed her arms before her chest, smirking slightly and looking at him expectantly.

“It seems unethical to render a child unconscious, simply for training purposes”, he frowned.

“It’s just a hologram”, Teresa reminded him, her amusement intensifying. “And not one like the Doctor.”

He sighed, highly sceptical about the whole endeavour. “Yes.” Kneeling down behind the boy, he beckoned Naomi to come closer. “The Vulcan nerve pinch functions by the application of a sufficient amount of pressure on this specific spot” – he showed it to her on the boy’s shoulder – “near the base of the neck. If done correctly, it temporarily paralyzes what in humans and many other species is called the trapezius nerve bundle, immediately rendering the victim unconscious.”

“Can you do it to him?”, Naomi asked eagerly.

“Very well; provided that it works on a hologram at all.”

“We’ll find out”, Teresa grinned. “Computer, resume program.”

The boy came to life and looked at them expectantly. Before he could utter one word, however, Spock, looking slightly sorry, had pressed his shoulder and had made him fall to the ground like a puppet (though Spock had caught him before he could hit his head and had slowly lowered him down). Teresa did not quite understand Spock’s reluctance; wasn’t it illogical to be sorry for a hologram? Spock turned his head to gaze at her, having partially perceived her thoughts, and suddenly looked confused and surprised by his own irrational reaction. He shook his head slightly, as if to shake something off, and then looked at Naomi, who was clapping.

“Hey, you. Smart move!”, the woman called in acknowledgement.

“Computer, put the female character on standby”, Spock commanded, without any hesitation. The woman vanished, and Teresa giggled once more. “It’s your turn”, he then told Naomi. “Computer, revive the boy.”

The boy immediately got up again. “Don’t move”, Spock told him, and he obeyed.

Naomi stepped closer, felt around on the boy’s shoulder and then pressed as strongly as she could with her little hand. Nothing happened.

“That is not quite the correct spot”, Spock told her, guiding her hand. “Here. Apply equal force with each finger.”

After Naomi’s sixth attempt, the boy toppled forward. While Teresa cheered and clapped, Spock raised his eyebrows once again, legitimately baffled. He had not expected Naomi to succeed at all. “Remarkable.”

“Amazing, Naomi”, Teresa beamed. “But we don’t know whether it would work in real life as long as she only practices on a hologram”, she told Spock.

“Indeed, but we can hardly ask a member of the crew to assume that role”, he frowned.

“Oh, I’ll do it”, Teresa offered, unfazed. “I can take it.”

His eyes widened, while he could not help but remember Taurus IV. “I …”

Without any hesitation and throwing Spock a challenging glance, she sat down on the mat, assuming a cross-legged position. “Go ahead, Naomi.”

Spock let out an apprehensive sigh, observing Naomi, who stepped behind Teresa, trying to find the right spot. Teresa kept her gaze fixated on Spock, a faint smile on her lips.

“Do you feel anything?”, Naomi asked, pressing around on her shoulder.

“No”, Teresa replied, “I think that’s the wrong spot. Show her, Spock.”

He sighed once again and came closer, grimly returning her gaze. “Here”, he then murmured, guiding Naomi’s hand once more.

Naomi pressed.

“Ouch!”, Teresa made, feeling a painful spasm shoot through her shoulder, and turned around to look at Naomi, astonished.

“What was that?”, Spock asked, startled, having faintly perceived Teresa’s pain himself.

“Did I do something wrong?”, Naomi asked, puzzled.

“No, not at all”, Teresa assured her. “It hurt. I didn’t expect it to hurt.” Turning towards Spock, she said: “Maybe Ktarians have a bioelectric body chemistry, after all.”

“I am certain Ensign Wildman or the Doctor would be able to enlighten us in that respect”, Spock remarked.

“Try again, Naomi”, Teresa told her.

“I really don’t think – “, Spock began, but it was too late. Naomi pressed once more, and everything around Teresa went dark.

“Teresa”, Spock murmured, patting her cheek.

“What?”, she mumbled.

“Are you alright?”

Her eyes flickered open and she saw two concerned faces floating over her own; Naomi’s face was more fascinated than concerned, however. A few seconds later, she realised that her upper body was lying in Spock’s lap and that he had wrapped his arms around her, with one hand on her cheek. He was scrutinizing her with parted lips, his eyes wandering over her face.

“I’m… I’m fine”, she answered faintly, slowly sitting up (Spock did not let go of her, however). A few seconds later, she felt considerably more awake and looked at Naomi with undisguised pride. “Phantastic, Naomi!”

“Did it hurt?”, Naomi inquired, now looking a little guilt-ridden after all.

“No”, Teresa assured her, and could not restrain a side swipe at Spock: “I can remember a nerve pinch that hurt considerably more.”

He pressed his lips together, his eyes getting slightly narrower. Teresa quickly kissed him on the cheek, and he started, not having expected such a gesture in front of others. She chuckled; she felt that Naomi did not quite count. “Now it’s my turn.”

“On me?!”, he asked.

She chuckled even more heartily. “No, silly, on our friend on standby.”

“I see.” He let go of her to enable her to get up.

She had the computer reactivate the hologram. “Shut up”, she told the woman, stepping behind her on the mat.

“Do you require any – “, Spock asked.

“Nope”, Teresa cut him off, smirking. The woman was about to turn around to her, but Teresa expertly put her hand on her shoulder, where it started merging into her neck, and pressed. The woman collapsed like a house of cards at her feet, and Teresa stood there, haughty, erect and looking very pleased with herself, while Naomi made: “Wow!”

Spock stared at her and took a deep breath. “The mind melds”, he diagnosed the cause for her instant success.

“I suppose so”, she replied, her smirk intensifying.

He nodded slowly. “Nevertheless, this is only a hologram.”

“Well, I can hardly practice on Naomi”, she replied. “What would her mother say?”

Spock took another deep breath, assuming an air of resignation. “Very well”, he said, stepping onto the mat in front of her, facing her. “Try it on me.”

With an expression of loving and provocative mischievousness, she mindfully placed her left hand on his right shoulder and gently brushed over it for a few seconds, while he watched her with glimmering eyes. And then she pressed.

Naomi had suggested that they have lunch with her and her mother in their quarters, an invitation they graciously accepted. They had already almost arrived on deck ten.

“How’s your shoulder?”, Teresa inquired earnestly, trying very hard to dispel her schadenfreude.

“Not worth mentioning”, Spock replied, although he winced slightly when he carefully rotated his arm. “I have a very high tolerance towards pain.”

“I know”, she assured him, remembering several instances when she had witnessed him functioning under incredible strain.

Naomi ran out of the turbolift before them and bounced down the corridor. She stormed into her and her mother’s quarters, jubilating: “Mummy! I can do the Vulcan neck pinch! I made Teresa pass out! And then she made Spock pass out! And they’re going to eat with us.”

“Is that so?”, Samantha Wildman answered, diverted. “Well done, darling.” She gave Naomi a hug and then turned towards her guests. “Welcome, Commander Spock, Teresa. Thank you for teaching her, Commander.”

“You are welcome”, Spock answered. “I should point out, however, that Naomi has to practice further before she can apply the nerve pinch in real-life situations. Usually, the targeted individual is not of the height of a child and does not patiently sit or stand around until she has accomplished her goal. Nevertheless”, he continued, “her prowess was astonishing, especially considering her very limited strength. Are Ktarians endowed with a bioelectric body chemistry?”

“Yes, of a kind”, Samantha Wildman answered. “But it is different from Vulcans’, I believe.”

“I see.”

They sat down to lunch, talking about a range of subjects, from what Ensign Wildman could tell them about her work on Voyager (she was an exobiologist as well, but much less of a chatterbox than Ensign Onagawa), over the fact that Naomi was the only child on board and therefore had a very different childhood from most other children all the way to Spock’s experiences on the Enterprise (Teresa had already told them a lot about herself). Naomi constantly asked Spock questions about what else Vulcans could do that other species could not and compared him to the other Vulcans on Voyager. When they had finished their lunch, she asked: “Do you know how to play kadis-kot?”

Spock raised his eyebrows. “No.”

“Then there’s something I can teach you”, she beamed, jumped up enthusiastically, grabbed him by the hand and dragged him towards her room. “Come on.” Spock allowed her to tow him away, looking slightly out of his depth, however. Teresa and Samantha Wildman laughed.

When the Ensign thought that Spock was out of earshot (while Teresa knew he probably was not or might find out about this conversation during their next mind meld, even if she did not actively tell him about it), she commented, smirking: “You have no more need of that modest nightgown, I gather.”

Teresa coughed and blushed. “So you’ve heard.”

“Oh, of course, from Naomi. And Neelix. And it’s all over the ship”, came the answer. “We’re all very happy for you.”

“Thank you”, Teresa replied, the redness of her cheeks intensifying.

“I told Naomi not to interfere, but there’s no stopping her when she has really gotten an idea into her head”, Samantha sighed.

“So she did it on purpose?”

“I’m sure she did.”

“You must miss her father very much”, Teresa attempted to direct the conversation away from herself.

The Ensign smiled sadly. “I do.”

“May I ask”, Teresa inquired cautiously, “does he have a shorter life expectancy than you do? I know very little about Ktarians.”

Another sad smile. “He does.”

“And how do you deal with that?”, Teresa dug deeper, looking pensive.

Samantha shrugged, pursing her lips while she pondered the question. “By… trying to accept that everything in life is transient. Some days I am better at that than on others. But now that we’re so far from the Alpha Quadrant, I might never see him again, anyway.”

At 14:15 hours, they were in the turbolift on their way to the bridge.

“How did you like playing with Naomi?”, Teresa grinned.

“It was… intriguing”, Spock said diplomatically. “Though not an activity with which I would like to spend much of my time. Nevertheless, I appreciate the importance of such games on infant cognitive and social development.”

“Oh, I think it’s fun, in addition to the merits you have… expounded”, Teresa shrugged, still grinning faintly. “I find Naomi extremely endearing. But if I have to play such games with her for much longer, I will seriously start missing the lab.”

“How fitting, then, that we are at this very moment on our way to witnessing the endeavour to bring you closer to your lab”, Spock commented. A second later, the turbolift doors opened onto the bridge.

“First officer on the bridge”, Teresa muttered under her breath, her eyes sparkling.

“Alas, not my bridge”, Spock answered in an equally low voice, even though he had understood her humorous intent, while they stepped out of the lift.

“Aahh, there you are”, Captain Janeway welcomed them with another one of her warm smiles, so they stepped forward and joined her in front of the captain’s chair. “Seven estimates that the wormhole will be open for slightly longer this time, so we will hopefully be able to gather more data.”

“For how much longer?”, Spock inquired.

“32 seconds”, Tuvok obliged him.         

“Commander”, Janeway addressed Spock, “I think that, if this operation renders the desired results, it would be safe to allow you to spend more time on the bridge, if you so desire. See how we do things in the 24th century.”

“I would certainly welcome the opportunity”, Spock replied, clasping his hands behind his back. “However, I would like a word with you in that respect, after the data analysis has been completed.”

“Certainly”, the Captain answered, looking curious.

The operation went similarly to the last time. The wormhole appeared in the distance, exactly as predicted, a minuscule spot of swirling blue light in the blackness of space, and flooded the bridge and everyone on it with its light once it had been magnified on screen. The probe entered it without any complications and transmitted data to Seven of Nine in the astrometrics lab. A minute later, the wormhole started to collapse, at which the probe activated its self-destruct mechanism, and contact to it broke off. Once again, they were left standing in the (comparable) dark.

“So far, so good”, the Captain said and gave them an encouraging smile.

Fifteen minutes later, they congregated in the astrometrics lab yet again, together with the Captain and Commanders Chakotay and Tuvok.

“What’s the verdict, Seven?”, Captain Janeway inquired as soon as they had all entered the room.

“The wormhole once again led to the same region of space”, Seven of Nine announced. “The long-range scans confirm it. The probe also picked up the following automated message.”

She pressed a button on the panel, and to Teresa’s absolute delight and Spock’s satisfaction, Lieutenant Uhura’s voice filled the room: “USS Enterprise to Starfleet shuttle Equinox. Equinox, come in, please. Commander Spock, Lieutenant Juárez. Come in, please, I repeat, come in please.”

“They’re still looking for us, two weeks later?!”, Teresa exclaimed, astonished and deeply moved.

“Not necessarily”, Spock replied. “They may have left a beacon behind, which sends out the automated message and forwards our potential reply to the Enterprise. They were, after all, on a time-sensitive mission and we were to rendezvous with them on their way.”

“That mission should have been over for several days”, Teresa argued. “They might have come back. But of course, we don’t know.” She was still beaming, however, simply due to hearing Uhura’s voice. “Still, the Captain dotes on you, Spock. He would do anything to find you.”

“And you”, he added.

She grinned. Come on, you know that’s not true. He cares about me as a valued member of his crew, but I’m hardly his best friend, as you are. She was not certain whether he would still be able to hear her thought after their short mind meld this morning, but she sent it out with deliberation and as a fully-fledged mental utterance, just in case.

Spock raised his eyebrows slightly and looked at her. He would do anything in his power to find any member of his crew.

Feeling triumphant at her success, she looked back and continued: Of course. But for you, he might even have acted a little irresponsibly and delayed that time-sensitive mission for longer than is advisable. Not for me, I think. She did not state this with any hurt, irritation, self-abasement or disapproval, only as a realistic assessment.

Nevertheless, his eyebrows wandered even further up his forehead. This debate really is quite pointless.

Only a few seconds had passed during their silent exchange, but it had sufficed to catch the attention of the other four people in the room, who were observing them in slight bemusement.

“Something the matter?”, Chakotay inquired in a friendly tone.

“No, not at all”, Teresa assured him.

Tuvok was contemplating them with an elevated eyebrow and an intrigued expression, undoubtedly aware of the telepathic possibilities in Vulcan intimate relationships.

“Well, this means that we can now be absolutely certain that the wormhole is predictable and stable”, Captain Janeway announced, sounding distinctly pleased. “Good work, Seven.”

“Thank you.”

“This means for you”, Janeway continued, addressing Teresa and Spock again, “that we can explain the procedure of your memory erasure to you now.”

“Very well”, Teresa answered in a friendly tone, though she was less enthusiastic about this endeavour than ever before. Forgetting all about Voyager had already been an idea disagreeable enough on its own, but now, with what had happened between her and Spock, the prospect was outright distasteful and very hard to bear. Every fibre of her being resisted it. Still, she knew it was the sensible thing to do.

Spock noticed this battle between logic and emotion that was being waged inside of her and threw her a furtive, sorry glance, while something very similar took place inside of him.

“That is, only if you have reached a decision concerning what I asked you two days ago, Commander”, the Captain continued discretely, addressing Spock.

“In fact, Captain”, Spock replied, “I believe I can only make this decision once I have been briefed on the details and… possibilities of this procedure. There is a question I need to address to the Doctor. Or to Seven of Nine, of course”, he added, nodding at her. “Whoever is able to answer it.”

“I see”, Janeway made. “Explaining the details will reveal a great deal about the 24th century”, she deliberated, preoccupied.

“Nonetheless, these are my terms”, Spock declared in a calm and respectful, but unmistakeably firm tone.

“Very well”, the Captain answered after a glance at her senior officers. “Let’s go to sickbay.”

On their way out, Teresa could not help but think that their silent debate had been anything but pointless. After all, what would a Captain Spock do in a situation where she was missing and he had to carry out a lifesaving and time-sensitive mission? Would he be able to put his duty first?

Undoubtedly, he would, and he should.

Nevertheless, she saw him throw her another glance, a struck and thoughtful one, an exceedingly grave one.

“As you are undoubtedly aware, your memories are stored chemically on the neurons of the cerebral cortex, the neocortex, to be more precise”, the Doctor expounded, in a distinctly lofty and shrewd manner, while he was strolling back and forth in front of the biobeds in sickbay.

“Yes”, Teresa made, while Spock nodded. They were lined up in the corner next to the doors, standing beside Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine, the latter appearing haughty and unmoved, as always. Commanders Chakotay and Tuvok had gone back to their respective tasks.

“They are also time-dependant”, the Doctor continued. “What we will do is the following: we will identify the relevant neurons by determining the age of the chemical links.”

“How will you achieve that?”, Spock inquired, with a deep frown on his forehead while he listened intently, subjecting the Doctor to a searching gaze.

“Well, without Seven’s contribution, we would have to scan for them and just hope for the best that we have identified the correct neurons, which is established Starfleet practice in the few cases memory erasure has become necessary”, the Doctor replied sagaciously. “However, here on Voyager we have no need for such a – crude – method.” And he looked meaningfully at Seven of Nine, obviously encouraging her to continue.

Seven turned around to face them and announced: “We will be able to reliably identify and neutralize the neurons in question with the help of nanoprobes which will scour your neocortices.”

“Ugh, Seven”, Captain Janeway groaned. “‘Scour’. Could you not have used a less… startling verb?”

Seven raised her eyebrows. “Very well, they will ‘comb through’ your neocortices.”

Janeway looked at her despairingly.

“‘Nanoprobes’?”, Teresa repeated with incredulous emphasis, unable to not feel spooked, and winced slightly at the revolting sensation she felt in her head at the thought of her cerebral cortex being ‘combed through’.

“Borg nanoprobes, to be exact”, Seven specified.

“Nanoscopic machines”, the Captain explained, attempting to smile. “… Nanites.”

“We have our own experiences with nanites”, Spock remarked, his eyebrows elevated to the ceiling. “Only recently from our perspective, Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy almost died from an infestation of nanites that were feeding on their cerebral tissue and the nanites also paralysed the Enterprise’s computer systems. We nearly lost the ship.”

“These nanoprobes are very different”, Janeway assured them, seemingly increasingly worried that they were successfully scaring their guests from the past off their plan. “They unfailingly follow commands and will certainly not ‘feed’ on your cerebral tissue.”

“Once they have carried out their task, they will leave your body within seconds”, Seven of Nine added. “I will program them with exact instructions. Nothing can go wrong. I have ample experience with and total control over them.”

Teresa and Spock exchanged a deliberative glance.

“You said ‘borg nanoprobes’”, Teresa then said. “What is ‘borg’?”

“The Borg”, The Doctor corrected her.

“Very well, what is ‘the borg’?”

After an apprehensive pause, Captain Janeway answered: “The Borg are a collective of cybernetic beings, based in the Delta Quadrant.”

“Cybernetic…? Are you by any chance part of that collective, Seven?”, Teresa inquired.

“I was.”

“So you’re not anymore.”

“No.”

“But if you’re human and they are based in the Delta Quadrant, how could you become part of that collective in the first place?”

Seven of Nine exchanged a glance with Captain Janeway, who gave a resigned nod, aware of the fact that Spock and Teresa would probably not agree to the procedure if the origin of the nanoprobes was not explained to them.

Expressionlessly, Seven of Nine disclosed: “I was assimilated by the Borg at the age of six years. My parents were exobiologists who were studying them. The Borg travel across the galaxy through a network of transwarp conduits. My parents followed a Borg cube through one of the conduits with our ship and thus reached the Delta Quadrant.”

Teresa did her best to quickly process this bundle of information full of terms she had never heard before, while she faintly registered Spock thoughtfully lingering on the word ‘transwarp conduits’. She then decided on what interested her the most and inquired: “… ‘assimilated’?”

“The Borg assimilate individuals and turn them into drones which become one with the single, unified mind of the collective”, Seven further explained, seemingly still unmoved.

“It is their way of gathering new information”, the Captain continued, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “They integrate the knowledge and technology of the species they have assimilated into their own.”

“How many species have they assimilated?”, Teresa could not help but continue inquiring, beginning to feel slightly sick to her stomach, while Spock observed her and Seven with concern.

“Thousands”, Seven of Nine replied. “Which means that their technology is highly advanced, far more advanced than anything the Federation has produced. The nanoprobes are perfectly reliable and extremely efficient.”

“Members of thousands of species? Turned into – into drones? What – …?”, Teresa echoed despairingly.

“Often not only single members”, Captain Janeway clarified, with a voice now thick with resignation and despondency. “The Borg have assimilated entire civilizations. Trillions of individuals.”

“I assume this makes them a major threat to the Federation”, Spock attested. He sounded calm and collected, as usual, but Teresa sensed that he was almost as concerned as she was horrified.

“The biggest threat, no doubt”, the Doctor weighed in, apparently eager to say something after having been side-lined for some time. “Apart from the Dominion, of course”, he added dryly.

“The what?”, Teresa made, already feeling like she wanted to hear no more.

“The Dominion”, he repeated. “A massive interstellar state in the Gamma Quadrant. The Federation is currently at war with them.”

“Doctor”, Janeway warned him with a piercing voice, looking very displeased.

“The Federation is at war?”, Spock repeated, with his deepest frown yet.

“With a power based in the… Gamma Quadrant?”, Teresa added. How was it possible to wage war over such a large distance? Or did this Dominion, like the Borg, have a means of propulsion much faster than warp drive?

“Unfortunately yes”, the Doctor answered hesitantly, with an apologetic look at the Captain. “On my recent visit to the Alpha Quadrant, I was fully informed on these latest developments.”

“Your ‘recent visit to the Alpha Quadrant’?”, Teresa echoed, increasingly flabbergasted.

“Enough!”, Captain Janeway exclaimed sternly, lifting up her hands to stop the exchange. “We are here to discuss the medical procedure to erase memories, nothing more. The rest of the 24th century can wait, and should wait, until we have concluded this topic.”

Silence ensued. The Doctor was slowly bobbing up and down on his toes, patiently letting his gaze wander over the ceiling, while Teresa simply stood there, trying to emotionally deal with all she had just heard, watched by both Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine.

Finally, after around 20 seconds, Spock said quietly: “I would like to see these nanoprobes.”

“We had anticipated your request”, the Doctor answered smugly, and beckoned him and Teresa towards a microscope standing on a table in the corner.

Spock bent over the microscope and peeked into the eyepiece. “Fascinating”, he murmured after a moment, and added in a louder voice: “These are indeed far more sophisticated than the nanites we have encountered.” He made way for Teresa.

While she looked through the nano-microscope at the magnified little machines, tiny, grey and rectangular devices (with even tinier mechanical legs) which were merrily swimming around under her eye, Seven of Nine expounded the details of their material components and matrix. When Teresa had straightened up again, she looked at the three Voyager crew members and requested: “May we speak alone for a moment?”

“Of course”, the Captain assured her. “We can leave sickbay – “

“That’s not necessary”, Teresa said in a friendly tone. She beckoned Spock with a little nod of her head and he readily followed her into the corridor.

Once the doors of sickbay had closed behind them, he looked at her gently and questioningly.

“Nanotechnology is hardly my field of expertise”, she said. “You just compared these nanoprobes to the nanites you’ve seen. Of course you can’t know as much about them as Seven or the Doctor, but what’s your verdict, based on the knowledge you do possess? I would like to understand.”

Spock opened his mouth to speak, but then he remembered once again that there was a more efficient and comprehensive way of sharing such intricate information with her. After having glanced left and right to assure himself that the corridor was empty, he placed his fingers onto the side of her face.

Teresa stared into his eyes, the information and his understanding of it flooding into her brain. After around half a minute, comprehension dawned on her face. “I see”, she whispered.

Some additional 20 seconds later, Spock gave a small nod and slowly removed his hand from her face, continuing to contemplate her. Teresa also nodded. They had reached a decision.

Back in sickbay, they were met with three expectant faces.

“Very well”, Spock announced, as Teresa’s superior officer still the logical choice of spokesperson, “we agree to the procedure.”

“Very good”, the Captain replied, visibly relieved.

“However, I still have one reservation”, Spock continued.

“The question you wanted to ask the Doctor”, Janeway caught on immediately.

Spock nodded. “Indeed.” He hesitated, clasping his hands behind his back and musingly looked at the ground. Teresa sensed how extremely reluctant he was to address the topic at all and observed him with an empathetic expression.

“I… am not in the habit of discussing matters of such a… deeply personal nature with others”, he began quietly. “But now it seems… necessary.”

“You can count on our discretion, Commander”, Janeway assured him gently and earnestly.

“Without question”, the Doctor added, while Seven of Nine, unmoved as always, nodded.

Spock took a deep breath, still looking extremely reserved. “I thank you.” Directing his gaze at Janeway, he continued more confidently and professionally: “Captain, you asked me whether I believe that Teresa and I will still… form a commitment if I have forgotten what has transpired between us during our stay here. I still believe it is likely, but I can make no definite assurance. I believe it might depend on the question of what exactly this procedure would erase, and what it might leave… intact.”

“What are you referring to?”, Seven of Nine inquired.

“Doctor, the Vulcan brain stores what could be denoted as ‘emotional memory’ in a different area than the conscious recollections of events which you want to erase, correct?”, Spock now turned his attention to him. “Of course, I am speaking of my partially human brain in particular.”

“Well, you could say that; to a certain extent”, the Doctor replied, his curiosity clearly having been sparked. “Sensual stimuli and emotions are processed in the diencephalon, the interbrain, which is why its neurochemical composition is constantly changing. The mesiofrontal cortex, meanwhile, suppresses emotions in Vulcans, a fact you of course are aware of. However, the diencephalon conducts a constant exchange of information with the neocortex, which is why I cannot promise you that your… emotional state will survive the procedure entirely unaltered.”

“Please give me your best estimate, Doctor”, Spock asked in a calm, but very serious tone.

“The Vulcan brain”, the Doctor sighed heavily and assumed a philosophical expression, gazing into space. “A puzzle wrapped inside an enigma housed inside a cranium...”

“Doctor”, Spock said, more sharply, with one eyebrow elevated, throwing him a stern and piercing gaze.

He likes the sound of his own voice far too much, Teresa could not help but comment in her mind, referring to the Doctor.

Clearing his throat, the Doctor regained a more serious manner. “My best estimate? If you have undergone any… fundamental emotional changes here, which I assume you have”, he paused, now oozing an air of confidentiality and discretion, while Captain Janeway seemed to try her best to appear as inconspicuous as possible and to completely blend in with the medical equipment, “I would say there is an around 90% chance that these – fundamental – developments will be preserved.”

Spock stared at him for a few seconds and then let out a visible exhale of great relief, relaxing his posture. Teresa had never seen such an emotional reaction on his part in front of anyone apart from herself. “Thank you, Doctor”, he said in the same quiet voice, “these are more than acceptable odds.”

“I’m glad I could help”, the Doctor answered dryly.

Teresa knew exactly what Spock was very much hoping to preserve. It was his nascent feeling of calm and safety around her, the certainty that with her, he could allow his emotions to a greater extent than he had ever been able to before, the assurance that his love for her would not rob him of his basic composure and self-control. Moreover, she felt that during their stay on Voyager and especially during the last three days, his love for her had only grown, had become firmer, deeper and more confident. Due to their last mind meld having taken place only minutes ago, they both knew very well what the other was thinking and feeling. They looked at each other for a short moment, a glimmer of tenderness in both their eyes. As they were very much aware of their present company, however, they left it at that.

“Captain, I have no further reservations”, Spock announced.

“Neither have I”, Teresa added.

Captain Janeway, who stirred again like a statue that had come to life, smiled warmly and respectfully. “Excellent.” After a moment of recollection, she added: “But I believe there was something else you wanted to speak to me about, Commander.”

“There is.”

“Very well, but let’s not impose on the Doctor and Seven any longer”, Janeway said. “We can discuss this somewhere else.”

“Captain, I do not mind at all… hosting this conversation”, the Doctor assured her, not able to conceal his curiosity. “As long as I don’t have any other patients, you are most welcome to stay.”

The Captain, slightly amused, threw a questioning glance at Spock, who said: “This is not a confidential matter.”

“Alright”, Janeway made. “But Seven, you’re dismissed. Thank you for your contribution. You can go.”

Seven of Nine nodded and left sickbay without another word. Teresa gazed after her, feeling a mixture of intense sympathy and curiosity about her time as a Borg drone.

“To make it short, Captain”, Spock declared, “I highly appreciate your readiness to allow us to  ‘explore’ the 24th century, now that the wormhole has been established as stable. I cannot help but wonder, though, whether the most prudent course of action would not be to keep exerting caution, in case of unforeseen circumstances preventing the erasure of our memories before we return through the wormhole.”

“Such as?”, Captain Janeway inquired politely.

“A malfunction of the EMH or the medical equipment? Seven of Nine being incapacitated for some unknown reason? A malfunction in the ship’s systems? An attack on the ship? Need I continue? These are only the foreseeable eventualities, of course.”

“No, you’ve made your point”, Captain Janeway assured him, having heard enough. “However, the likelihood of one or several of such eventualities occurring is extremely small. The Doctor can conduct the procedure without Seven, if need be, and Seven without the Doctor. Lieutenant Paris has become a capable nurse.” (The Doctor, at these words, did not seem to be able to decide whether he wanted to smile reassuringly or be indignant at the thought than any important medical procedure could be carried out without him.) “The ship is in very good shape at the moment, and as we have told you, this region of space is quiet. We have not met any alien ships for more than two months. Furthermore, Seven’s calculations show that the wormhole will open again only three days after we plan to send you back through it. If we miss this chance for some reason, we can simply wait for the next.” She kindly looked at Spock, who remained sceptical. “I appreciate your caution, Commander. Very well, I will not lift the restrictions from my crew; they should not mention anything out of their own initiative. But I will allow you to decide for yourselves how much you want to learn about this century, this ship and its crew. Maybe we will even benefit from your experience in some way or other?” She smiled.

Spock hesitated. Teresa sensed that he was extremely tempted and broke into a faint smirk. After all, he had not been able to stop himself from asking questions about current galactic events only fifteen minutes earlier. “That is an acceptable arrangement”, he finally responded, with an uncertain look at Teresa, asking himself how far she would restrain herself, if at all. She was not certain herself.

“I’m glad that’s settled”, Janeway gave a sigh of relief.

“I’m just wondering…”, Teresa mused.

“What?”, Spock made, not having been very attentive to her thoughts during his exchange with the Captain.

“… about how we will feel when we wake up, some three and a half weeks have passed and we don’t have any recollections of them and no idea about what has happened to us. The questions will drive me crazy. And not just in reference to what happened between the two of us”, she smiled wryly with a self-conscious glance at the other two people present, “we could have been subject to all kinds of horrors.”

“Maybe we could…”, the Captain began, paused and then continued with a widening beam on her lips, “leave a message for you.”

“A message?”, Teresa repeated, intrigued.

“Yes, with only the most basic information”, the Captain was warming up to her own idea and continued with growing enthusiasm, while the Doctor crossed his arms before his chest, listening pensively, “that you were… pulled into a spatial anomaly – we have decided to destroy the wormhole once you’re through, by the way, to prevent any further accidents like yours – and that you came out on the other end a significant number of years into your future. That you were well taken care of and that your memories were erased to protect the timeline before you were sent back. We can provide the file with the proper Starfleet signature code of your own time, so that it appears more trustworthy. Yes, let us do that.”

“A laudable idea”, Spock said after a moment. “However, we would still wonder whether it is a deception.”

“It’s the best we can do”, Janeway shrugged and smiled.

“Indeed”, he agreed and looked at Teresa, who was very taken with the idea. “Very well.”

“You know, in the eventuality of an attack on the ship, learning more about Voyager and its technology would actually be prudent”, Teresa remarked sagaciously, running her finger along his jaw.

“That is true”, Spock said and a moment later, he frowned, obviously irritated by the fact that he had not thought of that himself. He had been too focused on the need to preserve the timeline, and too distracted by her and all that had passed between them in the recent past, something he immediately considered an unforgivable lapse in his self-discipline, professionalism and judgement. Usually, he almost unfailingly considered all sides of an issue. She bestowed a sympathetic and forgiving gaze on him. Nonetheless, he immediately resolved to never let his emotions get in the way in this fashion ever again.

They were in her quarters. Teresa, slightly overwhelmed and unsettled by all that she had learned in sickbay about the 24th century, had cautiously approached him and put her arms around him, sighing deeply. Spock, though he was still somewhat unaccustomed to hugs, had readily let her, embracing her himself after a moment, his hands resting on her shoulders.

“I am very interested in Voyager’s defensive capabilities, amongst other things”, he continued. “Their hand-held weaponry, however, does not seem to have undergone any fundamental changes. The phaser Lieutenant Commander Tuvok carries with him closely resembles our own models.”

“Not to mention detailed schematics of the ship”, Teresa added. “So that we know our way around more thoroughly. Jefferies tubes, escape pods, airlocks, et cetera.”

“In short, basic knowledge any officer should possess”, Spock summarized.

“Exactly”, she smiled, tightening her grip around him. “Why don’t we have a look at that in a moment?”

“Agreed”, he replied, returning the firmness of her embrace. And then, after a short moment of hesitation, he bent down and placed a mindful kiss on her lips.

Thrilled as always, Teresa returned it lovingly, her heartrate increasing, and brushed her fingers over his cheek. Nevertheless, she broke away after a moment and remarked with a heavy voice: “So, we truly have decided to forget everything that has happened here.”

Spock moved his head away far enough to be able to look into her eyes. They were full of a deep sorrow, and he could sense how she felt: as though a hole had been ripped into her chest. She was experiencing the futile desire to rail and thrash against the circumstances they found themselves in, with this irrational hope that if she simply wanted it badly enough, their situation would magically change for the better. Of course her rational mind knew that it was no use, that it was the right thing, the logical thing to do now that the probability of Spock and her ‘finding each other again’ appeared to be high. As a Starfleet officer, she knew the meaning of duty, responsibility and sacrifice all too well. The non-interference in past events was a rule set in stone, no matter how beneficial these changes might seem. Captain Janeway, in one of her meals with Teresa, had called it ‘the Temporal Prime Directive’. And now that they knew of the Borg and the Dominion, in addition to all the other knowledge they had already gathered, the need to erase their memories had increased exponentially. Otherwise, the temptation to warn Starfleet against these major threats well in advance would in all likelihood be much too high. He returned her disconsolate gaze, experiencing a similar soreness in his chest.

“Yes”, he simply said.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself, learning to accept. Her gaze grew courageous and determined instead of despairing and she pressed another kiss onto his lips, a firm one, a lengthy one, an adamant one, savouring every second of it. Then a thought occurred to her, and she suddenly broke into a faint smile, emboldened by this thought. “By the way, apart from the emotional changes you have undergone, is there not a possibility that our mental connection will endure despite the memory loss?”

He paused and looked at her again, a faint frown on his face. “I am uncertain”, he then said slowly. “It is possible… it might endure, for a limited time, at least in part.”

“What a shock it would be to be able to ‘suddenly’ hear each other’s thoughts”, she mused, laughing nervously and in amusement at the same time. “But this might actually help you realise that we have been melding for the past weeks and that you seemed to consider this a good idea. And… you wouldn’t be able to hide your emotions from me.”

“Indeed”, he agreed, taken with the thought. “This would mean that we should definitely maintain the frequency of the melds”, he then said, raising his eyebrows and contemplating her lightly.

“To that, I have absolutely no objection”, she grinned and kissed him once again.

As they had decided to do, they spent the next four hours looking at and memorising detailed schematics of the ship (“Bio-neural circuitry?”, Spock made, very impressed, “highly fascinating!”), familiarising themselves with security mechanisms, escape pods, manual overrides and more, crawling through Jefferies tubes and, after Tuvok had consulted the Captain to assure himself that she had allowed it, trying out the phasers. Before it was too late, Teresa remembered her singing appointment with the Doctor, but he contacted her before she could regretfully break off her exploratory activities, notifying her of the fact that he had a patient. They decided to postpone their musical plans until the same time the next day. She relished the little expedition Spock and her were on, a part of her feeling like a child on a playful exploratory adventure, a state she had often reached during the Enterprise’s mission and her travels around Earth or Vulcan. And now that the erasure of their memories seemed a certainty, she felt the need to compensate for this incalculable personal loss by at least making as much as she possibly could of their time spent in this riveting future. Although it would have been too much to say that Spock was having fun, the activities and their most logical purpose gave him much satisfaction. He witnessed her child-like enthusiasm with some mirth, however.

Her enthusiasm waned, though, when the third Jefferies tube they crawled through led them into cargo bay 2. It was filled with a strange green glimmer and in a corner stood complex technical equipment of a kind neither of them had ever seen before and which looked completely different from anything else on Voyager.

Teresa came to a halt in front of the mysterious row of alcoves, wondering what they were for. “They have… just the right size for someone to stand in them”, she frowned.

Spock carefully stepped closer, examining the complicated wires and circuitry. “Indeed”, he made, and proceeded to ascend into one of them, scrutinizing the green circle just above his head, which seemed to be filled with flashing energy currents.

“Be careful”, Teresa made.

“As you have gathered, cargo bay 2 seems to be connected in some way to Seven of Nine, correct?”, he asked calmly.

“Yes”, she answered, not finding it hard to guess the direction his thoughts were going into, because hers had gone the same way. “Do you think this could be Borg technology?”

“That does appear to be the most plausible hypothesis”, he replied, stepping down from the small platform again and, facing her, he added: “But we do not possess enough knowledge about the Borg to confirm it.”

“No; after all, it doesn’t have ‘Borg’ written onto it”, she agreed, her lips twitching, even though she felt somewhat spooked by the whole environment.

For a second or so, he looked puzzled by her remark (after all, no species they knew explicitly wrote their designation onto their technical equipment), but then he understood. “Indeed, it does not.”

“We could find out, of course”, she said innocently.

He raised an eyebrow. “We could.” Seeing resolution forming in her eyes, he added: “I cannot stop you.”

She slowly shook her head, her eyes sparkling. “I’m hungry. Dinner?”

Teresa barely paid any attention to what she was eating, however. Her eyes were glued to a PADD she had placed on the table in her quarters, while she was absent-mindedly poking around on her plate.

“Their ultimate goal is the attainment of 'perfection' through the forcible assimilation of diverse sentient species, technologies, and knowledge which are added and absorbed into the hive mind”, she read out loud, feeling increasingly horrified once again. “The Borg do not procreate; they add to their population only by assimilation of mostly humanoid species. The drones have cybernetic devices implanted all over their body, although the exact type of the implants depends on the individual function of each drone. Each has basic nodes of interlink for communications with the Collective, however, and a myo-neural cortical array to control movements. In most cases, an eye is replaced with an eyepiece that improves vision and an arm is amputated altogether to make room for a functional prosthetic. Oh, my goodness.” She shuddered thoroughly, pushing the PADD further away from her.

Spock looked at her with a you-asked-for-it expression.

“I did ask for it, didn’t I?”, she said, returning his gaze with awareness and defiance at the same time. “I want to understand what happened to Seven. She must have undergone a very thorough restoration of her human body.”

“Evidently.”

“About her psyche, I can only wildly speculate”, Teresa added despairingly. She took a deep breath and pulled the PADD closer again. After a minute or so, she continued: “What we saw in cargo bay 2 are so-called regeneration alcoves, which supply the drones with energy to maintain their biological functions. So, cargo bay 2 is where Seven goes to ‘sleep’”, she realised.

“Fascinating. Why is there more than one alcove, though?”

“I don’t know. We would have to ask how Seven and the alcoves came to be on the ship in the first place.”

“Indeed.”

“Having no regard for individuality, Borg drones are identified with designations rather than names. A drone's designation typically describes its position within a group, e.g. ‘Third of Five’. I was right about her name being a registration number”, Teresa went on. “The Federation finally properly found out about the Borg in 2365”, she summarized the following passages, nibbling on her fork. “They were encountered by a Starfleet vessel by the name of… USS Enterprise.”

He lifted his eyebrows, surprised.

“Not ours, though”, she clarified. “NCC 1701… D. ‘Galaxy’ class. Captain Jean-Luc Picard.”

“How reassuring that ours and the successive Enterprise-A we will serve on will not be the last vessels named ‘Enterprise’.”

“They encountered a Borg cube (the Borg version of a starship, that is) in system J-25, after having been taken there by an alien entity named… ‘Q’. What on earth is a Q?”

“I am sure I will find out in the immediate future”, Spock remarked. Teresa was so engrossed in her research, though, that she even missed the faint sarcasm in his voice.

“A member of the Q Continuum, a race of powerful, god-like beings”, she read with increasing disbelief.

“Like Apollo?”, he inquired, frowning and remembering the powerful alien the Enterprise had encountered on Pollux IV.

“No… virtually ‘omnipotent’. What? How is that even possible?”

Spock, aware of the fact that this question had not been directed at him, remained silent.

“Anyway, back to the Borg”, she murmured. “In 2367, they attempted an invasion of Federation space”, she read out, now thoroughly horrified, “with one cube destroying all but one of a fleet of 40 ships sent to intercept it, in the battle of Wolf 359. The cube was destroyed by the Enterprise-D, shortly before it could attack Earth. That was only seven years ago.”

“How did they achieve it?”, Spock wondered.

“The Borg had previously abducted and assimilated Captain Picard, whose tactical information contributed to the Borg's vastly superior power. The Enterprise-D recovered Picard and used his connection to the hive mind to disable the cube before it could attack Earth.”

“That must have been a remarkable operation.” Teresa noticed that although Spock was not unaffected by the horrors she was recounting, he managed to keep a far greater emotional distance from them than she did, instead directing his attention immediately to the strategic aspects of the conflict.

“Yes”, she made, extremely shaken and suddenly exhausted, and put the PADD away. “I will not look up the Dominion.”

“A sensible decision.”

She sensed his own burning curiosity, though, and gave him something between a grin and a very sad smile. “After these discoveries, I think I prefer our own century. Klingons and Romulans, though undeniably dangerous and formidable, are minor threats in comparison to a power that wipes out entire civilizations and turns individuals into drones with no independent will.”

After dinner, Spock went to his quarters to meditate, but he told her that he could further meditate with her later, if she so wished. Teresa, in his absence, felt this was the best time to dance. She therefore asked the computer for several songs (mostly Latin American) and merrily danced, hopped and jumped around her room to exhaust the shock of her discoveries about the Borg and to cheer herself up, but spent most of her effort on actually dancing well. The ninth song she chose was La colegiala, one of her favourite cumbia songs. Mostly, however, she did not dance cumbia, but simply what came into her head, and she was letting her feet and hips move to the rhythm and was spinning around on the spot when her door beeped.

“Enter!”, she called, stopping in mid-movement and catching her breath.

It was Spock. His took the scene in with one glance, his eyes wandering over her mid-dance posture, her accelerated breathing and sparkling eyes, while the music was still playing in the background. “You were dancing.”

“Yes”, she panted.

He stepped into the room, the doors closing behind him, and looked politely sorry about the interruption. “By all means, carry on.”

She made a slightly flustered noise, something between a gasp and a chuckle. After a moment of hesitation and a jittery glance at him, however, she slowly started moving again, growing more confident by the second. For a moment, he simply stood there, observing her, then he walked over to the sofa and leisurely took a seat, all the while watching her with measured and friendly interest. She threw him a few further shy glances, but then she simply went back to dancing exactly the same way as before, or maybe not exactly as before. More conscious of her movements, she could not help but dance more attractively. His gaze grew cognizant of that fact, but there was no trace now of that tension and frustration he had exhibited the last and only other time she had danced like this before him. He looked mostly intrigued and… mildly appreciative.

When the song was over, she ceased her dancing and said: “Computer, end music.” Then she simply stood there, looking at him.

Spock was quiet for a moment, then he placidly remarked, his eyes glittering: “Very… captivating.”

He had stolen this adjective straight from Captain Kirk, Teresa thought and grinned. “Thank you.”

“I am only sorry that I am not inclined to… dance with you”, he continued apologetically. His request to her to teach him dancing, although certainly also motivated by genuine curiosity and a desire to understand the appeal it held for her, had mainly been an experiment with being close to her.

“That’s alright”, she made, advancing a few steps towards him. “I understand. It’s not exactly your thing.”

“No. But I know you would welcome it.”

She smiled and settled down on the sofa, next to him. “There are many things I would welcome. That doesn’t mean that I expect them or that I am disappointed if they don’t become a reality.”

“I have no objection to watching you dance”, he informed her with dignified innocence, but she saw through his pretence of nonchalance. She felt through it.

Smiling a little more mischievously now, she leisurely took his hand and ran her fingers over it. “That’s good. Because I like being watched, most of all by you.”

“So I gathered”, he replied gently, with slightly elevated eyebrows, returning the caresses of her hand. There was a trace of amusement in his eyes now, to which she answered with a smirk.

She led his hand to her mouth and kissed it, taking a deep breath, brushed her lips over his fingers and pressed his hand against her cheek, closing her eyes. “I love the smell of your skin.”

He managed to frown and lift his eyebrows at the same time. “That is… fortunate.”

Chuckling softly, she remarked: “It must be your pheromones. But obviously, that’s not all; no, not at all…”

“Hm”, he made. “That would certainly partially explain this… inordinate attraction you are experiencing.”

“… that I am experiencing?”, she grinned.

“… we both are”, he gave in. Old habits of downplaying his emotions died hard.

He watched her with an intrigued frown and controlled titillation while her lips continued to wander over his hand, along his arm and back, pressing soft kisses onto his skin. For a moment, he simply sat there with half-closed eyes and slightly parted lips, feeling her touch. When she started nibbling on the skin of his knuckles, however, he remarked: “Humans seem to engage in peculiar intimate practices.”

She chuckled even more heartily. “Sometimes sexual desire also has a certain note of a desire to… devour the desired person as well.”

“‘Devour’?!”

Sniggering, she explained: “Metaphorically speaking. After all, one also speaks of ‘consummation’. Absorbing the other person. Joining. Don’t worry, I won’t eat you. I still need you to be around. It’s just something to do with an anthropological text I once read.”

He sighed. Dealing with her humour was still a challenge for him. “That is reassuring.” And he took her hand and kissed it.

Her door beeped. They let go of each other and Teresa called: “Enter!”

The opening doors revealed Captain Janeway, who looked like she was hiding something behind her back.

“Kathryn!”, Teresa exclaimed quietly and delightedly.

“I hope I am not intruding”, the Captain smiled.

“Not at all”, Teresa assured her.

Janeway took a few steps into the room but had the distinct air of someone who was not intent on staying long. “Commander, I have something for you.” And she retrieved her hands from behind her back, presenting a Vulcan lyre.

Spock got up and approached her, astonished. Teresa followed him, her eyes widening in amazement and delight.

“Captain!”, Spock made, carefully taking the instrument into his hands. “Thank you!”, he said candidly, but gave her a questioning look. “Does this belong to a member of your crew?”

“No”, Captain Janeway smiled, satisfied by his genuine appreciation. “I replicated it.”

Spock exchanged a look with Teresa and then directed his attention back at Janeway, remarking: “So, we surmised correctly that your replication technology far exceeds food.”

“That’s right.”

He nodded. “Sincerely: I thank you.”

She smiled once more. “Now the two of you can entertain us together some time soon.”

Spock nodded again.

“I hope this didn’t use up too much energy?”, Teresa asked with concern.

“Oh, no”, the Captain made. “We simply each sacrificed a replicator ration and will enjoy one portion more of Neelix’s food in the coming days.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”, Teresa inquired.

“Oh, me, Chakotay, Tuvok, Tom, B’Elanna, Harry, Neelix, Ensign and Naomi Wildman, Lieutenant T’Lara, Lieutenant Haron, Ensign Onagawa… there were many more volunteers, but we didn’t need so many rations. You have made a lot of friends here already.” Janeway smiled one of her warm smiles, that Teresa could do nothing but return, feeling very grateful. At the mention of T’Lara, she exchanged a glance with Spock, as they had not thought very much about their granddaughter that day, and she knew that he shared her intention to seek her out again very soon.

“In that, we are most fortunate”, Spock commented in reply to Captain Janeway’s words. “We will thank them at the next opportunity.”

“I think they will all agree that it feels like you both have become a regular part of our crew; soon, we will not be able to imagine life on Voyager without you anymore”, Janeway continued.

Teresa suddenly felt a small lump in her throat. She cleared her throat and replied just as warmly: “That means a lot, Kathryn. Thank you so much.”

They smiled at each other for a few silent seconds, then Janeway broke into a faint grin. “Alright, enough of that. Let’s not overtax the Commander with so much sentimentality.”

Spock looked at her with a kind and most dignified Vulcan expression and told her with his usual calm: “I assure you, Captain, it takes a great deal more than that to overtax me.”

“Of that I have no doubt”, Janeway replied, her grin widening. “Very well, good night.”

When the Captain had left, Spock took a seat on the sofa, carefully playing a few melodies on the lyre to assess its quality, while Teresa sat down beside him and listened. “Impressive”, he murmured after a minute, contemplating it. “It is a perfectly good instrument. Naturally, it lacks the quality of a hand-made piece by a Vulcan master, but that is immaterial, especially under the circumstances.”

“Well, as their replicators can produce such delicious food, too”, Teresa smiled, regarding him and the lyre with glowing eyes, “I’m not surprised.”

Spock sensed how much joy it gave her to see and hear him play, and affectionately returned her gaze. “I'kushizhau etek salan?”, he suggested, his eyebrows finely lifted.

She broke into a delighted smile. “Do you even have to ask?”

He nodded briefly in response and began playing. After a moment, Teresa joined in, letting her voice ring sweetly and clearly, ascending the scale and descending again, while she closed her eyes, attentively following the melody played by the lyre. Spock took turns looking up at her and down at the lyre, unable to not be affected by the beauty of the music they were producing together and by the quality of her voice and expression.

When the song was over, she slowly opened her eyes to look at him. He was observing her wordlessly, with parted lips and a guarded expression behind which intense emotion was smouldering; emotion he was trying to contain to a manageable level. She saw it in his eyes and felt it emanating from his body.

Cautiously, she pulled the lyre out of his hands and laid it aside, onto the table. Afterwards, she even more cautiously took his left hand with both of hers and held it in a soft, firm grip, contemplating him with loving tranquillity, smiling her faintest smile. He looked back, the glow in his eyes slowly diminishing.

When he had caught himself, he took a deep, confident breath and moved closer, taking a strand of her hair, caressing her cheek. Their eyes met again and they leant their heads forward at the same time, their lips meeting with gentle firmness while they grasped each other’s faces with both hands. There was desire in their kiss, but they contained most of it, keeping their touch gentle for the most part.

Spock retreated for a moment, his eyes shimmering darkly, his eyelids heavy, and ran a finger over her lips. He had not quite managed to pull himself back together after all, because he felt somewhat out of his depth, not able to utter a single word, only staring at her silently. Teresa did not need him to explain himself, however, anyway. She looked at him tenderly, running her finger along the yellowish skin under his eye, down his cheek and along his jaw. He hesitantly got closer again, his mouth hovering on hers, their lips barely touching. After a few seconds, he haltingly resumed their kiss, still somewhat breathlessly. Teresa went along longingly but did not add any intensity of her own.

When he had retreated a few centimetres yet again, she whispered: “I would like to meditate with you a little bit”, convinced that it would very much benefit him, too.

He nodded but did not get up immediately. His lips found hers yet again, carrying on with his halting and increasingly unhurried and delicate exploration. Finally, he sighed, pressed his lips together and inhaled deeply, more collected now, but still mute.

Poor Vulcan, she thought to herself. He was still not used to so much emotion.

Their last mind meld had now been too long ago for him to perceive this hushed thought of hers.

They sat down onto the floor, in a cross-legged position and facing each other, without the table between them this time. Instead, their knees almost touched. Teresa, instead of letting her hands rest somewhere on her legs, took his hands once again, straightening up and smiling contentedly. He nodded and then closed his eyes, while she did the same.

Some 20 minutes passed, during which Teresa, applying the mental techniques she had learned from Spock and on Vulcan, felt herself gradually processing what she had learned about the future that day and assuming a more distanced, though still genuinely preoccupied, attitude towards it. Faintly, she also registered that Spock was re-establishing his inner peace, and it felt as though the tranquillity they were both cultivating was flowing back and forth like a steady current between them through their grasped hands.

When she finally opened her eyes again, she found him looking at her with a collected, mildly tender, appreciative and most of all mesmerized and studious gaze. She looked back with tenderness, once again not quite able to believe that their relationship had advanced to such a marvellous level, that her desperate longing to be with him and to be this close to him, which she had for so long considered to be utterly in vain, had actually been fulfilled.

For a short moment, Spock put his hand onto the side of her face, allowing them to experience each other’s overflowing affection mingled with their shared feeling of peace and contentment. He sighed quietly.

That night, they slept in her bed. When Teresa, her head on his shoulder, had already almost slipped away into a slumber, a thought suddenly occurred to her and she opened her eyes again, drawing a slightly apprehensive inhale.

“What is it?”, he murmured.

“My file!” She had forgotten about it for a while.

“Do you wish to see it?”

There was a pause, during which his fingers gently combed through her hair.

“At least not now”, she finally said. “I have learned enough about the future for one day.”

Chapter Text

When Spock woke up, Teresa’s head was still – or probably again – lying on his shoulder. Her eyes were open, and she was silently staring into space, very much lost in thought. It was not difficult for him to hypothesize what was occupying her mind.

“Thinking about your file?”, he asked.

She turned her head a little to look at him, broke into a loving smile and then nodded and looked back into space. “Two days ago”, she said softly, “I was so certain that I want to see it, but now… now that I am actually allowed to if I want to, I’m not so sure anymore. Of course I’m still incredibly curious, but I know how strange it is for you to know the whole – almost the whole – course of your life now. It is extremely reassuring… and gratifying… but… strange.”

“That it is”, he confirmed, running his fingers through her hair again.

“And of course I can’t help but wonder about what you are concerned about, that somehow, things might not go according to plan. Even if the chances of that happening are really quite small, I can’t help wondering… would I want to always already know what will happen? That might spare me a lot of anxiety, but at the same time it would be… boring.”

“‘Boring’?”, he repeated, lifting his eyebrows.

She grinned and turned to look at him again. As a Vulcan, he could not relate to the concept of boredom, at least not the kind of boredom she was speaking of at this moment, in the sense of a lack of thrill and suspense. To him, boredom was at best a lack of intellectual stimulation over an extended period of time.

“Yes”, she whispered, her eyes sparkling faintly, “a little boring.” Turning her head to stare back into space once again, she relativized: “But I probably wouldn’t mind that much. But you were right when you said that nobody should know the course of one’s whole life beforehand. But – yes, another ‘but’ – you also said that it would only be fair for us to also know the contents of my file, if we already know those of yours. You were right in that, too. And actually”, she continued more firmly and animatedly now, straightening up slightly, supporting herself on her elbows now and looking at him, “it would be an uncomfortable disequilibrium between us if we were in certainty about your life, but in uncertainty about mine.”

“That is certainly a valid point”, he made, looking quite convinced.

“Yes, it is”, she replied, suddenly appearing resolved. “Very well.” She pressed a quick kiss onto his cheek and jumped up from the bed.

“Now?”, he asked, a little startled by her sudden liveliness.

“Yes”, she responded, striding over towards the computer screen. “Before I lose my courage.”

“Hm”, he made. “Logical.” And he got up, too, and followed her.

“Computer”, she said, while Spock assumed a standing position behind her, gazing at the screen just as expectantly as she was, “display Starfleet personnel file of Dr. Teresa Juárez, serial number SB 473-2911 TJ.” Pronouncing the “Dr.” in front of her name still felt most unfamiliar.

Two seconds later, her wish was fulfilled. They both stared at the screen, transfixed and increasingly pleased.

Starfleet Personnel File: Dr. Teresa Juárez (SB 473-2911 TJ) (Selected Extracts)

Rank: lieutenant commander

Species: Human

Access biometric identification            

Born: stardate 32922.1 (May 2^nd, 2239) in Loma de Arena (Colombia), Earth

Died: stardate 44187.4 (October 14^th, 2343) in Cartagena (Colombia), Earth

Starfleet service record

Attended Starfleet Academy: stardate 35814.5 – 36324.5 (2258 – 2262)

Served on USS Potemkin (NCC-1657): stardate 36315.5 – 36502.5 (2263 – 2265) (access reports)

            As cadet: stardate 36315.5 – 36411.5 (2263 – 2264) (access reports)

           Promoted to ensign and assumed position of junior member of exobiology department on stardate 36411.5 (2264) (access report)

           Promoted to lieutenant junior grade on stardate 36495.7 (2264) (access report)

Served on USS Enterprise (NCC-1701): stardate 36504.5 – 37021.5 (2265 – 2270) (access reports)

            Assumed position of head of exobiology department and promoted to lieutenant on stardate 36621.4 (2266) (access report)

            Promoted to lieutenant commander on stardate 37004.5 (2270) (access report)

                                                                         37152.5 – 37725.5 (2271 – 2277) (access reports)

Awarded a doctorate from Starfleet Academy on stardate 37602.6 (2276) (access report and abstract of doctoral thesis)

On extended maternity leave: stardate 37725.5 – 38224.5 (2277 – 2282)

Lecturer of exobiology at Starfleet Academy: stardate 38224.5 – 38693.5 (2282 – 2286)

Served on USS Enterprise (NCC-1701-A) as head of exobiology department: stardate 38721.5 – 39324.5 (2287 – 2293) (access reports)

Served on USS Sha-hor Tel (NCC 2037) as head of exobiology department: stardate 39307.5 – 39697.5 (2293 – 2296) (access reports)

Head of the outpost of the Adichie Institute of Exobiology on Deep Space 1: stardate 39701.5 – 39794.5 (2297)

Guest lecturer of exobiology at the Vulcan Science Academy: stardate 39845.5 – 41098.5 (2298 – 2301)

Head of the Adichie Institute of Exobiology in Lagos (Nigeria), Earth: stardate 40293.5 – 41007.5 (2302 – 2312)

Commendations

Starfleet Award of Valour for actions during the esper battle of 2270 (access reports)

Preantares Ribbon of Commendation for participation in the 20th century humpback whale time travel mission of 2286 (access reports)

Palm Leaf of Khitomer Peace Mission for role in the preparation of the Khitomer accords and thwarting of the Khitomer conspiracy of 2293 (access reports)

Additional information

Fluent in the following languages: English, Spanish, Mandarin Chinese, Hindi, Arabic, Russian, Portuguese, French, Quechua, Yoruba, Standard Vulcan, Andorii, Klingon, Tellarite, Low and High Rihan (Romulan), Standard Betazoid

Awarded honorary title of Companion to Federation Ambassador on Stardate 41764.5 (2308)

Accompanied and advised Federation Ambassador Spock on

        select missions: stardate 41783.5 – 42006.5 (2308 – 2312) (access reports)

        all missions: stardate 42064.5 – 44107.5 (2312 – 2332) (access reports)

Personal information

Parents: Soledad Juárez Aguero

              Daniel Anderson

Siblings: Alejandra Juárez Quevedo

              Ricardo Juárez

Spouse: Cpt. S’Chn T’Gai Spock (married on stardate 36936.3 (May 27th, 2269))

Children: Elise Juárez T’Gai (born on stardate 37362.1 (2277))

               Soval Juárez T’Gai (born on stardate 37362.2 (2277))

               James Juárez T’Gai (born on stardate 37649.2 (2279))

Grandchildren: Elaine Juárez T’Gai

                        Federico Juárez T’Gai

                        Mariana Juárez T’Gai

                        Ltd. T’Lara Juárez T’Gai

Attended Manuela Sáenz Primary School in Loma de Arena (Colombia), Earth: stardate 32318.5 – 32517.5 (2245 – 2248)

Attended West Oxford Community Primary School in Oxford (England), Earth: stardate 32542.5 – 32614.5 (2248 – 2251)

Attended Magdalen College School in Oxford (England), Earth: stardate 32633.5 – 32661.5 (2251 – 2253)

Attended Hoshi Sato High School in Cartagena (Colombia), Earth: stardate 32663.5 – 32680.5 (2253 – 2256)

Participated in the Mei Hua Program for the Conservation of Rare Species in Chengdu (Sichuan), earth: stardate 32682.5 – 32699.5 (2256 – 2257)

Participated in the Jeral Na-Del Program for the Conservation of Rare Species in P’Mor (Raal Province), Vulcan: stardate 32708.5 – 32737.5 (2257)

Spock placed his hands on her shoulders. “I assume this meets with your approval”, he said gently, and Teresa detected a trace of pride in his voice. “I have a highly accomplished wife…”

“Yes, it does”, she breathed, distinctly awed, and absent-mindedly put her right hand on the hand of his that was resting on her left shoulder. “The Adichie Institute…” She took a deep breath, re-reading her service record with a delighted smile. “And we were mostly in the same location all these years, even when you were Captain of the Enterprise… except for that year on Deep Space 1… Whyever did I go there?”

“It seems likely that you simply could not resist the temptation”, he suggested. “After all, it was purportedly a solid basis for your ensuing post as head of the entire institute.”

She nodded, still somewhat dazed, but exceedingly gratified and happy. “And the children… the children were probably with us at Starfleet Academy, on the Enterprise-A and on the Sha-hor Tel, as T’Lara has indicated. Only… what were you doing when I was on Vulcan?”

“I was probably there with you.”

“Doing what?”

Maybe T’Lara can clarify that”, he said.

She nodded once more. A moment passed in silence, while they skimmed through the file again.

“All these reports we have access to… an abstract of my doctoral thesis… was that one of the papers Ensign Onagawa was talking about?” She bit her lip.

“Do you wish to read these, too?”, he inquired in as neutral a voice as possible, but she sensed that he did not consider that a good idea, and she agreed.

“No”, she said with determination, after only the shortest moment of vacillation caused by her immense curiosity, “I want them to be the genuine product of my own work, not the result of a temporal paradox.”

Spock pressed her shoulders to express his approval. She let out a deep sigh of relief and delight and turned around to look at him. “I am very much looking forward to this life.”

He returned her tender gaze. “As am I”, he replied with the fullest conviction, his fingers seeking her hand. After a moment of caresses, they intertwined their hands and exchanged a contented and heartfelt kiss. Spock’s cautious and halting manner of the evening before had evaporated. He readily pulled her close.

Soon after, they made their way to the kitchen as usual.

“Good morning, Neelix! How was your free day yesterday?”, Teresa inquired with her habitual friendliness and gaiety.

“Good morning, Teresa, Spock”, Neelix beamed. “It was very nice. I got up late, had a look at that interesting Terran novel Spock had mentioned – what was its name? Ah, yes, One hundred years of solitude – …”

“García Márquez is getting surprisingly popular around here”, Teresa laughed. Spock cleared his throat.

“Oh, yes, it’s fascinating”, Neelix answered. “Talaxian literature has some similar stories. Have you finished it, Spock?”

“No”, Spock replied. “… I have not had the opportunity.”

“I suppose you were reading it because of Teresa”, Neelix commented, unabashedly calling a spade a spade. “As she’s from the same region of Earth.”

Spock cleared his throat once again and answered with a dignified demeanour: “That is correct.”

“That’s very sweet of you”, Neelix swooned.

Spock lifted his eyebrows; being called ‘sweet’ was not exactly something he was accustomed to. Teresa grinned and resisted the inclination to vocally agree with Neelix. Spock knew that she did, anyway.

“And what else did you do?”, she directed the conversation back onto less awkward territory.

“I spent the rest of the day with Naomi and Samantha. Naomi and I went to the holodeck and ran of her favourite children’s programs, ‘The adventures of Flotter’. And she told me all about how you had taught her the Vulcan nerve pinch in the morning. I’m very proud of her. She also told me how you took out Spock without any difficulties.” He grinned.

Spock, unfazed by the taunt, remarked: “Indeed. It is reassuring that she now knows yet another way of defending herself and others.”

Teresa, amused as so often at the way these two very different personalities interacted, smiled. “Oh, and we’ve seen my own file as well, now”, she informed Neelix. “As the Captain has allowed it.”

“Yes, she told me about the new policy concerning the two of you. I’m not to offer any 24th century information to you on my own initiative, but I’m allowed to answer any questions you might ask”, Neelix nodded. “So, you’ve seen your file, huh? Dr. Juárez? Lieutenant Commander?” He winked.

“Don’t you dare call me these things”, she replied, laughing. “I haven’t earned these titles yet.”

“You must be very pleased.”

“I am. It’s a great file”, she confirmed. Spock looked at her sideways, again with that gratified expression.

“I must also express my gratitude towards you and your fellow crew members for your gift of the Vulcan lyre”, he then told Neelix.

“Aww, you’re welcome”, Neelix beamed once again, patting him on the shoulder. “I thought it was an excellent idea when the Captain proposed it. I hope you like the instrument.”

“I do.”

They proceeded to their breakfast preparations, but Neelix added: “By the way, I understand if, now that you’re allowed to explore this century, you prefer spending your time on other tasks, instead of helping in the kitchen. After all, I’ve been mostly doing it on my own for the last three and a half years and it’s been very kind of you to help me at all.”

Spock and Teresa exchanged a deliberative glance. “We have not made any decisions in this respect yet”, Spock answered after a moment of silence.

“I see”, Neelix made, while he heaved the breakfast plates out of a cupboard. “Well, I know for a fact that both Samantha and Ensign Onagawa would love to have you on their exobiology team for a while, Teresa.”

Spock noticed that Teresa, who was filling tea leaves into a giant tea pot, began to fidget. The reason for that seemed obvious to him. He raised his eyebrows, giving her a cognizant glance.

She glanced back, undecided, tempted and eager, slightly defiant and trying very much to look at the issue in a sober and logical light. “I suppose they’ve conducted a lot of research about life forms in the Delta Quadrant”, she asked Neelix in a calm and collected voice.

“Oh yes, a lot”, Neelix confirmed, lighting a fire under the porridge pot.

Teresa took a deep breath, with Spock, who had interrupted his cucumber cutting, still watching her. “In our century, we will never have any contact with the Delta Quadrant, anyway”, she mused in a low voice, addressing only him now.

“Indeed. However, the knowledge you would have gathered here might still influence your research in the Alpha Quadrant”, he replied serenely, in an equally low voice.

“Oh, dammit”, she quietly made, dissatisfied.

Spock lifted his eyebrows. He had barely ever heard her swear.

Teresa took yet another, even deeper breath, regretting her outburst. “And what if it was meant to be that way?”, she then speculated, bringing up that possibility again. “What if that is, in fact, what happened?”

Spock had no immediate answer to that and just looked at her with poise, aware of the fact that such a possibility could of course not be discounted. Then, however, he said: “We had agreed – “

“ – that it’s better to learn as little as possible”, she finished his sentence, nodding patiently. “But that ship has already left spacedock.” She was mostly referring to their knowledge about the Borg.

“With you as its captain”, he could not help but astutely remind her. Teresa knew what he was thinking: she was letting her emotions influence her logic, and he disapproved. It was true that he, too, was experiencing intense curiosity, but he was much better at keeping it in check. After all, only because they had learned one thing they had not been supposed to know, this did not mean that they needed to learn any more.

She sighed. Blasted know-it-all, she thought to herself, annoyed by the fact that he was right.

His eyebrows had now wandered especially high up his forehead and he looked at her sideways.

Her heart sank. Oh no. You heard that, didn’t you?

He nodded.

I didn’t mean for you to hear it. “Well, I didn’t say it out loud”, she murmured. And she never would. And she had not really meant it. In the past, she had often secretly cursed him for voicing disagreeable truths, but what counted was that she had always taken his side whenever her rational mind had agreed with him.

“No”, he confirmed. She had not said it out loud. What counted was that her actions were not influenced by such emotional impulses, but by reason and civility. After a short moment of hesitation and making sure that Neelix had his back turned to them, he cautiously edged his hand closer to hers and touched her little finger with his, just as she had done two days ago.

She drew a touched inhale and wrapped her finger around his. All of a sudden, she wanted to be far away from the kitchen, far away from anyone, to be able to make contact with much more than this tiny part of him. He had turned into a powerful magnet yet again.

This instantaneous change in her mood did not escape his attention, either. He gently drew his fingers away from under hers and placed his whole hand onto hers, pressing it. She turned her head to look at his face, her eyes wandering all over it. He looked back, his eyes glimmering, his breath a little less calm than it had been only seconds before.

They jumped and quickly drew their hands away when Neelix turned around and approached their spot to fetch a large spoon from the assortment next to Spock.

The rest of their culinary preparations passed in professional concentration. They did not discuss the topic any further, though Teresa remained torn between Spock’s justified concerns and her own intense eagerness to explore the research conducted by Voyager’s exobiology team. Once again, she asked herself how small the risk of something not going to plan should be for them to give up their caution. There was no higher power to answer this question for them, now that the Captain had given them the green light. It was left to their own discretion. In addition to this frustrating indecision, Spock and her also constantly found themselves in awkward moments, reaching for the same utensil at the same time, almost colliding on their way from one corner of the kitchen to the next or eyes meeting for an electrifying second before they quickly looked away, trying to contain their fluster and their desire to be alone.

After handing out a few meals to the first crew members to arrive, they decided to sit down for breakfast themselves. On seeing Tuvok sitting alone at a table in the corner, they looked at each other and nodded. There was no company more sobering than a Vulcan’s. Teresa waved at B’Elanna, who was quickly gobbling up her own breakfast at a table on the other side of the room.

Tuvok had no objection to them joining him. On the contrary, there was something he had decided to mention to them.

“I have been informed of the fact that you are now both aware of the contents of Commander Spock’s file”, he began.

“Both our files, actually”, Teresa added.

“I see”, Tuvok made, not displaying any surprise. “Then I can speak even more freely. The Captain has also informed me of your concerns, Commander, that the memory erasure might not quite go according to plan, which is a logical contingency to consider, however unlikely. In the light of the knowledge that you now possess about future events in your lives, I believe I should tell you that we have met.”

“Really?”, Teresa made, astonished and delighted, her hand with her cup of tea hovering in front of her mouth.

“Only very briefly, but should you indeed retain your memories, you would in all likelihood recognize me. I believe it is better for you to be prepared for this moment, so that it does not come as a surprise.”

“Where did you meet us?”, Spock inquired.

“At the Khitomer conference. I was an ensign then, serving on the USS Excelsior under Captain Sulu.”

“Captain Sulu?”, Teresa repeated, even more delighted now. She exchanged a pleasantly surprised look with Spock, but only a short one, because his eyes were too big a distraction. Spock quietly cleared his throat.

Tuvok nodded. “Apparently, I should not have mentioned this detail. Have you not read the reports on the Khitomer conference linked to your files?”

“No”, Spock answered. “Only both our service records. The main files.”

“Then I was under the wrong impression”, Tuvok made. “I apologize.”

“No matter”, Teresa assured him. “I’m looking forward to meeting you, Tuvok”, she then smiled warmly. “Even though I will probably have forgotten having met you before.”

Tuvok, although not inclined to return such emotional niceties, replied: “Thank you. It was certainly an honour to meet both of you.”

Teresa’s warm smile only got wider.

“Did we speak?”, Spock inquired, taking a sip from his Vulcan spice tea.

“I congratulated you on the success of your efforts and praised you, Commander, for your visionary initiative and decisive role”, Tuvok replied, venturing his spoon into his bowl of plomeek soup. “That is all. I had not been in favour of your recommendation to form an alliance before, but the successful completion of the peace talks made me re-evaluate my position.”

“I gather the peace has been enduring, then?”, Spock inquired.

Teresa gave him a polite, but pointed and amused look, her eyebrows slightly elevated. Who was asking the questions about history now? He inhaled and slightly pressed his lips together, first returning her gaze and then looking at his breakfast.

Tuvok had observed their little exchange with an expressionless face. “Yes, it has.”

“That’s wonderful”, Teresa beamed, genuinely gladdened to hear that. “In our time, the Klingons are a constant threat. Peaceful relations with them seem quite impossible.” The reasons for your fame are becoming even more apparent now, she thought, feeling a rush of intense pride and fresh affection. It seems that without you, this momentous geopolitical change would not have happened when it did, maybe never.

Spock interrupted the journey of his own spoon up from his breakfast bowl and he furtively looked at her, more rattled than ever before on that morning. He took another slow and mindful inhale, lowered his gaze again and then looked at Tuvok with as much equanimity as he could possibly muster. Tuvok looked back, not exhibiting any reaction, simply observing.

They spent the rest of breakfast conversing about the Federation-Klingon war of 2256/2257 and the Enterprise’s encounters with the Klingons, with Tuvok making several astute remarks. Afterwards, they made their way to the airponics bay as usual. In the turbolift, there was no opportunity to speak confidentially because they were joined there by a Bajoran ensign.

Once the airponics bay doors had closed behind them, they remained motionless for a few seconds, staring at each other somewhat nervously. Spock gulped. “I’ll plant the new lettuce seedlings”, he then announced, straightening up to an even more upright and disciplined posture.

“Go right ahead”, she said, her lips twitching.

He nodded curtly and they went to their respective tasks. For a few minutes, they worked wordlessly, with Teresa humming as usual and Spock shooting her furtive glances. Each faintly registered how the other’s thoughts were constantly distracted from their work by the strong desire to just drop everything and…

“This is unacceptable”, he suddenly muttered, gritting his teeth.

Teresa looked up from the edible cactuses, feeling something between amusement and sympathy. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I have always been an impeccably disciplined officer”, he complained, staring at the seedlings he had just planted. “Emotions, the rare times I have experienced them, have never distracted me from the task at hand. That is”, he relativized, “whenever I was in command of all my faculties. The only exceptions were caused by outside influence.”

Both their thoughts could not help but turn to the memory of the most prominent example of such ‘outside influence’ for a short moment: that time three years ago when the whole crew had been infected with the mysterious contagious agent from the planet Psi 2000 that had deprived everyone of various inhibitions and had stripped Spock of all emotional control, turning him into a sobbing wreck Teresa had encountered all on his own in the briefing room. Spock slightly pressed his lips together: this was still not an occasion he liked to remember.

“Spock”, Teresa repeated, picking up the thread of the conversation again and smiling faintly. “You’ll get used to it. I have been working like this for years, having to focus although you were close.” Her smile turned into a smirk.

He took a deep breath, realization dawning on him, and looked at her, somewhat impressed. “And you have excelled”, he said slowly.

“As you have and will continue to do.” She came closer and sat down on the floor next to him, while he took another deep breath, gazing at her, his eyes wandering over her hair and shoulders and then darting back to her face. “This is all very new to you”, she continued, still sympathetic. “You have a lot to get used to, in a short amount of time.”

He nodded, looking almost a little sheepish, his eyes flickering.

“You know, at the beginning of our five-year-mission, I was extremely flustered and jumpy whenever you were close, or even just in the same room”, Teresa told him, grinning, and ran her index finger up and down his uniformed arm.

“Tawat khenar. The nervosity experienced in the presence of the desired, but yet unattained individual”, he murmured, following the movements of her finger with his eyes. “I was not aware at the time that you were suffering from it.” Like any well-trained Vulcan, he was perfectly able to name all the stereotypical emotional behaviours.

“Oh, you had far too much of that Vulcan detachment and indifference to notice. And I managed to hide most of it. My point is, with time, I got better at holding myself together in your presence.” With a wry smile, she added: "... with some initial help of a mild tranquillizer Nurse Chapel administered."

Spock lightly lifted an eyebrow at the mention of the tranquillizer, but he confirmed: “That you did.” Enough for them to become close friends and him never knowing that she was in love with him.

“And we’ve only been together for three days”, she continued. “It’s very… normal to… want to be close all the time, most of all in the beginning. For humans, that is. How do you call this type of emotional behaviour?” Her grin intensified and her finger ran all the way up to his shoulder and along the neckline of his uniform.

“Bo’qal lur. It does appear that I am exhibiting a great deal of human behavioural traits at the moment, or more precisely, the human inability to dissolve the emotions that cause them”, he nodded, straightening up slightly and trying to be more collected. “It is… difficult to navigate this terrain.”

“I know that you have much less experience than me at dealing with emotions you can’t suppress”, she said kindly.

He nodded once again, his jaw tight, frowned and declared sternly: “It cannot be allowed to affect my performance.”

“Be kinder to yourself”, she said gently. “We all stumble a few times before we hit our stride. And is this not the perfect place to practice? Your responsibilities are not even remotely as great as on the Enterprise, the schedule is loose… Who cares if we finish work here ten minutes later than we could have? And I am sure that when the time comes again when you really have to focus, you will be able to. Commander.” She spoke that last word with a certain measure of flirtation in her voice. “And maybe try to learn to see me not as a distraction, but as something that motivates you, that… gives you strength? Because that’s what love can do. That’s what the thought of you has been giving me.” Her eyes glimmered warmly.

Spock was silent for a moment, still observing the journeys her hand was undertaking on his arm and shoulder. Then he said slowly: “I believe I am beginning to understand. Instead of suppressing your emotions in order to function, you have learned to coexist with them and to use them to your advantage.” He watched her, intrigued. “It will take me a lot of time and further mind melds to fully grasp it, let alone implement it myself.”

She smiled. He reached for her hand, which had once again arrived at his neck, and softly grasped her index and middle fingers with the same fingers of his hand.

Teresa gulped. “Not that this is very easy for me, either”, she whispered, her breath and heartrate accelerating. “Right now, I am finding it quite difficult to master my own bo’qal lur, you know…”

“As I can sense”, he made, slowly drawing closer. Then, he remembered how they had been caught by Naomi the day before and retreated, taking a deep breath.

Her lips twitched, although she equally had to take a deep breath to steady herself. “You know”, she remarked instead of succumbing to her impulses, “for a people so adverse towards emotions, you Vulcans are very adept at categorizing and naming them.”

“As you know, that is exactly because it helps us to subsequently deconstruct them”, he replied, his eyes still wandering over her face.

“Nevertheless”, she insisted, “there is a certain irony in that.” Still loosely holding his index and middle fingers in hers, she investigated this subject further. “And there are many different terms for different types of love, as I am only finding out now.” These terms had never been on any vocabulary lists she had learned or in any of the texts she had read or conversations she had overheard. “You called what you felt for me ‘shon-par’hel’ – …”

“It is the term for… profound, enduring romantic love”, he murmured, almost a little shyly. “A powerful attraction that is both spiritual and physical. It is the most difficult one to master of all… as I have learned for myself, because I have failed so miserably.”

“I see”, she whispered, the pull she was feeling towards him reaching an almost overwhelming level again. This also perfectly described her emotions for him, as he very well knew. “What other forms of love does your language distinguish?”

“There is shon-ha’lock”, he explained, in a mixture between a mesmerized murmur and a sober lecture, “meaning ‘love at first sight’ or ‘the engulfment’, shon-ka’trel, a love that is mainly spiritual and mostly devoid of physical desire, shon-til, which you might consider the ‘little sister’ of shon-par’hel; it is a spiritual and physical attraction, but not as profound and enduring. There is shon-neh, a passing infatuation, which is really not love at all, luresh pa’dor, a strictly only physical attraction… and these are only those directed at a potential mate, of course. There are many other terms for love for family members, friends, communities, places and so on.”

“Fascinating”, Teresa made.

“Indeed”, Spock replied, “the study of emotion is a science on its own.” And it really was. There was a whole field of Vulcan scientists who studied emotion and how it manifested itself in the Vulcan organism. It was the science that informed the broad arsenal of Vulcan mental techniques, but it kept a low profile in front of non-Vulcans.

“What about emotions that do not fit into these neat categories?”, she challenged him. “For example, if someone feels something between any of the types you have named or something to which two or more of them apply?”

“As you have said to me yourself in the past”, he responded, elevating his eyebrows slightly, “categories exist to provide us with a basic sense of order, to help us understand the complexity of the world a little better, and once we have a satisfactory understanding of them, it is time to deconstruct them and thereby understand that the world is far more complex than we initially thought.”

She chuckled, still grasping his fingers. “You paid attention.”

“I always pay attention to what you say.”

Teresa drew breath once again and leant closer – and felt his fluster increase once more – , but once again remembered his resolve to not kiss her in the airponics bay. “Back to work”, she therefore suddenly said energetically.

He nodded, relieved and regretful at the same time, and they both sprang up but remained standing in the same spot, still staring at each other. After a few awkward seconds, Teresa gave herself a kick and walked back to the patch she had been working on. “Why don’t we distract ourselves a little while we work, hm?”, she made.

“Certainly. What do you propose?”

“Let’s see…”, she mumbled, clipping around on the edible cactuses for a moment. “Why don’t you explain to me all about the fact that Vulcans can resolve their pon farr by fighting for their desired mate?”

“The kal-if-fee?”, he asked incredulously, his eyes widening. “You consider this topic an appropriate distraction?”

“Oh, probably not”, she laughed. “But I’ve been curious about it ever since B’Elanna mentioned it.” While she was checking the humidity of the soil, she remarked with raised eyebrows: “So it’s called ‘passion fight’. Interesting.”

“It is”, he confirmed, having regained his calm tone of voice. “Very well. It is part of the koon-ut-kal-if-fee.”

“‘Marriage or challenge’.”

“Correct.”

“I don’t like the sound of this.”

“Whether you like it or not, it is a well-established ritual”, Spock said equanimously, still planting seedlings. “In ancient times, Vulcans often killed to win their mates. After the Time of Awakening, this ritual was adopted in order to channel the aggressive passion of the pon farr into more… regulated tracks. At the wedding ceremony, a challenge can be declared, either because another male wishes to mate with the female or if the female does not want the male that was arranged for her at childhood. She can choose any defender she wants, including herself. The fight is usually only concluded when one opponent dies.” He looked at Teresa, who was staring at him, aghast. “I assume you consider this ritual ‘archaic’.”

“I – “, she made, still not quite able to believe what she had just heard. “Well, yes, to tell you the truth.” She took a deep breath and turned back to the plants. “Apart from the killing part and some other points I am going to address in a moment, it seems very… irrational.”

“On the contrary”, he countered. “There is nothing rational about pon farr. The rules of the koon-ut-kal-if-fee, on the other hand, are perfectly clear.”

“Why does it have to end in death?”

“The violent tendencies of a Vulcan undergoing pon farr usually do not allow any other outcome. There have been exceptions, of course.”

“Oh, you’re right”, she gave up, turned away from the vegetables she was tending to and approached him. “This is not a conversation to be had while planting lettuce.”

He looked at her with slightly elevated eyebrows and slowly laid aside the seedling he was holding.

Teresa inhaled and exhaled slowly. “So you’re saying you were perfectly capable of killing someone when we – …”

He nodded equally slowly, closely observing her. “Fortunately, such a situation did not present itself. And according to Vulcan customs, as you have not been assigned to me, I would have had no right to fight for you, anyway, if you had been disinclined to mate with me.”

“But by fighting, you could have resolved your blood fever?”

“No doubt.”

Teresa stared at him over the lettuce bed, her brain working furiously. “Such a challenge can only be declared at the wedding ceremony, you said.”

“In modern times, yes. In ancient times, one had to be prepared for someone to challenge one for one’s mate at any time.”

“Oh, I don’t care about ancient times”, she said vehemently, and his eyes widened. “All I want to hear is that this can’t possibly happen to you.”

Spock, understanding that she was worried about him, looked at her gently. “No, for several reasons”, he declared with poise. “We will not get married at the time of my pon farr, I doubt we will get married on Vulcan, we have not been assigned to each other in childhood, and, most of all, should you ever decide to reject me, I would not oppose your decision.”

She smiled, but asked doubtfully: “Even if you were suffering from blood fever?”

He frowned. “I was prepared for the possibility of you rejecting me that night on the Enterprise.”

“But if I really had?”

His frown deepened because he did not like what she was insinuating. “You have not been assigned to me. I had no claim on you.” Seeing the look in her eyes, he went on, suddenly very vehemently himself: “I would never hurt you. Even if I was seconds away from dying of blood fever. Even if you had been assigned to me.”

She gasped, dismayed. “I did not mean – …”

“Yes, you did”, he replied, but the vehemence in his voice was gone as quickly as it had come. “And you… had every right to wonder. Vulcans… we…”, he was whispering now, “can be a very violent people.” His eyes flickered and he took a slightly shaky breath, his jaw tense.

“I know”, she said quietly. “But Vulcans…  and you in particular… are also so much more.”

They looked at each other, Spock seeming somewhat dejected. I sensed your fear, she heard him think. It was short-lived, but it was there.

It was a natural first reaction, she answered. But I know I have nothing to worry about, even without the knowledge of our future life together.

Another moment of silent staring ensued.

“There are several other things that bother me”, Teresa then said. “You said the male can be challenged by another male.”

“Correct.”

“Why can’t two women fight for a man?”

Spock let out a quiet gasp. “That is a good question.”

Teresa smiled a fine smile, leisurely crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Yes, isn’t it? And should the man decide to mate with someone else, why can’t the woman fight for him, too?”

“Another good question”, he conceded. After a few seconds of silent deliberation, he remarked: “I believe the likely answer is that these long-established rituals have not kept up with the more recent advances in equality in Vulcan society.”

Then they bloody well should, she thought and said out loud: “Most illogical and unacceptable. There is no equality without equality in marriage laws.”

He raised an eyebrow, having heard her less diplomatic thought. “Indeed”, he said. “They ‘bloody well’ should.”

She chuckled. I’m glad you agree. “Furthermore”, she then went on, serious again. “If a man wants to challenge another for his mate, why doesn’t the mate have a say in this? Does the woman simply have to stand back and watch her assigned mate be killed even though she does not want the challenger?”

Spock gulped. “Yes.” Before Teresa could make an outraged remark, however, he declared: “You should know that this type of the challenge is practiced very rarely in this day and age. Vulcan males usually respect the choices made by the bride.”

“But the possibility still exists”, she pressed on. “And what about this scenario: if the woman decides to reject her assigned mate, she cannot simply walk away, she has to fight or choose someone to fight for her. If she or her defender loses this fight, she has to mate with her assigned partner against her will?”

Now Spock even grew slightly pale. “The male should have purged his blood fever after the fight, at which point mating has become unnecessary for him. Not for her, though, if she has chosen someone else to fight for her. She still needs to resolve her pon farr. And legally, they both have the right to demand it from the other. For her, the alternative is death, if she does not achieve a resolution through meditation, which at this stage of her pon farr might already not be possible anymore.”

Teresa paused, processing everything they had discussed. “Very well, I appreciate that for a Vulcan undergoing pon farr, when the options of resolution through meditation or fighting are not available, they have to mate with someone in order to survive, even if it is someone they do not want to mate with. But I cannot accept that different rules apply to men and women. How is this even conceivable for a Federation race?”

“These rituals are usually not discussed with outsiders… I know, this is not an excuse.”

“No”, she scoffed and added, with some more rational distance: “What I, as a human, find hard to come to terms with, is already the premise that one can’t leave or change one’s partner without the high probability of someone getting killed in the process. Maybe at the Time of Awakening, the koon-ut-kal-if-fee, at least in its present form, was an intelligent solution and a step forward, but shouldn’t such an enlightened and… peaceful people have made a great deal more progress since then?”

“Teresa”, he made. “Only because I am half-Vulcan, that does not mean that I approve of all aspects of Vulcan society.”

“I know”, she replied. “Oh, of course I know that. I’m not angry with you.” She walked around to his side of the vegetable bed and put her hand on his cheek.

His fluster immediately returned. “I suggest we… simply complete our work here.”

“Agreed.”

All of a sudden, they managed to conscientiously carry out the remaining tasks with speed, sharp focus and efficiency. In the end, they had even completed their work earlier than expected. After nodding  to each other, they left the airponics bay, but did not go back to the kitchen immediately. Instead, as a result of some tacit understanding, their feet carried them back to her quarters.

Once the doors had closed behind them, they stood there once again, staring at each other. After a few tense seconds, Spock came a step closer and raised his hands halfway, but then lowered them again, only to stride towards her a second later, carefully grab her face and place an eager kiss on her lips. Teresa, who was still resolved to not overwhelm him and instead let him decide how close he wanted to get, let out a quiet gasp and equally grasped his face, pulling him closer and returning his kisses.

A moment later, however, he gave up on her mouth for the time being and placed his fingers on the side of her face. She grasped his wrist in confirmation.

They both let out a sigh of contentment once the mental connection was fully established again. He looked into her eyes, letting out a tranquil exhale, and put his other hand on her face, too, his fingers connecting to her forehead, temple and jaw. Their facial expressions became calm and absorbed, and then they both closed their eyes and moved their heads closer until their foreheads touched, breathing quietly.

Spock was eager to understand her own emotional control better, the way she coexisted with her own emotions, the mental processes that she had established and that guided her. At the same time, they explored his own emotions in more detail – he had analysed them most competently, but he did not know what to do with many of them – and where Teresa found what they both considered to be the points responsible for his sense of insecurity, she tried to help him mend the cracks. His recent struggles notwithstanding, overall, he enjoyed a much greater calm and control than she ever could when it came to many other things, a mental state she immersed herself in with gratitude and curiosity. His grip on her face remained firm, but tender, while they enjoyed the merging of their consciousness, foreign thoughts becoming one’s own, exchanging their impressions of the day, of everything they had recently learned, of each other, and creating something new in the synthesis of their minds.

Six minutes and 23 seconds later, her lips found his again. He drew breath and readily returned her advances, leaving one hand connected to her mind, while the other ran over her cheek and jaw, her hair, the back of her neck, her shoulder. Teresa embraced him as tightly as she could, covering his face in kisses, sighing blissfully while they, once again, felt the sensation of every touch from both sides. His hand abandoned her face after another minute, but the meld was so fresh that the connection remained quite strong. There was nothing tentative or hesitant about him now; instead he savoured every kiss and every inch of their bodies that was in contact.

Neither of them felt like ending this embrace any time soon. When he felt her thoughts wander towards even more intimacy, he sharply drew breath. Not now... The thought was accompanied by a great deal of regret.

Yes, I know. Neelix expects us back in the kitchen. Her lips ran along his jaw.

There will be… more than enough time later.

She grinned. He took her face into his hands once more and placed an emphatic kiss on her lips that was meant to be the last for the time being.

“Well”, she then whispered, her eyes glowing. “All the basic functions of your discipline are still intact.”

He sighed. “Barely.”

Teresa chuckled. “Nonsense. Your discipline has reinforced my own. Let’s go.”

He nodded but took her hand and ran his fingers along hers before they walked through the doors.

Lieutenant T’Lara often preferred to eat on her own. Recently, however, the interest in her on the part of many of her crewmates had increased exponentially, once they had found out who she was related to. For most of her time in Starfleet and on Voyager, she had kept a low profile regarding her descent, firstly because she was not in the habit of boasting, especially about something that was no achievement by her own merit, secondly because the topic rarely came up during her work, and finally because she did not want to become primarily known as ‘Spock’s granddaughter’. Now that the fact was widely known on the ship, she thought that this reluctance had been justified. Every day now, at least one crew member asked her a question regarding Voyager’s visitors from the past or wanted to know how she ‘felt’ about their presence. Even her Vulcan crewmates had been inquisitive. The only one who had left her completely alone was Lieutenant Commander Tuvok. One could not expect the same of…

“Lieutenant!”, Tom Paris exclaimed, with his usual boldness. “How about some company?” Behind him stood Lieutenant Torres and Ensign Kim. It would have been impolite to refuse them, especially the Chief Engineer, so T’Lara nodded.

“Thanks”, Ensign Kim told her while he took a seat.

“So, they know who you are now, huh?”, Lieutenant Paris lost no time in cutting straight to the chase. “Have they talked to you yet?”

“Tom”, Lieutenant Torres made. “Maybe she doesn’t want to tell you about it.”

“Sorry, just asking”, he defended himself, but threw B’Elanna a self-conscious glance.

“They have”, T’Lara was gracious enough to inform them. All three of them waited for more, but nothing came.

“That’s nice”, Ensign Kim then declared, and after an awkward pause, continued: “It must be pretty weird for them, too.”

“I believe it is”, T’Lara replied. “But they have mastered our first proper conversation with the grace and ease I had expected.” She threw a short glance at the kitchen, where Teresa was cheerfully handing out meals to the Voyager crew and Spock was discussing something with Neelix.

“I’m not sure how I would feel if I suddenly met a grandchild of mine”, B’Elanna commented. “Well, I probably won’t have any, anyway…”

“What makes you say that?”, Tom asked with a frown.

“Nothing”, B’Elanna dodged this question. “Anyway, Teresa and I talked about it after she had first found out. She was very eager to get to know you, but understandably, also a bit nervous.”

“Teresa talked to you?”, Harry could not stop himself from asking.

“Whyever not, Harry?”, B’Elanna replied, her eyebrows raised.

“No reason”, Harry hurried to say.

“They’re having their own lunch now”, Tom observed, his head turned towards the kitchen. “Hey, Spock, Teresa, over here!”

Their two visitors from the 23rd century looked up, searching the room for the source of the call. Spock found them first, and, only a second later, Teresa’s eyes fell on them as well, almost as though he had somehow wordlessly let her know where Tom’s voice had come from. Her gaze jumped from Tom straight to T’Lara, and she broke into a wide smile. He nodded and they both approached the four Voyager crew members. Curious looks from other members of the crew still followed them from all corners of the room.

“Hello”, Teresa made, beaming at all four of them, but especially at T’Lara. Spock gave her a respectful nod, which she returned.

“How’s it going?”, B’Elanna inquired.

“Very well”, Spock replied while he placed his tray on the table. “But first of all, I must thank you all for your gift of the Vulcan lyre.”

Their response was an amalgamation of ‘You’re welcome’s and ‘With pleasure’s.

“Have you played it already?”, Harry asked.

“A little. I shall do so more thoroughly soon.”

“The Captain said you would perform something together for us”, B’Elanna remarked, in a questioning and curious tone.

Spock and Teresa looked at each other. “With pleasure”, Teresa said after a short pause. “But maybe we should practice a little first.” Spock knew that she was less referring to a necessity to improve their performance and more to the fact that their first attempt the night before had been altogether too… emotional.

“Sure”, Harry made. “We look forward to hearing it.”

Teresa smiled once more, then she addressed T’Lara: “I’m so glad you don’t have to avoid us anymore.”

“It did have somewhat of a restrictive effect on my usual movements on the ship”, T’Lara agreed.

Tom opined: “It would have been a great shame if you had spent all this time on Voyager without ever finding out.”

“Almost criminal”, Harry agreed. “We’ve been bursting to tell you all this time. But orders are orders…”

“These orders were very well justified”, Spock declared.

“And yet, you’re all the better for them having been broken”, B’Elanna remarked.

“By the only individual on Voyager who can’t be disciplined for it”, Tom continued, smirking. “Kudos to Naomi.”

Teresa’s lips wore a faint grin; once again, everyone seemed to be very well informed on the events concerning them.

Spock threw her a glance out of the corner of his eye. “I cannot disagree with that”, he then responded to B’Elanna in a dignified voice.

The understatement of the year, Teresa thought, her grin widening. Spock cleared his throat. T’Lara was observing them closely, with the same neutral expression Tuvok had worn in the morning.

“You know, you are now officially the tenth Voyager couple”, Harry likewise grinned.

“The eleventh”, B’Elanna corrected him.

“Why? What have I missed?”, Harry asked, surprised, his fork hovering before his mouth.

“Ensign Onagawa and Lieutenant Haron?”, Tom reminded him. “They got together last week”, he informed Spock and Teresa.

“Well, how nice”, Teresa grinned, feeling a little out of place in this ship’s gossip session, but genuinely interested after all because she had met both Ensign Onagawa and Lieutenant Haron.

“People have been pairing off ever since Voyager was first stranded in the Delta Quadrant”, Tom explained. “All these decades on the ship…”

Always with the same 150 people, Teresa thought. Not a large pond to fish in.

Nevertheless, the cohabitation and close proximity over the cause of several years no doubt leads to great familiarity and enduring relationships, Spock answered, even though she had not purposefully directed her thoughts at him.

Well, you know what you’re talking about, she smirked. Simultaneously, she suddenly noticed that B’Elanna shot Tom a furtive, nervous glance at his mention of the Voyager crew pairing off and when B’Elanna was not looking anymore, he returned it.

Future couple number twelve?, she asked herself.

I wouldn’t know. Spock was not too interested in the whole topic.

I wonder whether T’Lara… Teresa made a point of not looking at her granddaughter at this moment.

Improbable, came his answer.

How would you know? She undergoes pon farr, too, doesn’t she?

We did not to ask her whether she has a mate back in the Alpha Quadrant. It is likely, though.

True. But she didn’t mention anyone when she was talking about her ‘nostalgia for home and family’. Oh, no. I have turned into the nosy relative already. The grandmother who asks her whether she has a boyfriend.

I do not see the problem here, Spock responded. The concept of ‘annoying relatives’ did not have the same meaning and associations for him as it did for her.

The whole exchange had not taken more than fifteen seconds.

“Hey, by the way”, Tom suddenly exclaimed. “You two know you’re going to get married, right?”

“Indeed”, Spock made with his usual serenity.

“Why don’t we throw you an engagement party?”, Tom proposed, sounding very enthusiastic. “That is, only if you want, of course”, he told them, with another short glance at B’Elanna. She looked a little amused, but not disinclined to the idea.

“Oh! Well – “, Teresa made. Spock had lifted his eyebrows and T’Lara looked genuinely caught unawares.

A short pause ensued.

“What kind of ‘party’?”, Spock then inquired calmly.

“Oh, don’t worry, nothing a Vulcan would object to”, Tom hurried to say. “I’m sure T’Lara and I can figure something out.”

Now, T’Lara looked even more surprised but unflappably declared: “Certainly. If that is what you wish”, she addressed Teresa and Spock.

“Well, I – “, Teresa started once again, looking at Spock, with no idea how to respond. “Excuse me, please give me a moment, Tom. This is all extremely… recent. And you’re already talking about an engagement party”, she laughed.

“Sure”, Tom said. “Just letting you know that I would love to organize that, of course with the help of anyone who offers. We don’t have enough get-togethers here on Voyager, and I think we would all love to celebrate the two of you.”

“Hear, hear. Tom is something of the fun coordinator around here, apart from Neelix, of course”, Harry informed them.

Teresa, who gave Tom a warm smile, was very grateful that Spock did not once again vocally object to the word ‘fun’ in front of the person who had proposed it. Spock returned her questioning gaze with a thoughtful expression and they both remembered how, only recently, he had mentioned to her how Vulcans stood on ceremony. With Tom in charge, however, one did not know exactly what to expect. Furthermore, an engagement party was a distinctly human ritual, one which Vulcans did not practice. They only conducted weddings.

If T’Lara really helps… Teresa mused. There’s not too much that can go wrong, I suppose?

It sounds as though Lieutenant Paris wants to organize this event as much for himself and his crewmates as for us, Spock commented.

And whyever not? Teresa smiled. If it spreads a little more joy among a crew far from home…

I will not object to that, then. But is it what you want?

It did not take her long to make up her mind. Actually, it sounds lovely. But if you’d rather not already have such a public display…

As long as they do not ask me to publicly kiss you… His face had assumed this expression of light mirth again.

They would never do that.

Then it is as I said: I see no need to hide our union, on the contrary.

Teresa regarded him with glowing eyes. Then, she suddenly became aware of the fact that they were being watched by all of the other four people at the table and that, from the outside, it looked as though Spock and her were simply gazing at each other wordlessly, their facial expressions fluctuating in response to invisible impulses. T’Lara looked as though she knew what was going on, though.

“… So?”, Tom inquired, sounding a little insecure now. “If you need more time to think about it…”

“No”, Spock replied. “Thank you for your offer. We”, he looked back at Teresa for a moment and she nodded, “accept it.”

“It’s a lovely idea”, Teresa added, smiling. “But are you sure about helping?”, she addressed T’Lara. “Because we would completely understand if you would rather not.”

“As I said, I have no objection”, came the answer.

This Vulcan enthusiasm, Teresa remarked, while feeling grateful and affectionate at the same time. This time, Spock did not have any difficulties perceiving the amused irony accompanying this thought, and he gave the faintest sigh.

“Great!”, Tom made. “I’ll keep you posted on the progress. Harry, wanna help?”

“Sure”, Harry said, sounding sincere.

“Actually, me too”, B’Elanna announced.

Tom looked delighted and Teresa gave B’Elanna a smile.

“So many parties for us”, Teresa laughed. “Neelix also wanted to throw a farewell party.”

“The more, the merrier”, Tom declared.

“By the way”, B’Elanna then inquired, “you’re allowed to find out anything you want about the 24th century now, right?”

“Yes. The decision to erase our memories is now final”, Teresa confirmed. “But, so far, we’re still quite cautious about learning more about this century.” She threw a look at Spock. “Though I have been less cautious than Spock.” He put on a neutral facial expression. She also looked at T’Lara, feeling a renewed surge of sorrow and regret at the fact of having to forget their meeting her, too.

“Well, what do you know?”, B’Elanna pressed on.

“Yesterday, after the Doctor and Seven explained the nanoprobes to us with which they want to erase our memories, I looked up the Borg. And this morning, we read my personnel file. Not the reports, though.”

“The Borg”, Harry made, looking uncomfortable. “Not the best topic to find out about.”

“No”, Spock and Teresa both agreed.

“Well, do you like your file?”, Tom inquired.

“Yes”, Teresa beamed. “Very much.”

“It’s funny”, B’Elanna smiled, “because it’s pretty much what you described when we asked you how you would like your life to be.”

“I know”, Teresa laughed, feeling extremely contented and throwing a short glance at Spock, who looked back with a gentle expression. “But that aside, the Borg are a very… captivating topic. How did Seven come to be on Voyager?”

“That’s a long story”, Harry replied, looking uncertain about how much to divulge as they had just said that they were still cautious about information about the 24th century. “Suffice it to say that Voyager found a way to traverse Borg space (which is huge) and that we picked up Seven in the process. She is one of the first humans to have been assimilated by the Borg. She was a child then – …”

“Indeed, that much she has told us”, Spock confirmed. “She was six years old at the time of her assimilation.”

“Yeah”, Harry made, looking grave. “She was put into a Borg maturation chamber and therefore turned into a fully grown individual much faster than a human normally would. She has spent most of her life as a drone. The Captain decided to help her get used to life as a human individual again and reintegrate into a Federation community, but of course that’s a very difficult process for her.”

“I’d say she’s doing well, though, considering”, Tom remarked.

“Yeah, definitely”, Harry agreed.

B’Elanna did not say anything but rather looked as though there was not too much love lost between her and Seven of Nine. Tom threw her another glance.

“She does seem to be a very capable and valuable addition to the crew”, Spock commented.

“She has retained an insane amount of knowledge and skills from her time in the Collective”, Harry nodded. “She’s also very intelligent and practically works all the time. She considers leisure time ‘inefficient’.” At his last words, Harry looked somewhat exasperated and B’Elanna rolled her eyes.

“I suppose that’s because the concept of leisure time is alien to the Borg”, Teresa said.

“Of course”, B’Elanna replied contemptuously.

T’Lara looked as though leisure time was not something she much cared about, either, at least extended periods of it, which at first did not surprise Teresa in the least, knowing of the little value Vulcans usually attached to it (apart from meditation time, of course), but then she wondered whether her human heritage had had no impact on her at all in this respect. Spock, of course, had also been raised to use his time ‘efficiently’ and had been quite the workaholic for all the time she had known him; that is, until recently…

I have no objection to leisure time spent with you, came the response to her thoughts, while he looked at her sideways. It is a… most valuable pastime.

Her lips broke into a wide smile. Good. Because I can’t get enough of it.

I know. He felt decidedly pleased.

“Well, talking about leisure time”, B’Elanna made. “Mine is over. I have to get back to engineering.”

She left and so did Tom and Harry only a few minutes later, leaving Teresa and Spock in the company of their granddaughter.

Once they had gone, Teresa turned to T’Lara. “T’Lara. It’s good to talk to you again.”

“Likewise.”

“There is a point we had hoped you can clarify for us”, Spock said. “Our files state that while Teresa was on Vulcan for three years, as a guest lecturer at the Vulcan Science Academy, I took extended leave. Do you know what I did during that time?”

“As a matter of fact, I do”, T’Lara confirmed. “You underwent the dalhutnahr. I know because you have encouraged me to do the same.”

Spock lifted his eyebrows, surprised. But then, when he thought about it, it was not that surprising after all.

“The dalhutnahr? Really?”, Teresa made. “Isn’t that the discipline which makes one appreciate the wisdom of vestigial emotions?”

Both Vulcans nodded.

“Dr. McKennah asked me about it five months ago”, Spock remarked. “I told her there was no chance of me undertaking either it or the kolinahr. Of course, that was before – …” His eyes fell on Teresa, but he maintained a dignified expression and calmly looked at T’Lara, who had blinked almost imperceptibly at the mention of Dr. McKennah.

“If he recommended it to you, it must have gone well”, Teresa addressed T’Lara.

T’Lara nodded. “He said it had been a highly beneficial addition to the personal development he had already undergone.”

Spock’s eyebrows twitched once again. “Fascinating.” It is the Vulcan counterpart to the advice and support you have been endeavouring to give me, he told Teresa, who nodded and answered: A most logical step to take.

“And have you undertaken it, too?”, Teresa went on, still addressing T’Lara.

“Not yet. I had been considering it. Now, of course, the opportunity does not present itself anymore.” T’Lara took a collected sip from her drink. Teresa was sorry to hear that and wondered whether T’Lara regretted this fact, too.

“Unfortunately, so far, there is little guidance I can offer you in this respect”, Spock sighed. “I am only at the very beginning of this journey myself.”

T’Lara now likewise raised her eyebrows, but in an amicable way. “It is an intriguing process for me to observe.”

Teresa’s lips twitched.

“There is probably more that you could teach me than the other way around”, Spock replied. After all, she was two years older than him and had been benefitting from the older Spock’s advice.

“Possibly.”

“Teresa’s help has proven… invaluable”, he said quietly. Teresa looked at him with poised tenderness.

“As I had expected”, T’Lara replied and threw Teresa a very curious glance once again.

“Oh, there’s so much I’ve been learning from him, too”, Teresa assured her.

“Of course.” T’Lara changed the subject. “This… ‘engagement party’…”

“Yes?”, Spock made.

“It is a human ritual. There is nothing comparable in Vulcan culture, as one can hardly equate it with the fal-tor-koon.” It was the short ceremony during which two children who had been assigned to each other were bonded with a mind meld. Teresa understood this by translating the term and by perceiving Spock’s thoughts. “I am uncertain as to how yours should be arranged.”

“How do the Voyager crew usually celebrate occasions such as this one?” Teresa inquired.

“As the majority of the crew are human”, T’Lara replied, “such rituals are generally conducted the human way. Naturally, members of other species have conducted different types of rituals here, too. Crewman Chell once invited half of the crew to join him in a three-hour chanting session to mark his passing into the third stage of the Bolian lifespan.”

“Did you join?”, Teresa asked, trying not to smirk.

“I was not invited.”

“Oh.”

“Such examples aside, probability indicates that Lieutenant Paris will want to arrange the ‘party’ to be held either here in the mess hall or on the holodeck, there might be nourishment, musical entertainment and informal speeches held in your honour.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, then, in terms of human customs”, Spock remarked.

“Maybe”, T’Lara said. “However, Lieutenant Paris is an individual highly capable of coming up with unexpected surprises.”

“Which is another reason why he asked you to help him”, Teresa nodded. “To test his ideas on you.”

“Exactly.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to test the ideas on us, too”, Teresa smiled. “You don’t need to feel that all the responsibility for an… appropriate arrangement lies on your shoulders alone.” Spock nodded in agreement.

“Very well. I shall confer with you, in the event of him proposing something I am not certain you would approve of”, T’Lara said, seemingly slightly relieved.

Teresa gave her a warm smile, then she pondered: “Is there any way we could make it a little more… Vulcan?”

Spock raised his eyebrows and T’Lara looked pensive. “There might be elements from the fal-tor-koon or a Vulcan marriage ceremony that might be integrated…”, she made, looking questioningly at Spock.

“…without it being a marriage ceremony already”, he added, looking equally pensive.

Oh, what does it matter if we get married twice, Teresa grinned to herself. It would be quite funny.

I fail to see the humour in that, she heard him think, puzzled. I agree, however, that it would be quite singular and that I see nothing wrong with it, especially as we will in all likelihood not remember this event here on Voyager.

They spent the remainder of T’Lara’s presence in the mess hall (around fifteen minutes) relaxedly discussing different possible ways of integrating Vulcan elements into Tom’s supposed plans. Teresa had been worried at first that T’Lara had only agreed to help Tom because it was polite, but their granddaughter became more and more engaged in the endeavour with every passing minute (though it would have been too much to speak of enthusiasm). It seemed to become evident that she harboured a lot of respect and appreciation for them – most of all for Spock, as was only natural – and welcomed the opportunity to express this with her actions.

Once T’Lara had left the mess hall to start her shift, they went back to the kitchen. Neelix was, as could be expected, very enthusiastic about Tom’s plan and immediately offered up several (very… creative) ideas of his own, many of which Spock had to politely, but decidedly, decline. Teresa, meanwhile, had to make a great effort in order to not break into giggling fits, because the contrast and interplay between Neelix’s exuberance and quirkiness and Spock’s Vulcan seriousness and measured consternation was simply too delicious to witness.

After another one and a half hours in the kitchen (Neelix took a rest), they decided to go to the gym again, because a whole week had already passed since their last proper exercise. They had each conducted some exercise on their own, but nothing sufficiently demanding for a Starfleet officer.

“Combat training again?”, Teresa asked on their way through the corridors.

“Certainly.”

“But… wait a minute”, it suddenly occurred to her, “we will be able to know exactly what the other is thinking and planning and anticipate the attacks before they even happen.”

Spock raised his eyebrows. “Indeed… maybe we should find different training partners, then.” He was not too taken with this option, though.

“On the other hand, it might be a challenging and thrilling exercise if we fought each other all the same”, she grinned, feeling distinctly titillated at the thought of fighting him again, this time without any of the excruciating tension and awkwardness of the last time. “It would require us to make decisions so quickly that the other does not have time to react.”

“A compelling proposal”, he remarked, looking at her in affectionate acknowledgement while they stepped into the turbolift. “Should any of us ever be faced with a telepathic opponent, this training would be advantageous.”

“Sounds perfectly logical”, she smirked as the doors closed in front of them and brushed her hand along his arm.

He took a deep breath in reaction to this touch and contemplated her gently. “Naturally. I would never be in favour of an illogical proposal.”

“Really?” Now it was her who raised her eyebrows. “Not every action needs to be of logical value, wouldn’t you agree?” She smiled. “Or what would you say is logical about this?” She pressed a quick kiss onto his cheek.

“Not every action, no”, he admitted, feeling the aftersensation of her lips on his skin. “But you are attracted to me, wherefore it is only logical that you should seek physical contact, as you are biologically conditioned to do.”

“Hm”, she smiled. “But only if you give up the premise that no action should be led by emotion.”

“You are human”, he replied. “It is a logically defensible position that humans have different needs from Vulcans and that in order to ensure their wellbeing, these emotional needs should be, if possible, met, as it would be, in fact, impossible for humans to rid themselves of emotions as much as Vulcans do.”

“You’re saying that meeting my emotional needs is a logical course of action on your part?”, she dug deeper, amused, her smile broadening.

“Affirmative”, he expounded serenely. “In order for us to conduct a successful relationship, you need to be happy, therefore logic dictates that ensuring your happiness is essential.”

“Only my happiness?” She subtly lifted her eyebrows.

He sighed, contemplating her. “And mine. But to return to our initial topic: when it comes to using our time wisely in the gym, I would never be in favour of an illogical proposal.”

“Oh, of course”, Teresa responded, as they stepped out of the turbolift. “I did generalise your statement to quite a large extent.”

“That you did. In order to test a valid hypothesis.”

Having arrived at the gym, they both changed into their training clothes. Three Voyager crewmembers were also present, engaging in different training activities. They all greeted them warmly and looked at them for a short moment before they returned to their exercise. Teresa and Spock assumed an alert position on the mat, staring at each other, thinking.

“This might be more difficult than we had anticipated”, Spock murmured after half a minute of silent, calculating staring, thoughts floating between them and several slightly frustrated sighs from Teresa.

Her arms twitched towards him, but he immediately assumed the correct defensive position.

“Alright”, she breathed. “I can do this.”

“We shall see.”

She raised her eyebrows and charged at him, but he stepped aside faster than she could reach him. When he tried to overpower her, however, she was just as quick at evading him, because too much time had passed between his decision to attack and the attack itself. Both of them made several further unsuccessful attempts, some of which they broke off prematurely because they already knew they would be in vain.

“Huh”, she made. “There’s no point in trying to think or plan. We have to be absolutely spontaneous.”

“I admit that spontaneity is not my strongest quality”, he replied, his eyes fixed onto hers as though he could read her mind more quickly that way.

“Well, I have never had to be so insanely spontaneous, either.” She took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind completely, so that he would not be able to perceive anything.

“An intriguing approach”, he commented. “But the ability to genuinely clear one’s mind requires a lot of practice.”

Well, she thought, I’ll start practicing right now.

A few seconds later, just when she thought she had been moderately successful in her first attempt, Spock’s attention was diverted for just a second by the other people in the room, two of whom were now observing their strange behaviour with a certain measure of confusion and fascination. Teresa plunged at him. She would have thrown him onto the mat if it had not been for a quick-witted defensive move on his part. His hands tightened around her wrists with inexorable firmness behind her back and she felt his breath in her neck.

“Nice try”, he said. “You almost had me, but only because of my own failure to remain attentive.”

She snarled and jumped away from him as soon as he had let go of her wrists.

“You are getting far too emotional about this”, he remarked with a faint air of superciliousness.

“These emotions motivate me”, she replied with a combative twitch of her eyebrows, feeling the adrenalin in her muscles.

“I see.”

Five minutes later, they had still not managed to launch any successful attacks, though not for any lack of attempts.

“You are quick-witted, but not quick-witted enough”, Spock panted.

“You’re only saying this to taunt me”, she said with an approving glint in her eyes. “Trying to motivate me even more by manipulating my emotions. You have already learned a lot.”

He only raised his eyebrows in response.

While they slowly became better at making spontaneous decisions, the three Voyager crewmembers left the room. Two minutes later, she was lying on the mat, with him once again on top of her, exactly the same way he had been a week ago. This threw both of them off their tracks for a moment, and he stared down at her, blinking.

The corners of Teresa’s mouth twitched and then her head shot up and she pressed a sudden and brief kiss onto his lips. He gasped in surprise, started and let go of her arms; then he looked around the room with a slightly preoccupied expression.

“There’s no one here”, she laughed.

“No”, he replied, his eyes glittering, “but someone might come in.” He sat down on the ground next to her, partially titillated by her kiss and partially startled.

“Spock”, she said gently, sitting up, “I certainly respect your wish to not be… intimate in front of others. You have to allow me the observation, though, that you seem to care a lot about the appearance of being unemotional.” Especially in front of other Vulcans, she added in her mind, which did not escape his attention.

He gazed at her with a pensive face, then he said after a moment of deliberation: “My experience has been that everyone, humans included, you included, cultivate an outward appearance that differs, to varying degrees, from their inner state and private behaviour.”

“Hm”, she made. “True.”

He gave her a friendly look and ran his fingers over the back of her hand. For a moment, his thoughts turned to a memory of something McCoy had said to him a few years ago. Do you know why you are not afraid to die, Spock? You’re more afraid of living. Each day you stay alive is just one more day you might slip and let your human half peek out. That’s it, isn’t it? Insecurity. Why, you wouldn’t know what to do with a genuine, warm, decent feeling.

Teresa inhaled sharply. “He said that, did he? He didn’t mince his words. Well, he never does.”

Spock, one eyebrow raised, nodded and mused: “He was, at that time, only partially correct. I did not consider death more agreeable than life.”

She smiled a pleased, empathetic and loving smile. “And that part about the ‘genuine, warm, decent feeling’…”

“As you know, accepting and adapting to emotion has long been, and to a certain extent, still is most difficult for me”, he said softly and quietly, and she nodded. “I have long been unable to adequately acknowledge and express affection, even though I have felt it.” Teresa knew that he was now mainly referring to his love for his parents, his mother most of all, but also to the feelings he had been developing for herself, even if he had not yet understood them at the time of McCoy’s remark.

She nodded and returned the caresses of his hand, as the gym was still empty except for them. Then she said with a challenging glint in her eyes: “By the way, I’m not done fighting.”

“Of course not”, he agreed while they both got up.

Therefore, they went back to the physical and mental battle, which was a lot more hands-on now than for the first ten minutes. Teresa could not help but dwell on the fact of how attractive she found him in this state, panting with the exercise, his eyes glimmering in alert concentration, his graceful movements, his strength, his hair getting more disorderly by the minute. It turned out that she had the same effect on him and their agitation grew. And in the moment where he simply got a little too distracted by her… many attractions, she attacked and threw him onto the mat.

“Ah”, he groaned and then sighed. “Well done.”

“No, that is not satisfactory at all”, she complained. “I want to defeat you with my mind, not my body. I mean, not with these aspects of my body.”

He raised his eyebrows and then nodded, getting up. “Indeed, one cannot expect the same to happen to an opponent during a genuine fight… although it is by no means impossible. But you hardly defeated me with your attractiveness alone.” He said this in a more matter-of-fact way than any human would ever have done. “You dexterously seized the opportunity and your technique was most proficient.”

“Thank you”, she replied, her lips twitching. “Nevertheless…”

“I allowed myself an unforgiveable lapse of attention”, he agreed and then swore to himself: “But no more.”

She chortled, undeniably charmed by the fact that she had such power to throw Spock, this former paragon of self-discipline, off his tracks. He assumed a stern frown and she chortled even more, her eyes glittering with flirtatious amusement.

“It is quite illogical that you should be pleased at the weakening of my defensive capabilities”, he commented.

“I’m only human”, she replied and then smirked: “As long as you never have to fight me for real, you’ll be fine.”

He raised his eyebrows and sighed, still confused by her habit of making these kinds of humorous remarks. From her thoughts, he could gather that she did of course not want him to get injured because of a lapse of attention caused by any kind of distraction but that she interpreted her ability to distract him as a further sign of his feelings towards her, a circumstance she found distinctly flattering.

Nevertheless, she said tenderly: “A source of motivation instead of a distraction, remember?”

He nodded, assuming a determined expression.

They went back to their fight and eventually, each managed to beat the other a handful of times and Teresa achieved it on the merit of her skills alone and her ability to use his strength against him. Towards the end of their session, their mental connection had faded slightly again, which made attacking easier, too. After more than an hour, they finally concluded their training, with Spock satisfied with their progress and Teresa exhausted, but triumphant.

One and a half hours later, Teresa, freshened up by the sonic shower, was alone in the turbolift, returning from her singing appointment with the Doctor. It had been most enjoyable, as they had tried some more opera again and Teresa had familiarised him with Latin American folk, a genre she was very partial to.

The turbolift had only moved one deck up when it came to a halt and the opening doors revealed B’Elanna, who smiled when she saw her and joined her in the lift. “Hey.”

“Hello”, Teresa smiled back warmly. “How are you?”

“Fine”, B’Elanna answered, while the lift began to move again. “I’ve just come off duty. It’s been an uneventful day in engineering. Not even Vorik has done anything to annoy me today.”

“I hope you’re not unkind to him”, Teresa said carefully, having formed the impression that B’Elanna had it in for Vorik a little bit.

“I – “, B’Elanna made, feeling slightly caught out. “He’s Vulcan. I can be a bit rough sometimes, but he doesn’t have any feelings I could hurt.” Teresa lifted her eyebrows, and B’Elanna relativized: “I mean, of course Vulcans have feelings, but you know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do”, Teresa replied. “But just because they dissolve their emotions or they don’t surface – …”

“It doesn’t give me the right to be mean, yeah”, B’Elanna said. “Well, I’m quite nice to him. Most of the time.”

Teresa’s lips twitched.

“So”, B’Elanna made, “How’s it going?”

It was clear to Teresa what she was referring to. She broke into a sheepish smile. “… Wonderfully. Absolutely wonderfully.” She let out an elated and somewhat abashed chuckle.

“My, my”, B’Elanna made in a friendly tone, registering the radiant glow on Teresa’s face. “So he really does love you, huh?”

Teresa took a deep breath, hesitant to reveal this information, but then decided in favour of it because she felt she owed it to B’Elanna after the several hours the Chief Engineer had spent supportively listening to her, first to her laments and later to her overwhelmed incredulity and speculations when she had found out about their marriage. “Yes”, she said. “But please try to keep it to yourself, even though so many other people have been so curious. Leave them to speculate. Spock is… a very private individual.”

“Vulcans generally are”, B’Elanna nodded, while the turbolift doors opened onto deck two. The corridor before them was empty. They both stepped out. “So, he told you that?”

“Yes, in more than one way”, Teresa confirmed.

“So, what exactly happened?”, B’Elanna dug deeper, while they slowly made their way to the mess hall. “I only know that Spock found out about your marriage from Naomi and then just left her and Harry standing in the hallway.”

“Well”, Teresa tried to answer as discretely as possible. “He came to me and we… talked it out.”

“You ‘talked it out’?” B’Elanna lifted her eyebrows.

“I personally would have nothing against sharing more details with you, but as I said, he – “

“ – he is a very private individual”, B’Elanna repeated. “Got it.” She broke into a mischievous grin, however, and continued half-jokingly: “But as long as you don’t tell him that you told me…”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way”, Teresa responded, half-laughingly, half-apologetically.

“What do you mean?”, B’Elanna asked, puzzled.

Teresa stopped and waited patiently until one of the Rigelian crewmembers had walked past them on his way to the mess hall, then she said quietly: “He might… still find out that I told you.”

“How?”

Teresa hesitated, but once again, she felt she owed B’Elanna some honesty. “We… have a telepathic connection.”

“What?”, B’Elanna made, dumbfounded.

“You know that Vulcans have telepathic abilities, right?”, Teresa continued in the same quiet tone.

“Yes, I know about Vulcan mind melds”, B’Elanna confirmed. “But I have never heard of Vulcan ‘telepathic connections’ before.”

“It is possible for two individuals who are very close to each other and who perform frequent mind melds to ‘hear’ each other’s thoughts”, Teresa explained, hoping very much that Spock did not mind her sharing this information with B’Elanna. She could not perceive any of his thoughts at that moment; it seemed that physical distance also weakened the connection. “But that’s not common knowledge, either, so please –“

“You mean he can hear all of your thoughts?!”, B’Elanna made, aghast.

“Well, not all of them”, Teresa clarified. “But many.”

“So you’ve been melding with him?”

“Yes…”

“Well, don’t let the Doctor know. He hates Vulcan mind melds.”

“He already knows. Apparently, it’s in our medical files that we melded with each other a lot throughout our entire lives.”

“How can you stand it?”

“What?”

“How can you stand the fact that he can read your mind?”, B’Elanna repeated, slightly impatiently.

“I can ‘read’ his, too”, Teresa replied calmly, her eyebrows slightly elevated.

“So that’s what was going on during lunch; I had been wondering”, B’Elanna murmured and then continued more loudly: “Doesn’t that mean that you have no privacy?”

“Well…”, Teresa made. “Very little. But I don’t mind; on the contrary. This mental connection is the most wondrous thing I have ever experienced, apart from the mind melds themselves.” And other things, she added to herself, smirking slightly. “It’s what I wanted”, she then continued in a friendly tone, because she saw how sceptical B’Elanna was. “I’ve known about the possibility of such a connection for several months and I was very eager to experience it. With Spock. And I have nothing to hide from him.”

“Oh”, B’Elanna made, looking a bit more pacified now, and less worried, though still quite incredulous. “Right. If you say so. If it makes you happy.”

“It does”, Teresa confirmed, smiling warmly and pressing B’Elanna’s hand. “I am… insanely happy.”

“I’m glad to hear that. But having a partner who can read my mind would not be my thing at all.”

“About that.” Now it was Teresa’s turn to grin mischievously. “What’s up with you and Tom Paris?”

Caught completely by surprise, B’Elanna spluttered: “Sorry?”

“I thought there was some… awkwardness between the two of you”, Teresa continued in her amicable tone.

“Oh, it’s… it’s nothing”, B’Elanna said and began walking again, but she did not sound very convincing.

“Hm.”

“Look, Tom is a nice guy, at least he is now”, B’Elanna made clear. “But he’s far too full of himself.”

“Okay”, Teresa said in a neutral tone.

“Just –… leave it, please, okay?”

“Certainly, if you want”, Teresa smiled, lifting her eyebrows once again. B’Elanna, seeing her suggestive facial expression, let out a friendly growl.

Spock was not in the kitchen, so Teresa assumed that he was still meditating. Neelix told her that he did not need any help at the moment, so for a short time, she was uncertain about what to do instead.

“Lieutenant Juárez!”, she heard a friendly voice call out. The voice turned out to belong to Ensign Onagawa, who was waving at her from a corner of the room. “How about a game of chess?”

“With pleasure”, Teresa replied, sitting down in front of her, a chess set already between them. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine”, the Ensign smiled. “I was going to play that game with Len, but he is still busy. Busier than I am at the moment, definitely.”

“Len is Lieutenant Haron?”, Teresa inquired.

“Oh, yes”, Ensign Onagawa grinned. “I guess you’ve heard.”

“I have.”

“So have I”, the Ensign smirked, referring to Spock. “Choose a colour”, she said, hiding two figures in her hands.

Teresa pointed at her left hand, which revealed the black queen. “What did you mean by that you’re not busy at the moment?”

“Oh, isn’t it obvious?”, Ensign Onagawa smiled. “What’s an exobiologist to do if we haven’t visited any planets for more than two months?”

“Ah”, Teresa made. “Of course.”

“Samantha and I have catalogued every single specimen we have gathered since we arrived in this quadrant”, Ensign Onagawa explained while they assembled the figures on the chess board, “we have been trying to make any possible enhancements to the lab equipment and we have even started writing a book titled ‘Life in the Delta Quadrant’, but we can’t help but feel that there is no particular urgency to finish it. Of course we have not yet analysed every specimen to the last detail, but there are no… pressing tasks to deal with, if you know what I mean.”

“How many specimens have you gathered?”, Teresa inquired, feeling her curiosity well up again.

“Well over 20 000 and data on around 50 000 more”, came the answer.

“My goodness.”

“You’re welcome to have a look”, Ensign Onagawa smiled.

“I might”, Teresa replied and explained to her the lingering timeline concerns.

“I understand”, the Ensign said in commiseration. “Well, if you’ve made up your mind – “ She interrupted herself because a voice came through her communicator. “Wildman to Onagawa.”

“Onagawa here”, she replied.

“Report to the science lab. There’s something you should see.”

“On my way.” She looked at Teresa apologetically and got up from her seat. “Well, I hope we can play chess some other time.”

“So do I.”

Therefore, Teresa was left alone with a chess set in front of her. For a moment, she considered going back to her quarters, but then she noticed another most welcome face: T’Lara, who seemed to have just finished an early dinner and was about to leave the room. Teresa had not detected her presence in the mess hall earlier.

“T’Lara”, she therefore called out, just as she had been invited a few minutes before. “Care for a game of chess?”

T’Lara approached her table with an affable expression. “Chess”, she said. “A game I have often played with Spock. It has also been popularised in Vulcan society in the past decades, being one of the most challenging games invented by humans.”

Teresa’s lips twitched and she asked in a friendly tone, slightly elevating her eyebrows: “Then what are you waiting for?”

“Very well”, T’Lara assented and sat down in front of her.

“And who won?”

“Excuse me?”

“Who usually won? You or Spock?”

“As is only natural, he won all the games in the beginning”, T’Lara informed her. “But in the end, I beat him several times. Where is he now?”

“Meditating”, Teresa answered.

T’Lara nodded. “I have so far not had the opportunity to speak to you alone. At the moment, it is rare to see one of you without the other’s company.”

Teresa grinned. “Is there something specific you want to speak to me about?”

“No”, her granddaughter replied. “But with him, I have already spent a significant amount of time. With his older self, that is. You, however – “

“I am nothing but a faint memory”, Teresa said with amiable earnestness.

“Precisely. I am… curious about you.” She contemplated Teresa with a friendly but searching gaze.

“Believe me, I am equally curious about you”, Teresa answered with measured affection. Then she took a closer look at T’Lara’s neck. “That’s a nice pendant you have there.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s a yin and yang symbol, isn’t it? May I?” Fascinated, she stretched out her hand towards it.

T’Lara assented and bent forwards a little to oblige Teresa. “You are correct. I wear it now and then. Strictly off duty, of course.”

Teresa lifted it up with her fingers, admiring the delicate metalwork. It was wrought from silver, just like its chain, and about four centimetres in diameter. “It’s beautiful. Where did you get it?”

T’Lara raised an eyebrow. “Now that you mention it”, she said in her collected voice, “you gave it to me, as a symbol of the balance between my Vulcan and human sides. They are not exactly polar opposites, of course, as included in the original Taoist meaning of the symbol, but they do complement each other. You said you had two identical ones. You had given another one to Spock.”

Teresa looked at her with wide eyes, the pendant still in her hand. “That was… very graceful of me”, she made and added with a wry and moved smile: “Though I say so myself.”

“Indeed”, T’Lara replied in a friendly voice.

Before she could get even more sentimental, Teresa let go of the pendant and said: “By the way, it’s your move.”

T’Lara nodded and after a short moment of consideration, she moved her first pawn. For more than fifteen minutes, they were engrossed in silent concentration, calculating and executing their moves. When T’Lara managed to take out one of her knights, Teresa uttered, impressed: “Good move.”

“I have inherited a high level of intelligence”, T’Lara declared with Vulcan dispassion, but looked at her with the faintest glint in her eyes. “From both the Vulcan and the human sides of my family.”

Teresa smiled at this compliment. For a few more minutes, they played in silence, then she inquired: “Are you content with your work on Voyager?”

“Content?”, T’Lara repeated and after a moment of consideration answered: “I believe I am. This quadrant holds countless opportunities for exploration. We have already conducted a great number of geological surveys.”

“But at the moment, I suppose there is little for you to do except analysing the data you have gathered.”

“Which is a great amount. However, I also have to undertake some other duties that were not part of my initial role on this ship, as do many other members of the crew. It is necessary, to compensate for the members Voyager has lost.”

“How many have been lost?”, Teresa asked, concerned.

Serenely, T’Lara replied: “To this date, 31.”

“31!”, Teresa exclaimed, dismayed.

“15 of them were lost when Voyager was initially pulled into this quadrant”, T’Lara explained. “The others have become victims of different kinds of circumstances over the years.”

“Well, the Enterprise has also lost its share of crew members over the years”, Teresa muttered, making a new move. “We know the risks when we sign up, and yet, one never gets used to it.”

“Accepting the inevitable brings peace”, T’Lara declared, answering her move.

“Vulcan wisdom”, Teresa remarked with a fine smile.

“Indeed”, T’Lara replied with resounding Vulcan confidence.

“I’m not so sure about that”, Teresa mused, her thoughts now completely distracted from the game. “In my experience, acceptance does help, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say that it brings peace, at least not when it comes to something like death.” When it came to her own emotions and anxieties, meanwhile, she knew that acceptance of them could take the edge of them, sometimes even dissolve them with time, which was something she had also been attempting to make Spock understand, who had a hard time accepting surfacing emotions. Thus, while she found that acceptance of inevitable outside circumstances could not bring her peace, acceptance of her own reaction to them could at least bring her a different kind of peace.

“Then your experience differs from mine”, T’Lara remarked with a twitch of her eyebrow.

“Apparently.” Teresa’s smile had returned and she regarded her granddaughter with friendly interest.

“I accepted being in the Delta Quadrant a long time ago”, T’Lara proclaimed.

“And yet, you have admitted to feeling… slightly homesick now and then”, Teresa could not stop herself from responding. “Is that ‘peace’?”

T’Lara looked at her with an unmoving face for a moment, seemingly not in the least surprised at the fact that Teresa would attempt to poke her now and then in order to find out how Vulcan she was exactly. “This homesickness”, she then said, “is not very pronounced. It does not distract me from my duties or… to use a distinctly human term”, and now she almost smiled, “…‘spoil’ my time off duty. I believe this can be called ‘peace’.”

“Fair enough”, Teresa smiled. “What do you do when you’re off duty, by the way? Apart from eating and meditating, of course, or the fitness training required by Starfleet?”

“I expected you to ask me this question sooner or later.”

“A very human one”, Teresa laughed.

T’Lara nodded with an affable expression. “I read”, came the answer. “Poetry, mostly. Vulcan and human, and more. I am not very musical, like you or Spock, though I have recently begun playing the piano. And I… come here. To… socialise. I have no great affinity for the holodeck, like so many others here do.”

Teresa’s interest had been sparked by all the activities T’Lara had mentioned, but she picked up on the last item on the list. “Are you a sociable person?”

“‘Sociable’ is a relative term.”

“Of course.”

“There are some crew members whose company I value.”

“For example?”

“Lieutenant Commander Tuvok, Lieutenant Haron, Ensign Hickman, Lieutenant Commander Lauritson, Lieutenant Shigihara, to name a few. I have even conducted a few fruitful conversations with Seven of Nine.”

At the mention of Seven of Nine, Teresa looked intrigued, but she was distracted from commenting on that fact by the sudden certitude that Spock was approaching. His thoughts were like a voice that was growing incrementally louder. She could not quite make them out clearly anymore, but she registered their presence. Remarkable, she thought to herself. She could also already sense from afar the renewed calm he had attained with his daily meditation session, and knew that he had registered her proximity, too.

Teresa’s gaze wandered to the mess hall doors and T’Lara, with natural curiosity, turned around to determine what she was looking at. As there was nothing or no one yet to see, she looked puzzled for a moment. When Spock entered the mess hall three seconds later, however, she seemed to comprehend.

“Your fal-tor-ha’pyl has developed remarkably quickly”, she observed.

“Indeed; it is quite singular”, Spock answered, having almost reached their table and looking at both of them with serene geniality. Then, with a glance at the chess board between them, he clasped his hands behind his back and warned T’Lara: “Teresa is winning. She will achieve check mate in…”, he eyed the board more closely, “…five moves.”

“She is a formidable opponent”, T’Lara agreed. “But I might yet beat her.”

“I have been playing with unfair means”, Teresa chuckled. “I’ve engaged her in too much conversation.” She was delighted to see him again. It had only been two hours since they had parted, but Teresa felt like it had been two days.

Spock’s eyes came to rest on her face and something in them told her that he knew exactly how she was feeling. With kindly raised eyebrows, he inquired: “Human ‘dirty tricks’?”

“Exactly”, Teresa smirked and thought, pleasantly surprised: That was ironic hyperbole, Spock!

He blinked, still contemplating her with this serene, delicate affection.

“If these were the ‘dirtiest’ tricks you are capable of, then I know I have nothing more to be concerned about”, T’Lara remarked. Teresa could hardly believe her ears. T’Lara was engaging in banter. On the other hand, she might have uttered this statement in complete earnest. This was the nature of their humour. It was so subtle that one could overlook it if one was not careful, that one could not even be sure it was really there.

“We cannot conclude this game in your presence”, T’Lara said to Spock. “With your mental connection, she has an advantage.”

“Oh, it’s too weak right now”, Teresa assured her. “I can’t make out distinct thoughts.” Spock and her exchanged a slightly sorry glance.

“In that case…”, T’Lara assented.

They finished their game in concentrated silence, with Spock watching, intrigued. T’Lara put up a good fight, but Teresa did win, as Spock had predicted. Trying not to look smug, she thanked her granddaughter for the game.

“It was… a pleasure”, T’Lara replied, getting up. “And now you must excuse me.” She gave them both a friendly and respectful nod and left the mess hall, presumably for her own daily meditation session.

Spock and Teresa looked at each other.

“I have missed you”, she said.

He regarded her with this light expression of his. “It has only been two hours.”

“Nevertheless”, she responded tenderly.

“I know what you mean”, he murmured. “I, too, have experienced this sensation of… emptiness, of being… incomplete.”

They sat down to dinner alone at a table in the corner. Teresa looked around them to make sure that they were sitting far away enough from anyone to not be overheard, then she observed with twitching eyebrows: “I see you’ve got your bo’qal lur under control for the moment.”

“… For the moment”, Spock confirmed with poise. He observed her closely for an instant. “You are… disappointed”, he then sensed, with the slightest frown.

Teresa returned his gaze for a second, her mouth opening and her eyes widening, then she laughed, somewhat caught. “I am very glad for you that you have regained some peace of mind. A part of me is a little disappointed, yes, but that’s no matter.”

Spock kept observing her with this attentive frown. “You were hoping for a more… passionate resolution of this emotional state”, he attested in a low voice, raising an eyebrow with a glint in his pale green eyes.

“Well”, she muttered in an equally low voice, her lips twitching, “you did say ‘later’, remember?”

“I did”, he confirmed, the glint in his eyes intensifying. “And that still holds. I have merely rid myself of the… urgency of these desires.”

“I see”, she made, biting her lip with a sparkle in her own eyes now and reaching for her fork. “In that case…”

Spock’s fine frown and his contemplation of her persisted while he recalled the extensive knowledge he had gathered of her own desires, and he realized: “This… urgency on my part had been heightening your own excitement. And yours is still lingering now.” Now he looked a little sorry for not reciprocating her feeling of urgency.

She began to smirk, partly gratified by his exploration of the dynamics of their physical relationship and partly amused by the fact that they were having this conversation in the mess hall of all places, no matter how discrete they were about it. That in itself was somehow… exciting. “True”, she affirmed, but added gently: “But your emotional balance is infinitely more important than some extra excitement.” She certainly did not want a repetition of his Vulcan panic attack and he knew very well what she meant.

“Indeed”, he made, the glint in his eyes now attaining a troubled note. “What did you and T’Lara speak about?”, he then changed the subject and began to eat.

Teresa summarized their conversation for him while she also started on her dinner meal. Spock frowned when she mentioned the 31 lost Voyager crew members.

“I would have been surprised if Voyager had not suffered any casualties in this at times very hostile territory”, he said quietly. “Most unfortunate.”

They both remembered the crew members the Enterprise had lost over the years.

“Something else you will need to get used to”, Teresa whispered. “Worrying. About me.” For now, they knew that neither of them would sustain any lasting injuries or be killed during their missions, but once their memories had been erased, this reassuring certainty would be gone.

Spock took a slow and controlled breath, his eyes resting on her face. “Concern for your safety has been my constant companion for many years now”, he murmured.

“It will become much more visceral now that you’re allowing your emotions for me”, she promised him tenderly and sorrowfully.

“‘I will adapt’”, he murmured, suddenly looking thoughtful.

“What is it?”, she asked, because she sensed that his thoughts were wandering off slightly.

“I involved Seven of Nine in a short conversation on my way to the mess hall”, he told her. “I asked her how she is adjusting to life on Voyager. And she told me that one reason for the Borg’s great success is their ability to adapt to new circumstances.”

“Meaning that she, as a former drone, also possesses this skill?”, Teresa inquired.

“Precisely. I will endeavour to adapt, too. After all, it is only logical.”

“Advice from a Borg”, Teresa grinned. “One of the many advantages of being on Voyager.”

Just as she had finished this utterance, Spock noticed a small commotion in the opposite corner of the mess hall. Three crew members were congregating next to one of the replicators, inspecting it. One of them pressed his comm badge. “Lieutenant Ayala to engineering. The replicators in the mess hall are malfunctioning. You had better send a maintenance team.”

“So much for Voyager running smoothly”, Teresa joked, having also observed the scene.

Spock kept observing them with a finely furrowed brow for a moment, then he turned his attention back to her. “I agree that being romantically involved with you as your superior officer will most likely not be easy”, he remarked, resuming both the conversation they had started two minutes ago and the topic they had only briefly brushed on before, during their second visit to the holodeck. He took a sip from his drink.

“In the past, such relationships were often forbidden”, Teresa nodded pensively, but feeling very relieved by the fact that Starfleet policy had always been one of non-interference in officer’s intimate relationships, as long as everybody fulfilled their duties correctly and followed the rules. “There are several challenging issues, most of all the fact that you might have to send me on dangerous away missions or the division of our private and professional lives.”

Spock nodded.

“However, I have complete confidence in you”, she said warmly. “If there is anyone who can completely avoid favouritism in such a situation and can keep personal emotion out of professional decisions, I’m sure it’s you.”

“Indeed”, he agreed, gazing at her affectionally. “Logic will always be my main source of guidance. Still, the examples you have mentioned aside, I imagine that the presence of this new variable will be… challenging. And as I have begun to learn, there are at least some decisions in which emotion should play a certain role after all.” His tone had become very gentle and they once again got lost in each other’s gaze for a moment. “I am in the process of re-evaluating many of my previous assumptions and intellectual habits”, he then continued, “which will most probably also have an effect on my professional deliberations. To which degree…? I am not yet certain. I must be careful to not let this new tendency go too far.”

“If it brings any solace to you, I will certainly tell you if I think you’re going too far”, Teresa promised. On the other side of the room, an officer from engineering had arrived and opened up the replicator in order to inspect the malfunction.

“It does”, he confirmed, and recalling their many professional interactions on the Enterprise, he added: “You are one of the most logical humans I have ever met, even despite your recent emotional, defiant reflex to compensate for the anguish caused by the upcoming erasure of our memories with a deliberate relaxation of your caution concerning knowledge about the 24th century.” Teresa raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips, a little annoyed, caught and amused at the same time. Spock returned her gaze, equally raising his eyebrows. “In your defence, you are still exercising a substantial amount of restraint. But, returning to your initial observation and something you thought yesterday: I am glad that it seems that I will never be faced with a choice between saving you and fulfilling my duty.”

Her gaze became tender and sorrowful once again. “You won’t have this certainty, either, once we get back.”

He returned this sorrowful gaze. “No.”

“And it is of course possible that such a situation will indeed arise one day, but I will survive it for other reasons.”

“Possibly.” His frown deepened.

“I am sure we will talk about this”, she continued gently. “And I know what I will tell you. I will tell you that, should such a time ever come, you will of course put the needs of the many over the needs of the one; you will make the right decision. That I will understand this completely and that there should be no reason whatsoever for you to reproach yourself if I… die or am severely injured as a consequence of this decision.”

Spock gazed at her for a few silent seconds with heavy eyes. “A statement most worthy of a Starfleet officer”, he then said quietly. “Should you ever be faced with a similar choice, my stance would be the same.”

Teresa pressed her lips together and nodded. “And yet”, she declared with a husky voice, “it would be the hardest choice I’ll ever have to make.” She cleared her throat.

Contemplating her with a most serious face, he reached out his hand for hers under the table. “As it would be for me.” Their fingers met and intertwined.

“One of the gel packs is damaged”, the officer inspecting the replicator could be heard remarking to Lieutenant Ayala. “Better get it to Lieutenant Torres.”

“What’s wrong with it?”, the Lieutenant asked.

“Not sure”, came the answer.

“A damaged gel pack?”, Teresa said to Spock with a slightly furrowed brow. “That’s not so good, considering Voyager only has a relatively small supply of replacements.” They had learned about Voyager’s bio-neural circuitry during their study of the ship’s systems the day before.

“Indeed”, Spock concurred, but added: “As long as only one is damaged…”

Once they had finished their dinner, they went to the kitchen to see whether Neelix needed any more help, but he waved them down. “Nah, it’s quiet at the moment; you would spend half your time just standing around. Why don’t you do something nice instead? Make use of that new lyre, for example.”

“That is a good idea”, Spock said, exchanging a glance with Teresa.

“I am full of good ideas”, Neelix replied. Teresa laughed affectionately.

The lyre was still in Teresa’s quarters, so that’s where they went. Teresa felt her heart beat faster with every metre they came closer to her doors. Once they had arrived, Spock went over to the sofa, picked up the instrument and played a few notes, once again appreciating its quality. Teresa absented herself for a few minutes to freshen up, listening to the melodies Spock created on the lyre in the background. The more he played, the more absorbed he became in the music; she felt it, and part of her was equally swept up by the harmonies. Nevertheless, her heart kept hammering in her chest and she looked at herself in the mirror, her chest lifting and lowering with every breath, her eyes glimmering.

Her mood had not gone unnoticed by Spock, who looked up from the lyre once she had sat down on the sofa facing him. His eyes wandered over her face, registering her glimmering eyes, her accelerated breath and her parted lips. It seems the lyre will have to wait, he thought to himself.

Her eyes followed the movement of his hands as he put the lyre aside on the table, at a safe distance from the sofa. “Your hands are beautiful, too, you know that?”, she murmured.

“Thank you”, he answered quietly and lifted those beautiful hands of his up to her temples with a soft expression on his face. She eagerly leant forward, her breath accelerating even more, but before he could initiate the meld, she paused and whispered: “No, wait, I’m too agitated. We shouldn’t meld like this.”

“I am in no danger of being overwhelmed at this moment”, he murmured with resounding confidence, his fingers gently connecting to her skin. His meditation had been very thorough. “I am sufficiently prepared.”

Her eyes flickered and she let out a small blissful gasp once his consciousness had been opened up to her again, then her breath grew calmer. The last three hours raced through their mind; she shared in the process of self-contemplation he had undergone and he in her interactions with the Doctor, B’Elanna, Ensign Onagawa and T’Lara. Teresa felt him do the mental equivalent of raising an eyebrow when he learned how she had discussed their relationship with B’Elanna, but he could accept it as long as the Chief Engineer was discrete; he had already become aware of the fact that many humans were in the habit of discussing their intimate relationships with friends and of how much of a confidante B’Elanna had become to Teresa. For a short moment, they also dwelt on the unknown ‘something’ Ensign Wildman had asked her colleague to see in the science lab. However, though Teresa was generally curious about this, she did not care in the least at that moment. She leant even closer, their desire to be near each other in every conceivable way intensifying.

Spock sank backwards on the sofa, still maintaining the meld, while Teresa’s hands slowly travelled along his shoulders and over his torso, his neck, his face, feeling the texture of his uniform and the muscles underneath. They only barely registered what she was doing, or that her lips had begun brushing over his, but when his hands finally slid off her face, they realized in astonishment that they had begun kissing breathlessly and fervidly in a tight embrace. She softly grasped his hand while they felt excitement and uncontainable yearning surge in their chests.

They somehow managed to rid themselves of their clothes while simultaneously staying glued together as tightly as possible, feeling the warmth and softness of each other’s bodies. Teresa had crawled fully onto his lap and he had sat up, his back against the sofa, his arms around her upper body, holding her close and letting his hands wander over her back. Her hands were combing through his hair, bringing it into hopeless disarray, and greedily grasping his cheeks while she put all her love, devotion and longing into her kisses. He returned them with equal emphasis, gasping faintly, opening up her hair until it fell in smooth curls over her shoulders and down her back.

It seemed that caution was not necessary this time; in fact, it was barely an afterthought. They moved in desperate passion, clinging to each other, their minds completely absorbed in each other, surrendering themselves to their immense and immeasurable attachment and need of each other, expressing it with every touch, every kiss, every look and every thought. It took a long time until they had slowed down for good and regained a sense of their surroundings. Each time they had somewhat calmed down, they maintained their tight embrace, the loving flow of their thoughts and the wistful contact between their mouths, which led to the next rush of passion; they floated in an ebb and flow of sensation, excitation and profound tenderness.

With tremendous satisfaction, they noticed that Spock seemed to have regained this sense of her being a new part of him, where his emotions did not seem threatening. Once they had slowed down for good and were simply lying there, maintaining their embrace, gently caressing each other and exchanging kisses that were calmer and softer, Teresa repeated his own words to him, those thoughts he had formed on their first night as a couple. It feels like… you have become an extension of me, a new limb I have grown, a safe place where this neglected side of my personality can thrive… where I can be more… human. He softly grasped her hand in response.

An eternity later, they disentangled their bodies from each other, partially dressed again, drank some water and then sat back down on the sofa together. Spock picked up the lyre and began to play softly, while Teresa leant against his shoulder, her hands around his arm, and quietly sang and hummed along to every melody he played. They were both floating along in a blissful and love-drunk trance, engrossed in each other’s presence and thoughts, eyes meeting and lips tenderly finding each other once again in between songs, fingers intertwining or running over each other’s bodies and faces and the lyre resting silently in his lap.

Chapter Text

“Spock, being Vulcan means following disciplines and philosophies that are difficult and demanding on both mind and body.”

“Yes, father.”

“You constantly display your emotions. You’ve even been seen fighting in the street.”

“Yes, father.”

“The time draws near when you will have to decide whether you will follow Vulcan or human philosophy. Vulcan offers much: no war, no crime, order, logic and control in place of raw emotions and instinct. Once on the path you choose, you cannot turn back.”

“Yes, father. I choose Vulcan.”

He saw his father hover above him like a statue, an imposing figure, worthy of great respect and admiration, an example to be followed. Sarek subtly lifted his eyebrows and then nodded slowly, gazing down at him. His mother, standing to the side of them in the spacious entrance hall of their house, did her best to hide her disappointment. Through the large windows, Spock could see the sun set over the desert, filling the room with an intense red glow.

I choose Vulcan.

Yes, that was what he had said. And followed with conviction.

While the three of them were still silently standing next to the windows, Spock caught a movement in the corner of his eye and saw a figure passing through from the door in the left corner of the room to the other door on the right. She vanished in the hallway before he had had a proper look at her, but he knew who it was, nonetheless. He ran after her, the patter of his young feet echoing in the hallway. Her silhouette kept walking away from him, some 20 meters in front of him in the Enterprise’s bright corridor, flooded with the red glow of the Vulcan sunset. Several times, she halted for a moment and looked back at him over her shoulder with a sad smile. But no matter how fast he ran, the red doors and light grey walls racing past him, his legs now an adult’s length again, he could not reach her.

“I choose Vulcan.” The words pursued him, echoing through the corridor together with his steps. Structure. Logic. Function. Control.

“Te gusta esta muchacha?” (“You like this girl?”) Suddenly, he stood on the desolate surface of a planet, between bare rock formations. The red glow of the Vulcan sky kept permeating even this place, though. Next to him stood an elderly human man with brown hair and skin and black eyes, who looked at him with a perceptive glance, waiting for his answer.

Spock nodded.

“Pues, adelante. La vida es corta.” (“Well, go ahead. Life is short.”)

I choose Vulcan. His father nodded, gazing down at him in the entrance hall. Structure. Logic. Function. Control.

“And why do you have to choose at all?”

He wheeled around. There she stood, not two meters away from him, in her light blue uniform with the golden lieutenant’s stripes around her wrists and her black tights and shoes, the strap of her tricorder over her shoulder, her hair secured in her habitual elaborate bun, looking at him with a calm, gentle and understanding expression. “We all have to find our own way.”

“There can be no middle ground”, he told her, with conviction and the same composure she was exhibiting.

“Nonsense”, she said kindly and firmly, smiling faintly. “You of all people are more than intelligent enough to find the middle ground.”

I choose Vulcan. His father nodded. ¿Te gusta esta muchacha? Pues, adelante. La vida es corta.

I love you, Spock, her thoughts said loudly and clearly, as he was back to standing with her close to the rockface, his hands on her face. This time, they had arrived in this position without a struggle; instead, she had welcomed his advances. There is so much you are missing out on if you deny your human nature. And I don’t only mean love; there is a world of experiences to be discovered. His hands slid off her face and she leant forward, her light brown eyes full of endless tender affection. Her face floated before him, framed by her soft, dark-brown hair, her lips slightly open, exuding profound longing. “I love you, Spock, deeply. Do not torment me so.” Though her voice was measured and poised, he acutely perceived the imploring undertones, the profound desperation lurking under the surface.

“I choose Vulcan”, he heard his young self say. His father nodded.

He closed his eyes and shook his head to drive the voices away. When he opened them again, she was gone and he was standing alone on the planet, the red glow of the sky intensifying.

“Teresa?”

Silence descended all around him. His parents, the strange old man, Teresa, they had all vanished. The voices had gone quiet. He was alone.

“Spock?”, he heard her voice again; this time it was curious and empathetic. He looked up and saw Teresa walking towards him, barefoot, wearing her silk nightgown and observing him with an intrigued expression.

He frowned, thoroughly surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re dreaming”, she informed him.

“A most logical deduction”, he nodded and took the hand she had extended towards him. “But what are you doing here?”

She shrugged, still with a most intrigued expression. “It must be the mind melds. Now I can even witness your dreams. And visit them. By the way, what was that all about?”

“Did you see it all?” His frown persisted, but he was extremely glad to see her. This Teresa was not elusive and mysterious, as people in dreams tend to be; this Teresa was real, whole, the person he knew better than he knew anyone else in the world.

“I believe so. It all started in your parent’s house.”

“Remarkable”, he commented, and then explained: “I have had this dream, or a very similar one, for many months. That I should still experience it now”, he continued, a little puzzled, because he now remembered all that had transpired between the two of them for the past few days, “is surprising.”

Both were aware of the fact that in Vulcans, vivid dreams were a symptom of resurfacing emotions.

Teresa nodded understandingly. “Probably things have been happening too fast for your unconscious mind to fully keep up. This is probably the old you, being processed by the current you, before it can make an exit. And I suppose”, she continued gently, brushing a finger along his cheek, “a part of you is still uncertain whether you have truly taken the right path. A part of you is still caught in this struggle.”

“But I thought I was certain”, he protested.

“Give it time”, she recommended.

He took a deep breath and nodded, pressing her hand.

“Who was the old man?”, she then asked.

“I have no idea.”

“He was speaking Spanish.”

“Indeed, he was.”

“And you understood him.”

“Apparently, I did.”

They were silent for a moment, contemplating the landscape of Taurus IV. Neither of them was surprised by the fact that this was a place his mind – and hers – frequently returned to.

Then she said: “Well, this is truly a singular and marvellous experience. We are dreaming together, lucidly. I suppose we could do whatever we want.”

“Indeed”, he made, looking at her musingly. “What do you propose?”

She smiled and shrugged once more. “It’s your dream. Evidently, you were processing something. If you want, you can continue doing so, only this time you wouldn’t be alone.”

He gazed at her, still thoughtful. Then he nodded once again and grasped her hand more tightly. In the scope of a few seconds, the landscape around them dissolved and changed. Once their surroundings had solidified again, Teresa recognized that they were back in the Vulcan desert, on a plateau overlooking a valley full of rocks and sparse vegetation. Some ten meters afar, they saw a young Spock sitting in the shadow of a robust tree, engrossed in meditation. He could not be more than thirteen years old. Teresa watched him, fascinated.

“I came here often, at the time I was practicing my mental and emotional control”, Spock told her. “It was… difficult. I had to get out of the house.”

“Why this spot?”, Teresa inquired, turning away from the young Spock and looking down into the valley.

“Apart from the obvious natural beauty and tranquillity of this spot”, he explained hesitantly, “it turned out to be of value when my endeavours… were unsuccessful, which they often were.” He gestured with his head back to his younger self, who had broken into a fit of rage and frustration and, with a roar, sprang up, grasped one of the tree offshoots, ripped it out of the rocky soil and threw it five meters against a rockface. Teresa winced slightly and drew in a sharp breath, but not in fear: in commiseration. With him and the tree. Nevertheless, Spock knew that she had never seen his Vulcan strength at play like this. He observed her, curious as to how she was reacting to this show of his younger self’s erupting volatile emotions. “I suffered such outbursts for more than one and half years, until I had finally begun to master the mental techniques”, he continued, while young Spock picked up a piece of rock and threw it against the same rockface, where it burst into pieces. “But even then, I took me three more years until I truly had acquired a sufficient level of mental discipline. I was told that other Vulcans learned much faster, which fuelled my frustration even further.”

She watched him (his current self) attentively. “Spock. You are not that boy anymore.”

“No”, he agreed. “But I remember him well.”

“You are not going to become him again, either.”

Fleetingly, other memories passed through his mind, memories of other occasions later in his life when his emotions, especially his rage, had surfaced. Once, in his early years on the Enterprise, he had purposefully allowed rage to surface because the situation had required it. Afterwards, he had struggled heavily to contain it again.

“Certainly not”, he nevertheless confirmed. “But I wanted to show him to you, nonetheless.”

“I am glad you did”, she said earnestly and lovingly.

“I sometimes wonder what I would be capable of, if I truly lost control”, he confessed.

“Spock, you are kind and gentle”, she said adamantly. “You will never hurt anyone, as long it is not absolutely necessary, to protect others.”

He took a deep breath. Somehow, her resounding confidence in him was very convincing.

“I also sometimes wonder what I could be capable of, you know?”, she smiled wryly. “Whenever anyone has tried to hurt you, I have felt quite… murderous. Have I actually ever acted on this feeling? No.”

He raised his eyebrows. “‘Murderous’?”

She nodded. “I am not exaggerating.” And suddenly he felt it, as she conjured up a memory of this emotion: a seething, blind fury, a powerful desire to lash out, punish and inflict considerable pain. It vanished as quickly as it had arrived and now it was her who was observing him, waiting for his reaction.

“I see”, he made, somehow pacified by the fact that there was a darkness lurking inside her, too. “There are many things the mind melds we have carried out so far have not revealed yet.” His fingers began to caress her hand, and for a moment they were both distracted by how real it felt, almost as though they were not dreaming at all.

“Do you want to see another one of my ‘dark secrets’?”, she inquired, her voice assuming a tone of ironic exaggeration.

“Most definitely”, he answered gently.

This time, therefore, it was her who led them to a new location. They were in a small street in Loma de Arena, the town of her childhood. Four children, about eight years old, were walking home from school, three girls and a boy, chattering about a topic she could not remember.

“I was bullied in primary school, you know”, Teresa informed him over the chatter of squeaky children’s voices. “They found my interests strange, didn’t like my taste in music. They were bored by my incessant curiosity about all the plants and animals around us and thought the questions I asked the teachers pretentious. Maybe I was a little too vain about my excellent grades, I don’t remember. The point is, at that age I really did not know how to defend myself and they took advantage of it. This memory is not about me being bullied, however. It’s about me being one of the bullies.”

The little boy among the group had started to cry due to something one of the girls had said. “Fyodor, what a stupid name”, she continued. “Fyodor, your shirt is ugly.”

Little Teresita seemed to agree because she added: “Your school bag, too.” And she laughed, and the others, too. Spock raised his eyebrows, not at all impressed by either the children’s cruelty or the intellectual level of their insults.

The boy’s tears ran even more quickly down his cheeks. The third girl came closer and pulled his hair, and when he sobbed “Ow!”, the three girls laughed in unison. He began to walk more quickly, to get away from them, but they followed him, continuing to pull his hair and clothes and kicking his legs. Teresita gave his school bag a solid kick, too, to the approving cheers of the other two. His crying persisted and intensified, while she felt a strange rush of satisfaction and amusement.

As the children walked further down the road, the little boy still crying, Teresa told Spock: “It was a good feeling, you know? To not be the victim for once, to not feel this humiliation myself, to not be the one excluded from the group, to not feel so powerless. Instead, I was part of the group and I was the one wielding power over someone else. Do you understand? This is what I was capable of. I felt very bad afterwards. And I vowed to myself to never be unkind to another person ever again. I hope I’ve been successful at that.”

“I think you have”, Spock said. “At least for as long as I have known you and based on the other memories I have seen so far.”

“Hm”, she smiled. “If I have been unkind to someone after all, I must have preferred to forget the occasion. I very much like to think of myself as a good person.”

“In my experience, that is true of most individuals”, he remarked. “Very few feel comfortable in the role of the villain. Hence people’s frequent attempts to deny or justify immoral behaviour. If it brings you solace, however, I can tell you that I think you are a very good person.”

Her face lit up. “So are you.”

“Thank you.”

“Okay, enough of all this doom and gloom”, she smiled. “Let’s go somewhere nice.”

“Where would you like to go?”

She considered this question for a moment, then she let out a short laugh. “Actually, I really want to go… here.” Their surroundings changed yet again. The street with its buildings, gardens and trees vanished and instead, they were standing alone on the bridge of the Enterprise, with the viewscreen showing the infinity of space and the equipment emitting its familiar concert of quiet beeping. “What do you think?”

Spock made a surprised face for a moment, but then he looked at her with a light expression, put his arms around her and opined: “An excellent choice.”

When Teresa woke up, she saw Spock sitting on the floor in the corner of the room, meditating, the candle burning next to him. As soon as he perceived that she was watching him, however, he opened his eyes and met her gaze. She lifted the corners of her mouth only slightly, in order not to disrupt his concentration too much. He nodded almost imperceptibly in response and closed his eyes again. It was still very early in the morning.

After she had freshened up, had returned from the bathroom and was sitting on the edge of the bed, though, his eyes remained open and he was observing her steadily, quietly breathing through partially opened lips. The room was still shrouded in semi-darkness; nobody had had the computer increase the illumination. Teresa could nonetheless discern the increasing glow in his eyes and the slight acceleration of his respiration. Soon after, his overwhelming desire to be close to her again hit her like a wall of warm air.

She smiled lovingly and sympathetically, because she sensed that he had been attempting to moderate this desire. He quietly got up, sat down next to her on the edge of the bed and picked up her hand. While their hands began to dance, he gazed at her with a glimmer of agitation in his eyes. She lifted her other hand and brushed it along his cheek. He inhaled and closed his eyes, assuming a more pacified facial expression and leaning against her hand.

Carefully, she let go of his hand, took his face into both her hands and placed a gentle kiss onto his lips. He gratefully returned the advances of her lips, pulling her closer and surrendering to his desire.

When it was over, they lay in bed, with his arm around her waist. She lovingly ran her fingers through his hair.

“Do you remember the dream, too?”, he then inquired quietly.

Her eyes widened slightly. “Yes! The memory is a little blurred, as memories of dreams usually are, but I do remember.” For a moment, they recalled their joint dream together, faint images of each other’s recollections passing between them, and they found that they matched.

“So you were, indeed, real. A manifestation of your consciousness and not only a very realistic product of my own mind”, Spock made. “Astounding. I have never heard of fal-tor-ha’pyl leading to shared dreams, as well. But maybe this is a very little-known fact.”

“We did not dream together for the whole night, however”, she observed.

“Do you recall how you became aware of my dream?”

Teresa frowned, trying to remember. “… No. As far as I can recall, I was dreaming my own dreams, and then yours simply… began. At first, I only witnessed it as an invisible bystander, but when I had fully realized what was taking place and when you called out my name, I very much wanted to… answer the call. And suddenly, you saw me.”

Spock gazed at her, equally frowning. After a short moment of deliberation, he concluded: “It is a viable hypothesis, then, that you witnessed this dream because it was, amongst other things, about you.”

She nodded and went back to running her fingers through his hair, letting her eyes wander over his face while he looked back, still mesmerized by the experience of their shared dream.

“I think you need a haircut”, she then suddenly murmured and chuckled. “It’s getting a little too long to pass Vulcan muster.”

“Is that so?”, he made distractedly, quite indifferent to this information. “I do not know who here could execute this task.”

“Maybe the Voyager crew get their hair cut by a holographic barber.” She smirked.

Caressing her skin, he murmured: “That not an unreasonable assumption.”

The commotion in his interior had died down; his calmness saturated the room.

“Huh, you see?”, she said gently. “Giving in to your emotions actually does help.”

“Occasionally. If I strike the right balance.”

“You seem to have found it this morning.”

“Indeed. Or maybe I am simply… getting used to you. To this.”

She took his hand and led it to her temple. He understood. Once his fingers had connected to the correct spots on her face again and she felt his satisfaction and peace flow through her mind and body, she sighed in contentment. After a minute or so, he withdrew his hand, placed a soft kiss onto her lips and pulled her into a tighter embrace.

For quite a while, they simply lay there in silence, with his fingers slowly wandering along the side of her body. Then, the lights suddenly went off.

“Computer, lights”, Spock ordered.

The room remained cloaked in darkness. Only the glow of the stars enabled them to faintly make out each other’s silhouettes. “That’s odd”, Teresa said. “Computer, explain the malfunction.”

Silence.

They sat up, now on serious alert.

“Do you also get the feeling that it’s getting colder?”, she then asked, shivering slightly.

Spock was silent for a few seconds, listening to his senses. Indeed, the temperature seemed to be falling relatively quickly.

“The environmental controls must be malfunctioning, as well”, she diagnosed, preoccupied. She groped around on the bedside table in search of her comm badge. Once she had found it, she pressed it. “Juárez to bridge.”

More silence. She tried again, but without success.

“Communications must be offline, too”, he asserted.

She nodded. “Let’s get out of here.”

They felt around in the dark for their clothes. Teresa only found her nightgown. She would have kept searching for her uniform if the temperature had not reached almost wintry levels by that point, so she contented herself with the nightgown. Spock equally only wore his nightclothes and had found his own comm badge, as well. In a corner of the room, there was a case in the wall from which they retrieved two headtorches.

They had to open the doors by putting the commands manually into the panel, which was fortunately still working. The corridor was pitch-black and the turbolift was inoperable. The temperature was still falling.

“Jeffries tubes, then”, Teresa said with chattering teeth. Spock nodded, equally cold. “But what if some people here are still in their quarters, asleep?”, it then occurred to her.

So they went along the corridor, banging on all the doors and rousing five members of the crew, most of whom stumbled out of their quarters, having dressed just as hurriedly as they had and wearing the same type of headtorches. By that point, it had become so cold that Spock could barely move his fingers and Teresa’s feet felt like blocks of ice.

All seven of them crawled up through the Jeffries tubes, not knowing whether there was any part of the ship where the systems were still operational.

Fortunately, they only had to climb two decks further up to deck five to find more torches shining at them from above and Tuvok’s voice calling out to them: “How many of you are there?”

“Seven”, Spock answered.

“Then everyone is accounted for”, Tuvok announced, satisfied. “Do you require assistance?”

“No”, they chorused, as they had almost made it to the point of exit. Teresa added, her teeth chattering worse than ever before: “But a few blankets and a cup of tea would be nice.”

With the help of Tuvok, Tom Paris and Lieutenant Ayala, all seven of them climbed out of the hatch into the corridor, which was just as bright and warm as it should be. Teresa rubbed her hands together, very much unencumbered by the fact that everyone could see her in her nightgown.

Spock, whose complexion had assumed a more greenish tone than she had ever seen before, asked: “What happened?” He rubbed his hands along his arms.

“Almost all systems on decks six, seven and eight have suddenly gone offline”, Tuvok explained. “Fortunately, the artificial gravity is still operational. Lieutenant Torres believes that this systems failure is due to a more serious problem with the gel packs and has started investigating the malfunctions.”

Teresa and Spock exchanged a glance, while the other five residents of deck seven also looked preoccupied. “Is there anything we can do to help?”, Teresa inquired.

Tuvok hesitated for a moment and then replied: “Not for the moment. We will inform you if you can be of assistance. Your priority at this moment is to go to sickbay.”

Teresa certainly did not argue with that and neither did Spock. As sickbay was just around the corner, it did not take them long to get there, accompanied by Tom Paris, who had assumed the job of part-time nurse since Kes had left the ship. Two minutes later therefore, their group was sitting on the biobeds, each draped in blankets and a large cup with a hot drink in their hands, while the Doctor and Tom examined everyone with their medical tricorders.

“Five minutes more down there and you would all be suffering from acute hypothermia”, the Doctor remarked in a distinctly cheerless tone. “Except for you, of course. For you, it would have taken some 20 minutes more”, he said to Ensign Tevin, who was Andorian. “You can go.”

Spock had begun looking more yellowish than greenish again and Teresa could also feel the warmth return to her cheeks, fingers and feet. For a feeling of warmth and relaxation to reach her core, which felt painfully tense, it took a few minutes more. Everyone was given an injection that would speed up their recovery and ordered to finish their hot drink.

‘Voyager is running smoothly’, Teresa heard Spock quote B’Elanna and the Captain in his thoughts.

She sighed.

“Any news on the gel pack situation?”, Neelix inquired when Captain Janeway zoomed into the mess hall three hours later, very much in need of a large cup of coffee.

“They have been, once again, infected with some kind of spores”, the Captain explained, with Teresa and Spock listening attentively. “But a very different kind this time. We have erected forcefields around the affected areas because the stuff seems to be spreading.” When Neelix handed her the coffee, she grabbed it eagerly, led it to her mouth, took a greedy gulp, burnt her lips and coughed.

“Spreading? Through the ship?”, Spock asked. He and Teresa were back in uniform; someone had replicated them new ones, but of the Voyager type, which took some getting used to: Spock looked strangely unfamiliar (though certainly dashing, Teresa thought) in the black and red command uniform and Teresa was wearing the black and turquoise science uniform (trousers!). All their limbs were warm again and their bellies full of Neelix’s breakfast. The Doctor had discharged them from sickbay after 20 more minutes of tea-drinking and blanket-hugging, but not before he had not scanned them again, commenting dryly that there was a 0.017% variance in the neurochemical composition of Teresa’s brain and one of 0.019% in Spock’s brain in comparison to the last time he had scanned them three days ago and that he could also observe a slight convergence of his readings and hers. Their brains had become, just the tiniest little bit, more similar to each other. Usually, they would have been highly intrigued by this information, but the question of what was happening on the ship drove such concerns away. Having arrived in the mess hall, they learned that a good amount of the crew had been battling further, but smaller malfunctions for several hours before the two of them had even woken up. Spock was not used anymore to not being in a command position in such an emergency and found it very hard to simply help Neelix make leola root soufflé to nourish the hardworking crew. Teresa equally strongly itched to do something more meaningful, for the very first time since their arrival on Voyager. But they knew that despite having recently made themselves familiar with Voyager’s basic specifications, their expertise on ship’s systems was a hundred years out of date and they would probably be more of a nuisance than a help.

Janeway nodded in answer to Spock’s question, looking preoccupied.

“Spores? What kind of spores?”, Teresa wanted to know.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“Maybe we can help”, Teresa offered.

The Captain gave a most decided nod. “Actually, that’s the second reason I’m here”, she told them, waving her coffee cup around, which was obviously the first reason. “I believe your expertise might be helpful. Come with me.”

With an apologetic glance at Neelix on Teresa’s part, they lost no time in dropping what they were doing in the kitchen and following Janeway.

“More and more of the ship’s systems have been affected”, the Captain explained on the way through the corridor. “Decks thirteen and fourteen have also turned into no-go zones, because we’ve had to reroute the secondary systems to keep engineering and the computer core running. The bio-neural gel packs are a phantastic and highly efficient piece of technology, but since we’ve arrived in the Delta Quadrant, we’ve learned the hard way that they’re vulnerable in ways different from conventional circuitry. Certain biological agents can turn into considerable threats. At the rate the systems are failing at the moment, we’re going to have to abandon ship in approximately 22 hours if we can’t find a solution until then.” They had entered a turbolift and Janeway gave them a serious look, not needing to explain what this would mean for the crew and the two of them, too. “That’s where you come into play. The biological life of the Delta Quadrant is just as a new to us as it is to you and it matters little whether you are 23rd or 24th century scientists, especially with your calibres. You might not be familiar with all the scientific equipment we use and with the advances in exobiology since your time, but extra brainpower and scientific expertise is what’s needed now.”

The three of them went down to deck eight, to the exobiology section of the science lab. Despite the gravity of the situation, Teresa felt a surge of pleasure and excitement at finally having a legitimate reason to visit this part of the ship and Spock threw her a glance. They gave both Ensign Wildman and Ensign Onagawa a curt, but friendly nod.

“We’ve discovered that the spores have originated from a specimen from our lab”, Janeway went on. “They seem to use the gel packs as a breeding ground and multiply. We’ve never encountered anything like it. So far, we have not yet found a way to rid the packs of the spores without destroying the packs themselves.” Then, she gave Ensign Wildman a nod to indicate that it was now her turn to continue with the explanation.

The Ensign equally nodded and stepped to the side to reveal a small, innocuous looking, cactus-like plant that was standing on a little table, covered with a glass bell and surrounded by a force-field. Teresa’s eyes widened slightly, because most of the cactaceae or similar species she knew reproduced via seeds, not spores. On Earth, not a single cactus produced spores. “This is tricocereea alorcensis. We sampled it four months ago from a planet called Alorcis III, catalogued it and stored it in our collection, suspended in a stasis chamber and protected by the standard level 4 force field that we use for specimens we have not yet analysed in detail. For four months, it just sat there, dormant. Yesterday, we found that despite the stasis field, it had developed a type of ultra-light spores the size of 4 microns, which by some unknown means had escaped the force field and entered the room and the ship’s ventilation system.” Teresa and Spock exchanged another glance, as it had now become clear why Ensign Onagawa had been summoned back to the lab by Ensign Wildman yesterday. “The bridge did a standard purge of the room and the ventilation ducts and a level 3 systems analysis and found no more trace of them”, Samantha Wildman continued.

“This is why it took us until two hours ago to realize that the gel pack malfunction was due to these spores”, Janeway went on. “For some reason, they were very hard to detect. And that’s where we are now”, she sighed. “We have two teams working on the problem, trying to find a way to rid the gel packs of the spores. The exobiology team here is trying to find out as much as possible about this specimen and the spores themselves, while the other team, led by the Doctor and Lieutenant Torres, is working on the gel packs. I am assigning you two to this lab for the time being. Any questions you have can be answered by these two here.” Both ensigns gave them faint, somewhat strained smiles.

They nodded. “Understood”, Teresa said. Then she approached tricocereea alorcensis with a furrowed brow, bent down to have a close look at it and greeted it: “Hello, little one. You’re a remarkable fellow, aren’t you?”

“What do you know so far?”, Teresa inquired, pacing up and down in the lab. Captain Janeway had left the room to attend to other problems on the ship which required her attention.

“The first thing we did was to test the spores’ reaction to heat”, Samantha Wildman explained, “because the gel packs have been infected by a type of bacterial spores before, when Neelix was making Brill cheese in the kitchen. The packs could be saved by increasing the temperature on the ship to simulate a body running a fever. These spores, however, can withstand temperatures of up to 865 degrees Celsius, which would not only destroy the gel packs, but obviously kill everything else on the ship, as well.”

“865 degrees?”, Teresa repeated, impressed, fascinated and dismayed at the same time. “Extraordinary.”

“We have also attempted to neutralize them with several different chemical agents that have worked with a great number of other types of organic entities”, Mbezi Onagawa continued, with both Teresa and Spock listening intently. “Deroxonine, alzapam, tyrepzenine, diboram five, semodium… the last two worked, but they also destroy the gel packs.”

“What about kedumite two?”, Spock inquired.

“Ineffective”, Samantha responded.

Spock frowned. “Ceradenine?”

“Again, that one damages the gel packs beyond repair”, Samantha said.

“If semodium worked, maybe tricellium would do the trick”, Teresa mused, still pacing. “It’s less aggressive but has similar properties.” While she herself was deeply in thought, she suddenly registered that she was witnessing Spock’s thought processes as well; his brain was working at a breakneck pace, going through different possible solutions and discarding them within seconds of raising them. He was aware of her quick and precise ruminations as well, and they looked at each other for a short moment, mesmerized, but both knew that this was not the moment to be distracted by the marvels of their mental connection, so they focused their attention once again onto the problem at hand.

“True”, Mbezi Onagawa made with a glance at her colleague. “We haven’t tried that one yet.”

“Alright, we’ll put that on the list”, Teresa nodded. “What else can you tell us? The Captain said the spores multiply within the gel packs. Did she not mean that they germinate?”

Samantha bit her lip. “No, they do multiply. That is one of their many extraordinary properties. These spores do not behave like most plant spores do; this is definitely a new type. They do not only germinate; they also divide, not to develop multicellular structures, but more independent spores. We do not yet know under which conditions they germinate and under which they divide, but we have observed both processes in the gel packs. And it is the germination which damages the packs the most. They germinate at a fast speed and begin to draw nutrients from the packs already during the distention phase.”

“Fascinating”, Teresa murmured. Spock wore a deep frown. Most plant spores known to Teresa did not draw nutrients from their environment during distention and instead relied on nutrients stored in their core. This was why the gel packs had been affected so rapidly. “Can you define the speed more precisely?”

“We have not yet had enough time to observe a full germination process in the lab”, Ensign Onagawa answered, while Samantha turned back to the microscope and resumed her work. “But based on the gel packs we have examined we estimate that it only takes 16 hours for the germ tube to fully form and some 8 more hours for the development into a simple first multicellular stage.”

“At which point do the gel packs fail?”, Spock inquired.

“Lieutenant Torres will probably be better able to answer that question”, Ensign Onagawa said. “To my knowledge, however, twelve have failed so far and nineteen others are in a critical condition.”

“One can assume that it depends on the number of spores infesting each pack and external conditions such as light and temperature”, Teresa remarked.

“They do not need light”, came the frustrated answer. “Otherwise we could easily slow down the germination process by keeping the packs in total darkness.”

“And freezing the packs makes them inoperable”, Spock discerned, in addition knowing that even if this worked, inhibiting the spores’ germination for a certain amount of time would also only postpone the inevitable.

The Ensign nodded. “To my knowledge. Again, the engineering staff are the experts in these matters.”

Spock equally nodded, considering the option of joining the engineering team instead. He stayed, though, for the time being, and Teresa was thankful for his presence.

“Is there anything more you can tell us?”, she inquired.

“One more thing”, Ensign Onagawa declared. “The computer has analysed the spores’ structure.” She beckoned them to a workstation, where she pressed a few buttons and a detailed schematic appeared on screen. “As you can see, it is very solidly constructed. Apart from the exosporium, it has four inner coats that protect the core, which itself has a very thick wall and membrane. The exosporium and the coats are all composed of complex biopolymer chains, as you might expect, but the unusual thing is that they are interwoven with infrangible minerals, which explains why these spores are so much more resistant to external stressors than any we have ever seen.”

“But how can such a solid structure grow so rapidly?”, Teresa wondered, baffled.

“Unknown.”

For a short moment, Teresa lingered there, staring at the screen, her curiosity about this specimen mounting. She wanted to investigate it to the last detail, with the help of the 24th century laboratory equipment they were surrounded by. This plant was extraordinary in so many respects; most of all, she was extremely bewildered by the fact that tricocereea alorcensis had developed spores despite the stasis field and that, on top of that, these spores had escaped a force field.

These are fascinating phenomena, Spock’s mental voice gently reminded her, while he stood next to her, equally contemplating the schematic. But our priority now is to determine how to rid the gel packs of the spores and save the ship. Any other research question should wait.

You’re right. There was no time to lose. Teresa gave herself a kick and turned back to Ensign Onagawa. “Have you considered any other options apart from chemical agents so far?”

“Not yet, because we thought they were our best bet, but that would be the next step.”

“Well, if tricellium fails – “, Teresa began, but was interrupted by Samantha at her workstation, who had straightened up again after finishing an experiment in a petri dish. “Tricellium fails”, she concluded with visible disappointment.

Spock’s lips grew slightly thinner and Teresa gave a small sigh. “Very well. What else might work. Radiation. Microorganisms… do you know whether these spores have any natural predators? Any small or microscopic organisms?”

“No, but we could search our sample collection from Alorcis III for potential natural predators”, Samantha stated. “Though the chances that we find exactly what we are looking for are probably slim.”

“Nevertheless”, Teresa said decisively. “One of us should assume this task.” And then she remembered that here she could or should not act in the same way as with her exobiology team on the Enterprise, giving commands. “I’m sorry – which of you two is the department leader?”

Samantha Wildman raised her hand and Teresa assumed a respectful posture, abandoning her air of authority.

“But you outrank us both”, Ensign Onagawa remarked.

“Yes, but Lieutenant or not, I am a hundred years out of date”, Teresa replied, while Spock observed her from the side.

“Very well”, Samantha nodded. “Then I will stay in command. Mbezi, Teresa is right. Search the sample collection.”

Mbezi Onagawa nodded and vanished behind a side door.

“And one of us should keep testing various chemical agents. You also mentioned radiation.”

“Yes”, Teresa confirmed. “As a matter of fact, Spock and I were on our way back from a conference about the effects of radiation on plant life when our shuttle was sucked into the wormhole.” Spock nodded.

“Perfect. Then that will be your task”, Samantha decided, looking at both of them.

“Are these truly the only options we should consider, though?”, Spock asked. “Might there be, for example, a way of starving the spores in the packs? As they draw the nutrients out of the packs.”

“Only if that does not make the packs inoperable”, Samantha reminded him. “Again, this is a question for – “

“ – Lieutenant Torres”, Spock nodded.

“Exactly.”

“With the nanites that infested the Enterprise computer and Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy”, Spock ruminated quietly, “we managed to draw them out of both types of systems by shutting them down – that is, in the case of the Captain and the Doctor, by temporarily shutting down their brain functions – and thereby starving the nanites. We then led them to a new food source.”

“Spores don’t move on their own account”, Teresa countered. “Once the air circulation has carried them to the packs, that’s where they stay.”

“Indeed.” Spock was speaking out loud so that Samantha could also partake in their discussion, otherwise he would have moved this exchange to the telepathic level in order to save time. “Leading them to a new food source is probably not an option here. But if germinating spores have exhausted all their nutrients and cannot draw in new ones, they die, do they not?”

“They do”, Teresa confirmed, smiling slightly. “But I estimate that by the time they would be dead, we would be, too. In any case, that is another question for the engineers.”

Spock gave another small nod, still in thought, slightly pressing his lips together again. His eyes met hers and she sensed his regret at the decision he had just made. He would have preferred to stay here with her, working together, and knew she felt the same way. But he did not hesitate to do the logical thing. “Ensign, I believe I should join the other team, at least for a certain period of time.”

“I agree”, came the answer. “Your approaches to a solution fall more into their department.”

Spock and Teresa looked at each other again, for the shortest moment. Both put a great deal of reassurance and pragmatism into their gaze; they would solve this problem. All would be well. Then Spock turned around and left the lab.

Hours passed. Teresa, Samantha Wildman and Mbezi Onagawa worked tirelessly, attempting countless approaches, evaluating and re-evaluating them, discussing alternatives or possible errors they might have made, racking their brains for further ideas. When Samantha had tried out all the chemical agents she thought might work, she began to search the database for substances that should not work but might after all. Ensign Onagawa retrieved several species of small organisms from the collection and attempted to feed them samples of the spores, with no success so far. In between, they answered any questions Teresa had about the equipment. Teresa, meanwhile, after inquiring with B’Elanna through intra-ship communication about which types of radiation were harmless for the gel packs, tested the spores’ response to these types of radiation, analysing and re-analysing the spores’ molecular structure to determine its weak points. There was a handful of new types of radiation she had never heard of and which she had to look up in the database. In between her searches, her thoughts returned to the conference on Andoria and she ransacked her memory for any piece of useful information she might have forgotten. In the background of her mind, she could still perceive Spock’s thoughts as he was working with the other team, even though they were separated by several decks. Maybe their state of alert and intense concentration rendered their mental connection clearer than it usually would have been and they kept each other up to date on their progress. This had led to a small exchange early into everyone’s concerted efforts which must have seemed peculiar to Teresa’s colleagues.

“I’m beginning to think that there is no chemical agent that destroys the spores but is harmless for the packs”, Samantha sighed. “Maybe we should revisit Commander Spock’s idea and investigate in greater detail the spores’ intake of nutrients. Maybe we can starve them after all.”

“It won’t work”, Teresa said. “B’Elanna said so.”

“How do you know?”, Mbezi asked with a puzzled frown. “I don’t remember you asking her that.”

“She told Spock”, Teresa specified. “Even if there was a way of cutting off the spores’ access to the nutrients, this would mean turning off the ship’s systems for longer than we can survive.”

Both ensigns looked at each other, still confused because Teresa had not spoken to Spock, either, but they did not pursue the topic or question Teresa’s claims.

“What if we all wore EV suits?”, Mbezi suggested.

“The packs would also start degrading”, Teresa added.

“Very well”, Samantha sighed. “Carry on.”

Teresa therefore thought that it was time for step two of her problem-solving methodology. “What if a combined approach would do the trick?”, she wondered. “For example, radiation and chemical agent. Weaken the molecular bonds before trying to break them up. Or heat and chemical agent. Or all three components together…?”

Mbezi paused in the door to the specimen collection. “That is, of course, a possibility.”

“Yes, it is, a very valid one”, Samantha replied, her face lighting up for a moment. Then, however, she groaned: “But it also makes our tests even more complicated and time-consuming. We’ll have to think very carefully about which combinations to test, otherwise it would take us days.”

“Which we don’t have”, Teresa nodded, wearing a pensive frown.

They went to work again, with these new considerations in mind. Captain Janeway stopped by twice, asking for a progress report. And just when Teresa began to feel utterly exhausted, Neelix arrived with a plate of hot sandwiches and a large pot of coffee.

“It’s not Terran bean coffee, though”, he informed them after they had all exclaimed in delight. “All replicators have been turned off to save power. It’s my own particular creation”, he explained to Teresa while she took a greedy bite from a sandwich. “It’s made from a proteinaceous seed I discovered on an expedition I took part in before my time on Voyager. The taste is different, but it’s so much more nutritious and the caffeine so much more powerful.”

Teresa smiled and took the cup he handed her. “Thank you very much, Neelix.” As soon as she had taken a gulp, she pulled a grimace. “Yes, the taste is different”, she said diplomatically.

“Well”, Neelix made, a little more sober. “Captain Janeway doesn’t like it, either. But nothing will keep you sharper for the next few hours than this. I can make as much as you want.”

Teresa immediately emptied the whole cup while the other two exobiologists also eagerly reached for the sustenance Neelix had brought. Four minutes later, when she was munching on her second sandwich, she felt the effect of his caffeinated beverage kicking in and her eyes widened. “I’ve never felt more awake!”

“Told you so”, he smirked.

“Neelix, when it comes to food, you are an overlooked genius”, she declared. Her general state of alert and this wondrous type of coffee made her more exuberant in her praise than she would usually have been. But it was true. While the taste of his meals usually left much to be desired, they were nutritional treasures. And he seemed to know the right ingredient for any situation or special need.

A second later, the lights went out.

“Oh no”, Samantha made. “Ensign Wildman to engineering.”

“Lieutenant Carey here”, came the answer and they let out a collective sigh because at least communications were still working.

“The lights in the science lab have just gone out”, Samantha informed him.

“I’ll have someone look into it; stand by.”

For a minute or so, all four of them sat in darkness and silence, dreading the prospect of having to abandon the lab because a continuation of their research would become nearly impossible under those circumstances. The equipment seemed to still be working, but power might fail at any time.

“Bridge to science lab”, they then heard Chakotay’s voice. “We are rerouting weapons power to your lab, stand by.”

“Weapons power?”, Teresa repeated to the others. “Then Voyager is defenceless.” If it had come so far already that they had to divert power from essential systems, the ship was truly in a dire state.

Another minute later, just after they had retrieved some headtorches from the wall, the lights returned, and with them, Spock.

Teresa had not paid any attention to his thoughts during their short break from work, as her mind had also taken a break from the intense concentration of the last five hours. She sensed that his composure had suffered a few fine cracks.

“We are not making sufficient progress in engineering”, he declared in a voice as calm as always, while he attempted to contain a mounting sense of frustration. “There was nothing more I could do there, so here I am.”

“Very well, Teresa will bring you up to date”, Samantha said.

“That will not be necessary”, he stated plainly, “I already am.” And he turned his back to both women’s freshly confused gazes and said to Teresa: “I can search the database while you work with the spores.”

She nodded with a faint smile. When Neelix had left and both ensigns had their backs turned to them, she reached for his hand and he pressed it for a moment, meeting her gaze with a troubled glint in his eyes.

Further hours passed. Neelix came by twice more, bringing more sandwiches and coffee. Teresa and Spock found out that small doses of nucleonic radiation, a component of Starfleet replicators, could weaken the spores’ molecular structure, but not enough to neutralize them. The same was true for different small doses of hyperonic, Eichner, baryon, analeptic und ultraviolet radiation. If they increased the frequency, though, this would once again be harmful to the packs. Nonetheless, they continued to work with these findings, trying out different low frequencies that might resonate with the spores, in the hope of a higher effect. They also tested these types of radiation in combination with some of the chemical agents with which Samantha had already had partial success, so far without any satisfying results. Teresa drank several more cups of coffee, even though her high adrenalin levels would probably have kept her perfectly awake by themselves. Spock only drank a little; Vulcans could go without sleep much longer than humans, which was yet another physiological advantage. Teresa was quite envious.

Eventually, Mbezi, reclined over a microscope, exclaimed: “How strange!”

“What is it?”, Samantha inquired.

“Look at these eukaryotic soil organisms”, Mbezi beckoned them towards the microscope. “They gobbled up the spores as though they have never eaten anything else, but they can’t digest them. The spores begin germinating inside their bodies, rupturing and killing them.”

“Well, if the spores kill them, these organisms would also not be any help in a combined approach”, Teresa sighed.

When everyone had had a look, Spock remarked: “Probably they have mistaken the spores for a similar source of food.”

They all thought that this was the most plausible explanation and left it at that.

At around 02:30 hours in the morning, Captain Janeway appeared once again.

“Communications are down”, she announced dryly, emptying a new cup of Neelix’s coffee. “We are running on minimal backup power now. Weapons, shields and engines are down. We have shut down life support on almost all decks and on the bridge, rerouting command functions to engineering. At this point, only deck eight with the science lab, deck nine with the computer core access, engineering on deck eleven, the environmental control centre on deck twelve and one turbolift still have power. Please tell me you have some good news.”

“Some progress”, Samantha reported. “But no breakthrough. Sorry, Captain.”

“I see”, Janeway made and took a deep breath, then she said: “Well, B’Elanna tells me that she can maintain the ship in this state for several hours more. But I want you all to get ready for the scenario of going to the escape pods and shuttles. At this stage, you will only be able to reach them in EV suits. Are you two familiar with our models?”

“We are”, Spock confirmed. “We familiarized ourselves with them two days ago”, he informed her, referring to their exploratory adventure on the ship that now felt like a week ago to Teresa.

“Good”, the Captain said, looking strained, but determined. “We were on course to the nearest M-class planet when we still had engines, but they failed before we could reach it. We are still a quarter of a lightyear away from it. We have sent out a distress call but so far received no answer, which is no surprise as we have not met any alien ships in this region. We will have to try to reach the M-class planet by getting as many people as possible into the shuttles and towing the rest to the planet in the escape pods. We estimate the shuttles have just enough power left to maintain their tractor beams long enough, but nothing can go wrong. I want you two in your shuttle”, she concluded, looking at Spock and Teresa. “We replenished its energy reserves days ago. I don’t want you to risk your lives for anyone. You need to get back to your time; the consequences would be far too devastating otherwise. Take the shuttle and fly back to the spot where Seven has predicted the wormhole to reappear.”

There was a dismayed pause.

“Understood”, Spock then said gravely, and Teresa, although she wanted to protest, gulped and nodded. Apart from the thought of leaving some members of Voyager’s crew in space to die, their dire situation begged the question of whether their energy reserves would last until the wormhole reappeared; nothing could go wrong. But they seemed to have no choice. If they chose to land on the planet instead, they might never find a way to get back to their own time and place.

Janeway nodded, said “Carry on” and left.

“There must be a solution”, Teresa whispered emphatically, biting her knuckles. “I feel like there is something I have overlooked, something that’s staring me in the face, but I don’t…”

Spock looked at her, not being able to help. Their mental connection had faded considerably in the last four hours. And suddenly he felt the weight of the growing probability that they would fail, would have to abandon the ship and its crew, maybe even die. His jaw grew tight, his heartrate increased and he felt a strange constriction in his chest that he could not make sense of at first. Teresa, who could not perceive his thoughts anymore but registered this surge of emotion without difficulty, understood it before he did. It was fear. He was afraid.

She looked at him, concerned. His eyes met hers and he stared at her in bewilderment because he had not experienced fear in a dangerous situation like the one they were in now for many years. The only fear he had suffered from recently was the fear of his emotions for her, which had been a different type of fear. His respiration accelerated slightly and he looked disoriented for a moment, too overwhelmed by this unfamiliar state of mind.

He took deep breaths, standing at his workstation, grasping the rim of the console. Teresa watched him for a few moments, waiting to see whether he would be able to reign in these emotions on his own. But although he managed to calm down again slightly, he still could not concentrate. Fear was a powerful emotion once it had surfaced.

“Excuse us for a moment”, Teresa said to the other two. And she grabbed Spock by the wrist and gently pulled him out of the room into the corridor, which was mostly dark and much chillier than usual.

She carefully brushed her hand along his cheek. “Your emotions are closer to the surface now”, she whispered gently. “And you haven’t been able to conduct any meditation for the last 20 hours.”

He nodded, grabbing her hand.

Teresa embraced him, placing a soft kiss onto his lips. “I’m afraid, too”, she told him.

“I know”, he made quietly and pulled her even closer, enjoying the soothing nature of their embrace.

“And I allow it, in some corner of my mind”, she continued. “But I’m not letting it distract me. You can do that, too.” Keeping a cool head under such circumstances was an indispensable Starfleet skill which she had gotten the hang of years ago. While Spock had always been the master of coolheadedness on the Enterprise, his approach had been different; his Vulcan mental discipline had usually kept fear well under the surface, anyway. Now that this lid had cracked open, he lacked the different kind of mental strategies he needed in order to handle the emotions that had spilled over and that he was not able to dissolve.

He frowned slightly; she could feel it more than she could see it in the darkness. He did not know how to follow her example. His hands approached the sides of her face and she nodded approvingly before he tapped into her mind, trying to find that which anchored her in this sea of fear, anxiety and uncertainty. Teresa was telling herself it was okay to be afraid, but that she was infinitely more than her fear and that she was strong enough to carry it. After a handful of minutes during which they remained immobile, with his fingers on her temples, cheekbones and jawbones, he let out a few deep exhales, relaxing slightly. This time, the connection had been one-way, because he had not wanted to directly flood her mind with his strong Vulcan emotions, potentially destabilizing her own emotional control.

She grabbed his face and gave him a more passionate kiss, which he returned, his hands on her shoulders. But it did not last long. They let go after a few seconds, grabbing each other’s hands reassuringly, and then gave each other a small and determined nod, ready to return to their work.

“We need new options”, Samantha said. “None of the individual approaches work. None of the combined approaches we have tried, either. I really can’t think of any further options with an even remote probability of success.”

“There’s something I have overlooked”, Teresa made, rubbing her forehead. “Something we have all overlooked.” In her mind, she went through all the tests they had done once again, re-analysing them for the umpteenth time. Chemical agents. Radiation. Radiation and chemical agent. Natural predators. They had not found any natural predators. Or had they? “Oh my goodness!”, she exclaimed.

“What?”, both women made.

“Environmental conditions”, Teresa explained, finally fitting in the piece of the puzzle that had eluded her until that moment. “At the conference, there was a Tellarite researcher, a professor of molecular biology. He delivered a lecture on the combined effects of radiation and other environmental conditions. So far, I have considered the usual environmental conditions of this plant to be irrelevant, and I assume so have all of you, because we have to destroy these spores under Voyager conditions and not on its home planet. What a massive oversight! We have so far only considered natural predators, but no other factors. It’s worth a try. What can you tell me about the environmental conditions of the place where you sampled the plant?”

“Let’s see, it was hot, dry and extremely windy; that’s what I remember”, Mbezi said, not yet very convinced by Teresa’s new attempt. “Not a very hospitable place at all. Maybe’s there’s more in the log.” She turned around and began searching for the right file.

“Hot, dry and windy. That explains in part why these spores are so resilient”, Spock remarked.

“But I don’t see how that can help us”, Teresa replied. “What else?”

“There was some sort of stagnant pond, full of organic material”, Mbezi read from the log.

“And how did that affect the spores?”

“We found lots of specimens of this plant there.”

“Which means the spores thrived. Not helpful, either.” Teresa bit her lip.

“Maybe the geology department can give us more information”, Samantha suggested.

“Of course!”, Teresa exclaimed once more. “Spock, can you find T’Lara and bring her here?”

He nodded and left the lab without another word. Minutes later, he returned with his granddaughter, who was holding a PADD and announced: “I have managed to retrieve the file in question.” She handed it to Teresa, who quickly skimmed it, Samantha and Mbezi looking at it from her sides.

“Level of gravity, geological properties, atmosphere, properties of the soil…”, she murmured, and then read out much more loudly: “Properties of the soil; that might be something… no, nothing. There. Radiation. Alorcis III has high levels of ultraviolet radiation.”

“Oh yeah, now I remember we had to get inoculated against that before going down to the planet”, Mbezi commented.

“Which means that all organic life on this planet was exposed to this radiation”, Teresa continued her train of thought. “The spores on this ship are not exposed to the same environmental factors, but we cannot ignore those factors for this reason, on the contrary! We urgently need to try something.”

“The eukaryotic soil organisms”, Spock discerned.

“Exactly”, Teresa confirmed with a healthy measure of enthusiasm. “They couldn’t stomach the spores here because these spores had not been exposed to ultraviolet radiation beforehand.”

They immediately went to test their theory. And it worked. The organisms had no trouble digesting the spores softened by the radiation. Everybody except Spock and T’Lara did a little dance on the spot once they had assured themselves of their success, but the solution was not complete yet.

“Great. Now, how do we get the organisms out of the gel packs?”, Teresa wondered.

“A chemical agent?”, Samantha smiled. She went to fetch a small pipette and inserted a few drops of an orange liquid into the petri dish. “Tricellium”, she informed the others and then bent down and looked into the eyepiece of the microscope. After a few moments, she declared triumphantly: “The organisms have been dissolved.”

This time, even Spock and T’Lara let out sighs of relief.

Still, their work was not over. After notifying the Captain and the engineering team, they tested their approach on a gel pack. Here they were successful, too. It seemed that they had to sacrifice these innocent organisms to save themselves. Had they been sentient lifeforms, that would not have been possible; it would have been utterly reprehensible by Starfleet moral standards. They grew more of them in the lab as quickly as they could (using a substance the Doctor always used to accelerate the growth of similar organisms when that was required) while the engineering team brought them the affected packs one by one and reinstalled them once they had been cured. At first, they were only just about fast enough to keep the ship running in the emergency mode it had survived in for the past few hours, but gradually the crew was able to restore more and more of the ship’s systems. It took them until 17:00 hours to repair all the gel packs, while they continued to survive on Neelix’s coffee and, from at around midday, freshly replicated food. Finally, at 17:34 hours, Teresa and Spock returned to their quarters, where the bitter cold had killed all the plants, fell onto the bed in their uniforms and fell asleep immediately.

Chapter Text

When Teresa finally woke up again from a deep and dreamless sleep, she found that the other side of the bed was empty. The time display next to her told her it was 04:30 hours in the morning. A faint glow of light came through beneath the bedroom door, so she got up, yawning and rubbing her face, changed out of her Voyager uniform into her nightgown and went over to the sitting room, where she found Spock in an armchair, reading.

He looked up when she came in. “Good morning.”

“Good morning”, she answered cheerfully and with a look out of the window, exclaimed: “Oh! We are in orbit around a planet! It must be the one they tried to reach yesterday.” The side of the planet she could see was mostly covered in oceans, partially concealed by clouds. Here and there, several landmasses dotted this blue surface, the largest of them approximately the size of Australia. Most of them were covered in thick vegetation.

“Indeed it is, according to the ship’s log”, Spock answered.

Teresa stood at the window for a few minutes, mesmerized. Spock, who had already done his share of contemplating, continued to read. When she finally managed to break away from the view, she drank a glass of water and then sat down in his lap and put her arms around his neck. “What a very good morning it is. One we can spend on an intact Voyager.”

“Indeed”, he replied with a soft gaze, kissed her cheek and gently combed through her hair with his fingers.

She looked down at the book he was reading. The beginning of the page read: 'Deslumbrada por tantas y tan maravillosas invenciones, la gente de Macondo no sabía por dónde empezar a asombrarse.' ('Dazzled by so many and such marvelous inventions, the people of Macondo did not know where their amazement began.') It was One hundred years of solitude.

“But this is in Spanish”, she made, baffled. She knew that up until this point, he had been reading an English translation of the novel.

“Indeed it is.”

“You don’t speak Spanish.”

“Maybe not, but it seems that now I understand Spanish”, he stated calmly, observing her perplexed facial expression with a glimmer in his eyes. They both remembered that for some reason, the man in his dream had spoken Spanish and Spock had understood that, too.

And then she understood. Whether the explanation had occurred to herself or whether she had read it in his mind, she was not certain. “The mind melds.”

He nodded, his fingers still brushing over her hair. “They can also lead to a transfer of skills.”

She remembered how she had mastered the Vulcan nerve pinch without ever having attempted it before. “How very convenient.”

“Indeed.”

She adjusted her UT. “¿Así que entiendes español, eh?” (So you understand Spanish, eh?)

Spock followed her example. “Sí”, he answered, hesitated, and then added, struggling with the accent: “La mayoría de las palabras…” (Yes. Most of the words...)

“No me lo creo”, she exclaimed, wide-eyed. “¡Lo hablas también!” (I don't believe it. You speak it as well!)

“… Un poco.” (A bit.) He looked uncertain of what he was saying, as though he was opening a box in his mind for the very first time that had been sealed up until this morning. “Es posible que…” He kept searching for the right words and grammar but gave up. “It is possible that our mental connection also contributes to that. Maybe I have access to the vocabulary and grammar stored in your mind without consciously being aware of it.”

“What about the other languages I speak?”, she wondered. “Comprends-tu aussi le français?” (Do you also understand French?)

“This I understood”, he nodded.

“Peut-être que cette phrase était trop simple”, she murmured. (Maybe this sentence was too easy.)

“Peut-être”, he replied, placing a kiss onto her neck. (Maybe.)

She chuckled, running her finger along his jaw. “很有意思。你也会不会说汉语？“ (Very interesting. Do you also speak Chinese?)

“I doubt I can speak Chinese. But I understood this sentence, too. However, as our mental connection still persists to a certain degree, I know what you are saying, no matter which language you express it in.” His lips travelled along her collarbone, which she thought was an unfair distraction from this most intriguing topic.

“Huh”, she sighed, her heartrate increasing. “In order to really find out how well you master these languages, you would have to either read a text or speak them when I am either far enough away or if we pause our mind melds long enough for the mental connection to break up entirely.”

“Correct”, he murmured. And he laid the book aside, grasped her face and kissed her. She surrendered immediately, forgetting all about his miraculous, sudden language skills.

“By the way”, he remarked after a few minutes’ silence, “excellent work, Lieutenant.”

He was referring to the crisis of the past two days. She grinned and kissed him once more. “Thank you, Sir. The same goes for you.”

“We should place credit where credit is due”, he declared, raising his eyebrows slightly. “You had the decisive idea yesterday. You saved the ship.”

She blushed. “While the rest of the crew kept it going for as long as possible. And I should have had the idea sooner. It now seems so obvious that the organisms might have needed the spores to be softened before they could digest them.”

“Things often seem obvious in hindsight”, Spock assuaged her. “But yes, it should have occurred sooner to all of us, me included.”

“We were both getting a little too nervous at that point to think straight”, she suspected with a mixture of frustration and tender sympathy. “You and me.”

Spock took a deep breath. The fact that he had been overcome by fear distinctly displeased him. He changed the subject. “It now appears that my attitude towards learning more about the future was misled, at least in part. Captain Janeway was correct. Our expertise turned out to be beneficial, even essential, in yesterday’s case. And we would have saved valuable time yesterday if we had already been familiar with the lab equipment and the database.”

“I’m glad you think so”, she smiled. “But, in fairness to you, the likelihood of such a situation arising was small.”

“Unforeseen circumstances”, he concluded, alluding directly to his previous comments. “Preparing for such eventualities goes both ways. On the one hand, our involvement turned out to be essential. On the other hand, there was a chance that we would have had to return through the wormhole with our memories intact, which is the exact type of scenario I have been warning against.”

“We could also have died if things had gone badly”, she added, looking earnest.

“Very true”, he nodded and frowned. “Either path holds risks and benefits. Learning more about the future and abstaining from it.”

Teresa equally made a thoughtful face. Then, she declared gently: “I think you should accept Captain Janeway’s invitation to spend time on the bridge. The more capable command officers who are familiar with the ship there are, the better.”

She realized he had been thinking the same thing. “I will”, he declared and she smiled.

Her eyes fell on a dead plant in the corner. “Poor things.” A lamentable thought occurred to her. “Everything in the airponics bay will be dead, too.”

Spock inhaled sharply. “Indeed. That is unfortunate.”

“All that work destroyed”, she sighed and got up. “We’ll have quite a lot to do today.”

After a joint meditation session and a very early, replicated breakfast (Neelix was taking a well-earned break after the harrowing last two days), they arrived in the airponics bay, where their predictions turned out to be accurate. None of the vegetables, herbs and other plants they had cultivated so carefully since their arrival on Voyager had survived the bitter cold; instead, they were lying in their beds, limp and of a greyish colour. After reporting the state of the airponics bay to the bridge, they dug them all out, composted them and then went to the lengthy task of planting new ones with seeds from a seedbank in the science lab. They planted the seeds into crates at first, which they stored in long rows along the walls. There, they would grow into seedlings which could then be transferred to the larger and deeper boxes in the stands two days later, with more space between each of them. Teresa still felt a bit tired after the exertion of the last two days and the sleepless night, which is why she worked a little more slowly than usual. Spock was less affected by the physical strain, but thanks to their mental connection, he could get a better understanding of what an exhausted human felt like. They were again wearing the Voyager uniforms that had been replicated for them the day before, having put them into the sonic cleaner earlier. Although Teresa found their Enterprise uniforms more beautiful, she enjoyed this growing sense of belonging to the Voyager crew.

After four hours of work, she straightened up, stretched and yawned, massaging her own back. Spock stepped closer and began massaging her shoulders without her having asked him to. She let out a surprised and delighted sigh. “Oh, thank you.”

“You are welcome.”

For about half a minute, she enjoyed the movement of his hands on her back in silence. It was very skilful. “Is this Vulcan neuropressure, by any chance?”, it occurred to her.

“To a certain degree, yes”, he answered, letting his thumbs run along next to her shoulder blades. “But I am not following any particular technique at this moment.”

“Freestyle, then”, she smiled.

“Correct. Though some elements are certainly coming from Vulcan neuropressure”, he replied. “At any rate, my skills are very limited.” As Teresa knew, it took years for a person to properly master Vulcan neuropressure, but massage techniques in general were just as much a part of a Vulcan’s arsenal of means to quieten the mind as meditation was.

“Whatever it is, it is very good”, she sighed, relaxing more and more and closing her eyes.

“For the full effect you would have to take off your clothes and lie down”, he remarked and then paused, realizing the flirtatious charge of such a statement. “I am stating this as a simple fact.”

Teresa smirked broadly, amused by his late realization of the unintended erotism of his words. “Indeed, that is most logical.” She chuckled, pressed her lips together and then declared with intentional naughtiness: “I would do it right now if we weren’t in the airponics bay.”

His hands on her shoulders came to a halt for a moment while he was once again unsettled by her flirting, especially as it had become more audacious. He soon resumed the massage, however, and answered with deliberate calm: “No doubt you would.”

“Later would be nice”, she said innocently.

“Certainly”, he agreed, still in as neutral a voice as he could muster. “Aside from that, we have of course another means of maximizing the effects and implementing a more targeted approach.” He turned her around to face him and placed his fingers onto her face in order to freshen up their mental connection, an action she highly welcomed. After less than a minute, he terminated the meld again, but it had been long enough for both of them to notice each other’s mounting physical excitement. Therefore, he continued the massage only hesitantly, although he could now perceive much better where her muscles hurt the most. The tension between the two of them was becoming too apparent.

Bo’qal lur is in full swing again, she thought with a faint and jittery grin; it was a thought he could not miss. His hands halted completely and she slowly turned around to face him once more, with an apprehensive glimmer in her eyes. He stared at her, aware of his resolve to not kiss her in the airponics bay. She decided to ignore it and he did not protest.

For a long moment, their lips and hands wandered longingly and hungrily over each other’s faces and hair while they stood as closely together as they possibly could. Finally, Spock broke free, remembering his resolve again. He took a deep breath and resumed the massage, set on finishing this relaxation of her muscles without succumbing to any other impulses. Teresa closed her eyes once more and sank with her back against his chest.

“Teresa”, he murmured in polite and breathless protest. “You are complicating my task.”

The airponics bay doors opened and they sprang apart.

It was B’Elanna, carrying a toolbox. “Hello, lovebirds.”

Spock cleared his throat. This is exactly what I have been attempting to avoid. “Lieutenant.”

Teresa suppressed a grin and a blush. “What brings you here, B’Elanna?”

“The environmental controls in here need to be realigned”, B’Elanna announced, while she knelt down and opened a case in the wall. “I decided to do it myself, to pay you two a visit. Though I should have chosen a better moment.” Her lips twitched.

“That’s nice”, Teresa commented and equally cleared her throat.

“We were acting unprofessionally”, Spock declared in a dignified tone.

“Oh, loosen up”, B’Elanna smiled.

He raised an eyebrow.

“By the way”, B’Elanna continued, “you both did a great job yesterday. Everyone is talking about it.”

“Thank you”, Teresa smiled. “But you as well. You’re a brilliant engineer.” She had witnessed enough during the recent crisis, both through Spock’s eyes and through her own, to arrive at this assessment. “Starfleet chose well.”

Spock nodded. “Indeed.”

“Thank you”, B’Elanna equally said. “But I only became chief engineer after Voyager was flung into the Delta Quadrant and the original chief engineer died. And there were several reservations about me getting this position in the beginning.”

“Really?”, Teresa made. “Such as?”

“That’s too long a story for now”, B’Elanna declared, holding an instrument at the open circuitry. “Let’s just say that one of the reasons was that I have a temper. And I could control it even less in those days.” After another moment of aligning, she got up again, reinstalled the panel and then took a look around the room. “So, you had to start from scratch, huh?”

“Unfortunately, yes”, Spock replied.

“They’re sending an away team to the planet later, once they have completed all the routine scans”, B’Elanna informed them. “To top up our supplies. I suppose Neelix will also be looking for anything edible. The Captain was considering letting you two join the team.”

“Really?”, Teresa exclaimed. “How exciting.”

“There will be a briefing later.” B’Elanna picked up her toolbox and smiled. “See you around.”

“Lieutenant”, it occurred to Spock before she could leave the room. “Where on this ship does the crew get their hair cut?”

Teresa smiled, as he had remembered the observation she had made two days ago.

“Oh, on the holodeck”, B’Elanna replied, turning around in the open doors. “Program 143-alpha. Her name is Reema. Do not ask her about her Terellian gratitude vases or she will never stop talking.”

Despite it being a free day for the kitchen, the mess hall was a lively place, as many members of the crew had their replicated food there and were socializing. When Spock and Teresa came in, they found Captain Janeway standing in front of one of the replicators, ordering steak and potatoes.

“Still a favourite where I come from, even though we now all get it out of a replicator and not from real livestock anymore”, she laughed. “You’re vegetarian like most Vulcans, I assume, Commander?”

“Affirmative”, he nodded.

“Does your vegetarianism also extend to replicated food?”

“Ethically, no”, he replied. “But I have no appetite for replicated meat, either.”

Teresa suddenly had a realization. Like most humans of her century, she had seldom had real meat before she had come onto Voyager, being conscious of the ethical issues herself. During their stay on the ship, however, she had so far ordered meat a few of the times she had eaten from the replicator, as it had not been a real animal’s meat, after all. Now, though, she had suddenly equally lost the appetite for it, and she thought she knew to what she could attribute this change. Spock and her exchanged a renewed glance.

“Alright, then I’m not going to recommend this dish to you”, the Captain smiled. “Anyway, it’s good to see the two of you. Shall we sit down together? I don’t have much time, though.”

“How are you, Kathryn?”, Teresa asked once they had all sat down with a plate in front of them.

“Ecstatic, now that the ship’s still up and running”, Janeway smiled after her first bite of the steak. “Which is in great measure thanks to you. If it made any sense, I would award you both commendations. Well, maybe I will. If Voyager ever gets back to the Alpha Quadrant, Starfleet can still add them to your personnel files, although it would look pretty strange.”

On my file, most of all, Teresa thought. A commendation for an achievement accomplished posthumously.

Spock did his best to not mind being reminded of her death. Which is something truly very few individuals can say about themselves, I believe, he told her genially.

She chuckled.

“What about you?”, Janeway then inquired. “Have you both rested enough after that ordeal?”

“Yes”, Spock said, and Teresa declared: “Well enough to get back to work.” She still felt a little exhausted, even more so after the last four hours.

They told the Captain all about the desolate state they had found the airponics bay in and the work they had done there already, estimating that it would take them all the rest of the day to finish.

“Hm, I actually have other plans for you”, Janeway made. “Would you like to go down to the planet?”

Teresa and Spock looked at each other and chorused: “Yes.”

“If it is safe, of course”, Teresa added, having been infected by Spock’s extreme caution of the past few days.

“Oh, the preliminary scans have all come out perfectly fine”, the Captain assured them. “We still have to make quite a few repairs to the ship and at the same time need to replenish our resources, for which the planet has turned out to be quite suitable. There might also be quite a lot of edible plant life. At the same time, we should return to the region of the wormhole as soon as possible. Two extra pairs of hands would come in handy. And I thought you would probably not want to miss the opportunity of visiting a planet in the Delta Quadrant.”

“Indeed not, Captain”, Spock confirmed. “It is uninhabited, I assume.”

Janeway nodded. “There will be a briefing at 14:30 hours. The away team will beam down to the planet at 16:00 hours. I’ll have Ensign Li and Ensign Bronowski reassigned to the airponics bay for the rest of the day. They can finish the work you have started.”

“Understood”, Teresa said.

“By the way, Captain, I have decided to accept your offer of letting me spend time on the bridge”, Spock then mentioned.

“I’m glad to hear that”, Janeway smiled. “You can do that first thing tomorrow. Teresa, if you want to spend any more time in the lab, you’re welcome to do so. Li and Bronowski will have to take over the airponics bay again on a more long-term basis.”

“I think I will”, Teresa smiled back, excited at the prospect. “Thank you.” From Spock came no more objections to this.

“But then, of course, before I forget it”, the Captain began to beam, “I’ve been told that there are plans for an engagement party for you.”

“Oh, that!”, Teresa exclaimed, also having almost forgotten this in the light of the events of the last two days. “Tom suggested it.”

“Yes”, Janeway replied, beaming some more. “I think it’s a great idea. He also suggested to celebrate it the day after tomorrow at 18:00 hours. How does that sound to you?”

It sounded perfectly fine to both of them, so Spock declared: “We have no objection.” He perceived Teresa’s heart flutters and gleaming eyes at the thought of an engagement party, or more precisely, at the reminder of the fact that there was an engagement. She still sometimes could not believe her luck, and when he thought about it, neither could he.

He was distracted by such sentimental thoughts, however, by someone tucking at his sleeve. He turned his head. “Hello, Naomi.”

“Hello, Spock”, she piped. “Hello, Teresa. Hello, Captain.” At addressing the Captain, she blushed in awe.

“Hello”, Janeway and Teresa chorused, with Teresa adding: “How are you today?”

“Fine”, the girl said. “I painted you a picture.” And she handed the picture to Teresa, who looked at it and began to smirk. “It’s you, mommy and Mbezi in the lab, finding a way to kill the weird spores.”

And indeed, there were four figures painted in broad and crude brushes, standing between a microscope and a tiny cactus situated on tables on the left- and right-hand side of the picture. Little yellow dots were floating in the air and around the four people in uniform, one of them sporting very large, pointy ears. He and a woman with long brown hair were wearing their light blue Enterprise uniforms, the blonde woman representing Naomi’s mother held a test tube in her hand and the dark-skinned Ensign Onagawa something that looked like a tricorder. All of them, the pointy-eared man included, were smiling.

Two and a half hours later, Teresa was in the transporter room together with fourteen other people, among them Commander Chakotay, T’Lara, Ensign Onagawa and Neelix. A moment later, Spock arrived, too, still on time.

Teresa approached him and scrutinized his hair. “It looks good”, she said in quiet approval, smiling. “Logical as always.” Her lips twitched. She felt somewhat refreshed by the short nap she had taken after the briefing.

“It is acceptable”, he replied, unfazed by her taunt. “She was fast and efficient, though very loquacious, just as Lieutenant Torres had told me.”

“Don’t tell me you asked her about her Terellian gratitude vases”, Teresa sniggered. She resisted the urge to touch his freshly cut hair in this room full of people.

“No, she found enough other topics to converse about.”

“Okay, everyone, let’s go”, Chakotay announced. “The first ones with me.”

They patiently waited in front of the transporter pad while the first six people were beamed off the platform. In the briefing, they had been informed about the specifics of the planet, most of all the fact that its gravity was slightly lower than Earth’s and the Starfleet standard. As was established practice, the members of the away team would spread out in pairs and as the Captain had already indicated, the teams should limit their exploratory activities because Voyager would return to the wormhole as soon as possible. Despite the small time window, Janeway had allowed for some research to take place, which is why T’Lara was now also part of the away team so she could do a brief geological investigation of the planet. Spock would assist her while Teresa would search for edible plants with Ensign Onagawa. They had also been instructed in the use of 24th century tricorders.

After the second group had beamed down to the planet, Spock, Teresa, Ensign Onagawa and T’Lara with her equipment positioned themselves on the platform.

“Energize”, Spock said.

Teresa felt the familiar tingling sensation once the transporter beam took hold of her. A few seconds later, she had rematerialized and become aware of her surroundings again. They were standing in a clearing in the midst of a forest full of very tall and slender trees, through the crowns of which the sunlight broke in broad beams, which travelled all the way to the forest floor and to the undergrowth. There was a chilly breeze, which almost managed to penetrate the warm fabric of Teresa’s uniform jacket. She threw a glance at Spock, who had materialized next to her, knowing that low temperatures were even more uncomfortable for him than for her. She also felt lighter than usual and bobbed up and down a little on her toes to experience the lower gravity more fully. Her feet almost took off the ground for a second and she grinned at Spock, who had been observing her with a friendly expression.

“Alright, everyone, you know what to do”, Chakotay ordered now that everyone had arrived. “Spread out.”

Spock, Teresa, T’Lara, Ensign Onagawa and three others all pulled out their tricorders and started scanning the area. While the first teams of two began to walk further away, T’Lara bent down to examine a mineral formation which seemed to be interwoven with the roots of a small fern-like plant. Crewman Gerron, a young Bajoran in a black and turquoise science uniform, was fascinated by a knee-length plant with broad, protruding leaves and a single yellow flower at its top. He reached out his hand for it.

“Don’t touch that!”, Teresa said sharply.

He drew back his hand, startled, while several of the others, Spock included, turned around to look at them. “Whyever not?”

“Don’t tell me standard protocol for away missions has changed?”, Teresa replied, confused. “This plant has not been scanned yet. It might be dangerous.”

“I don’t often go on away missions”, Gerron mumbled. “Anyway, I think protocol is over-cautious.”

Spock raised his eyebrows.

“‘Over-cautious’?”, Teresa repeated, frowning, trying to not let her consternation show too much. What kind of an officer was he, with that attitude? “I’ve seen too many injuries already because someone was not careful enough. Even deaths.”

“It’s just a flower”, he retorted, slightly defiantly. Spock’s eyebrows wandered even higher up his forehead, while T’Lara observed the exchange without any sign of surprise. Neelix cleared his throat.

“‘Just a flower’”, Teresa repeated once again. “Already my teacher at the Academy warned us against such assumptions.”

“I’ve never been to Starfleet Academy”, Gerron declared with a trace of contempt in his voice.

“What?”, Teresa made, puzzled, but then thought that this was actually not too much of a surprise because he held the rank of ‘crewman’. Nevertheless, she was astonished by his demeanour. “Never mind. The leaves of the guko bush on Risa – very innocuous-looking, I should add – cause a nasty and painful rash. On Gamma Trianguli VI, we encountered a flower that was shooting darts with a lethal poison at anyone who came too close. And on ‘Eden’, all the plant life was filled with acid and the fruit on the trees was poisonous.” She looked at him firmly, but kindly, trying to convince him without assuming a lecturing tone because she sensed he would not welcome that.

“She is right, Gerron”, Ensign Onagawa told him and Neelix nodded, adding: “You never know what you might run into.”  

Gerron shrugged. “Alright.”

“Anyway”, Teresa concluded in a friendly tone, having finished her five-second scan of the plant, “You can touch it. You can even eat it if you want. Though it will probably taste quite bitter.”

The Bajoran crewman seemed to have lost any interest in touching the plant, though. He went away with Neelix, who cheerfully bobbed along into the trees.

“Curious”, Spock said. He kept his other thoughts to himself, but Teresa was aware of them and thought the same. They were surprised at encountering an individual on Voyager who showed such a sullen disregard for Starfleet practice. On any other ship (which was not stranded alone in the Delta Quadrant), he might have been transferred, or even discharged.

“Crewman Gerron joined Voyager by necessity, not by choice”, T’Lara disclosed.

“What does that mean?”, Teresa inquired.

“Not every member of Voyager’s personnel is part of the original crew”, Mbezi explained. “There was a second ship, the Val Jean, which was also transported to the Delta Quadrant by the alien entity. They were not a Starfleet crew, even though some of them were former Starfleet officers. But that ship was destroyed and they joined Voyager, integrating into the crew. Most have done so successfully, but a few others, like Gerron, have never fully accepted all aspects of serving on a Starfleet vessel.”

“Really?”, Teresa made. Up until that moment, something like that would not have occurred to her or Spock, because everyone they had spoken to so far, except for Neelix, of course, of whom they knew that he was a Delta Quadrant native, had made convincing Starfleet officers. “How many?”

“33”, T’Lara answered. “But four of them have since died.”

“Who are these individuals?”, Spock inquired. “That is, those who are still alive.”

“Well, Commander Chakotay is the most prominent example”, Ensign Onagawa obliged him. “And – “

“B’Elanna Torres”, Teresa suddenly continued her sentence, remembering B’Elanna’s words in the airponics bay.

“Correct”, T’Lara said.

“It’s a long story”, Mbezi added.

“Then let’s drop for now”, Teresa said, but exchanged a curious glance with Spock, who nodded. “We’ve got things to do.”

Spock liked observing T’Lara at her work. She was thorough and precise, showing an equally profound interest in the planet’s geology as Teresa did in any kind of organism she could get hold of. Unlike Teresa, though, she was quiet and serene in her investigative vigour. He helped her set up her instruments and collect rock and mineral samples and watched her as she instructed the transporter room in the exact coordinates of small samples she wanted to have beamed to the ship out from the deeper layers of the planet’s crust. She would have liked to have time for a more thorough survey but showed no regret at the fact that they would soon return to the region of the wormhole.

They spoke about how she had developed her interest in geology. She told him that already as a five-year old, she had begun to collect the rocks and pebbles her and other children had been playing with and ordered and re-ordered them in different groups based on their various properties. At twelve years, she had won a school science contest with her comprehensive survey of the land the learning centre was built on. At fifteen years, she had known the geological makeup of the entire planet Vulcan by heart and predicted an earthquake in a distant region three months before it happened.

At the mention of Vulcan, Spock asked a question that had been on the tip of his tongue ever since Teresa’s and his arrival in the 24th century. “What is Vulcan like now?”

T’Lara understood that he was not referring to the planet’s geology anymore. “You seem to have given up your reserve on such topics.”

Spock only blinked, waiting for an answer. He wanted to know. More importantly, recent events had made him let go of some of his caution; he had now already been surprised once before by the types of information that would have proved valuable to possess in their current situation, after all.

“It is prospering”, T’Lara informed him.

He took a slightly deeper in- and exhale. “I am glad to hear that.”

She did not react in any way to his use of the word ‘glad’; it was no surprise to her. “It is at least partially due to our membership in the Federation”, she continued while she adjusted a setting on one of her survey instruments. “The exchange of technologies and perspectives has continued to enrich our culture. The logic extremists who objected to your existence back in your youth have become a very small, insignificant group and have ceased to pose a threat.”

“That is a very gratifying development.” The chilly wind had intensified. He closed his jacket up to his neck. He could not hear Teresa’s thoughts anymore; as the distance between them had increased, their mental connection had grown progressively fainter until it had broken off entirely.

“Indeed. However, new isolationist tendencies have emerged in some parts of the population. They fear the ‘pollution’ of our culture by outside influence, much like the logic extremists”, T’Lara continued. “Nevertheless, most Vulcans have understood that such extensive contact with emotional species, at least those who are members of the Federation, holds more benefits than disadvantages. We are even more deeply involved in all levels of the Federation and Starfleet now than we were in your time. We even have a saying: ‘We are here to serve’.”

His eyebrows twitched slightly. “A rather humble stance.”

“A logical one”, T’Lara answered. “A not insignificant number of Vulcans believe the Federation would fall apart without our contributions or at least suffer severely detrimental effects. Is that ‘humble’?”

“It depends on whether it is an accurate appraisal of the situation”, he answered.

“Precisely. Humility is irrelevant.”

He thought he might know what was going through her head at this moment, in neither negative nor positive judgement: He had been thinking like a human. But that was not entirely true. He had approached the topic from both a Vulcan and a human perspective and only uttered those thoughts out loud that might not have been self-evident to her already. “What do you think?”, he inquired.

“About what?”

“Do you think the Federation would not survive without Vulcan?”

“No”, she said after a short pause. “Some members of our species continue to overestimate our significance and underestimate the abilities of others. One might call that ‘arrogant’.” Her eyebrows twitched; now it was her who had uttered a human perspective. “But I do believe our absence would be detrimental, to the rest of the Federation and even more to Vulcan itself. Starfleet would also be significantly weakened. There is a not insignificant number of vessels the crews of which are entirely or almost entirely made up of Vulcans.”

Spock thought of the USS Intrepid, the Vulcan Starfleet ship he knew from his own time. He had recently already been reminded of this ship before, when Teresa and he had learned that Voyager was an ‘Intrepid’-class ship. T’Lara and he ceased their conversation for a while, as the work required too much of their attention again. Eighteen minutes later, however, they returned to the topic of Vulcan, as Spock asked her where on the planet she had grown up.

“ShiLeth”, she answered. “That’s where my mother felt most comfortable, so she stayed.” ShiLeth was located in the region with the mildest climate on Vulcan. As T’Lara seemed to correctly surmise a further topic that was of particular interest to him, she added: “I have also visited ShiKahr several times.”

“I see”, he made while he scanned a large seedpod he had found lying at the foot of one of the trees, to see whether it might be edible. “I assume much has changed.”

“Not as much you might think, though there is a new museum that houses the largest art collection on Vulcan”, she replied and added after a second of hesitation: “Your parents’ residence is still there.”

“Hm”, he made, his head still bent over his tricorder. “That does not surprise me. My father has never shown any desire to move.”

“Neither has Perrin.”

“Perrin?”

“His second wife”, T’Lara clarified. “She is also human. She lives there on her own now.”

Spock knew that his mother must be long dead. He had always expected his father to marry again; it was only logical. Nevertheless, he found it difficult to imagine him with any other woman than his mother. T’Lara’s last sentence, however, promptly diverted his attention from this topic. “On her own?”

“Sarek is dead”, she informed him calmly, but he knew that she was secretly curious as to how he would react to this news. “He died six years ago.”

Spock was quiet for a moment. Then he said: “I had expected as much.” Nevertheless, he found that assuming was not the same as knowing for sure. “He reached an advanced age.” Six years ago, his father had been 203 years old.

“Indeed”, she nodded and after some more deliberation as to whether she should disclose this information or not, she added: “He developed Bendii Syndrome in his last years.”

Astonished, he straightened up, lowered his tricorder and stared at her. “Bendii Syndrome is extremely rare.”

“Indeed; he was most unfortunate in contracting it.”

Spock remained immobile, his thoughts in commotion. The thought of his father suffering from this degenerative neurological illness, which led to an eventual loss of all emotional control, was unsettling and highly intriguing at the same time. Imagining Sarek like this, this paragon of logic and emotional detachment, was almost impossible.

Eventually, T’Lara continued: “I saw him when he was ill.”

He finally made himself speak again. “How was he?”

“… Upset”, she stated, still looking at him. “Confused. Amongst other things, he spoke about you.”

Spock frowned. As he once again remained silent, T’Lara queried: “Do you wish to know what he said?”

He drew breath and assumed a more pronouncedly relaxed posture and facial expression. “Of course.”

“He wished you could have found a way to reconcile your differences”, she told him, her voice now having acquired a trace of gentleness. “He was most anxious about your wellbeing. And…” She assumed an even more dignified posture and revealed with a more dispassionate face: “He said he loved you.”

Spock slowly lowered his gaze to the ground. “He told you that?”, he then quietly asked with a trace of disbelief; disbelief not at the content of the statement but at the fact that his father, Bendii Syndrome or not, had uttered it in front of her at all.

“Not… intentionally”, she conceded. “At this stage of his illness, he was at times disoriented. It simply somehow… came over him. He was not aware of my presence at that moment. He wished to see you, but nobody knew of your whereabouts at that time. Later, of course, we found out you had gone to Romulus.”

“I see”, he made quietly, still with a small frown and pensively staring into space. “Thank you for telling me this”, he then said, looking at her again.

She nodded. “I thought you might like to know.” And she almost sounded pleased with herself for having made the correct assumption.

Spock remembered too late that he probably should not have learned any of this; his genuine, irrepressible interest in the topic of his parents had made him forget his remaining caution for a moment. The possession of such knowledge might make him act differently if he returned to his own time with his memories intact. He also sensed that T’Lara remained curious about his reaction to what she had told him, to his attitude towards his father in general, at this point in his life. But she did not pursue the matter any further and showed no outward signs of interest. Spock was not even himself certain as to how this conversation had affected him. It would probably need time to work within him. He thought of how Teresa might react once he told her, how she would gently and patiently help him form his thoughts and emotions (or lack thereof) like a midwife.

Apropos, now that his thoughts had wandered to Teresa…

“Are you married?”, he suddenly found himself asking T’Lara, as she was once again kneeling in front of her instrument, inspecting the readings.

She raised an eyebrow at this sudden and unexpected change of topic.

“Teresa… was wondering whether you are married”, he explained, somewhat on edge for a short moment, though not because of the question he had asked her. Then he caught himself. “As was I.” He had recovered his usual dignity.

“No”, she informed him. “I am not.”

“Hm”, he made, depositing several of the type of seedpod he had scanned in a bag, as the scan had revealed them to be edible. “Did your parents not arrange a mate for you?”

“They did”, came the answer. “Though I am told that it was a matter of lengthy dispute between them. My mother thought I should choose my own mate, as she had done. While my father did not per se object to this sentiment, he was concerned that this might lead to me being alone, as almost everyone else around me would already be spoken for. Finally, my mother relented because the logic of this scenario was indisputable. But she often stressed to me that I could reject him if I so chose. And I did. He respected my wishes.”

Spock had been listening with a friendly and attentive expression. “May I ask why you rejected him?”

“You may”, she replied. “I did not find his company and conversation stimulating. He was… uninteresting. It was logical to assume that such a relationship showed little promise.”

“Indeed”, he agreed. “And I assume you have not encountered a more promising candidate since.”

“No.”

He knew what this must mean for her, to be without a mate. But the topic of pon farr was one he would never address; due to Vulcan social conventions, this was completely out of the question. Should she refuse to mate with a member of the Voyager crew or be rejected by a person she chose, she would have to resolve it through meditation or perish. But maybe 24th century medicine had also made progress in this respect. He would never know because he would never ask.

“The holodeck”, Teresa said. The answer to this scenario had come to her naturally, without any difficulty or hesitation. “Should she fail at the meditation approach, there is always the holodeck.”

Spock’s eyes widened, but only for a short moment. “Of course”, he made, slightly startled by the matter-of-fact and unembarrassed way she approached the whole topic. “That is certainly a logical solution.” However, he found it impossible to imagine T’Lara creating a pon farr holodeck program.

Teresa chuckled, having witnessed his thoughts and consternation. “I assume the Doctor knows about pon farr. Maybe he has taken it upon himself to provide this… unconventional way of resolving it for all those Vulcan members of the Voyager crew who might be… in need of it.”

“Yes”, he murmured. If he had been fully human, he would have blushed. “It is, of course, true that the technology also permits the creation of simulations for such… purposes.”

Her chuckle grew considerably heartier. “It certainly holds that potential. Truly, when you think about it, I imagine that holo-technology is generally used for such ‘purposes’ a lot more than you might like to think. But not on Voyager”, she hurried to say, “At least I think not. There is far too little privacy on this ship.”

“You are probably correct”, he conceded. “Knowing humanoid nature, it is a reasonable assumption.”

It was evening; they were sitting reclined onto the sofa, holding each in a loose embrace. After their return from the away mission, they had had dinner in the mess hall with T’Lara, discussing a wide range of topics from the finer points of Vulcan and human philosophy to the progress of the plans for the engagement party, which so far met with both Teresa’s and Spock’s approval. Teresa was delighted by the intellectual exchange with their granddaughter, which she found she enjoyed immensely. After all, one of the main reasons why Spock and her had come to hold each other in such high regard and love each other so deeply had been the large number of in-depth, astute, good-natured and naturally highly logical discussions about natural science, ethics, politics, philosophy, psychology, life in general and many other topics they had conducted over the years. It therefore gratified her exceedingly to find that they could have a similar experience with her and that she proved to be an intelligent, empathetic, reasonable and of course logical individual. Despite the highly engaging nature of the conversation, Spock’s thoughts had nevertheless frequently returned to the information T’Lara had shared with him during the away team’s visit to the planet, due to which Teresa had more or less gotten the gist of it without him actively telling her about it.

When they had returned to his quarters, exhausted by the long day, Teresa had left Spock alone to meditate. Afterwards, they had conducted another mind meld, exchanging each other’s experiences during the time they had spent apart on the planet. Teresa and Mbezi Onagawa had collected a number of organic samples in addition to the edible plant life they had found and Teresa had shown Spock the most interesting specimens. Her curiosity about what they had learned about the Voyager crew had persisted and was still on her mind, but she had laid that topic aside because the topic of Sarek had overshadowed everything else they, and especially Spock, thought about.

Once they had broken off the mind meld and concluded their exchange about T’Lara, Vulcans and holodecks, she therefore said gently: “So… your father.” She said nothing else and only looked at him with tender patience, not asking any questions, attempting to not even think of anything she wanted to ask, because she wanted to allow him to react on his own terms. Spock highly appreciated that, but of course he nonetheless perceived very clearly which points were on her mind.

He pulled a thoughtful frown, slowly running his fingers along hers, watching the leisurely dance of their hands. “He professed he wished we could have found a way to ‘reconcile our differences’… as I do not know how our relationship will develop in my future and of what nature exactly our ‘differences’ were at the time T’Lara spoke to him, it would be futile for me to attempt to evaluate his statement.”

Teresa nodded. “That is certainly correct. But humour me”, she smiled faintly, “and for now, start from the premise that your differences will remain in essence the same and evaluate his statement on this basis.”

Spock lifted his eyebrows slightly and gave her a friendly and sagacious look. “You say ‘humour me’, although you believe it is I who would benefit from such a thought experiment. You think I am more willing to engage in it if I believe it to be for your sake.”

Her lips twitched and she thought: I should have known I can’t deceive you, as you can hear my thoughts. Out loud, she added: “But I am right, am I not?”

With a glint in his eyes, he conceded: “Yes, on all accounts. Very well.” He returned to his pensive silence, running his index finger over the palm of her hand. “I do not think a ‘reconciliation’ of our differences could have ever been possible”, he finally declared, “I only see the potential for acceptance, which I would regard to be a satisfactory type of resolution. Reconciliation would have required at least one of us to change his mind.”

“Which you think will never happen”, she followed up on this statement.

“No”, he stated plainly. “I believe it is… unlikely.”

“And do you think you could accept your differences?”, Teresa inquired.

Spock was silent again, thinking. Finally, he softly said, still following the movement of their hands with his gaze: “Possibly. But there are several points I find hard to accept.”

“Mostly his lack of acceptance of some of the choices you’ve made”, she discerned, having learned enough about their relationship through all of the conversations and mind melds Spock and her had already conducted. Despite her earnestness, she could not help but chuckle slightly. Your lack of acceptance of his lack of acceptance…

Spock lifted his eyebrows slightly, mildly sharing in her amusement. “Indeed. And…”

“… his at times supercilious and disdainful attitude towards humans, including your mother and your human characteristics”, she added, remembering the thoughts Spock had shared with her on the holodeck. “Which, for him, is of course a natural result of his opinion that human logic often leaves much to be desired. That we’re too emotional.”

“Correct.”

They both knew that Spock, and to a lesser degree even Teresa herself, partially agreed with this opinion (Teresa, at least, thought that humans should follow logic more often than most of them did), but they did not approve of how it had affected Sarek’s behaviour towards his family. Yet, despite his disregard for human emotionality and the hurt he had caused Spock as a result, Sarek had been more open towards humans than many other Vulcans of his time, acting as ambassador to Earth and even marrying a human woman. Even if he had only done these things because they were logical, such actions could not be taken for granted. Nevertheless, his tolerance had had its limits and when Spock had decided to join Starfleet Academy instead of the Vulcan Science Academy, not following his father’s teachings as Sarek himself had followed his father’s teachings, he had ceased to communicate with Spock just as Spock had subsequently ceased to communicate with him. For eighteen years, they had not spoken as father and son, including during the rare visits Spock had bestowed on his parents, mostly for his mother’s sake. Only a year ago (from Spock’s and Teresa’s perspective, that is), had they grown slightly closer again, when Sarek and Amanda had come onto the Enterprise on their way to a Federation conference, Sarek had fallen gravely ill and Spock had donated a large amount of his own blood to save his father’s life, putting his own in danger. Both Spock and Teresa reflected on these events for a moment, as they sat on the sofa, their fingers intertwined.

“You greatly admired him”, Teresa commented. “You wanted to follow his example. But a part of you, that neglected human part, felt rejected by him. And so this part of you decided to reject him in return.”

Slightly pressing his lips together, he confessed: “This is probably an accurate assessment. Though I always preferred to think that my behaviour had a solid basis in logic.”

“How so? Why did you make no attempt to improve your relationship during those eighteen years?”, she finally asked quietly, as this was an aspect they had not yet thoroughly brushed on during their mind melds and one she had been intensely curious about ever since she had first found out about his estrangement from his parents during their fateful visit to the Enterprise a year ago. “After all, your mother must have suffered from this situation, too.” She herself could never have endured such a situation with her own parents. In fact, she had always had a very good relationship with them. They had always been kind, loving and supportive, and any differences between her and them had been minor and never led to tensions or distancing.

Spock took a deep breath and stated serenely: “There was no logical necessity to do so.”

Now it was her turn to lift her eyebrows.

He sighed and elaborated: “The only reason to maintain contact would have been of a sentimental nature. As I was determined to not let my behaviour be governed by emotion, this was not an appropriate reason. The only logically legitimate reason would have been a need of guidance, but I had been taught and come to believe that my mother’s guidance, though well-meaning, was often governed by emotion and therefore inadequate and unnecessary, and as my father’s stance and mine were so different, I came to regard his guidance to be inadequate, too.” Before she could make any reply, he continued gently: “Of course I have since understood that a sentimental desire to see them and improve our relationship would have been a sufficient reason to do so. Not every action needs to be of logical value”, he quoted a statement she had made only three days before. “And leading a life governed by logic does not mean that emotion needs to be eliminated from every decision-making process. Logic and emotion are not always in each other’s way. Today, I believe I can better appreciate some of the advice my mother has been giving me, too.”

“Indeed, they are not”, she confirmed, her eyes glowing, and brushed her hand along his arm. Their lips briefly met for a soft kiss, while their enormous appreciation for each other radiated from both of them.

“My father, however”, Spock then said, with an expression in his eyes that was still mellow as a result of their kiss, “would not agree with this viewpoint.”

“Well, maybe he can accept it”, she suggested with a fine smile.

He raised his eyebrows, partial to this possibility, but doubtful of it. “I have been wondering how he will react to the news that I am marrying a human, as he has done. And not only for logical reasons.”

Scrutinizing his face, she inquired in a neutral voice and disposition: “Will you tell him that you love me?”

“Yes”, he declared without hesitation and instead with conviction, even with a hint of defiance.

“You’re quite a rebel”, she teased him. But he sensed how gratified she was.

“My mother will be pleased”, he muttered. “Not by my ‘rebellion’” – he glanced at her in mild amusement – “but by the fact that I love you.”

She put her arm around his chest and squeezed him, covering his cheek with kisses. Once this attack of exuberance had subsided, she put on a sober face again and speculated with slight apprehension: “I hope that this will not become another one of those ‘differences’ he wished the two of you could have reconciled.”

He took another deep inhale. “Indeed.”

“I wonder, though…”, she made. “Bendii Syndrome is, in some respects, akin to dementia in humans?”

“Affirmative”, he replied.

“Then you cannot rely on what he said to T’Lara. It is possible that a reconciliation of some kind had actually taken place between the two of you, but that he had forgotten that again and could only remember an earlier stage of your relationship.”

Spock frowned, acknowledging this possibility, and then concluded: “This means that this whole conversation is of an even more speculative nature than I had already assumed.”

“Yes, but don’t you see?”, Teresa patiently pointed out to him, “at first, we assumed that his statement meant that the two of you will never ‘reconcile your differences’ and will always have a difficult relationship. Maybe that is not the case, after all. All I mean to say is that there is still hope.”

“Ah”, he made, raising his head slightly and giving her a friendly look. “That is a welcome thought. It is, of course, possible that T’Lara knows more about my relationship with Sarek than she has told me so far and could enlighten me in that respect. However”, he continued, “I think it is better not to ask her. Such knowledge could influence my interactions with him, should I for some reason retain it when we return to our time. If I do not know… I can still shape the future as I see fit.”

Teresa nodded in agreement, her head for a moment spinning once again with the ‘what if’s and ‘what if not’s of temporal mechanics and once again grudgingly acknowledging the need to erase their memories. Then, both of their thoughts returned to the other things T’Lara had told him about her meeting with Sarek towards the end of his life. Teresa once again waited for Spock to form and express his own thoughts, without her steering him into any particular direction.

“I…”, he finally made, his index finger running along her palm once more, “… feel sorry about the fact that he came to suffer from Bendii Syndrome. For someone like him, who had successfully buried his emotions for most of his life, such a loss of control, to be so at the mercy of them… must have been greatly humiliating for him. It must have been agony.” Teresa heard a trace of pain in his own voice now, too, felt the sorrow he experienced, and she pressed his hand. “It was not an end worthy of him. However, I…” Spock paused again, but then went on: “It is good to know that he said he loved me. He would most likely have never expressed this otherwise.”

“I only wish your older self will learn of that, too”, Teresa made. “If he only said this in T’Lara’s presence and she never meets you again…”

“Probably that is the reason why she told me this today”, Spock mused.

“But is that logical?”, Teresa asked him. “There is no long-term benefit in her telling you because you will forget it again. And if for some reason you do not, she might have changed the history of your relationship with Sarek by sharing this information with you at a time you should not have possessed it.”

He drew breath. “Apparently, she thought that letting me know this for only the duration of our stay on Voyager was better than nothing.”

Teresa’s lips broke into a fine smile. “So she was motivated by sentimental reasons. You know, I am beginning to like her more and more.”

Spock’s eyebrows now wandered especially high up on his forehead and he threw her an astute look. “Because she acted like a human?”

She shrugged with an apologetic smirk. “I am human. I am biased.”

He feigned a resigned sigh. “It cannot be helped.”

“No”, she grinned, pleased by the fact that he was teasing her. “You know, it is altogether remarkable how forthcoming she has been with this type of information, without needing our encouragement to do so. Telling us how much you loved me. Telling you that your father loved you. The only thing she has not told us yet is whether there is anyone she loves.”

Spock nodded, thinking that the human influence in T’Lara’s upbringing must have been considerably more pronounced than in his.

“But there is one thing I think is certain”, Teresa said gently and warmly. “She clearly loves you.”

He caught her eye, affected by this statement.

“She told you what she thought you needed to hear”, Teresa went on, even more gently. “And she was right.”

Once again in temporary silence, Spock watched the continuous caresses of their hands. “I should endeavour to spend more time with her”, he murmured. “While I still can. And the fact that my older self went to Romulus without saying goodbye seems like an even greater offence now.”

“You apologized to her”, Teresa reminded him. “And, rationally, she understands why you probably had no chance to notify her.”

“Indeed… it would be illogical for her to hold a grudge.”

Teresa smiled. And yawned. Her fatigue had reached a point at which even her eagerness to further enjoy Vulcan massage techniques had begun to wane.

“It has been a long day, especially for you”, Spock discerned.

She nodded and once again put her arm around his torso, squeezing him gently and meandering: “It would be great if those mind melds were not only capable of transferring mental faculties and knowledge, but physical attributes as well. If they made me need less sleep, gave me more physical strength and sharper hearing, a higher tolerance for arid climates and the ability to survive longer without food and water.” She sighed regretfully, envious of the advantages he enjoyed because of his Vulcan DNA.

He said nothing, only lifted his eyebrows. There was nothing she could do about it, after all. She would have to be Vulcan, with everything it entailed. After a short moment of silence, however, he stated plainly: “If you were Vulcan, you would not be you.” And he added: “… which would be an incalculable loss.”

Chapter Text

The next morning, once Teresa had opened her eyes, more thoroughly rested than the day before, she found him sitting in bed next to her, reclined against the wall, his head once again bent over the novel. He followed the lines on the page with a musing gaze and a finely furrowed brow, now and then lifting his eyebrows at something he was reading, sometimes in surprise, sometimes in consternation or fascination. At first, he did not even notice that she was awake, as she made it a point not to stir. Instead, she savoured the singular experience of being able to follow the story by simply listening to his thoughts, through the filter of his perception of it. He was once again reading in Spanish, a fact that still caused her a great deal of astonishment. His mind was filled with a constant swirl of observations, associations, questions and comments that she found most entertaining.

Spock finally realised that she was awake when she began to quietly chuckle at the mention of the room filled with 78 chamber pots. He extended his left hand to brush over her cheek, contemplating her with this gentle expression that she by now knew very well and was slowly getting used to.

She sat up and leant against his shoulder, placing a kiss onto his cheek. “I’m impressed that you are still reading it.”

“I prefer to finish what I start.”

Aware of the fact that they had never had a truly in-depth conversation about the novel, she inquired: “So, what’s your verdict so far?”

He lowered the book and thoughtfully stared into space before he declared with his dry air of Vulcan perspicacity: “It is an impressive and quite comprehensive depiction of human nature. But in most cases, it does not paint a favourable picture. It depicts many characters who are entirely at the mercy of their passions, follies and vices. I cannot help but conclude that most of these characters would have led a more equable and content life if they had followed Vulcan philosophy.”

Teresa could not help but break into a bout of roaring laughter. She was not laughing at him or his opinion; she was laughing because his reply had been so quintessentially Spock. He observed her with an astute, patient and unfazed gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly, and continued with equanimity as soon as her laughter had subsided: “Also, it is truly a fascinating work. Highly complex and rich in meaning in many ways that I can only begin to grasp. Its narrative style and structure are also quite different from any of the other Terran works of literature I have read so far.” His gaze was still lingering on her. “I would be very interested in hearing your thoughts on it, however.”

“It has been quite a while since I read it myself”, she said pensively, “but some things came back to me just now, when I had the chance to partake in what you were reading. Hm.” She picked up his hand and began running her fingers over it once more. “While many of these characters are very different from me – “

“ – you are not at all like them”, he interjected, “you are infinitely more reasonable.”

She grinned and went on: “ – I can identify with many of their passions and their enthusiasm for whatever they have set their mind on, though they often very much go over the top. But most of all, I find it interesting from a historical perspective. The transition from 19th century rurality and local isolation to 20th century globalization and capitalism and the onset of the technological age. What it meant to live in a time when science and technology were not an ordinary part of life, but phenomena that seemed wondrous, even like magic. A time when frequent warfare, restrictive social conventions and exploitation were still commonplace. It is one of the many inspirations that make one wonder what a modern individual would be like without all the comforts and education we now enjoy. Anyway”, she concluded and placed another kiss onto his cheek. “You chose to read it in the hope of learning more about my cultural roots. Do you think you were successful?”

“Not really”, he sighed, somewhat resigned. “Earth, including your native region, has changed too much since the period this work was written in. There is very little in this novel in which I thought I recognized you. Of course I knew that a novel set in the 19th and 20th centuries would not be very representative of present-day Colombia. But”, he admitted, returning the caresses of her hand, “there was another reason why I decided to read this work and not a more contemporary one.”

“Oh?”, she made.

“I confess that the title caught my attention”, he declared quietly. “The thought occurred to me that should I decide against giving in to my emotions for you, I myself might very well be facing ‘one hundred years of solitude’. So, I wanted to see what the novel might have to say on the subject.”

Teresa, feeling distinctly touched, moved away slightly to better look at him, biting her lip. “And what does it say?”, she asked gently.

He looked into her eyes with a steadfast gaze and gave a quiet sigh. “In quintessentially human fashion”, he stated tenderly, “it presents a multitude of characters who experience profound solitude as a result of a variety of circumstances, some external, some internal, that prevent the love that they feel from finding fulfilment. I should have expected no different.”

With a loving and mesmerized smile and a healthy amount of self-mockery, she remarked: “We humans are so predictable, aren’t we?”

“Positively”, he whispered, drawing closer. “And the most dispiriting realization of all”, he went on, now clearly partaking in the banter while his hands closed around her face and she observed him with an amused sparkle in her eyes, “is that, at least in that regard, I probably am exactly the same.” His lips met hers and lingered there, expressing and demonstrating how little this fact now encumbered him.

As agreed with Captain Janeway, Spock spent the day on the Voyager bridge. At 8:00 hours sharp (Teresa had gone off to the science lab, wishing him an instructive day), he stepped out of the turbolift onto the bridge, where he was greeted by Commander Chakotay, Lieutenant Commander Tuvok, Lieutenant Paris, Ensign Kim and the Andorian lieutenant at the science station. Voyager had returned to the region of the wormhole during the night shift. For the next few hours, he took turns to accompany every one of them at their duty stations (command, tactical, operations, helm, science and even the engineering station) while they explained how all the controls and systems worked and answered any questions he had. In many respects, the basic functions had remained the same, but Starfleet had also implemented many fascinating innovations. As he was already there, they also used that opportunity to have him record the distress call their shuttle would send out once Teresa and he had made it back through the wormhole and were still sedated. At 11:30 hours, he also spent some time in the astrometrics lab, where Seven of Nine was gracious enough to show him the calculations she had conducted concerning the wormhole. Fortunately, but not unexpectedly, as all her predictions had come true so far, he found no fault whatsoever with them. Instead, he realized that Seven of Nine was the most intelligent and accomplished mathematician and physicist he had ever come across, apart from himself. She told him that it was the Borg technological augmentations and the hive mind which had enabled her to gather such a large amount of knowledge and skills, more than she could ever have accumulated on her own in one, lone lifetime. Nevertheless, even although she now lived without that technology, her mental acuity was still remarkable.

At 12:00 hours, he and Ensign Kim went to have lunch in the mess hall, where they were joined by Teresa, T’Lara, Ensign Onagawa and Lieutenant Torres. Spock felt a powerful surge of joy when he saw Teresa again and she gave him a radiant smile, even though they had only been apart for four hours. Love was indeed most peculiar; he thought he would probably never get completely used to it, to something that so entirely defied all logic. After all, she could have met all criteria for being a logical choice of partner and he still might not have loved her. He could think of several Vulcan women he knew who would have been most logical choices but who had not sparked his interest even in the slightest degree.

She grinned when she found him musing on this conundrum while the rest of the table animatedly chattered about a range of topics. That’s part of the magic of love, she told him. That part of it that we simply cannot explain.

He contemplated her, the warm, bright and shrewd gaze directed at him, the soft shimmer of her dark-brown hair, the sensuous lips drawn into a loving smile, the shapely shoulders covered by the Voyager uniform she was still wearing. He sensed the enthusiasm she had been filled with ever since she had set foot into the science lab again and the fascinating discoveries about Delta Quadrant life forms her mind was brimming with and was still analysing, categorising and reflecting on with wonder. I also find it hard to get used to how you are constantly on my mind, whatever I do, he admitted in response. Even when I went through Seven of Nine’s calculations, you were still there, in a corner of my consciousness. While this has also been true for the past six or seven months, I thought it might dissipate, or at least diminish now that we are together. Almost the opposite seems to be the case.

Her loving smile intensified, though she tried to tune it down so that not the whole table would notice their doting stares. T’Lara had already thrown them discreet, but cognizant, looks. You’ll get used to it. Or maybe not. But that’s one of the things that makes it so thrilling.

Spock sighed, feeling increasingly flustered and unnerved again. Teresa decided that it was time to change the subject, doing his sanity a favour. “So, we were wondering”, she said to the others when the opportunity arose, “yesterday we learned that Voyager’s current crew is actually made up of two different crews, that there was a second ship that was also pulled into the Delta Quadrant, the Val Jean, which was not a Starfleet ship. Can you tell us more about that?” She specifically directed her last sentence at B’Elanna, knowing that she had been one of the Val Jean crew.

B’Elanna and Harry exchanged hesitant glances. T’Lara was the only person who was not caught unawares by this question (apart from Ensign Onagawa), as she had been present when this topic had been brushed on the day before. She nevertheless observed all her table companions with her characteristic subtle curiosity accompanied by a serene facial expression.

“Well, we could explain”, B’Elanna finally said, “but it’s a long story. And in order to tell it properly, we would have to disclose an awful amount of information about the geopolitical situation of the Alpha Quadrant in the 24th century.”

Spock and Teresa deliberatively looked at each other and Spock, as a measure he hoped would combat his emotional confusion, decided that it was time for his Vulcan prudence, even though his curiosity had definitely been sparked. “In that case”, he said and cleared his throat, “it is probably better if we do not know.”

“Yes”, Teresa agreed, but looked decidedly sorry. “But I do think”, she then went on resolutely, “that Neelix was right when he said it cannot hurt that we learn more about the Delta Quadrant, as there is no contact between the Alpha and Delta Quadrants in our time. I just spent the whole morning looking at specimens from the Delta Quadrant”, she added, with a look at Spock, wanting to convince him, as only a few days ago, he had still warned her against spending time in the science lab, “it would be inconsistent if we had no objection to that, but to hearing stories of the three and a half years you have spent here. I think it’s high time you started telling us some of them.”

Spock did not object; he welcomed the distraction. Harry, B’Elanna and Ensign Onagawa enthusiastically followed the request and T’Lara was also most forthcoming. Therefore, they spent the rest of their lunch break inundated with stories about the Kazon, the Vidiians, the Ocampa, the 37s, the unnamed species that had a mysterious connection to Chakotay’s tribal ancestors, the spatial scission that had duplicated Voyager, the incredible transporter accident that had merged Tuvok and Neelix into one single person, the ‘swarm’, the macrovirus, the Voth, the Srivani, who had made themselves invisible and conducted secret tests on the crew, and species 8472.

Three and a half hours later, he was back in his quarters, absorbed in the novel once more, following with a furrowed brow the mysterious story of Amaranta Buendía’s preparations for her own demise that death herself had predicted to her. His attention was diverted, however, by the incremental approach of thoughts distinct from his own, which told him that Teresa had left the science lab and was on her way back to him. He got some fleeting impressions of tricocereea alorcensis and of an excited anticipation that increased with every step she got closer to his quarters. She was also aware of that he was aware of her.

Only a fraction of a second after his door had beeped, he already said: “Come”, laid the book aside, got up and approached the door.

The opening doors revealed a Teresa whose face was practically glowing with the scientific adventures of her day and her elation at seeing him again. “Hello”, she made warmly, and as soon as the doors had slid shut behind her, she had already flung her arms around his neck and gently kissed first his cheek and then his lips.

Spock took a sharp inhale and returned her embrace, feeling as though an invisible weight was lifted off his shoulders. He had not even realized he was tense before this tension had fallen off him.

Teresa’s lips did not linger on his for too long, though. She moved back just the slightest bit, began running her fingers over his hand and said breathlessly: “There is so much I saw today; you won’t believe some of the lifeforms they have found in the Delta Quadrant. But how was your day? How was it on the bridge?”

Spock did not lose any time in doing what he had wanted to do all day. He put his fingers onto the sides of her face, because sharing his experiences with her like this had proved several times already to be the most comprehensive and gratifying way of going about it. As always, she readily closed her eyes, waiting for the meld to begin.

He shared with her all he had learned that day about ship’s systems, bridge duty, Seven of Nine’s wormhole calculations and the interpersonal dynamics of the crew. In the afternoon, Captain Janeway had even ceded command to him for two hours, though as expected, nothing noteworthy had happened, at least at first. Spock had been reminded of his early days of command training when he had been in command of the night shift and many hours had passed in a mixture of constant alertness and distinctly un-fascinating monotony. In order to make these two hours a little more interesting, Ensign Kim had offered to repeat the preliminary scans of the nearest star systems that the crew had already conducted weeks ago and routinely reiterated several times since. What had turned out to be interesting, after all, was that a long-range scan they had run in addition had revealed alien activity in the adjacent sector that had not appeared on any previous scans. As there was no indication, however, that there were any ships headed in their direction, there seemed to be no cause for alarm, at least for the moment. Accompanying all this information he shared with her was the constant longing for her proximity and company he had felt and which had continued to somewhat disquiet him. Teresa registered this with a mixture of compassion, amusement, affection and gratification. When he had told her all he could think of, it was her turn to share the day’s discoveries with him. She had seen an animal that could live in the air as well as in the water for unlimited periods of time, a veritable flying fish. A microorganism that fed on mercury. Another small animal that only needed to breathe every five hours and eat twice a year. A strange, goo-like mass that randomly changed shape and had even imitated the shape of the plant next to it. On top of all that, she and Ensign Wildman had continued to investigate the plant that had caused the ship so much trouble two days ago and had begun to understand its quick metabolism and the strength and peculiar molecular structure of its spores’ inner coats. But despite all the professional fulfilment she had experienced during the whole day and the captivating stories they had been told during lunch, she had missed him as much as he had missed her. Oh dear, she commented with a healthy measure of self-irony, how will we ever survive life on the Enterprise.

I will have to find more good reasons to go to the exobiology lab, he answered. He possessed too much self-discipline and self-respect to make up pretexts to visit her.

I’m looking forward to it. What once again has required a lot of self-discipline, she sighed, has been to always refrain from touching you because others were present. And her yearning for him intensified, fomented by the memory of those instances when he had been so near and longing had pulsated through her in almost painful throbs. Spock could relate to this feeling all too well, and they felt their mutual desire for each other meet and blend and intensify. A thrill shot through both of them and his hands slid off her temples and grabbed her cheeks instead, while he kissed her with such passion that she gasped in utter amazement and exhilaration. They stumbled against the wall behind Teresa, where he lifted her onto the slender chest of drawers next to it. For what felt like an eternity, they forgot everything around them.

Once their kisses had become slow and light, they began to look at each other with more awareness again. Teresa registered the mayhem she had inflicted on his hair, the perspiration on his yellowish skin, the glaze over his eyes, the greenish spots on his neck where she had dug her fingers too deep into his flesh. She chuckled. He was beautiful. Her chuckle turned into full-fledged laughter, and he stared at her incredulously, until he equally began to smile broadly in response to her laughter and the uncontainable love in her gaze. She was a similar mess, her skin equally moist, her hair falling down in unruly waves.

He brushed his lips against hers once more. You make me forget everything, he thought, still incredulously, logic, the world, even myself.

And I will always remind you of all that again, too, she promised him, cherishing the smile he still wore on his lips and softly running her fingers down his back, enjoying the goosebumps her touch elicited on his skin.

You are surprised, he eventually discerned, witnessing her thoughts. You are surprised that I could become such a passionate, dedicated lover. To a certain degree, I am surprised myself. But when I think about it, it makes perfect sense. Vulcan emotions are profound. Once we unleash them fully, they are like a storm.

Teresa observed him with a slightly furrowed brow, suddenly worried about his emotional equilibrium and mental discipline again. During this interlude of passion, she had forgotten all about it, just as she had forgotten everything else. After the uninhibited passion of their first night together, he had first exerted caution again, but then their encounters had become more and more ardent and unencumbered again with every single time. Spock was aware of her concern and for a moment, he returned her uneasy gaze. But at this moment, he did not feel agitated, nor did he feel unsettled. He felt as though the raging fire inside of him had neatly burned up, leaving behind a clean and calm space. Carefully, she pulled his hand towards her temple, and he obliged her. She was gratified to encounter the calm and lightness he felt in all its placid intensity, but she also found that she could extend her mental antennae into his innermost self further than she had ever been able to before, as though some additional protective mental membranes had dissolved or at least become permeable to her and her alone. She did not quite know what to make of what she found, only that it was something very powerful and very fragile at the same time. It was a part he had never shared with anyone, some part of his Vulcan nature he himself only understood poorly.

He slowly opened his eyes again and looked at her once she had pulled off his hand from her face. His eyelids were heavy, his gaze steady and tranquil, his breath entirely calm. It is safe with you, he found himself telling her silently, without knowing where the words had come from.

I will keep it safe, she replied. He inclined his head towards her until his forehead rested against hers, and he placed his hands onto her shoulders, breathing quietly, feeling entirely at home.

An hour later, after a casual and silent dinner during which they did not care what they ate and after a sonic shower they had taken together, still in an amorous daze, they lay in bed, dressed only sparsely, with her leaning against his chest and him with his arms around her.

“Tell me about T’Pring”, she said, on the spur of the moment. She wondered why she had not thought about this subject earlier and why the thought had only now unexpectedly popped up in her head. It had not even occurred to her to explore the topic in the mind melds they had conducted so far.

He raised his eyebrows to the slightest degree, surprised. He had not seen the question coming, at least at this moment, as she had not planned to raise it. After a short moment of deliberation, he declared: “She was… accomplished and intelligent. Her logic was sound. She was an administrator and treatment specialist at the Ankeshtan K'til Retreat, where she worked with Vulcans who had strayed from the path of logic and had turned to crime, helping them to return to the path of logic. She died at the hands of one of the most violent inmates, who lost control and lashed out.”

Teresa winced at the shock and dismay he had felt at hearing this news. “I am sorry.”

Spock’s finger wandered along her jawbone and he nodded in acknowledgement. “Not every Vulcan woman would have been prepared to accept a half-human as her mate”, he continued, “but she did. Half a year before she died, she proposed marriage to me and I… accepted.”

“So it is customary for Vulcans who have been assigned to each other in childhood to confirm their willingness to marry as adults”, Teresa deduced, approving of this new piece of information. In her regard, Vulcan marriage customs had acquired one redeeming aspect, although she remained averse to the koon-ut-kal-if-fee.

“Of course”, he murmured. “Though of course it is possible for them to still change their mind later, which, in some instances, can lead to the koon-ut-kal-if-fee.”

She nodded slowly, running her finger along his thigh, and then returned to the subject of T’Pring. “What was your relationship like?”

“Not without difficulty. I was concerned that although she had accepted me as her partner, she disapproved of my human side and qualities, while she was concerned that I did not honour my Vulcan heritage enough. We made several attempts to resolve these issues and better understand each other, with some success. That we did not see each other in person again after her proposal certainly made things more difficult. I do not know how our relationship would have progressed if she had lived.”

“How did you… feel about her?”

He did not even raise an eyebrow at this distinctly human question, as he would have been surprised if she had not asked it. “I… highly respected her and valued, even enjoyed, the time we spent together. Obviously, I did not love her as I love you. But I was prepared to live my life with her as my partner and the prospect appeared agreeable to me at the time. And I desired her, which was not something I needed to resist as this was how it ought to be.”

“But you told me at your pon farr that you had never before mated with anyone”, she mused, wondering why he had never had the opportunity to satisfy this desire.

“I almost did”, he explained, “the night she asked me to marry her. However, I was called away by Captain Pike, to embark on an emergency mission.”

“That must have delighted both of you”, she remarked, the irony of the statement very pronounced so that he did not misunderstand her.

“Indeed, neither of us was pleased by the interruption.” She witnessed the scene play out in his memory: How they had kissed after her proposal at the restaurant overlooking the city, how the waiter had told them to ‘do that somewhere else, please’, how T’Pring had said: ‘What an excellent idea’ with gleaming eyes, how they had just sunk onto the bed (he could recall her expression of dignified expectation) and how Captain Pike’s call had come in just as he had placed a kiss onto her lips.

“I sympathize”, she smiled, and she meant it. What Spock had been up to before she had even met him did not afflict her to the slightest degree and she empathized with the frustration he had felt at this moment, which was easy because she experienced it herself through his recollections.

“Thank you.” Now he raised his eyebrows, slightly amused, his finger still brushing along the side of her face.

“She was beautiful”, Teresa then remarked, because T’Pring’s face was floating before his inner eye.

“She was.”

Suddenly, Teresa felt her chest constrict after all. She imagined an alternative timeline where T’Pring had lived and been his wife. Relief, even satisfaction, at T’Pring’s death welled up inside her for a moment, and a few seconds later, she felt deeply ashamed of these emotions, of the fact that the end of this woman’s life had pleased her. She knew exactly that Spock had witnessed this emotional upheaval inside her, and her feeling of shame intensified. The movement of his finger along her jawbone had stopped and she lay there, in his arms, anxiously waiting for his reaction.

For a moment, he did not know what to think. Then, however, he slowly resumed his caresses of her face and murmured: “A most natural reaction.”

To her annoyance, her eyes grew moist. “I’m sorry.”

He carefully grabbed her chin, lifted up her face and gave her a gentle kiss. “As I said”, he then repeated softly, “I acknowledge that this was a most natural first reaction. What matters is that you immediately attempted to move away from these emotions, that you do not embrace and nurture them.”

Gratefully, she returned his kiss. “A better thought would be to wish that instead of her dying”, she then said, “you and her could have parted ways in a different manner, ideally before you met me.”

“Maybe we would have”, he replied. “I do not know. In fact, I am also grateful there was no existence of a wife or fiancée to severely aggravate the inner conflict I experienced because of you.”

“If she had been your wife…”, Teresa whispered, “if I had met her…”

“I believe you would have liked her.”

She let out a stunned and nervous exhale. “That is good. But I would have found myself in the agonizing situation of liking and deeply disliking her at the same time, simply because of her being your wife. I would have felt insanely jealous (and would have fought this exasperating jealousy at the same time) because she would have been yet another reason why I would never be able to be with the person I so much longed for.”

After a few seconds during which her last words reverberated within him, he pulled her close and kissed her once again; this time, it was an even more earnest and much more emphatic and passionate gesture, in an embrace that was as tight as they could possibly make it without hurting each other.

When he had finally let go of her again, he murmured: “You would not have acted on these negative emotions”, knowing full well how she always did her utmost to not let negative emotions towards anyone or anything, especially those she found to be motivated by selfishness or irrationality, influence her conduct.

“You mean I would not have been unkind to her?”, she murmured back and he nodded. “No, I would not have”, she likewise nodded. “But I think that might well have been the greatest test of my resolve to be… kind and rational.”

“Understandable.” He tried to imagine how he would feel if Teresa had a different partner. It was difficult to do so, though.

She chortled quietly, having witnessed this mental experiment of his. “Making up a hypothetical rival is not easy, especially as I can’t imagine anyone appealing to me more than you do, either.”

His thoughts inevitably returned to the few instances where he had felt something that might have been called a trace of jealously; the time Captain Kirk had admired her dancing at the Hernández wedding and Teresa had indeed danced with him, enjoying herself, and Spock had suddenly become worried that his friend might develop a more serious interest in the woman he loved, or the time she had talked to the handsome Ensign Mendez on the holodeck nine days ago.

Her chortle was even more hearty now. “Oh goodness, no.”

Before he could stop himself, he attempted the mental experiment again, imagining a universe where Teresa had become one of Captain Kirk’s adventures. He suddenly grew tense, his jaw tight. And he felt something similar to what Teresa had experienced at the thought of T’Pring still being alive and his wife today, a piercing surge of almost unbearable agony and fury. It was stronger and reached deeper than he had expected it to, poking at a primitive, savage side of his Vulcan mind.

“Spock”, Teresa made, startled and perturbed, and sat up to face him, her hand on his shoulder. “Stop it.”

Spock took a sharp and stunned breath. He stared at her, his breathing having accelerated. “This is what I meant”, he then whispered, his eyes still wide. “Love is… dangerous.” He lowered his gaze.

She took his hand. “You are in control”, she reminded him, her voice gentle and firm. “You would never act on such an emotion, either. And it’s not real. You know how I feel about you.”

He took yet another shaky breath, gulped and nodded. “Yes. I know.” But he was shocked by how strong this surge of furious jealousy had been, even though it had been a reaction to a scenario of which he knew that it was purely hypothetical. Maybe it was an aftereffect of the intense emotions and the further increase in their already extreme closeness that they had experienced together only shortly before, but as he had felt perfectly calm and balanced after it, his astonishment now was great.

She put her hand on his cheek and he grasped it, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply several times to calm himself.

“I love you”, she whispered. “Amongst other things, precisely because you are gentle.” The fingers of her other hand soothingly brushed along his cheek, neck and collarbone, down his arm until it had found his hand that had contracted into a fist. She opened it up, lifted it to her mouth, kissed it softly, caressed it. He watched her silently and with heavy eyelids, speechlessly and still stunned. But his breath had calmed down. And she leant forward until their foreheads and noses touched once again, holding both his hands now. They felt his turmoil dying down.

Finally, she kissed him again, softly and carefully. He returned her kiss, his eyebrows forming a doleful and longing V-shape. With her index finger, she smoothened them back into place. And then she broke away and smiled a quiet, warm and loving smile.

“Don’t be afraid of thinking about of mentioning T’Pring in my presence”, she told him. “I know you prefer me. And if you liked her, I like her, too.”

He nodded. “And as I told you”, he responded, “should you ever decide to… live your life with someone else, I will not try to stop you.”

“How very noble”, she teased him, her lips twitching. “As you know I will never decide to do any such thing.”

“That does make it easier”, he confirmed, his eyebrows now twitching slightly, too. “Still, that is, without question, as it should be. And although we both consider it to be self-evident to respect each other’s wishes, I believe it to be beneficial to make it clear that I will not allow either my emotions or our Vulcan bond to make me act differently.”

Her smiled widened and she nodded. “And the same goes for me.” Her eyes grew sad for a moment at the thought of him leaving her, but not for long, as she knew of their future together, too.

“When we reinitiate our relationship back on the Enterprise, we will have to live without these certainties”, he remarked, frowning slightly again.

“With our ‘excessive melding’”, she grinned, “we will be more than certain enough of our feelings for each other.”

He lifted his head just a little. “Indeed.” And he held his hand up so that she could press her own hand against it, in a by now familiar gesture of connection.

It was evening and Kathryn sat in an armchair in her quarters reading a book, as she often did before going to bed. Tonight, it was George Eliot’s Middlemarch. Just when she had begun to yawn, her door beeped and she looked at the time display, which told her it was 21:30 hours. She sighed; as the Captain, late evening visits to her quarters by some or other member of the crew who wanted to speak to her confidentially about this or that matter were not a rare occurrence.

“Enter!”, she said, and then: “Commander!” when the opening doors revealed Spock, who stepped in with an apologetic expression. “Captain, please forgive the intrusion.”

“No problem”, she assured him with a wave of her hand, wondering what might prompt him to come and see her.

He stopped some three metres away from where she was sitting, the open book still in her hands, and grasped his hands behind his back. “I want to thank you again for giving me this opportunity today, to spend time on the bridge and learn how this ship operates.”

“You’re welcome”, she replied in a friendly tone, smiling slightly. “It’s only a shame that you have to forget it all again.”

“Indeed”, he concurred and continued with an earnest expression: “But I have a request. Although we agreed earlier that I would return to the bridge tomorrow, I have since decided that I would like to spend the day in meditation instead, that is, up until tomorrow evening’s event.”

Kathryn nodded slightly, now comprehending what his visit was about. “I understand”, she told him. “Much has happened in your life recently.” He assented slowly, while his facial expression remained guarded. “Request granted, of course”, she continued. “After all, you have not been assigned to any specific duty shift. You were just going to… ‘hang around’, observe and participate.”

“Precisely”, he said. “Thank you, Captain.”

Kathryn gave him another small nod and a smile, of which he politely returned the nod. When he was already on his way out, she added: “Oh, and Commander.”

Spock came to a halt and turned around to face her again.

“Teresa is an exceptional individual and a wonderful human being”, she told him earnestly. “I am glad you two have found each other.”

His facial features softened slightly. After a short moment of silence, he replied calmly and affably: “As am I, Captain. Thank you. Good night.”

Chapter Text

Early the next morning, Spock was kneeling on one of the several plain mats covering the stone floor of the contemplation room in the P'Jem Kot monastery, the holodeck program he had not visited since Teresa’s and his second day on Voyager. He had brought his meditation lamp with him, which steadily burned on the floor in front of him. All around the spacious room, torches were set into the stone walls, and their occasional flickers were the only noises that interrupted the otherwise absolute silence. This was quite a novel experience. Being in a Vulcan monastery was not new to him, but the possibility of visiting one in the middle of the vastness of space was. On the Enterprise, his own quarters had been his only retreat.

Teresa had still been asleep when he had woken up and dressed, but when he had carefully bent down to kiss her cheek before leaving his quarters, she had stirred, given the type of small, contented sigh that one only gave on waking up in the comfort of a warm bed, opened her eyes and looked at him tenderly. He would have liked to slide back into bed with her, to embrace her soft, warm and familiar body, to maybe listen to her dreams while she slept, but he had made himself resist the temptation. Her gaze had been knowing, comprehending him fully. “Go find your peace”, she had whispered, her eyes still heavy with sleep, but full of her love. “And then come back to me.” She knew that in order to process all the emotions he had experienced lately, their intensity, and especially the unpleasant ones, the ones that worried him, and the profundity their mental bond had reached, he needed a more thorough respite, a time to slow down, take stock and ground himself in the Vulcan sources of his strength and serenity.

“I will be back”, he had replied, equally in a gentle whisper, and placed a single, soft kiss onto her lips, his hand on her upper arm that was covered by the blanket.

He then had exercised in the gym, which had been empty at this time of day, and surprised Neelix with his early appearance in the mess hall, where he had had a breakfast large enough to sustain him until the evening. Finally, he had made his way to the holodeck.

For many long hours, he became completely immersed in the meditation, sitting upright, his hands resting on his thighs, his eyes closed, his breath quiet and regular. With every inhale, he took in the tranquillity of the place he was in, and with every exhale, he did his best to let out what no longer served him. Meditation had become a different experience for him. In all the years since he had first mastered the mental control techniques he had learned as a boy, exploring and recognizing his true emotions had often been a challenging and not always successful process because he had buried them so deeply. Lately, however, the challenge had rather been that he had had to take on and make sense of the tangle of emotions that surfaced on a much more frequent basis now, in addition to those emotions the presence of which he had simply come to accept. His emotional landscape had become an ebb and flow of phases of commotion and calmness. Love for Teresa was the constant companion he had now learned to embrace. On the other hand, the fear he had experienced during the emergency caused by the plant from Alorcis III, yesterday’s surge of irrational jealousy or especially what Teresa had called his ‘Vulcan panic attack’ were not things he wanted to see a repetition of. Unfortunately, they were a side effect of the fact that he was now allowing his emotions for her, to an ever-increasing degree, opening himself up more and more.

Learning from her how to coexist with one’s emotions was part of the solution, he believed. At the same time, it was imperative that he as well stay rooted in his Vulcan mental discipline. In addition, it was not uncommon for Vulcans to engage in extended meditation before events such as the one awaiting him this evening. And so he meditated more thoroughly than he had done ever since those two days at the beginning of their stay on Voyager, when he had sought refuge in his quarters and had attempted to overcome the longing that had plagued him so relentlessly. During those long hours, he applied a wide range of the mental techniques that had long become second nature to him, as they had to the great majority of Vulcans, and he felt himself slowly settle down again, reinforcing his mental foundations. Now and then, he changed his position he was sitting in, to keep the blood circulating properly through his legs.

At 15:26 hours, he heard the door behind him slide open. He did not open his eyes or change his posture, because at first, he believed that it must be one of the holographic nuns. The voice that then spoke was distinctly un-holographic, however.

“May I join you?”, T’Lara asked quietly and with the utmost respect. “Or would you prefer to be alone?”

He drew breath, stirred and looked at her. She was standing next to him, at a respectful distance, still and upright, her meditation lamp in her hands, and looked at him. Had she come two hours earlier, he would have had to refuse her request. Now, he found that he did not mind, was almost pleased to see her. “You may”, he replied.

“Thank you”, she said and knelt down on a mat, leaving one empty mat between them. “I come here sometimes.” When she had deposited her meditation lamp in front of her, she added, her gaze directed at the shrine in front of them: “You and I have often meditated together. Though it is usually a solitary occupation, you taught me that sometimes there is value in joint meditation.”

“Indeed”, he made, his eyes on his meditation lamp, and after a pause, continued: “I have begun to learn that for myself.”

She turned her head towards him and then back at the shrine. “You have been meditating with her”, she discerned.

“Yes.”

“She seems to be very open toward Vulcan ways.”

“Up to a certain degree”, he replied.

“Just like you”, she said, looking at him again. This time, Spock looked back at her and the corners of her mouth were lifted only so far that he could not quite call her facial expression a smile yet. But almost.

“My acquiescence to the Vulcan ways goes much further”, he said.

“Naturally.” Her friendly expression persisted, until she assured him: “I will not disturb you further.”

He gave her an unencumbered and grateful nod and they both sank into their meditation. Another hour passed in absolute, uninterrupted silence. Eventually, Spock opened his eyes again and contemplated the shrine for a while, still in silence. He felt mentally refreshed and significantly more serene. At long last, he also felt ready to interact more thoroughly with T’Lara, so he turned his head to look at her. After all, his days on Voyager were numbered now; there would not be much more time that he could spend with her. Her eyes were equally open and directed forward, but when she noticed that he had focused his attention on her, she exhaled quietly, abandoned her kneeling position, sat down fully on the floor, facing him, and folded her arms in front of her knees. Spock assumed a similar position; his legs thanked him.

“May I ask you a question?”, she inquired.

“Of course.”

“Mind melds”, she said, looking at him with her clear and direct gaze. “I have never performed one myself. Lieutenant Commander Tuvok is the only individual on this ship who has employed them on several occasions; he is, of course, also far more experienced. My point is, they are not without risks, as you know. Your older self and I have spoken about them a few times; at this point in your life, you had considerable experience with them, most of all, though not only, of course, because of your mental connection to your wife, which had been, as I gathered, exceptionally profound. In later years, she could even initiate a mind meld with you herself, although she is human.”

Spock raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Yes”, she made, reaffirming what she had just told him. “But I am digressing from my point. Your older self convinced me of the benefits of mind melds, although you of course also warned me that they can have a destabilizing effect if one is not careful. Now, I believe that the advice from an individual with so much wisdom as your older self was highly valuable. However, I am also interested in what you can tell me now, at a time when you are gathering a great deal of new experiences in that respect.”

“That is your question?”, he inquired.

“That is my question”, she assented. “It required some preliminary explanation.”

He nodded, signalling that he understood, and asked carefully: “Have you and I ever melded?”

“Yes”, she said. “Once. For a short while. But it is a long story and it was you who initiated the meld, which is why I said I have never performed one myself.”

Spock grew silent, musing on her question.

“I am aware that it is a very personal question”, T’Lara admitted. “I do not expect you to answer it.”

“I will answer as best as I can”, he assured her, and after another moment of deliberation, he began haltingly: “Mind melds have indeed proven to be a useful tool for acquiring information… or for empathizing with another individual or lifeform. But I believe that you are mainly referring to my fal-tor-ha’pyl with Teresa.”

“I admit I am curious about it.”

“It is indeed very private”, he breathed, his eyes flickering slightly, and she lowered her head. “But what I can reveal, I believe, is that…” He hesitated, frowning and pressing his lips together, and she looked up again. “You are correct; I am still very much gathering new experiences. Such close mental contact with another person, a person such as her, has unlocked things in myself that I myself do not yet fully understand. She is gaining further and further access into my mind, to parts of it that even I myself cannot fully grasp. Maybe my most basic instincts – human or Vulcan, I cannot say for certain.” He was whispering now, surprised at himself that he was revealing this to her at all, and she contemplated him with the utmost earnestness and respectful attention and appreciation. “I do not yet know what else she may uncover… or unleash. These are probably the risks you were referring to. However”, he continued more loudly and firmly, “her influence has mainly been a highly positive one, a calming one in many respects. Contact with her mind has helped me… deal with the emotions within myself that have surfaced. Her mind is highly disciplined for a human, and my… human side has been able to… thrive lately, while my Vulcan side remains strong. But I have changed, there is no doubt about it.”

“Thank you”, she said when he had finished and made a pensive face. “This presents a contrary picture to a case that took place here on Voyager one and a half years ago. Lieutenant Commander Tuvok has conducted several successful mind melds, including some that put him under considerable strain. There was one occasion, however, where a mind meld almost destroyed him. I do not know all the details, as obviously, this is a very private matter, but there is much on this ship that becomes common knowledge after all. There was a crew member, a Betazoid by the name of Lon Suder. He suffered from highly unusual, extremely strong violent tendencies. One day, he lashed out and killed a colleague without provocation, simply because he felt the urge to. Tuvok wanted to understand how someone could kill with no apparent reason, so he melded with him. His curiosity was too great. Suder became a more balanced individual after this meld, as the Commander must have transferred some of his mental strength and discipline onto him. Tuvok, meanwhile, became ‘infected’ with Suder’s volatile nature and destructive violent tendencies. Eventually, he lost almost all control, and it is only thanks to the Doctor’s considerable expertise in Vulcan medicine that he could be cured at all.”

Spock had been listening attentively, his eyes growing incrementally wider. “Fascinating”, was all he could say at first. “I have heard such stories before”, he then added. “Though never from someone who knew the individual in question directly.” He also understood better now why the Doctor was so weary of mind melds.

“I believe I can deduce that this experience of his and yours are polar opposites”, she remarked. “… if Teresa indeed has a calming influence on you.”

“She does”, he confirmed. “Though it is more complicated than that. She is a kind and gentle individual with a high amount of self-control, but her emotions and passions are very strong at the same time and she only controls them when she deems it necessary. It is a…. challenging terrain to navigate. All in all, though, you are correct. Despite the stronger emotions and… impulses that have surfaced within me occasionally since my… association with her, her influence has been much more stabilizing than it has been destabilizing.”

T'Lara nodded, her face illuminated by the flickering light of the torches and the steady flames of the meditation lamps. “And the other mind melds you have conducted have not remotely had an effect on you as detrimental as Officer Suder had on Tuvok”, she discerned from what he had told her earlier.

“No”, he confirmed. “Though many of them were challenging in their own ways. Some affected me more than I had expected beforehand.” He thought of Lolani and the Horta. “One always needs to be sufficiently prepared. If you feel your mental discipline wavering, a mind meld is not recommendable, for neither of the participants.”

“I understand”, she said. “One can concede that Tuvok should have known better; he overestimated his own capabilities in this instance. I know I would never knowingly meld with an individual such as Suder. But maybe I would…” She hesitated and then grew completely silent.

Spock looked at her empathetically, his eyebrows slightly raised, waiting for her to finish the sentence.

But she did not. “It is no matter”, she declared.

“As you wish”, he said kindly. It was not his way to press other people to reveal more than they were prepared to reveal by themselves.

For a while, they sat before each other in silence, then he changed the subject. “You told Teresa that you read poetry. And play the piano.”

Her eyebrow twitched in response to this unexpected topic that he had brushed on, but she said with perfect collectedness: “I do.”

“To my knowledge, there is no piano on Voyager.”

“No, there is no real piano”, she confirmed. “Only here.”

“Ah.” He understood. “Why this instrument?”

“I like its sound and range”, she explained. “And there are many compositions for it that are of exceptional beauty. Furthermore, I find that playing it has a meditative quality.”

“That depends on the piece, I assume”, he remarked.

“Of course. I do prefer slower pieces.”

“Would you be prepared to let me listen?”

T’Lara gazed at him for a few seconds, motionlessly. Then she got up, signalled him to do the same and said: “Of course. Computer, run program 164-alpha.”

The Vulcan monastery around them vanished. Instead, they were standing in a spacious room with large windows, with was being flooded with sunlight. Only their meditation lamps remained as the sole indication of where they had been before. A piano stood in the left corner. T’Lara sat down in front of it.

“Computer, another chair”, she said. A chair materialized next to her and she bade him sit down. “I have not been playing very long. Less than a year. My skills are not advanced.”

“Do not concern yourself”, he told her.

Without any further ado, she began to play. Spock recognized the piece; it was the adagio sostenuto from Beethoven’s sonata nr. 14, opus 27/2, otherwise known as the ‘moonlight sonata’. He had not heard it in a long time. While her technique was still a little shaky at times, T’Lara had no difficulties in reproducing the solemn and highly melancholy mood of the composition. He listened with growing astonishment at the feeling with which she was playing; she was not playing like he might have expected a Vulcan to play it; she played it like a human. She was deeply absorbed in the melody and the slow and rhythmic movement of her fingers up and down the keyboard. It was not that Vulcans played music without feeling; on the contrary, music was the place where Vulcan emotions manifested themselves the most clearly and it was often melancholy, too, so her choice of song was not altogether surprising. Still, human expression had a different quality, a more visceral sentimentality. Spock had the impression that she was showing him something very private, taking him into her confidence, probably out of nostalgia for the days when his older self had been her mentor, maybe even her closest confidante.

When the last note had rung out, he at first did not know what to say, as he felt veritably touched by her playing. But then he looked at her and told her earnestly: “The ‘exceptional beauty’ of the composition? You have captured it.”

“Thank you”, she said, with the same poise with which she always spoke. Then she got up. “And now you must excuse me. I must assist in the preparations for an engagement party.”

Teresa was once again dancing when he arrived in her quarters. When she saw it was him, she threw him another one of these radiant smiles, but resumed her dancing, because the song was almost over. Therefore, he once again stood there, leisurely watching and enjoying her graceful movements. They ceased only a minute later.

“Computer, stop music”, she said and approached him, a contented glow in her eyes. She could sense the effects the extended meditation had had on him.

Without a word, she lifted up his hand and continued her dance with their hands instead of with her full body, her eyes wandering over his face, basking in the serenity and tenderness of his expression. He slowly connected the fingers of his free hand to her face. She had pursued a variety of activities that day to fill the void that his absence had caused: she had come to help Neelix in the kitchen, had breakfast with B’Elanna, done an hour of exercise, spent two more hours in the science lab with the exobiology team, had lunch with Captain Janeway, paid a visit to the airponics bay to see how it was getting on and even lent a hand to Ensign Bronowski, spent one and a half hours with the Doctor, singing again, and had practiced the Vulcan nerve pinch with Naomi once more. The little girl had become quite proficient, managing to render the little holographic boy unconscious even when he was moving and also taking out Teresa again. Meanwhile, Teresa’s eyes grew round when Spock let her know about T’Lara’s appearance on the holodeck, the conversation they had conducted and the musical performance she had given him.

Once he had broken off the meld, they exchanged a placid, but no less loving, kiss. Subsequently, he ran his fingers through her hair. She had done something with it. It was open, falling in stunningly full and shiny waves over her shoulders, a number of beige ribbons woven into it.

“You are beautiful”, he murmured. “Even more so than usual, that is.”

She smiled and gave him yet another kiss, holding him in a soft and firm grip.

At precisely 18:00 hours, they stepped through the doors of the mess hall. As soon as they had entered, there was a collective clamour from all sides of the room, with several people exclaiming: “There they are!”

“Vulcan punctuality”, Chakotay commented, smiling, a drink in his hand.

“Naturally”, T’Lara replied, who was standing only a metre away. She exchanged polite nods with both Teresa and Spock and took the lyre he had brought with him out of his hands, carrying it to a corner of the room where Harry Kim and the Kimtones were playing; Teresa recognized one of her favourite songs. She only managed to catch a short glimpse of the whole room, already feeling touched by how many people were present, when something small whizzed directly towards her and threw two thin, but surprisingly strong, arms around her midriff. “Hello again, Naomi”, she beamed, bending down to return the embrace.

“Hello”, Naomi made, letting go and taking a step back. “Did you know I’ll be ringing the bells?”

“How very fitting”, Spock replied genially, in a tone of perfect earnestness. “You certainly deserve that honour.”

That ringing the bells was any special honour, was news to Teresa. She threw him a cognizant and thankful glance, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“Thank you, Spock”, Naomi beamed and threw her arms around him, too. Spock froze for a second, while Teresa supressed a grin, and then he tentatively patted Naomi’s shoulders until she had released him from her embrace again and had run back to her mother.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome”, Neelix made, who was approaching them with a small plate of food. “I hope you like the flowers.” He was wearing one pinned to his shirt.

“Oh, I – “, Teresa made, not having had a chance to properly look around the room. The Voyager crew were congregated around the mess hall tables, which had been rearranged to form small clusters all throughout the room. On these tables and next to the walls, was a varied assortment of bouquets of flowers of a variety of colours and shapes. Teresa recognized several different species: lilies and chrysanthemum from Earth, kolnar t’vesh and chatira from Vulcan and three species they had seen on the planet they had visited two days ago. Others were unknown to both her and Spock. “They’re absolutely lovely, Neelix”, she exclaimed.

“Indeed, they are very pleasing to the eye”, Spock confirmed amiably.

“I replicated several types of flowers from Earth and Vulcan, as I am sure you have noticed”, Neelix explained, looking decided pleased with himself. “The others are from Kentari V. Ensign Onagawa and I came upon a large colony of them we never told you about.”

“I see that this solar system has finally been given a name”, Spock remarked.

“Oh, yes”, Neelix nodded. “The Captain chose this name, only an hour ago. Anyway, would you care for some food?”, he inquired and pointed at every item on the plate he was holding and on the food counter as he mentioned it, “I have these Vulcan appetizers you told me you like, Spock – although I still can’t pronounce them – , plomeek soup, um, sand cakes – I found that they are a speciality from ShiKahr province – , and then, of course, arepas and empanadas and these Chinese steamed dough buns, what are they called again?”

“Bǎozi”, Teresa said, looking at him full of affection.

“Exactly”, Neelix made.

“Thank you, Neelix”, Spock said, still in his genial tone.

“Well, won’t you have one?”, the Talaxian inquired, gesturing with the plate.

“We Vulcans do not eat with our hands”, Spock responded, grasping his hands behind his back and giving Neelix his signature dignified look.

“Oh, yes”, Teresa made, mildly amused, but told Neelix in perfect seriousness: “If at all, they only touch food with gloves.”

“Oh…, I don’t have any gloves to offer”, Neelix made, somewhat at a loss. “But I don’t understand; you had no objection to touching the food in the kitchen.”

Spock sighed. “Gloves will not be necessary”, he declared and threw Teresa a meaningful, though affable, look for making him appear stricter than he was. With a polite nod, he went to the food counter and picked up two plates and forks, handing one set to Teresa as well, who accepted them with a smile.

Neelix left them on their own to attend to something in the kitchen.

“The sand cake is very good”, Teresa remarked to Spock after a moment of silence, and he nodded. Soon after, she took a bite out of the empanada. “Oh, it’s delicious! Almost as good as the ones made in Colombia.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

Their telepathic connection had the curious side effect that they had a faint idea of how the other one experienced the food they were eating. Spock had so far always stuck to mild dishes if possible, as most Vulcans did, as strong spices were disfavoured due to their potential to produce intense sensations. Now, however, Teresa suggested innocently: “If you truly want to get a better idea of my cultural heritage, trying out some of these dishes Neelix replicated could be one way of achieving that goal. After all, I have eaten lots of Vulcan dishes already. You could catch up with that a little.” She knew that the Vulcan digestive system was highly adaptable to alien food, if given time.

Spock looked at her, not having anticipated this suggestion. “Very well”, he then said and, after a short moment of hesitation, extended his fork for her empanada. After all, he had sensed how much she had enjoyed it.

“Maybe not that one, it’s quite hot. Spicy”, Teresa warned him, pulling a grimace, as she had already generously dripped the spicy sauce called ají onto the empanada.

He looked at her fearlessly. “In the spirit of learning more about each other”, he announced with a genial gaze. And put a piece he had broken out of the empanada into his mouth.

Teresa immediately understood why Vulcans did not eat spicy food. Spock chewed, gasped slightly, swallowed with difficulty and then coughed. The spice did more than set his mouth and gullet on fire; it was outright revolting for him.

“Hrm”, he made, breathing more heavily than a moment ago. “Fascinating.”

“Oh dear”, she muttered. “Maybe I will find you some bland ají one day.”

“I fear that ají prepared for the Vulcan palate would not be ají anymore”, he replied in a conciliatory tone, cleared his throat and reached for a glass of water.

As they were trying out some more of the food, they were approached by Captain Janeway, Tom and B’Elanna, with T’Lara not far behind.

“Well, well, well”, Tom made, smiling broadly, “here’s the happy couple. How do you like the party?”

“It is satisfac – “, Spock began, but Teresa shot him a glance and he realized that in this company and on this occasion, more enthusiastic-sounding praise was in order. “… most pleasant. Excellent, in fact.”

“Aww, I’m glad to hear it”, Tom beamed.

“It’s great, Tom”, Teresa chimed in. “And thank you so much to everybody who helped in the preparation. And simply everybody who is here.” She threw another glance into the room. “It looks like half the crew, or more.”

“That’s about right”, Janeway confirmed, equally beaming. “Almost everyone who is not on duty is here. I could even persuade Seven to come.” She gestured towards Seven of Nine, who reacted to this signal and stepped closer.

“My congratulations on your engagement”, she declared in her usual unmoved voice and then stood there and looked as though she was thoroughly unimpressed and bored by the whole proceedings.

“Thank you”, Spock replied.

“You don’t like parties, Seven?”, Teresa inquired with a friendly expression.

“No”, Seven told her. “They are an inefficient use of time. A lot of irrelevant conversation is conducted.”

B’Elanna rolled her eyes, looking exasperated.

“Well, then I am even more grateful that you have come”, Teresa stated, smiling. “Maybe there will be at least a few pieces of conversation you will find valuable.”

“Seven’s not been to a lot of parties so far”, Janeway commented, patting Seven of Nine’s shoulder. “And it’s her first engagement party.”

“The Borg do not concern themselves with the elaborate social rituals around procreation that most humanoid species engage in”, Seven announced.

“As I have understood it, they do not procreate at all”, Spock remarked.

“Indeed not.”

“Well, they’re missing out on a lot of fun”, Tom opined.

“‘Fun’ is irrelevant”, Seven replied. “To my knowledge, this is an attitude Vulcans share”, she continued, directing this remark at Spock.

“Many do, yes”, Spock answered.

“But not you”, she discerned.

Spock hesitated, threw a glance at Teresa, and then declared: “It depends on the type of … ‘fun’.”

“Hear, hear”, Tom said.

Seven of Nine threw a cool, questioning glance at T’Lara, as though she wanted to ask for a second Vulcan opinion, so T’Lara expounded: “‘Fun’ is a very subjective term. If one understands it as a type of personal satisfaction, or even enjoyment, that one can derive from any particular activity, Vulcans are no strangers to it. Our civilization would not be producing so much art and literature if they did not provide some kind of personal fulfilment. Most human concepts of ‘fun’, however, are not shared by Vulcans.”

Everybody was quiet for a moment after this elaborate speech, then B’Elanna commented, addressing Seven of Nine: “There you have it.”

The Captain changed the subject. “I see you’re back in your Enterprise uniforms”, she remarked to Teresa and Spock. “I was wondering whether you would maybe wear something else to your engagement party.”

Spock and Teresa looked at each other and Teresa explained with a faint smile, smoothing down the blue fabric along her belly: “It just seems… fitting to wear these uniforms. “We’re both dedicated Starfleet officers, we got to know each other in these uniforms, we have been working together in these uniforms for many years, we decided to… ‘throw our lot in with each other’ in these uniforms and will continue working together in these uniforms for many years to come.”

“That’s sweet”, B’Elanna made.

“It seemed… only logical”, Spock declared. Teresa broke into a brief grin. The only alteration she had made to her appearance was her open and adorned hairstyle.

“So far, the festivities seem to have a distinctly human character”, Seven of Nine remarked. “Apart from the food assortment. Mr. Neelix has explained the different dishes to me.”

“Oh, it will get more Vulcan, don’t you worry”, Tom assured her. “T’Lara helped to make sure of that.”

T’Lara inclined her head for a dignified nod.

“By the way, I think everyone’s here”, Tom continued, addressing Spock and Teresa. “So you can do the thing as soon as you want.”

“Now is an acceptable time”, Spock said, and Teresa nodded. T’Lara also nodded and left their little circle, searching for Naomi, while Tom went over to Harry’s band to signal them to stop.

“What ‘thing’?”, Janeway muttered to B’Elanna.

“You’ll see”, B’Elanna muttered back. And she went away as well, beginning to set up a large amount of candles of different sizes in a circle on the tables in the middle of the room, leaving a space in the centre that was large enough for several people to stand in, and even more candles on the other tables and on stands along the walls. Ensign Wildman and Naomi helped her light them. Several attendees of the party watched them with curiosity; only Tuvok and Ensign Vorik did not look in the least surprised.

Spock and Teresa exchanged another glance, Teresa slightly flustered, but also full of joyful anticipation. “It’s so solemn”, she commented quietly, but not at all opposed to the solemnity.

“Vulcan culture is solemn”, he gently replied with his head close to her ear, although she knew this already.

Someone dimmed the lights until the room was almost solely lit by the candles. Everyone grew quiet.

From two opposite sides of the room, T’Lara and Naomi stepped into the centre circle that had been left empty, carrying two pentagonal wooden frames into which were set thin metal bars that held a large number of small bells. They stopped at the rim of the circle. Spock and Teresa nodded at each other, then they stepped into the centre of the empty space, with everyone congregating around them, observing the scene with fascination. Once Teresa and Spock had come to a halt, facing each other, T’Lara and Naomi slightly shook the frames they were holding for a short moment, so that the room was filled with the clear and high-pitched ringing of the bells.

Teresa quickly winked at Naomi, then she directed her gaze at Spock, who was standing before her, looking back, his face mainly illuminated by the glow of the candles, his lips softly parted, his eyes filled with a tender, earnest glimmer. Her facial expression was equally earnest and composed, but saturated with a profound, subtle glow.

Spock, his gaze not leaving her face, loosely grasped her right index and middle finger with the same fingers of his left hand. They positioned their hands in mid-air between each other and he declared: “Teresa. I formally and willingly enter a mating bond with you, so that we may, even in absence, never be parted, and be forever and always touching and touched.”

“Spock”, she replied, the glow on her face intensifying, “I formally, willingly… and wholeheartedly enter a mating bond with you, so that we may, even in absence, never be parted, and be forever and always touching and touched.”

Spock had barely lifted an eyebrow at the word she had added to her vow. “Our bond is sealed”, he said.

“We are united”, she answered. And her lips widened ever so slightly.

Tuvok, who was standing close by, handed both of them a pendant on a chain. Spock inclined his head slightly so that Teresa could, with slow and mindful movements, slide the chain over his hair and deposit it around his neck. Then he did the same to her with the chain he was holding, briefly brushing his fingers over her shoulders once he was done. They grasped each other’s fingers and looked at each other once more, the pendants hanging at the height of their chest faintly shimmering in the light of the candles.

And that was it. They slowly lowered their hands again, still contemplating each other. Then T’Lara gave Naomi a nod and the two of them rang the bells once more and then stepped back into the crowd. A short moment later, the lights in the room increased a little again, but the candles remained lit. When the silence still persisted, Tom started clapping, and a moment later most people in the room had joined in, cheering. Teresa laughed.

This is not part of the Vulcan ritual, Spock commented in his thoughts, somewhat amused.

The human aspect has taken over again, she replied.

For the next few minutes, almost everyone came to them to congratulate them, while Harry’s band resumed their playing. Once the buzz had subsided slightly, Captain Janeway remained standing with them, looking intrigued.

“Can you explain what that was I just saw?”, she inquired.

“Certainly”, Spock said, with several people listening. “In Vulcan culture, these words have long been customary between two individuals who have chosen to bond or are bonded. You might know that Vulcan marriages are often arranged already in childhood – “

“That I know”, the Captain confirmed.

“ – but if, for some reason, an adult Vulcan must seek a mate, these words are usually spoken once two individuals have decided to bond”, Spock went on. “When Teresa and I… made that decision, it did not occur to either of us to perform such a ritual, so we thought now was the best time to catch up on that. They are not marriage vows, however. More like… a betrothal. And they are seldom spoken in front of others; especially not so many. But as this engagement party needed to by a synthesis of human and Vulcan customs, we thought it acceptable to… make small alterations.”

“Very similar wording is used under a number of further circumstances between two partners”, Teresa added, addressing the Captain, “for example, when they have not seen each other for a while, it goes like this…”

Spock obliged her. “Teresa”, he announced, looking at her with his dignified expression again, “parted from me and never parted. Never and always touching and touched. We meet at the appointed place.”

“Spock”, she responded, equally dignified, “parted from me and never parted. Never and always touching and touched. I await you.”

After having finished this small demonstration, they looked with a friendly expression at the Captain, who said: “How beautiful. Will you two speak these words in such situations, too?”

“Uh…”, Teresa made.

“… That will not be necessary”, Spock resolved this moment of uncertainty.

“Tuvok, you never mentioned Vulcans could be so romantic”, Tom, who was standing close by, remarked in amusement.

Tuvok had also been listening to this exchange. “These are long-established customs, Lieutenant. ‘Romance’ is a human concept.”

“Well, I think it definitely applies here”, Tom declared with a wink.

As they had promised the Captain and several others, Teresa and Spock also played and sang several songs together for the crew, a performance that was met with much enthusiasm and rapture. Spock had by that point managed to not be carried away by emotion anymore and instead played with his habitual serenity; he even afterwards explained the calming effects of the lyre on the Vulcan nervous system to anyone who wanted to know more about the instrument. Especially the Doctor was interested in its therapeutic qualities. The Doctor, by the way, had brought a holo-imaging device, which he said he used frequently to capture memorable moments of the social life om Voyager, and showed them the images he had already taken of the current event.

“We can save them for your older self, Spock”, B’Elanna commented, having taken a look herself.

”What’s that?“, the Captain inquired, and B’Elanna explained to her their plan to visit 24th century Spock if Voyager ever managed to find a faster way back to the Alpha Quadrant and Ambassador Spock was still alive and in any position to be reached.

“You know, I’ve been thinking the same thing”, Janeway revealed. “How does that suggestion sound to you, Commander?” She looked at Spock as though she was not certain whether such a visit would be welcome to him or open old wounds. At least that is what Teresa thought she could read in her expression.

Spock, aware of what passed through Teresa’s head, assured the Captain: “The idea appeals to me, Captain. Of course I cannot know with any certainty how my older self would react to such a visit, but I assure you that I at present consider it to be a very good idea.”

“He would be pleased”, T’Lara announced without any hesitation. She had been close by once again, listening. Teresa smiled at her and Spock gave her a grateful nod.

“Well, in that case”, the Captain equally smiled.

More than an hour passed, with everyone conversing about a range of topics, eating and drinking, sitting at the tables or standing together in small groups. At some point, however, the Captain stood up and asked for everyone’s attention for a moment.

“When we first picked up these two time travellers, little did we know what they had in store for us. Commander Spock, Lieutenant Juárez, I want to thank you for enriching our vessel so much with your presence. You have brought us stories of a time when almost no one of us had already been born” – she threw a friendly look at Tuvok, the only exception – “of a time in Starfleet and Federation history that has an almost mythical character for most of us today. You have honoured us with your cooking, your company and your highly engaging conversation and intelligence in the mess hall. Only a few days ago, your expertise and hard work helped us save this ship. You have entertained us with your music and – I confess – a romantic mystery that had us all on our toes. Most importantly of all, you have given us your friendship, which we always will cherish, just as we will cherish the memories of the time you spent with us – but, I know, it’s not over yet! – Well, as the Captain, I want to congratulate you once again, on behalf of all the crew, on your engagement. We feel very privileged that we can celebrate it with you. Much as I would love to marry the two of you, as it has been a captain’s privilege for many centuries, I know that that honour belongs to your own captain, James T. Kirk. We wish you all the best for your life together; we know it will be long, happy… and prosperous.”

Everyone clapped; the beaming Teresa gave the Captain a hug, while Spock thanked her for her speech. They sat back down at their table.

Then they heard Tom Paris’ voice. “Okay, that’s my cue, I think!”, he announced.

“For what?”, muttered Teresa to Spock. They had not been aware of any further plans for the evening.

“Teresa and Spock are maybe the only people in history who know how their life together will play out before it has happened”, Tom announced, a smirk on his face, while Lieutenant Haron pushed in a portable screen behind his back. “So I had the idea that we could all have a short look at that life here this evening. I only had to do a short search of the database and Lieutenant T’Lara has been so kind as to share a few family photographs from her private collection with me.” He gestured at T’Lara, who nodded in confirmation.

“Oh!”, Teresa made quietly; she was too astonished to utter anything else. Spock’s eyes widened. T’Lara told us Lieutenant Paris was capable of unexpected surprises, he remembered.

But she kept it a surprise, too!, Teresa replied.

Several other people had made noises of pleasant surprise. “Thank you, Tom!”, Teresa said. “What a lovely idea”, as Tom had shot them a gaze as though to make sure that they did not look as though they were not at all taken with the idea.

He smiled and began: “First of all, here is a photo of your actual wedding.”

Teres’s eyes grew round and her mouth fell slightly open. But then she smiled. The photo essentially showed what they had been expecting: they were on the Enterprise, in their uniforms just as they were now, although Spock was wearing some kind of Vulcan sash over his uniform and Teresa’s hair was open and adorned. They were also wearing the same kind of pendants that were hanging from their necks now and standing facing each other, their middle and index fingers entwined, with Captain Kirk in the background. Several people in the mess hall made: “Awww.”

Teresa grabbed Spock’s hand under the table; he pressed it. Seeing what they were seeing felt like a dream; it felt surreal.

Once Tom thought they had contemplated this photograph long enough, he continued to the next one, presenting: “The senior staff of the USS Enterprise in 2275.”

Senior staff. Teresa would be a lieutenant commander by then; this is why she was part of the senior staff on this picture. They recognized most of the faces on this picture: Uhura, Sulu, Chekov, Mr. Scott and Dr. McCoy. Captain Kirk was not on it; Spock wore captain’s insignia. Spock wondered once again where Kirk might be.

“Elise is not on it”, Teresa muttered to him, her voice full of curiosity. “I wonder what she was up to.”

T’Lara, who was sitting next to them at the table, lifted her head slightly and looked at them as she heard this, but she said nothing.

“And the senior staff again, this time of the Enterprise-A in 2290”, Tom went on.

In the next picture, Captain Kirk had returned, with Spock back as first officer, but still the rank of a captain. Of all the familiar faces seen on the last picture, only Sulu had disappeared, but as Spock and Teresa knew from Tuvok, he had become captain of the USS Excelsior. Everyone looked older, new lines in their faces that had not been there before. The uniforms had changed. Teresa’s eyes got caught on Spock, who had barely changed at all, looking at the camera with a serene and composed, but slightly softer gaze, and on herself, 21 years older, but still as lively as ever, her hair still a shiny brown, her figure still slender, her face joyful and her eyes sparkling. She could not help but let out a small and quiet sigh of relief. Seeing her older self in such excellent shape was not really a surprise because it was required of Starfleet officers to keep themselves fit and healthy, but it was nonetheless good to see. Spock threw her a furtive gaze, equally pleased by what he was seeing and tenderly aware of her secret anxieties.

“The teaching staff at Starfleet Academy in 2282”, Tom then announced.

Amid the multitude of faces, it took everyone a moment to find the two of them, standing next to each other. Teresa also recognized some of her former teachers, who seemed to still be working at the Academy.

“One year later”, Tom declared, and then hesitated and threw them a questioning look, “a private picture with their children.” He seemed to ask for their permission to show it. Spock nodded, still holding her hand under the table.

Teresa’s breath stopped for a moment; the surrealism of the whole experience had reached its peak. She had been wondering whether she should search for pictures or ask T’Lara for more and although she had decided against it, the temptation had been present in the back of her mind all the time. She would have children. She would have children, and nothing presented this fact so unequivocally to her as this picture now did; unlike the picture of their adult daughter Elise they had seen, this one showed three little people, two five-year-olds and a three-year-old, standing together with Spock and her in a garden that was not familiar to either of them. In the far distance, one could see San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge, which was not too surprising as in 2283, they had still been working (or would still be working) at Starfleet Academy. Maybe the garden was in front of their home. All three of these little people had pointy ears peeking out beneath their dark hair, but a far rosier complexion than Spock, and were beaming at who- or whatever was taking the picture. One could recognize both Spock’s and her features in their little faces.

Once again, several people made: “Awww.”

“They’re adorable”, one could hear Neelix whisper somewhere in the corner, and explain to whoever he was speaking to: “Their names are Elise, Soval and James, if I remember correctly.”

“‘James’ like James Kirk?”, Mbezi Onagawa whispered back.

“No idea.”

Neither had either Teresa or Spock. But it was a logical assumption, especially as Elise had been named after Dr. McKennah. ‘Soval’ was a common Vulcan name and also the name of one of the first Vulcan ambassadors to Earth; they had speculated about that enough times already.

Spock was equally struck by the sight, having never imagined himself having children until recently.

I wonder what prompted us to have a third child after already having to deal with twins, Teresa ruminated once again, amused and awestruck at the same time.

We will find out, he thought, and added: After seeing this picture, I maybe know why. His attention lingered on the expressions on everyone’s faces. We look genuinely happy. His eyebrows were forming a subtle frown, as the feelings of astonishment and dazzlement at the major turn his life had taken in the past eight days resurfaced with fresh force. Teresa felt the strong urge to embrace him but resisted it.

“Can I continue?”, Tom inquired, amused by all the enchanted faces.

“… Yes”, Teresa replied as soon as she had pulled herself together, “you can. Thank you, Tom.”

“Okay, I only have two more”, Tom informed them. “Another Starfleet picture: the senior staff of the USS Sha-hor Tel in 2294.”

This picture was benign in comparison to the last. Also at 55, Teresa still looked strong, healthy and buoyant as she was standing next to the captain, her husband. Any other of the senior staff members were unknown to either of them.

“And last but not least”, Tom said, “Ambassador Spock and his wife and advisor in 2311.”

That particular picture must have been taken at some kind of diplomatic event. Spock was wearing Vulcan robes and Teresa was dressed similarly, probably to underline her role as companion and advisor. As it had been the case in all of the other images Tom had shown them, both of them looked well, content and very close to each other, with her hand on his arm, the formal nature of the event notwithstanding. Nevertheless, this time Teresa’s heart sank. Even though her 72-year-old self looked the picture of health, her advanced age was now clearly visible. Young Teresa truly did not mind the fact that she would grow old. What made her feel a pang in her chest was the fact that next to her, Spock looked decades younger in human years, as of course he would; or to put it in a better way, the fact that she looked decades older than him, her hair filled with broad streaks of grey, her face full of fine wrinkles (though still as warm and spirited as ever), her figure slightly fuller. She was thankful that this was the last picture Tom had chosen to show them. She did not want to see herself as a centenarian, next to the man she loved who at that time would merely be a little more than middle-aged.

As was perfectly usual for her, however, she did not let this show; only Spock knew what was going on inside of her at that moment. After an appropriate amount of time, she clapped her hands together and exclaimed affectionately: “Thank you so very much, Tom. This was indescribable…” She chuckled. “I’m still lost for words. You chose wonderful pictures. And it was a lovely, though I must say, thorough, surprise.”

“It was a pleasure”, Tom told them, once the portable screen had been removed and the attendees of the party had split into little groups again, talking animatedly. “We were a bit unsure at first whether we should make it a surprise, but it would not have been the same if you had known in advance.”

“Indeed not”, Spock agreed. “It certainly was a unique experience.”

“That’s what I thought”, Tom said.

“Of course I have several more photographs”, T’Lara informed them, having joined their little circle again. “I only provided Lieutenant Paris with those which were not of an overly private nature. You may see them if you so wish.”

“We will consider it”, Teresa warmly let her know. “Thank you.”

During the following half hour, the first people began to trickle out of the mess hall, until after another hour, only a core group of those people who Teresa and Spock had spent the most time with was left. Teresa danced another round with Naomi and thanked Harry Kim and the Kimtones for all the great music. They had even rehearsed and played a Vulcan composition that Spock liked and that was not too different and difficult for a jazz band to master.

They were all grouped sitting and standing around a few tables in the corner, when the Doctor announced: “I think before the party disbands completely, I propose a toast. Do you mind?”, he asked Spock and Teresa, who were standing close to the window.

“Not at all”, Spock replied, well enough acquainted with this human custom.

Therefore, the Doctor had the whole room raise their glasses. “To the happy couple”, he announced. “There is always something special about inter-species relationships. In the mixing of two cultures, something new and unique is created.”

Several people made noises that expressed agreement and then Neelix called: “Speech!”

“Oh, yes”, Mbezi agreed, grinning. “A speech!” Only a few seconds later, half the remaining company had chimed in, even B’Elanna. Tuvok and T’Lara, as could be expected, remained quiet, decidedly accustomed to and unperturbed by the exuberance of the others.

They mean us, Teresa informed Spock.

What kind of speech?, he inquired, somewhat out of his depth.

Teresa knew what kind of speech they were clamouring for, and as it entered her head, he understood. It was not the kind of speech he would be prepared to give. Teresa, however, was prepared, and Spock decided to give her free reign.

“Alright!”, she announced, smiling, and held up her hand so that everyone grew quiet. “Vulcans are a very private people, so you must allow Spock to remain silent. However”, she went on, her smile broadening, “I am not. In the community I come from, we have this sentimental tradition that on occasions such as this one, we… declare before friends and family the reasons why we have chosen our partner. Only if we want to, of course. I want to.”

She threw a last look at Spock to make sure that he did not mind what she was about to make public. In some way, she relished that she could now express what she had kept from almost everyone for almost four years and the opportunity to put into a coherent, articulate whole that which he had only ever perceived as a series of impressions from her mind. “I love you because you are good”, she said with an earnest passion, looking at him, while he looked back with that equally earnest and guarded gaze behind which he hid his intense emotions from the world, but not from her. “Maybe your goodness is derived from your logic, but logic is not compelled to engender goodness. It is a choice you make. You are dauntlessly peaceful. You are wise. You are considerate, and you have become so kind. You are smarter than all the rest of them – well, most of the time – ” Her lips twitched. “You inspire me. You fascinate me. You are just as incessantly curious about the world as I am. You have taught me so much, and you have allowed me to teach you a great deal, too. You have opened yourself up to me and have shown me a more sincere, respectful and cherishing interest than anyone else ever has. You are gentle. You have devoutly welcomed me into your life and I am forever grateful.”

“Ahh”, several people made, sincerely touched by her speech, and smiled. Spock said nothing, but his index and middle finger once again sought hers, down at her side where her hand could be found, and closed around them in a firm grip that was not hidden from view.

Back in her quarters, he responded in the way he had not been able to in the mess hall, surrounded by people: as soon as the doors had slid shut behind them, he pulled her close and gave her an earnest, firm and emphatic kiss, one hand gently grasping her cheek. Teresa returned it with the same earnest devotion that was emanating from him and felt like she never wanted to let go. Several minutes therefore passed in this decidedly slow and unhurried kiss and tight embrace, which was not an expression of passion but of their immeasurable, mutual appreciation and affection, thoughts quietly passing back and forth. They were still wearing the Vulcan pendants around their necks.

“How much has happened in so little time”, she finally whispered, gently squeezing him, and then she chuckled. “Here we are, when only two and a half weeks ago, you asked me to teach you how to dance to see how badly close contact with me would affect you.”

He nodded. “About that…” Assuming a more dignified expression again, he subtly raised his eyebrows and proposed: “As dancing also has a celebratory aspect, that is, people also sometimes dance to mark certain occasions, dance could be a logical conclusion to today’s event.”

Teresa now equally raised her eyebrows, but in surprise. “You want to dance with me? Now?”

“Indeed.”

“But you said dancing was not for you.”

“I can make an exception”, he declared. “For a short while.”

Her eyes and lips widened slightly in endearment when he rearranged his arms, posture and position in relation to her. “But you were right; I would prefer the first dance you taught me”, he murmured and searched his memories for what he had learned. Teresa smiled and wordlessly transmitted new instructions. They slowly began to turn, leading each other, Spock looking into her eyes instead of at their feet. It was a very leisurely waltz, almost not a waltz at all, without any music, but she could not imagine anything better, anything more intimate, unostentatious, sincere and effortless than this. They also turned each other on the spot several times, whereby she had to lift her arm a few inches higher than he had to let her pass through under his.

“I admit that this holds a certain appeal after all”, he murmured after a time. “Dancing with you, that is. I do not think that I would find it interesting with another partner.”

“I don’t mind that at all”, she replied with a fine grin, murmuring as well and caressing his jawline while they danced. “As long as you don’t mind me dancing with others.”

“Of course not.”

Nothing could compare to this dance, though, she thought, this slightly clumsy and rudimentary affair, the quiet earnestness with which he pursued it, the delicate and tender grasp of their hands, the slow steps traced by their feet, his other hand beneath her shoulder blade and her other hand where his shoulder merged into his neck, the proximity between them that was much too close for a waltz, a dance they were not really dancing at all, anyway. More and more tension fell off her and, in the end, her feet came to a halt and she simply let her head rest against his shoulder, breathing quietly, feeling light as a feather.

Shortly afterwards, they were kneeling at opposite sides of the little sofa table again, a meditation lamp between them. Both were reminded of the evening he had meditated with her to help her sleep, at the end of only their second day on Voyager.

“It did not really help at all, did it?”, he said, a faint glint of amusement in his eyes. “In the end, you slept badly at after all.”

“It did calm me down, for a short while“, she replied. “But in the long run, it only made it worse.”

“For me, too”, he sighed.

“Some things”, she whispered, “can’t be ignored, or cured by meditation. At least, in my case. And not in yours, either.” And he witnessed how her thoughts returned to the photographs they had seen a few hours earlier, especially to one of them, and then lingered there, while sorrow seeped into her facial expression. For a moment, she became lost in thought, plaintively staring into the flame with heavy eyes.

“That was a very captivating 72-year-old”, Spock finally said gently. “And she looked… happy. The man next to her, too.”

A slightly startled breath escaped Teresa’s lips as she was ripped out of her contemplation. She looked at him, thankful for his attempt to cheer her up, but remained sceptical after all.

“‘Accepting the inevitable brings peace’”, she then whispered, quoting T’Lara.

“Correct”, he made.

“Maybe I will learn to accept this.”

“Once we get back from Voyager, you will most likely have lost all knowledge of how long you will live”, he reminded her. “Reaching old age will, for a long time, only be a hypothetical possibility.”

“Is that also supposed to cheer me up?”, she inquired, her lips twitching.

He frowned, obviously not having completely thought through what he had been attempting to tell her. “There are two points that trouble you”, he summarized what she had already expressed on their first evening together, taking her hand so that their entwined hands were resting on the table between them. “One is that you will die long before me and the other is that you will suffer the detriments of old age while I will still be comparatively young and vigorous.”

“Full marks”, she teased him. For some reason, she was reluctant to discuss this topic with earnestness. “Well, almost. You forgot something. I hate that you will…” She took a deep, slightly shaky breath.

“That I will have to spend many decades without you”, he gently finished her sentence.

She nodded, taking another deep breath, her chest feeling somewhat heavy, and continued to stare into the flame of the meditation lamp.

“As I have already said, the alternative to this is far more disagreeable”, he reminded her.

“You’re absolutely right”, she confirmed, looking at him again. “And your approach to this is most… logical. The thought is comforting. But the fact still remains. We can’t change what will happen. We can’t change that my life expectancy is much shorter than yours. Yet, I still wish it was different. I can’t help it.” She pressed her eyes shut because, to her horror, the corners of them had filled with tears.

Spock only looked at her; he did not know what to say anymore.

With another shaky breath, but determined to not let her emotions overwhelm her, she opened her eyes again and continued: “And you said that I will live long, for a human. 104 years… is not that long. Already in 2268, the average life expectancy for a human female is at 99, and the oldest person alive is 139. I’m sure that in the 24th century, with all these advances in medicine, life expectancy will be even higher.”

“That is likely”, he whispered.

“It is highly possible that there exists someone right now who was born in the same year as me and is still alive”, she went on.

Spock pressed his lips together. “This is quite a pointless train of thought”, he brought himself to say. “You are only inflicting pain upon yourself.”

She knew he was right. “And upon you”, she whispered, looking at him apologetically. “I’m sorry. I only wish we could… grow old together. Experience old age together.” Well, we will certainly experience my old age together, she added in her mind with a healthy measure of sarcasm, a thought that did not escape his attention.

“I would relish that, too”, he said slowly and quietly.

After a moment of mournful silence, her face lit up a little. “You know what? I am now truly glad that we will have children. That way, even when I am gone, a part of me will always be with you.”

“You will always be with me”, came the immediate and inevitable answer.

A touched exhale escaped her, and she smiled. “Yes. Well, I mean, that way, I will be with you in two ways. In your memories, and in our children.” She smiled once more. “Even in T’Lara… and the others.”

Spock nodded and commented: “I believe she is more like you than she realizes.”

A fresh tightness constricted her throat and she felt several tears run down her cheek. “Oh dear”, she made. “I’ve never been like this with you before.” They both knew that this was due to the fact that she had removed the protective barriers in her mind because she did not feel the need any more to conceal her emotions from him, which was something she would now not be able to, anyway, even if she wanted to.

Without any hesitation, he reached out his fingers and wiped her tears away. “What I tried to say earlier”, he told her, “is that once you do not know anymore how long you will live, the hope that possibility brings will always be of comfort to you… and me. And maybe you… and me will indeed learn to accept the fact that our life expectancies differ considerably.”

“Accepting the inevitable brings peace”, she reiterated pensively. “It’s just that some things are especially hard to accept.”

“Then we would have reached the ultimate level of serenity”, he stated with his Vulcan sagacity, “if we managed to accept even these things.”

Now there was a spark of amusement in her eyes. “Is that a challenge?”, she inquired.

He raised his eyebrows amicably, his eyes glinting. “If you wish.”

“Very well”, she told him, while she let go of his hand on the table and folded her hands in front of her face in preparation for the additional meditation session they had postponed with this conversation, “challenge accepted.”

Chapter Text

After climbing out of their shuttle in Voyager’s shuttle bay, they were greeted by a small committee: Captain Janeway (smiling warmly), the dark-skinned man who had spoken Spock’s name (Teresa now saw that he was a Vulcan), a black-haired man in red with a tattoo on his face (he looked Native American, Teresa thought, but could not be sure) and an excited young Asian man in yellow.

“Welcome on board, Ambass- … Commander Spock”, Captain Janeway smiled and then, for a second, looked as though she wanted to slap herself for her slip of the tongue, “… and Lieutenant Juárez. It is an honour to meet you.”

“Thank you”, Spock answered, still surprised. Teresa rolled her eyes almost unnoticeably, in affectionate amusement. Of course, she thought.

“This is my second in command, Commander Chakotay”, the Captain said, pointing at the man with the facial tattoo – Spock and Teresa nodded politely – ,“and this my tactical officer and chief of security, Lieutenant Commander Tuvok”, Janeway continued, gesturing at the Vulcan.

Tuvok raised his hand, performing the Vulcan salute. “Peace and long life.”

In response, Spock equally raised his hand. “Live long and prosper.”

“Ensign Harry Kim, our operations officer”, the Captain went on, followed by more polite nodding all around. “And there is someone else who is eager to meet you”, she then concluded.

Teresa now saw a fifth person stepping forward, who had been hidden from view behind the other four. He was an elderly Vulcan, elegantly dressed in a dignitary’s robes. As he came closer and she saw his face, her breath stopped, and, in utter confusion, she looked back and forth between the Spock next to her and the man in front of her, who was identical to Spock except for the wrinkles in his face, the even greater wisdom and profundity of his gaze and the streaks of grey in his hair.

“Teresa”, he said with an air of warm dignity and reached out his hands for her, “my wife. I thought I would never see you again.”

She woke up with a start. The room was dark. Spock was breathing quietly and regularly next to her. Wide awake, she lay in bed for a few minutes, listening to his in- and exhales. Then she furtively got up, went into the sitting room and closed the bedroom door behind her. Finally, she stood before the computer screen, biting her lip.

“Computer”, she then said, the brightness of the screen illuminating her face, “display the most recent available picture of Ambassador Spock.”

With a quiet beep, the computer obliged her. On the screen appeared a picture with the caption ‘With Legate Demor (on the left) in Manidor City, Cardassia Prime, stardate 46825.4’.

“2368”, she whispered. “Computer, zoom in on Ambassador Spock.” A moment later, when she had seen enough of the full-body perspective, she added: “Magnify his face.”

He looked almost exactly as he had done in her dream; she remembered the image most vividly. Apart from the streaks of grey in his hair and the accumulated wrinkles in his face, his appearance had barely changed. His stature was the same. His posture was the same, only maybe carrying even more confidence and inspiring a great measure of reverence, without being overbearing or intimidating. The guarded, respectful and dignified character of his gaze was undoubtedly due to the formal nature of the situation he had been photographed in. Teresa was satisfied to see that this gaze was just as profound as she knew it in her time and imbued with wisdom, at least so she thought from her own, decidedly biased perspective. However, she thought she could also perceive an air of solitude about him, a silent semblance of forlornness which he carried like a well-worn and well-accustomed piece of clothing, maybe so well-accustomed that he had grown comfortable in it.

Teresa looked at this picture for a long time, tracing the features of his face on the cold screen with her fingers. Then she said: “Computer, clear screen” and went back to bed, carefully wrapping her arm around the three-dimensional Spock next to her and basking in his warmth.

A few hours later, she woke up again and found Spock sitting next to her in bed once again, reading the novel. José Arcadio Segundo had just grown mad with the memory of the 3000 people the military had killed and then secretly disposed of in order to quell the resistance activities of the union of the employees of the banana company. As soon as Spock had realized that she was awake, however, he laid it aside and put his arms around her from behind, murmuring “Good morning” and placing a kiss on her neck.

“Hm”, she smiled, feeling extremely pleasant and comfortable in this warm and soft embrace, and extended her arm to touch his face. “You are still reading it.”

“I want to finish it before we go back”, he declared.

“Huh”, she made when she realized the seeming futility of this effort. “This reminds me of the sand mandalas made by Tibetan Buddhist monks. They painstakingly create beautiful, colourful patterns through the course of many weeks, only to ritualistically dismantle them without a trace once they are completed, to illustrate the transitory nature of life.” She had never seen any of these in person, but she had seen pictures, and Spock caught some fleeting impressions of them in her mind. “Well, the comparison is not entirely accurate”, she added. “At least the people who have seen the mandalas will remember them.”

He passed a moment in pensive silence and then said quietly: “This, of course, applies to our entire stay here.”

“Well, hopefully not everything from our stay here”, she reminded him, turning around to face him. “All this closeness between us is supposed to have some kind of lasting effect.”

He took a deep breath, nodded and placed a lengthy kiss on her lips. Now that their time on Voyager was gradually drawing to a close, he had recently not been able to completely dispel the occasional doubts that had surfaced within him about the decision he had made. While the Doctor had estimated the likelihood of him retaining the fundamental emotional developments he had undergone to be at around 90% and while logic dictated that these were entirely acceptable odds and that his decision had been the correct one, he had never in his entire life been more anxious about the residual risks of a course of action he had taken.

Teresa, who was aware of the thoughts passing through his head, could not help but share these anxieties. Nevertheless, she broke away from their kiss, ran her finger over his cheek and staunchly reaffirmed: “It is the right decision.” She was convincing herself as well as him. “And look at us”, she continued tenderly, but somewhat jokingly, her lips still only about a millimetre from his, “it is practically a law of nature that we belong together. And of Vulcan physiology”, she added more earnestly, referring to the bond. “You won’t be able to resist that for much longer.”

He nodded and resumed their kiss somewhat dolefully, trying to remind himself of the indisputable primacy of logic and of all the things they had already learned about the 24th century which they could not possibly be allowed to remember. “And yet”, he then mused, caressing her jaw and neck with his hand, “the next time, we will probably not develop such extreme closeness that quickly. We will not know what we know now of our future together and I will probably be more careful and reserved, at least in the beginning. A time such as the one we have been experiencing now may never come again.”

“Just like that the exact same mandala is never laid again”, she whispered wistfully. “Well, we’ll lay new ones, and who’s to say that they’ll be in any way less unique and beautiful.” Under his continuing kisses, another comparison occurred to her, and she murmured, placing another soft kiss onto his lips after every other word or so: “There is also a plant native to Central and South America, epiphyllum oxypetalum, which has strongly fragrant flowers that each usually open for a single night only. The Chinese even have an expression: 昙花一现 (tánhuāyīxiàn), which means ‘short-lived’, but translated directly, it means something like ‘epiphyllum (only) appears once’.”

“Very poetic”, he replied, running his lips along her cheek. “But hardly a favourable comparison, either.”

“I am not comparing it to our entire relationship”, she made clear with the smallest chuckle, “only to our time here.” Nevertheless, the thought of the dismantling of the Tibetan sand mandalas made her remember something even less favourable: at the end of Cien años de soledad, once the last descendant of the Buendía family had died, a strong wind wiped their house and the entire city of Macondo off the face of the earth.

“I thank you for revealing the ending to me”, Spock murmured in clear irony, but he had known that this might happen sooner or later. And this does not serve as a fitting or favourable comparison at all, he added in his mind.

No, she agreed and reiterated the gist of the statement she had made earlier: And it will not happen to our relationship.

Their kiss grew firmer, their embrace tighter. Suddenly, though, Teresa became aware of the fact that her bleeding had begun. “Oh”, she sighed, her mouth still hovering next to his, “it’s here.”

For Spock, it was a decidedly peculiar experience to be aware of her sensations like this. “Ah”, he equally sighed, “your cycle.”

With great regret, she disentangled herself from him, got up and vanished in the bathroom. She had been expecting it and had already arranged everything she needed the day before, so she inserted her cup and changed into a new set of purpose-specific underwear she had replicated. Two days earlier, she had gone to sickbay so that the Doctor could inject her with menstruavis, a cocktail of substances and nutrients that prevented her from experiencing any pain or significant mood swings and that kept her strength up. It was a medicine she had also received in the 23rd century, but it had been further developed since then, which is why the Doctor had had to synthesize the 23rd century composition especially for her, so that nothing unusual would be detected in her body once she had returned to her own time. She also felt a little strange with that her period was suddenly not an entirely private affair anymore, because her mental connection with Spock made him a witness in a way that no other partner ever could be, but she was glad that in their time, the topic was not enveloped in shame and taboo anymore, as it had been in earlier centuries.

Once she was back in bed with him and he had embraced her anew, he inquired: “Why did you decide to not have them stopped completely?” It was a common solution that many human women chose and which could be reversed if they wanted children.

“Oh”, she made, nestling against him, “although there are no significant side effects, it still messes with one’s hormonal balance. I tried it for a while, years ago, but I simply did not quite feel like myself anymore.” Her lips twitched. “I like being me, you know.”

“That is something I can comprehend without any difficulty”, he replied jovially and pressed a further kiss onto her shoulder. “I, too, like you to be you.”

Teresa grinned. “I am glad we are in agreement.” Her mouth found his again and she drew him closer until they were wrapped into a tight embrace, their kisses filled with more and more longing and urgency, while he shoved the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders. “Oh”, she then let out something between a moan and a frustrated sigh. “We can’t.” Just the night before, after their joint meditation session, they had sunk into yet another amorous embrace, which she now remembered with an almost aching yearning in her body.

“Most unfortunate”, he breathed, burying his fingers in her hair. “Not for the rest of our stay here, I assume.”

“No, it will still be too heavy”, she confirmed with an even deeper sigh. Undeterred by this information, however, he lowered his head to kiss her chest and let his lips wander all over it. After all, there was only one thing they could not do. And they did what they could under the circumstances.

“Well, we’ll have to start from scratch again later”, she eventually sighed, referring to the memory erasure once again.

“Like with almost everything else.”

“Isn’t that also somehow exciting?”, she tried to see it all in a positive light, resting her head on his chest. “Who else can go through the adventure of getting together for the first time twice?”

The mess hall had only partially returned to normal. All traces of last evening’s event had vanished except for the numerous bouquets of flowers that were still adorning the tables and the walls and delighting almost everyone with their vibrant colours and fragrant smells.

“Good morning, Neelix”, Spock greeted the Talaxian with his usual politeness. Teresa and he were not wearing the pendants from last night anymore; they violated Starfleet dress code. They were back in their Enterprise uniforms, though.

“Good morning, Spock, Teresa”, Neelix replied, even more jolly than usual. “What shall it be? There are still some leftovers from yesterday, but I have also made a delicious broth from some of the plants and grains we collected on Kentari V.”

“I’ll have a bit of both”, Teresa smiled. “By the way, how are you getting on now that you’re mostly alone in the kitchen again? I could help some more today. Spock will be on the bridge again.”

“I’m fine, thank you for asking”, Neelix assured her, while they filled their breakfast trays. “It’s more work, but I managed it before you came and you’ll leave us soon, anyway. But I will miss you in the kitchen; it’s been very nice with the two of you.”

“I wish I could tell you that we’ll miss you, too”, Teresa sighed, with Spock putting on a neutral expression.

“But you won’t remember me, I know”, Neelix replied in a consolatory voice. “But based on what we already knew and we saw yesterday, you two have a lot to look forward to. And these children? Adorable, as I said yesterday. That picture has been on my mind ever since.”

Teresa gave him an amiable smile, not quite knowing how else to respond.

“Indeed”, Spock said courteously and then asked Teresa: “Shall we sit down?”

They had barely started eating when T’Lara came into the mess hall and joined them at their table. Teresa seized the opportunity to tell her: “You played beautifully yesterday. I wish I could have heard it, too. Though, in a way, I have.” She sent a faint smile in Spock’s direction.

“Of course”, T’Lara replied. “Thank you.” She contemplated both of them serenely, but with a very attentive, almost searching gaze which she only ceased when Spock furtively cleared his throat.

Why does she always look at us like that?, Teresa wondered. Well, not always, but frequently. Their mental connection was very strong at that moment, as they had conducted another, quite intensive, mind meld just before coming to the mess hall. This time, they had done it mainly in the hope of further fortifying the link between them, as they hoped that it would in some way, at least partially, endure the erasure of their memories that was now only three days away.

You know that a Vulcan notices when another is… emotional, Spock reminded her. I believe it fascinates her to see me like… this.

Young and in love?, she responded in amusement, although she kept her face straight.

Exactly.

“T’Lara”, Teresa said amiably, “would you like to tell us more about the discoveries you have made in the Delta Quadrant, as a geologist? The other day, we heard much about the fascinating species Voyager has met here, but less about the other aspects of scientific exploration you all have conducted.”

She had asked her granddaughter the right question. Through the entirety of their meal, T’Lara carried the conversation with her tales of mountain ranges the height of 50 kilometres, 2643 new types of rock and minerals they had found, an M-class planet without any seismic activity or plate tectonics and even a group of usdomanders in an asteroid belt.

“‘Usdomanders’?”, Spock repeated, frowning.

“A sentient, rock-like species of nomadic extremophile”, T’Lara replied, a little confused. “It was your Enterprise that first encountered them and it was you who first told me about them”, she told Spock. “They have a region on their backs capable of producing long-range energy waves that transmit a limited range of emotions. Their name comes from the name of the first individual you encountered; Usdi.”

“From our perspective”, Spock declared, “that has not yet happened.”

“I see”, T’Lara made. “I am not aware of the exact stardate of your encounter with them. I apologize if I have revealed too much.”

“It’s alright”, Teresa assured her. “Well”, she said to Spock with twitching eyebrows, “it sounds like further interesting days are ahead of us.”

T’Lara refrained from telling them any more about this encounter and about how Spock’s older self had warned her against an usdomander’s shockwaves, as those of Usdi’s parent had gone right through the Enterprise’s shields and had infected almost all of the crew with that lifeform’s unbridled, violent rage. No members of the crew had been more susceptible to the transfer of this rage than the Vulcans, including Spock himself, which is why it was now common knowledge that these shockwaves affected Vulcans with a much higher intensity than other humanoid species. She did not want to undermine his new confidence in his emotions with the story of how he had assaulted a security officer in order to take hold of that officer’s phaser, which he then had fired at Usdi, and of how he had thrown a female colleague against the wall who had tried to stop him. Usdi had knocked him out in response and Spock had to be put in restraints on his biobed in sickbay so that he did not wreak even more havoc. The next shockwave had made him break out of the restraints despite of his multiple internal injuries, screaming in anger, and he could only be fully stopped when a security offer had shot him with a phaser. The only person he had somehow felt unable to attack had been Teresa, who had courageously stepped between him and the sickbay doors to prevent him from leaving and searching for Usdi. At that point in time, though, she had still only been a colleague, which is why T’Lara had assumed that this incident had already taken place. This evidenced, she thought, that her grandparents had not, or would not, immediately become mates after their return through the wormhole. It was the second time she had consciously decided to keep information from them; the issue of Dr. Elise McKennah’s fate had been the first.

“Chakotay to Lieutenant Juárez”, the Commander’s voice came through Teresa’s communicator.

“Juárez here.”

“Ensign Bronowski just called in sick and Ensign Li is off duty today. Could you take over the airponics bay one more time?”

“Of course”, Teresa answered. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Very good”, Chakotay said. “Chakotay out.”

“If you do it alone, it will take you much longer”, Spock frowned, wondering whether he should forego on his time on the bridge.

“It’s fine”, Teresa assured him. “I know you want to be on the bridge.”

“I’ll help you”, T’Lara declared. “I’m off duty.”

“Thank you!”, Teresa replied, thankful for another opportunity to spend time with her. Spock gave them both an approving look.

Ten minutes later, therefore, Teresa and T’Lara entered the airponics bay, after Teresa had watched Spock walk off towards the bridge with a wistful gaze. The only plants in the airponics bay so far were the seedlings that were sitting in close proximity to each other in crates lined up along the walls. It was time to plant most of them into deeper soil, so they went to work, with Teresa giving T’Lara instructions.

“It is unfortunate that your previous work here has been destroyed”, T’Lara remarked around an hour later, while she pressed the soil around a seedling down in order to give it more stability.

“Yes, I enjoyed growing these plants”, Teresa replied. “Or maybe, what I mostly enjoyed”, she admitted with a wry smile, “was working together here with Spock.”

T’Lara was silent for a moment. Then she said quietly: “I admit, I am intrigued by your relationship.”

Teresa looked up from the seedling she herself was planting. “Why?”

Her granddaughter equally paused and contemplated her with a guarded expression, opening her mouth, but closing it again. But she decided to be open and honest, after all. Her mother and even Spock had often encouraged her to speak about emotions. “My maternal grandfather”, she began, “has taught me to value close relationships, with people I truly… hold dear. He has even attempted to persuade me of the value of… romantic love, should I ever experience it. He thought that if he had still been able to function as a Vulcan under such circumstances, so would I.”

Teresa had forgotten all about the seedling in her hands. She had straightened up and looked at T’Lara earnestly and attentively. “And now you want to see for yourself why he thought that way”, she ascertained gently.

“Yes”, T’Lara declared. “Because despite what he had told me, I have long been resolved to not follow this advice.”

“Why?”, Teresa asked again, genuinely surprised but also touched that T’Lara would confide in her, especially as most Vulcans would never dream of revealing such extremely private thoughts to anyone. Probably she had never spoken about this to anyone else.

T’Lara hesitated again; she was not keen on sharing information with Teresa that would in all likelihood sadden her. “Maybe I should not tell you this”, she shook her head and reached for the next seedling.

“T’Lara”, Teresa said slowly and earnestly, “I am your grandmother… although I don’t look like one at the moment.” Her lips twitched, but she grew serious again. “I am sure I loved you very much when you were a child and you are already very dear to me now. If there is something you want to speak to me about, if there is anything I can do for you, please confide in me.”

Although T’Lara’s face remained composed and unmoved, her eyes flickered slightly. “It will sadden you”, she declared.

“I can take it”, Teresa assured her.

Taking a deep breath, T’Lara relented: “Very well. Thank you.” For a moment, she searched for the right words. “I have already told you that he was greatly affected by your death. Although he used to tell me how happy he had been with you and although his eyes would glow when speaking of you, what I mostly witnessed… was his pain. It never left him. It reached deep; I often had the impression that it at times caused him almost unbearable agony. It did not break him; he was still able to live his life and pursue his causes with great dedication, at least after a time. But from what I remember, your death greatly changed him. I was, of course, still young at the time, but my mother said the same; said how much he had changed. For the first years after your death, he was… extremely withdrawn, almost unreachable. He ceased all his activities as ambassador and vanished into the Vulcan desert for months on end. Finally, six years after your death, Starfleet managed to draw him out again, for a highly important, classified mission for which they said he was the only person for the job. After that, he had seemed to have caught himself a little and became more approachable again. He began to dedicate himself more to his family again, including me. This was the time when he truly became my mentor. At times, he seemed serene and even… joyful again. He told me that despite all the pain he had been experiencing and was still experiencing, it had been ‘worth it’.” T’Lara now spoke with something in her voice that was almost bitterness. “That he would do it again. And yet. I would look in his eyes and still see the unrelenting agony, the loneliness he felt despite the close and… loving relationship with his family, all of whom he was on good terms with. It never went away, even when he fully went back into diplomatic service. I saw all that and thought that it was not worth it, that my life would be perfectly content without… romantic love.”

Teresa had listened with something that felt like a growing stone that was weighing down on her chest, suffocating her. “That is understandable”, she managed to say, keeping her voice steady.

“But now”, T’Lara continued, “I am beginning to see what he meant. I see the two of you together. Such… fulfilment, such joy… radiating from both of you. I have never seen anything like it. He tries to conceal his emotions as much as possible from everyone, as he would of course do, but they are blatantly obvious to me. Already when the two of you first came here and half of the crew was speculating whether he, being half-Vulcan, could possibly be in love with you, I stayed silent while I thought that of course he was; I already saw that on the first evening.”

“Huh”, Teresa mildly chuckled, “then you saw more than I did. But then, I was too afraid of harbouring false hopes.”

“Naturally”, T’Lara replied. “I have long been able to observe that human courtship and the courtship of many other species is illogically complicated. Vulcans are much more straightforward.”

Teresa chuckled once again, although the sensation of a giant rock on her chest had not dissipated.

“My point is”, T’Lara stated collectedly, “that I am now wondering whether romantic love is something I should seek after all.”

“Uh”, Teresa breathed, tried to gaze at her with a delicate balance between affectionate sympathy and Vulcan composure and searched for an appropriate reply. “Love is not really something one can seek or attempt to feel. It finds you; sometimes in places you would never dream to look.”

“Then let me rephrase my statement”, T’Lara said, unshaken, “I am wondering whether it is something I should be open to.”

“You have been scared of commitment”, Teresa diagnosed gently. “Because you have seen what losing a loved one can do to a person.”

“That is the human expression that partially describes my state of mind, yes. But most of the time, I was not ‘scared’. I was simply… disinclined. I did not feel that I needed such a component in my life. Now, though, seeing the two of you…” T’Lara stared into space and let out the smallest sigh. “I find myself curious after all. Even… wishing for a similar experience. But I am not certain. The many years I have spent with a… different Spock are still very present in my mind.”

“You know”, Teresa told her pensively, “of course losing a loved one hurts, and the pain often stays with one indefinitely. But many people manage to move past it and recover to a certain extent, enjoy life again, even… find new love. Sarek did, I assume?” She looked at T’Lara kindly, a fine smile on her lips.

“Hm”, T’Lara made. “He spoke of loving Amanda and Perrin when I visited him shortly before his death, yes. But Sarek is not like me or Spock. He had buried his emotions so deeply that he never once verbalized them in his entire adult life, was probably not even truly aware of them until he developed Bendii syndrome.”

“I understand”, Teresa nodded. “Still, what I have said about many other people still stands. It is not a law of nature that you would suffer from the loss of partner you love as much as…” Her voice faltered for a moment, then she finished her sentence. “… Spock.”

“Please elaborate.”

Teresa thought about how to honour this request, weighing her words carefully. “It is of course possible that you would. But…” She hesitated and then continued: “I know you wish me to answer you honestly, so I will. I have been in love before; I was even happy with that man. His name was Andrew Taoré.” A short, amused smile flashed over her face. “I might have happily spent my life with him if we had not gone our different ways and it might very well have been a fulfilled and content relationship. That was love. But… Spock and me, that is entirely different. What I feel for him… what we feel for each other… is more profound than I could ever have imagined. We’ve been told… that our relationship was exceptional, and I can believe that readily. I feel it is like… winning the jackpot in the lottery. If you know what the lottery is... or a jackpot.”

“It was a gambling game in Earth’s capitalist period, when there was still a money-based economy”, T’Lara stated without batting an eyelid. “Only very few individuals won ‘the jackpot’, an unusual and extremely high sum in winnings.”

“Exactly”, Teresa said, relieved by not having to explain herself even further.

“You are saying that the chances of me equally ‘winning the jackpot’ are extremely small”, T’Lara deduced, still in her analytical Vulcan voice.

“Well”, Teresa made. “I suppose that’s what I am saying. Which does not mean that a… less exceptional love is not just as much worth having. I only meant that I imagine this is the reason why he was in such… ‘agony’, as you phrased it.” She gulped.

“I see”, came the answer.

“My advice, my – human – advice, is, if you want it”, Teresa concluded, “is to give love a chance, if it finds you. Of course we run the risk of getting hurt when we open ourselves up to love. But it is worth the risk. And I’d say, if Spock, despite all his pain, told you that it was worth it” – she was smiling now, as she was deeply moved by this information – “believe him.”

T’Lara nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “I see.”

“What is very important, though”, Teresa pointed out in a very serious tone, “that to you as a Vulcan, I must add that it has to be someone who will not aggravate your Vulcan emotions and impulses. It has to be someone who can calm you and help you maintain your basic emotional control and mental discipline. It only… ‘works’ between Spock and me because I can do that for him and because I have enough emotional control of my own to not be swept away or destabilised by certain… outbursts he has suffered as a result of his emotions for me and of allowing them. Minor outbursts, so far at least, but outbursts nonetheless.”

T'Lara nodded once again, pensively staring at the seedlings. “He has told me that, as well.”

Teresa smiled. “He knew what he was talking about.”

“You will be glad to hear that he also told me that these ‘outbursts’ had decreased in frequency and intensity over the years.”

On hearing that, Teresa let out a profound, genuinely relieved sigh. “I am very glad to hear that. Thank you.”

After a moment of silent deliberation, T’Lara finally stirred again and looked at Teresa earnestly. “Thank you. Having been able to speak to you like this means a great deal to me. I will consider it.”

Teresa equally nodded and smiled once more. “To me, too.”

They finished their work in the airponics bay, spending the rest of this time in much more trivial conversation. But Teresa thought that, for the first time, she had formed a truly profound bond with her granddaughter. If only she could remember.

When they were done, T’Lara said goodbye to her, for the time being. “My duty shift starts now.”

“And you’ve already begun working before”, Teresa responded. “Thank you.”

“It is I who has to thank you”, T’Lara told her. “Until later.”

Teresa was left alone with her thoughts in the airponics bay. For a long time, she did not stir and merely stared at the seedlings. Would it be one hundred years of solitude once she was gone?

Finally, she pressed her communicator. “Juárez to Spock.”

“Spock here.”

“Please meet me in my quarters once you are done on the bridge.”

In the second of silence that followed, she thought she knew that he could sense that something was not quite right. “Of course”, he said.

Sixteen minutes later, he walked through her doors.

“What is it?”, he asked, scrutinizing her face, and realization dawned on him once he had perceived enough of her thoughts.

“Just hold me”, she said, and nothing more, and he pulled her into a devout embrace, his hand on her hair, his gaze cast down, their minds in silent communication.

“I can’t believe that it’s you who is comforting me and not the other way around”, she remarked, tracing patterns with her index finger on the back of his hand. They had been having their lunch in her quarters, as they were in need of some privacy and still had a few replicator rations left.

“We already found out yesterday that I seem to be able to accept this matter better than you at the present moment”, he said gently.

Teresa slightly shook her head in incredulous admiration. “Even though you will be the one who will be left alone to suffer and not me.”

“Correct…”

“This is one of the types of information that I am glad we will not remember. It casts a shadow. If we don’t know that you will suffer so much, we will still hope that it won’t be… quite that bad.”

“Possibly”, he replied, making a serious and pensive face and intertwining his fingers with hers. After a while, he said: “I believe I will… accept the fact that intense grief is the price I have to pay for a… love such as ours.” She almost grinned for a moment, amused at how hopelessly sentimental they both sounded. “I also believe”, he went on, “that I will find solace in all that this love has given me and in the memories I will retain. T’Lara has told you that I told her that it had been ‘worth it’ and you have told her to believe me.” Now he was speaking with his good old sagacity. “Then you should believe me, as well.”

Teresa chuckled slightly and commented with her fine, loving smile and glistening eyes: “You are very wise.” Is that now the Vulcan or the human talking?, she wondered, but while she was asking herself the question, she already knew that it was both.

Spock nodded, as this train of thought had not escaped his attention. “It is… simply… me.”

Leaning forward, she gently kissed his cheek.

“By the way”, she then remembered, “we wanted to record a message for you. I know now what I want to say.”

“Ah”, he made, nodded and pressed her hand. “Let us do it now.”

Captain Janeway arrived on the bridge at 14:08 hours, a fresh cup of coffee in her hand, giving Chakotay, Harry, Tuvok, Lieutenant Ko at the science station and Ensign Baytard at the helm her habitual friendly nod. “Sorry I’m late; Seven wanted to talk to me.” She looked around the bridge. “Oh, where’s Spock?”

“He asked to be excused”, Chakotay informed her while he got up from the Captain’s chair to make room for her and sat down on her side, instead, leaning over to her. “By the way, is there a definitive timetable for their return through the wormhole now?”

Janeway nodded, taking another sip of her coffee. “I just talked about it to the Doctor. According to Seven’s calculations, the wormhole will open at exactly 08:58 hours in the morning and she and the Doctor tell me that the procedure will take approximately a quarter of an hour. To have enough time for the decon sweep, enough time to place them back in their shuttle and a solid amount of buffer time, we agreed to carry out the procedure at 07:00 hours.”

“Understood”, Chakotay told her. “I’ll be glad when this is over. Preserving the timeline is a huge responsibility.”

“Don’t tell me about it”, the Captain groaned. “And I’ll be glad when we go through our historical records after we have sent them back and find that everything has stayed just exactly the same.”

“If anything had changed, though, would we know or would our memories have changed, too?”, Chakotay wondered.

Janeway let out another small groan. “I have always hated temporal mechanics.”

“Maybe we wouldn’t even be here anymore. That would be quite a new approach to our predicament”, he joked. “Change the timeline so that we never end up in the Delta Quadrant.”

She threw him a half-amused, half-horrified look. “Or maybe we would never even be born. If these two, especially him, will not always be exactly where they are supposed to be at the right time, that can lead to a myriad of catastrophes.”

“I know”, he assuaged her.

 I’ve been reading up on Federation history again”, she told him. “I was not quite aware of how many of the more recent member worlds the Federation might lack without him. Of course I already knew that we could have a war with the Romulans on our hands. Or with the Klingons, of course. Even another one with the Cardassians.”

“Well, we’ve already got that one”, he remarked, referring to what the Doctor had learned about the Dominion, and then added to her list: “Maybe Earth and even the rest of Alpha Quadrant would be ruled by espers.”

“Or, without her, Tellar Prime would probably have been wiped out by the Zeldorian Plague.”

“Captain”, Harry interrupted their confabulation, “sensors have picked up a ship that is nearing our position. They’re not on a direct course towards us, though.”

Janeway and Chakotay exchanged an uneasy look. “Do we have any more on them?”, the Captain inquired.

“They’re still too far away to get more detailed readings”, Harry informed them. “But it’s coming from that adjacent sector where long-range sensors picked up alien activity two days ago.”

“Keep monitoring them”, Janeway ordered.

“Understood.”

“It seems we’re getting company”, Chakotay commented to Janeway.

“This is not a good time for company”, she replied, staring at the viewscreen with a preoccupied expression.

“No”, he agreed.

She sighed and looked at him again. “Well, isn’t your shift over?”

“Yes, it is”, he affirmed. “Seems like a bad time to leave, though.”

“You’ve been here eight hours”, she told him. “Get some rest. I’ll let you know as soon as there’s any news.”

“Alright”, he said, got up and, with a nod at her, left the bridge.

Almost two hours passed without anything else happening. Janeway finished her coffee. Eventually, though, a notification on Harry’s console beeped and he announced: “The ship has just changed course. They've probably detected us and are now heading directly towards us.”

“Their configuration is unknown to us”, Tuvok informed the Captain as she was turning around to him with a questioning look. “However, the ship is smaller than Voyager and less heavily armed.”

“How long until they’re here?”, she queried.

“Fifteen minutes”, Harry said.

“Maintain position”, Janeway instructed Ensign Baytard at the helm. “Let’s see what they want.” After all, leaving was not really an option. They had to stay in the vicinity of the wormhole.

Fourteen minutes later, therefore, Tuvok announced: “They have reached our position. Their weapons are activated, but their armaments are considerably less sophisticated than ours.”

“Acknowledged”, Janeway answered, frowning.

“They’re hailing us”, Harry informed her.

“On screen”, she said, getting up from her chair. As soon as the channel was open, they were faced with a probably female humanoid individual with porous, pearly-white skin, a grey uniform, purple hair forced into a rigid shape around her head and a strict and unfriendly expression. “Unknown vessel, identify yourselves.”

“This is the Federation starship Voyager. I am Captain Kathryn Janeway”, Janeway declared with pointed friendliness. “Nice to meet you. How can we help?”

“This is the G’bennu Ytar patrol ship Wobnar”, came the answer. “You are in violation of our territory. You must leave at once.”

“Your territory?”, the Captain repeated. “To our knowledge, this territory belongs to no one.”

“It now belongs to the G’bennu Ytar Supremacy”, the woman told her sharply. “We have rightfully taken what is ours. Unaffiliated ships will not be tolerated.”

Captain Janeway exchanged a consternated glance with Tuvok. “Maybe we can find a compromise”, she then told the woman, still amiably. “We only need to stay here for 65 hours more, then we will leave, anyway. We are only conducting research on an anomaly.”

“There is no anomaly here”, the woman said in a mocking tone.

“It appears and disappears at infrequent intervals”, Janeway explained to her. “We can send you the data we have collected to prove it to you. After it has appeared the next time, we will leave this region of space. We won’t cause you any trouble.”

“Unacceptable.”

“Alright”, Janeway made, “maybe we can do a trade. We have several types of precious materials you might find interesting.”

“You have been warned”, the woman declared, ignoring the Captain’s attempts at diplomacy. “If you do not leave our territory immediately”, she gave a sign to someone behind her, “we will open fire and confiscate your ship.”

“Open fire on us?”, Harry whispered incredulously. “They wouldn’t stand a chance against us.”

“Captain, they have transmitted the coordinates of the borders of the territory they claim to us”, Tuvok announced.

“Alright”, Janeway told the woman with an exasperated sigh. “We’ll leave. Helm, set a course towards their border. Warp five.”

“Captain?”, Ensign Baytard at the helm made, astonished.

“Do it”, Janeway told him. “Voyager out”, she addressed the pearly-white woman grimly. “Close channel.”

“Course laid in”, Baytard announced.

“Engage.“

A few seconds later, Voyager had gone to warp.

“Are they following us?”, Janeway asked Harry after another half of a minute.

“No.”

“Good”, she said resolutely. “Scan the area for any places where we can remain undetected.”

“You want to hide until the wormhole opens”, Tuvok deduced.

“Exactly”, she confirmed, pacing back and forth in front of her chair. “They were no match for our weapons, but I didn’t want to start a fight. And once we attack one of their patrol ships, there might be a fleet upon us next.”

The turbolift doors opened and revealed Spock and Teresa, who stepped onto the bride with confused expressions. Directly behind them was Chakotay. “Captain, why have we gone to warp?”, Spock inquired in a serious tone.

Janeway apprised them of what had just happened and then asked: “Harry, have you found anything?”

“Yes”, Harry confirmed. “There is a class 5 nebula around half a lightyear from here, 265 000 kilometres in diameter.”

“Perfect”, Janeway said. “Pursue our current course for three hours after we are out of their sensor range and then change course towards the nebula. And keep scanning for more of these patrol ships. Really, the G’bennu Ytar ‘Supremacy’”, she tutted.

“Have you ever heard of them?”, Teresa inquired.

“No”, Janeway answered, still pacing up and down. “The last friendly alien species we have met did not tell us about them. But then, their spacefaring capabilities were limited.”

Spock and Teresa knew that this meant that it was impossible at the present moment to ascertain the size of the threat this species posed, what their cultural idiosyncrasies were, how many ships they had, whether they had ships with more powerful armaments than the one they had encountered and whether their threats should be taken seriously or were nothing but empty posturing.

“Alright”, Janeway made. “You two, and the two command officers, in my ready room, now.”

As instructed, Teresa, Spock, Chakotay and Tuvok followed the Captain into her ready room. Once they had all congregated in front of the table, Janeway leant forwards, resting her hands with spread fingers on the table, and told Spock and Teresa: “Let me just make clear that I will do anything in my power to send you through that wormhole in 65 hours, even if it means that Voyager will have to cover your shuttle from a fleet of these people’s ships with weapons fire until it’s safely through, even if we all get destroyed in doing so.” She sent a grim look towards Chakotay and Tuvok, who both took deep breaths, but did not contradict her.

Teresa and Spock equally exchanged troubled and extremely serious gazes. The last thing they wanted was for any of the Voyager crew to get injured or killed for them.

“Thank you, Captain”, Spock said gravely. “That would be an extreme sacrifice. Let us hope it will not come to that.” Teresa nodded earnestly.

“Well, if we make it to that nebula undetected, that gives us pretty good chances”, Chakotay commented.

“Indeed, their sensors did not seem to very sophisticated, either”, Tuvok agreed. “We detected them two hours before they detected us.”

“Still, we shouldn’t get too confident”, Janeway responded, rubbing her forehead. “We’ll have to stay in that nebula for as long as possible and won’t have too much buffer time at the wormhole.”

“A class 5 nebula can have a corrosive effect on Voyager’s hull”, Chakotay added. “We’ll have to fortify our shields.”

“You’re right”, Janeway nodded. “Get on it as soon as possible.”

“Understood.”

“There is also the question of the memory erasure”, Tuvok mentioned. “If we do indeed get into a position where Voyager has to shield the shuttle until it has safely passed through the wormhole, it would be extremely risky for its occupants to be sedated and unable to pilot it if necessary.”

“You’re right”, Janeway realized with a shocked expression and Teresa and Spock looked at each other, equally unsettled. “That highly complicates the matter”, the Captain remarked, wearing a very concerned frown. “Getting you two back to your time safe and sound is still more important than erasing your memories.”

“We agree, Captain”, Spock declared. “Nevertheless, the erasure should take place if it is in any way possible.” Teresa was aware of that he expressed this stance against his own impulses and against the temptation of being able to remember everything that had happened.

“We’ll have to see how the situation unfolds”, Chakotay said.

“Yes”, Janeway nodded. “The Doctor and Seven should definitely make all the necessary preparations and be ready at any time. And if it turns out to be impossible under the circumstances”, she concluded, giving them another serious glance, “we’ll have to go back to relying on your discretion, as I already said when you first came here.”

Teresa nodded. “You can rest assured of that we are perfectly aware of the importance of keeping our mouths shut, concerning absolutely everything we have learned here.” Through both their minds flashed all the historical and personal knowledge they had gathered. Their own lives. The Dominion war. The Delta Quadrant. The Borg. The Borg.

You’d know of Voyager’s disappearance and that T’Lara will be on that ship, Teresa also thought, realizing the temptation this might lead him into, the temptation to warn their granddaughter against taking a commission on that vessel.

But T’Lara also played a part in ensuring our return, he replied, also in his mind, remembering how her geological data had helped Teresa to discover a way to neutralize the spores of tricocereea alorcensis. Preventing her from becoming a member of Voyager’s crew would put all that in peril. Not to mention any previous situations on this ship which might have unfolded differently without her presence.

Yes, that’s exactly why we should always leave the timeline exactly as it should be, Teresa concurred. But it would be such a huge responsibility, as we would not only have to take care to not share our knowledge with anyone, but also make sure that this secret knowledge does not inadvertently influence our actions. We would always be second-guessing ourselves, wondering whether we would have acted any differently without that knowledge or whether it is perhaps that knowledge that helps us make the right decisions.

Spock nodded almost imperceptibly, still looking grave.

“It makes sense to conduct a few battle simulations”, Chakotay added, to which Tuvok nodded. “Including the two of you”, he addressed Teresa and Spock.

“Logical”, Spock said.

Janeway nodded.

“I will write the program”, Tuvok declared.

“When can you have it ready?”, Janeway asked him.

“Within three hours.”

“Good. We’ll conduct a few simulations at 21:00 hours and if necessary, some more tomorrow”, Janeway decided. “Alright, that’s all for the moment”, she then announced, still wearing her concerned expression. “Dismissed.”

Back in the turbolift, Spock turned to Teresa, contemplating her with his finely furrowed brow and a serious and thoughtful gaze.

She took a deep in- and exhale. “I must admit I could have done without that extra excitement and suspense.”

“Indeed”, he said quietly.

She gazed at him, her troubled eyes wide open, but she was composed. Suddenly, she realized that they had not given the turbolift any instructions as to which deck to go to. “Where are we going?”

“I do not know”, he admitted.

A thought suddenly came to her and she told him resolutely: “I want to go to one of the weapons lockers.”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise but saw the logic in this decision.

“I think we need some more practice with their phasers and compression phaser rifles”, she went on.

“Undoubtedly”, he replied and told the computer: “Deck three.”

They spent one and a half hours in target practice, until they were sure that they were sufficiently familiar with these advanced models. The compression phaser rifles could be set to a wide beam which could take out a large group of individuals with one shot. Moreover, they were equipped with sixteen power settings, fully-autonomous recharge capability, multiple-target acquisition, and gyro-stabilization. The type 2 hand phasers had mostly only changed in design, but their basic capabilities and settings were the same. Once Teresa and Spock were content with their proficiency with them, they went to the gym and practiced their combat skills again. This time, they were much too concentrated on getting on a good and skilled fight to be distracted by their mutual attraction. They mercilessly forced each other into and out of grips, made each other topple over onto the mat and simulated knock-out blows. Despite the medicine the Doctor had given her to alleviate her menstrual symptoms, Teresa felt her strength somewhat falter, but she pressed on, ignoring her body’s pleas for rest. With Spock’s permission, she managed to take him out with a nerve pinch during the last one of these struggles, because she needed to practice it on a real person one more time and they did not think it appropriate for her to try it on anyone else. Like him, she preferred the nerve pinch to the more violent moves they had practiced. She had to fetch a hypospray with a stimulant from the Doctor to get him to wake up again.

“Spock”, she muttered, kneeling by his side and gently patting his cheek.

His eyes flickered; his hair was in damp disarray and, like her own, his white training suit was wet with perspiration. Finally, his eyes opened fully and he looked up at her, still dazed, but with an expression of satisfaction once he remembered where he was and why. He let out a small groan when she helped him sit up, carefully rotated his shoulder and bent his neck to the side to stretch the sore muscles. “You are ready”, he concluded dryly.

After a hurried sonic shower, they went back to sickbay to let the Doctor cure them of their bruises.

“It’s good you came to me”, he commented, while he went over Spock’s shoulder with a dermal regenerator. “If we send you back through the wormhole with your memories erased, which I still hope, we don’t want you waking up with your bodies full of bruises.”

He also injected Teresa with an extra dose of menstruavis.

Subsequently, they hurried to the mess hall for a quick dinner before the simulator session at 21:00 hours. There, they met T’Lara, who was just on her way out again.

“I have been fully informed on recent developments”, she said and added with pointed composure: “Under these circumstances, I regret having told you what I did this morning. I grew careless.”

“We’ve all become less careful lately, T’Lara”, Teresa assuaged her. “And in many instances, it was a logical course of action to gather more information.”

“That may well be”, their granddaughter went on, “but in the case of our conversation this morning in the airponics bay, there was no logical necessity for it.” Her eyes met Spock’s and for a split second, she looked as though she was asking for his forgiveness.

“I disagree”, Teresa said gently and firmly. “There was an emotional necessity on your part and attempting to fulfil this need seems perfectly logical to me.” Spock did not contradict her and only looked at T’Lara with tranquil friendliness.

T’Lara took a slightly deeper breath, while her face remained mostly passive and composed. “Thank you”, she said. “I will see you later.”

The simulator sessions on the holodeck were harrowing. Time and time again, in his calm and concentrated way, Spock manoeuvred their holographic shuttle into the wormhole, which opened at another point in space every time, swerving to avoid the weapons fire from their holographic attackers, while Teresa monitored their positions and attack patterns and kept reporting to him. Behind them, the others, manning the bridge of a holographic Voyager, did their best to fight off the majority of the attacking ships and to cover them until they had reached the wormhole. Of course this was only the worst-case scenario – nobody could know how much of a threat the G’bennu Ytar would ultimately pose – but it made sense to prepare for it. Not always did they make it through the wormhole, at least in this simulation. Voyager fortunately survived the attacks of the weapons Tuvok had detected with his scan, even after hundreds of hits, because the weapons were not strong enough to disable their shields. When the shuttle had failed for the fourth time, Spock, gritting his teeth, asked the Captain to conduct further simulations tomorrow, a request she readily granted.

At 23:30 hours, they went to bed in her quarters. Even Spock was exhausted. For a few minutes, they lay there, exchanging tender kisses and caressing each other in the dark, then they both fell asleep.

Chapter Text

The next morning at 07:30 hours, she found him in the sitting room again, meditating. He was so absorbed in his meditation that he did not notice her coming in and her breath stopped for a moment because of the unforgettable picture presented to her: In the foreground, on the sofa, sat Spock in his blue uniform, his eyes closed, his posture erect, his hands resting on his thighs, the meditation lamp faintly illuminating his peaceful face, and in the background, the broad windows opened the view onto a silent world of slightly luminescent clouds and strands of orange and brown dust and plasma, through which faintly shone the light of a nearby star. During the night, Voyager had reached the nebula. Teresa let out a silent sigh of relief.

For several minutes, she lingered in the doorframe, absorbing this still life, taking a mental photograph. Eventually, Spock’s eyes slowly opened and it took him a few seconds to wake up out of his trance before he lifted his gaze and saw Teresa standing in the door. His gaze softened and he took a quiet, deep breath through slightly parted lips.

“Why did you not sit down the other way around, facing the nebula?”, she asked in a low voice.

“The view was too much of a distraction”, he admitted, in an equally quiet and soft voice.

Her lips twitched, while she remained standing in the door, her hand on the frame. “May I join you for a few minutes?”, she ultimately requested.

“Of course.”

She came over to him and sat down on the sofa to the right of him, turned sideways so that he and the nebula were within her field of vision. Spock equally turned around so that he faced her and took her left hand. There was no denying it; she was a little nervous. The new threat they were facing worried her, at a time when she already had to prepare herself for the moment in two days when her recollections of the entire last three and a half weeks would be wiped out. Or would maybe not be wiped out after all. Spock, who guided her meditation with his thoughts, helped her find greater tranquillity and objective distance.

Finally, they opened their eyes again and looked at each other. Spock’s gaze was full of tenderness. He reached out his hand and softly brushed his fingers along her cheek.

“No matter what happens in two days”, he told her softly, “no matter whether we get through the wormhole with our memories intact or erased, I promise you that in five months’ time, we will be husband and wife.”

“I’ll take you by your word”, she whispered, caught his hand at her cheek and kissed it. They then lifted their hands up in the air between them, pressed against each other.

“If they erase our memories after all”, she uttered in a quiet lament, “it will be such an incalculable loss. All that we have talked about; all that we have learned about each other.”

Spock slightly increased the pressure on her hand, simply declaring: “Then we will re-learn it all.”

Teresa’s lips widened just a little at this most pragmatic outlook and she whispered: “I look forward to that. And if they don’t erase our memories”, she subsequently said, “the message we recorded yesterday will have become unnecessary.”

“Not entirely unnecessary”, he contradicted her. “I would still be glad to hear it, and see it, after all those years.”

In the stillness of this morning in her quarters, she remembered once again how early in the morning before, she had gotten up to look at the most recent picture of Ambassador Spock. Spock had already seen this memory in her mind yesterday, and her memory of the dream she had had, when they had recorded their message. All the time while she had spoken at the recording device, this picture of his face had been floating before her inner eye. He said nothing about it now; no further remark was necessary.

Instead, he changed the setting on his universal translator. “Nenlohk dwon zeesh”, he said.

Her facial expression became even more quietly doting. Equally in Vulcan, she answered: “I love you, too.”

In the corridors and the mess hall, the air was filled with a certain measure of suspense. People were speaking in slightly more hushed voices than usual, greeting Teresa and Spock with added emphasis and encouraging glances. This crew was used to uncertain and potentially dangerous situations and encounters with hostile alien species. Nevertheless, this time, things felt slightly different. They did not only have to take care of themselves or of Delta Quadrant inhabitants they had encountered on their travels. They did not only have to take care of their present. They had to safeguard their entire past.

“We’re all fully behind you”, Ensign Delaney let them know while they were queuing for breakfast, the orange glow of the nebula permeating the whole room. From the mess hall, the view was equally breath-taking.

“Thank you”, Teresa answered, surprised by this ostentatious gesture of solidarity by a woman she had hardly exchanged more than five words with.

“Yes, send our regards to the 23rd century”, her twin sister added. “Only figuratively, of course.”

“We shall”, Spock replied genially.

Harry told them that they had detected two more patrol ships on their way to the nebula, but they had been too far away to detect Voyager themselves, as their sensors apparently had a much shorter range.

Neelix, meanwhile, seemed to be the person on the ship who was by far the least encumbered by the current situation.

“I think it doesn’t make sense that events that have already taken place should be able to be changed retroactively”, he declared resolutely while he spooned Plomeek soup into Spock’s bowl. “If all these things have already happened to you before, they will happen again, if you get my meaning.”

“V’Kor’s third postulate of temporal mechanics – “, Spock began, but Neelix waved it away.

“I know all about your Starfleet theories about time travel”, he told him. “I still think they’re mumbo jumbo. Talaxian physicists have a much better understanding of the matter.”

“Technically, it is not a Starfleet theory, although it is being taught at the Academy”, Teresa informed him, grinning and hoping that he was right. “V’Kor is the preeminent Vulcan authority on the matter of time travel, at least in our century. He was never a member of Starfleet, but of the Vulcan Science Academy.”

“Well, that. does. not. surprise. me”, Neelix smiled and opined, while Spock’s eyebrows travelled continuously further up his forehead: “From what I have heard of Vulcans so far, they sometimes get so caught up in ever more complex and theoretical logical constructs that they end up with something decidedly illogical.”

“Or alternatively”, Spock countered smoothly, “the undeniable logic of these constructs only properly reveals itself to the thoroughly schooled mind, after many years of diligent study.”

Ow, such a sharp tongue, Teresa silently told him, in a mixture of astonishment and amusement. Slow down, mister. You’re not talking to Doctor McCoy.

Spock threw her a perplexed glance.

“You Vulcans can be quite touchy, eh?”, Neelix replied with a wink. “Well, I’ve had a special affection for Vulcans ever since I came onto Voyager. Tuvok and I are good friends.”

Spock’s eyebrows formed a small, puzzled frown; he had seen no evidence of any particular friendship between Tuvok and Neelix.

“Neelix, you’ve just insulted a Vulcan in the worst possible way”, Teresa explained to him, her voice quivering with repressed laughter. “You told him that his entire system of logic was deeply flawed.”

“Oh”, Neelix made, looking a little apologetic, “sorry. But I stand by what I said about time travel.”

“No offence was taken”, Spock assured him. “I am, in fact, quite incapable of such a sentiment.”

Liar, she told him as they were carrying their breakfast trays to a table.

He raised his eyebrows once more. Maybe my reaction was emotional without me realizing it.

It happens, she consoled him.

It shouldn’t happen to me, came the answer. If my behaviour is guided by emotion, I at least want to be aware of it.

“He could be right, you know?”, she commented out loud when they had sat down. “After all, some 220 years ago, the Vulcan Science Directorate still believed that time travel was impossible.”

“I did not say that Vulcan scientists were never wrong”, Spock replied. “Making that statement, in itself, would be highly illogical. I only meant that Neelix is not sufficiently knowledgeable to grasp the logical validity of V’Kor’s theories. Even if V’Kor should turn out to be wrong, his reasoning is not without merit, and certainly not illogical.”

They spent the rest of their breakfast discussing the finer points of all nine of V’Kor’s postulates and Professor Geraldine Winter’s counterproposals and were still debating the subject on their way to the holodeck. While Teresa would have preferred it if Neelix was right, she tended to agree with Spock, which is why she threw herself with tenacious zest into the further simulations they conducted that morning. This time, they added some more variations to their training: Teresa piloted the shuttle into the wormhole on her own several times, in preparation of the possibility that Spock got incapacitated as a result of an attack. Spock did the same, without her. During these solitary simulation runs, the one who was not piloting the shuttle had to leave the holodeck and travel several decks further upwards so that the other one would not benefit from the idle person’s thoughts and ideas. Teresa was gratified to see that, even though Spock was a much more experienced pilot than her, she still held up well on her own. The knowledge she had gathered from the previous simulations with him and their mental connection certainly played a significant part.

When they had had enough (they had continued with their shuttle simulations long after the bridge crew had finished theirs), the Captain made a fresh appearance on the holodeck.

“Excellent”, she praised them, “you’re more than sufficiently prepared, both of you. I still hope that these exercises will turn out to be entirely pointless, though.”

“Indeed, Captain”, Spock nodded, while Teresa slumped back in her chair in the holographic shuttle, resting from the five hours they had spent in training.

“In fact, I’ve thought about the matter further”, the Captain told them and remarked, with a slightly apologetic glance, “my new plan would make all the hard work you have just done unnecessary.”

“Oh”, Teresa made, “that’s nice.” But she exchanged a questioning and mystified look with Spock.

“There is, of course, a second way of solving the problem”, Janeway went on and equally sat down, in the back of the shuttle. “A way in which we could erase your memories and sedate you and have the shuttle piloted by a conscious person.”

“You want someone to go with us”, Spock realized. Teresa’s eyes widened.

“Yes”, Janeway corroborated. “We could beam that person back to Voyager in the exact moment before your shuttle enters the wormhole.”

“But what if something goes wrong?”, Teresa objected, having sat up in her chair again. “What if that person gets injured or cannot be beamed back in time before we are through the wormhole and it has closed?”

“We must accept that risk”, Janeway told her earnestly. “If that happens, that person will simply have to live with the consequences. Beam unto the nearest M-class planet before the two of you have woken up again and live far away from civilization. Or alternatively, simply refuse to explain their presence or explain themselves to you in any way.”

“And be questioned by Starfleet”, Spock continued this train of thought, frowning sceptically.

“Then, the Temporal Prime Directive applies”, the Captain answered without batting an eyelid. “I’ll know what to do. I will not say a word. I will not interfere with history in any way.”

“You?”, Teresa exclaimed, aghast.

“I cannot ask that sacrifice of any other member of my crew”, Janeway declared, entirely composed and dead serious.

“But you’re the Captain”, Teresa pleaded with her. “They need you.”

Resolutely, Janeway told her: “Commander Chakotay is perfectly capable of replacing me. I have every faith in him. Furthermore, preserving the timeline is an immensely more important mission that getting Voyager home.”

Teresa stared at her, still awestruck, and Spock was still wearing his frown. “But you’ve done everything in your power so far to bring them home”, Teresa could not help but press on.

“By preserving the timeline”, Janeway declared calmly, “I also preserve them.”

“Captain, we still cannot be entirely certain of the fact that retaining our memories will cause any damage”, Spock raised another point. “It would be difficult, but we would do our best.”

Janeway nodded understandingly. “Still, we have long agreed on that it would be best to erase them. I have also spoken to T’Lara about the matter. She told me that you have never even once shown the slightest indication of possessing such knowledge. Now, that either speaks for your tremendous and admirable self-restraint or for the fact that you truly did not know.”

“Kathryn”, Teresa attempted a last-ditch appeal to her, as she had run out of arguments. “Please reconsider.”

“I sincerely appreciate your concern for me, Teresa”, Janeway told her with a warm and earnest smile. “But my decision stands. I am the Captain and you will follow my orders.”

“Understood, Captain”, Spock replied gravely, and when they both looked at Teresa, she echoed, slightly grumpily: “Understood.”

“Good”, Janeway made and got up. “I’ll be on the bridge if you need me.”

The mess hall was fairly empty when they finally returned to it. Most people had already had lunch or whatever other meal they were having depending on what shift they belonged to, so there were only a handful of crew members still sitting at the tables and Neelix and Naomi, who was helping him in the kitchen.

“I have made pancakes”, Naomi announced proudly. “You have to try them.” She was minding the food counter while Neelix was rummaging around in the storage room.

“With pleasure”, Teresa smiled. Spock and her therefore dutifully filled their plates with pancakes and different side dishes and sat down once again at one of the many empty tables.

“These pancakes are satisfactory”, Spock said after his first bite with an approving look. “They are also mild enough for me. Well done, Naomi”, he said more loudly.

Teresa thought they were a little boring, which was no surprise if Spock liked them, but their consistency was good. “You know, if we’re not careful, we’ll have missed the last chances we have to spend some more time with T’Lara”, it then occurred to her.

“Indeed”, Spock realized, caught unawares by the sudden feeling of melancholy that was creeping up on him. “Maybe we can do so after this meal.”

“Yes, let’s go look for her”, Teresa agreed and began eating with more zeal.

All thought of visiting T’Lara was driven out of their heads only ten seconds later, however. A red alert began blasting through the ship’s speakers and flashing from panels all over the room, while Captain Janeway’s voice instructed grimly: “All hands to battle stations, I repeat, all hands to battle stations.”

“What now?”, Teresa asked in dismay while everyone in the room, Spock and her included, sprang up from their tables and Neelix came hurrying out of the storeroom. “We have not been assigned to any battle stations – where should we go?”

“I – “, Spock made, and then the ship was shaken by a violent blast and another, much more massive one, only seconds later. Teresa toppled over onto the ground. The meal trays and several items on the food counter and in the kitchen crashed onto the floor. Shocked cries filled the room. An energy conduit on one of the mess hall walls blew out, sending sparks everywhere.

“Teresa!”, Spock’s voice came from somewhere over her and a hand was held out to her, which she gripped. “The second one must have gone right through our shields”, he ascertained grimly while he pulled her up, back into a standing position. “Though I cannot fathom how.”

All around them, the crew members who were still in the mess hall picked themselves up from the floor. In the kitchen, Neelix had gripped Naomi, but set her down again as soon as he saw that she was unharmed. They heard further shots, which this time came from Voyager. Before anybody had managed to hurry out of the mess hall, however, four individuals materialized directly in front of the doors, weapons ready. They had the same porous, pearly-white skin and grey uniforms as the woman who had ordered Voyager to leave the area yesterday, their hair in different shades of red and purple. As far as Spock could ascertain with a quick and sharp look at them, they were two women and two men, but it was hard to tell because their height, body shape, stature and facial features were very similar to each other’s. They were all sturdily built and around 20 centimetres taller than the human average. Voyager had been boarded.

“Do not move!”, one of them bellowed, while all four of them directed their weapons at the people at the tables. Everyone froze. “You!”, that individual then addressed Neelix, who had grown immobile in the kitchen, his arms held up. The Talaxian had a bruise on his forehead, probably from hitting his head somewhere in the kitchen when the ship had been shaken by weapons fire. “Come out from there. Get over there!” She (it was probably a woman) beckoned Neelix with her weapon in the direction of the mess hall tables, an order he speedily followed. “Everyone, gather in that corner over there! No talking! Keep a distance from each other!” She pointed at the far-left corner of the room, next to the windows.

So they did, exchanging apprehensive looks. Among the others, Teresa recognised one of the Delaney sisters they had spoken to this morning, Crewman Gerron, the Bajoran with a disregard for Starfleet away mission protocol, Crewman Chell, the Bolian, and a female Vulcan ensign by the name of Belaris. She did not know the names of the other three.

Voyager’s shields must have been disabled, she heard Spock think, bewildered. Otherwise, the intruders would not have been able to beam on board. How can that have happened so quickly?

She did not know the answer, but she had a further concern. Where is Naomi? The child must still be in the kitchen, as she was too small to have been seen behind the food counter by the intruders.

“See whether there are more of them in there”, the apparent leader of the group ordered one of the others, gesturing with her head towards the kitchen. Teresa and Neelix both held their breath when the man entered the kitchen, his weapon drawn. He vanished into the storeroom for a few seconds but came out of it and the kitchen without Naomi. “There’s no one else.”

She must be hiding in one of the lower cupboards, Teresa inferred. They’re big enough for a child of her size to fit in and several of them were empty the last time I looked.

Two of the intruders assumed position in the middle of the room, their weapons pointed at their little group in the corner, while the leader ordered the fourth individual to stand watch in the hallway. The leader positioned herself in front of the food counter, keeping vigilance over the whole scene with eagle eyes. The red alert kept blasting through the ship.

Spock scrutinized their hand-held rifles. They had large magazines and broad, gaping barrels like some very bulky shotguns. Projectile weapons, he deduced, momentarily perplexed again by the apparent discrepancy between the G’bennu Ytar’s different levels in their types of technology: rudimentary starship armaments and primitive projectile weapons, but transporter technology and a mysterious means of disabling Voyager’s shields within seconds. What was most important in this moment, however, was that these weapons must be lethal. Unlike phasers, projectile weapons naturally could not be equipped with a stun setting. Teresa, who was standing a metre away from Spock, shot him a furtive, worried glance.

Neither of the intruders said another word or made any other significant movement. They seemed to be awaiting further instructions, maybe waiting for the rest of the ship to be taken over.

Teresa, like Spock and like probably everyone else, frenetically attempted to conceive of a way of getting out of this situation. With the way things were at the moment, though, there was nothing they could do. Before she would even have been able to pick up a chair she could throw at one of the G’bennu Ytar, she would already have been shot. The Voyager group outnumbered the intruders ten to four, but even if they were able to charge at them all at the same time, they would probably suffer heavy casualties. While Spock and her could coordinate their actions silently, they would still not be able to get anywhere, being only two people.

What Teresa saw then made her heart stop. Without making a single sound and also protected by the loud and regular ringing of the red alert and illuminated by its flashes of red light, Naomi clambered first onto the work surface behind the food counter and then onto an empty spot on the food counter itself, directly behind the group leader who was still standing in front of it. After the first second of utter shock, Teresa looked away so as not to betray Naomi with a horrified stare in her direction. None of the G’bennu Ytar saw her, as they all had their backs turned to her, but all of the Voyager crew must have become aware of her by now, and with a look at Neelix, Spock saw that his eyes were wide open with dread and dismay, but not for long. Neelix was not stupid, either. He pursed his lips and looked at his feet.

Out of the corner of her eye, Teresa saw Naomi assuring herself that she was standing on the food counter with a firm balance, eyeing the pearly-white woman’s shoulder, and with a fresh wave of apprehension, she understood what Naomi was about to do. Without looking at each other and without even a face muscle twitching, Spock and Teresa silently made a decision.

In one intrepid movement, Naomi reached out her hand for the woman’s shoulder and pressed with all the strength her small fingers could muster.

With a thud, the woman collapsed onto the ground, her weapon slipping out of her hands and falling down with a loud clatter. In the exact moment her two colleagues turned around to see what was happening, Teresa and Spock charged forward, one of them at each of the armed guards, with the rest of the Voyager crew directly behind them. Teresa managed to place her hand on the shoulder of the one on the left she was attacking, taking him out with a single nerve pinch as Naomi had done. The other one on the right turned around again when she heard Spock running towards her, but before she could properly raise her weapon, Spock had beaten it out of her hand with one forceful hit and made her go to her knees and then equally collapse with his precise and well-accustomed pressure on the nerve cluster at her shoulder.

The struggle was not over, however. The last intruder outside in the hallway must have heard the noise inside, because he stormed through the doors, firing his rifle at their group, hitting Crewman Chell in the leg and Ensign Belaris in the shoulder. Naomi jumped off the food counter and hid behind it. Teresa cried out and staggered to the floor, her left hand pressed against her upper right arm, blood seeping into her uniform and out between her fingers.

Unbridled fury welled up inside of Spock. He was the one standing closest to the man firing the weapon and before that man could direct the weapon at him, he had reached him, beat his weapon with an incensed blow out of his hand, too, and in one merciless, rapid and fluid movement, Spock rammed his elbow into the man’s stomach, making him bend over in pain and as a cause of the momentum of the impact, and finished him off by letting the sides of his grasped hands descend on the base of his neck. For an instant, Spock stood over him, looking down at his slumped-down and unconscious shape with gritted teeth, a heaving chest and a highly gratified gaze, then the anger slowly left his eyes and he shook his head as if to shake something off, uncomprehending of what had just happened to him.

Comparative quietness had descended onto the mess hall, with the red alert still blasting through the speakers and the faint, agonized groans of the wounded. Spock bent down and picked up the weapon from the floor, out of the man’s limp hands, and quickly proceeded in the same way with the other three rifles, which he tossed into the corner closest to where the others were congregated.

Immediately after, he ran towards Teresa, who had sat up on the floor, equally gritting her teeth and feeling slightly dizzy, her hand still on her upper arm. She had seen and felt his entire violent assault on the last guard unfold. Her light-blue uniform sleeve was drenched in blood. Spock knelt down at her side and unceremoniously ripped the fabric of her sleeve open to expose the wound.

“I’m alright”, she panted beseechingly, “the others have been hit worse.” Behind her, the other six were tending to Crewman Chell and Ensign Belaris, who were lying in small pools of blue and green blood. One of them had retrieved an emergency med kit from the wall.

He preferred not to rely on her judgement in this moment and inspected the wound. “You have only been grazed”, he murmured after an instant, relieved. “Deeply, though.”

“That explains all the blood”, she made with a deep and self-soothing sigh.

Spock’s searching gaze found the hole in the wall where the projectile that had grazed her arm had impacted.

“I have a dermal regenerator in the kitchen”, Neelix told them. “It cannot completely heal this wound, but it can stop the bleeding.”

“I’ll get it”, Naomi piped. She had just hesitantly emerged from behind the food counter. She hurried back into the kitchen and came running back to them only seconds later, handing Spock the device and a hypospray with a disinfectant.

“Smart girl, Naomi”, Neelix lauded her and turned back to the other two injured.

“Thank you”, Spock told her. He sprayed the disinfectant on Teresa’s wound, in reaction to which she winced slightly, and then moved the dermal regenerator several times over it until new skin had begun to grow and cover the exposed, blood-red flesh. A dent remained under this new skin, however.

“Can you move your arm?”, he inquired.

She rotated her arm in its socket several times, pressing her lips together. “I’m fine”, she told him again. All her other limbs were unharmed. She felt a little weak because of the blood loss, but that was all.

Spock took another, still somewhat agitated, breath of deep relief.

“I’m fine”, she repeated, earnestly whispering. She scrutinized him with a gentle, profound and slightly worried gaze.

He nodded. “The others urgently need to get to sickbay”, he then said. He would have liked to press his communicator and report to the bridge, but it was too risky. They did not know the situation on the rest of the ship and should not betray themselves to the attackers.

“That might be difficult”, Ensign Delaney replied. “They could be all over the ship.” She gestured with her head towards the G’bennu Ytar lying on the floor.

“We’ll have to try”, Crewman Gerron replied. “There is a weapons locker just outside, in the corridor. We can take them between two of us each, while the others walk ahead and behind with phaser rifles. They’re too severely injured for us to drag them through the Jefferies tubes. And once they’re in sickbay, we can go and take out more of the intruders.”

“Very well”, Spock replied.

“We’ll get the phasers”, Crewman Gerron declared with a look at one of the officers whose name Teresa and Spock did not know and who nodded in agreement.

“Who is in command?”, Ensign Delaney inquired, looking at each of them with some uncertainty, while she was pressing her hands on a sterile dressing pad on Ensign Belaris’ shoulder to impede the blood flow.

“Well, him”, Crewman Gerron replied with a jerk of his head in the direction of Spock. “He’s the highest-ranking officer.”

Teresa could understand Ensign Delaney’s hesitation, though. Spock, being a man out of time, could not be clearly placed within Voyager’s command structure. Nobody objected, though.

Spock nodded. “Very well. Go get the phasers”, he told the two volunteers, Gerron and the unknown woman in a turquoise science uniform. “What’s your name?”, he asked her.

“Ensign Jurot, Sir”, she replied staunchly. She looked human, with light skin, but one could never be certain. Something made Teresa think that she was perhaps Betazoid.

“Go”, Spock nodded once more. “Take their weapons with you.”

“What about Naomi?”, Neelix asked anxiously, while Gerron and Jurot picked up two of the projectile rifles and went out of the mess hall doors.

“I assume she would also be the safest in sickbay”, Spock mused. “But there is no need for her to go through the corridors. You can take her there through the Jefferies tubes.”

Neelix assented.

“Do we have anything to tie these four up with?”, Spock inquired to the remaining people, gesturing towards the four unconscious G’bennu Ytar.

“There is some wiring I could rip out of the wall, Sir”, another of the group replied, a dark-skinned man in a yellow uniform who also looked human.

“And you are?”

“Ensign Ashmore, Sir”, the man replied. “Engineering.”

“Go ahead.”

Ashmore and the last unknown woman, who turned out to be Lieutenant Shigihara, went to work with the wiring, fastening all four of the intruders onto the legs of a table.

Teresa, who was still sitting on the floor, waiting for the last of her dizziness to fade away, pulled Naomi towards her. “That was extremely brave and accomplished of you”, she told her, carefully gripping her shoulders. “But you should keep in mind that the nerve pinch does not work on all species. Many also have a differently wired nervous system.” She had not expected Naomi to get a genuine opportunity at applying her newly acquired nerve pinch skills so soon. “Furthermore, you are a child”, she continued sternly, with earnest and imploring concern. “You should have kept hiding. We told you to employ the nerve-pinch only in self-defence and certainly not to start a fight. You were safe in the kitchen.” Neelix threw Teresa an approving look.

“But maybe I wouldn’t have been safe for long”, Naomi responded. “If you are safe, Voyager can be saved, and if Voyager is safe, I am safe, and mummy, and Neelix, and everyone.”

Teresa could not deny the logic of this statement and only looked at Naomi with a gently furrowed brow.

Fortunately, Crewman Gerron and Ensign Jurot came back only seconds later, laden with weapons. They handed each of the uninjured adults a hand phaser with a holster for their hips and a phaser rifle.

“You should go”, Spock told Neelix.

Neelix did not object. “Good luck to you all.” He took Naomi by the hand, leading her to the nearest Jefferies tube and climbing into it after her, pulling the hatch cover shut behind him.

“Spock”, Teresa said to him while she got up, at first swaying on the spot a little but then retaining her balance, maintaining a firm grip on the phaser rifle in her hand. “You should be on the bridge.” The red alert was still on.

He looked at her, appreciating the validity of this opinion.

“It’s just above us”, Ensign Delaney nodded. “If they’re in trouble up there, you can help them. You can take that Jefferies tube over there.”

Spock knew the way; after all, Teresa and he had meticulously studied Voyager’s schematics eight days prior.

“I’ll come with you”, Teresa said. Neither of them wanted to let the other one of their sight and he would probably need help.

“It will be riskier for the seven of you”, Spock remarked to the others. “You cannot have a person covering your front and back.”

“We’ll manage”, Ensign Ashmore said, and the other four uninjured people nodded.

“Very well”, Spock said once again. “You are now in command, Lieutenant”, he said to the woman called Shigihara.

“Understood, Sir.”

Subsequently, Ashmore and Gerron put Chell’s arms over their shoulders, while Delaney and Jurot did the same with Belaris. All of them carried a phaser rifle in their free hands. Lieutenant Shigihara went in front, her weapon elevated, and so they vanished through the mess hall doors.

“Let’s go”, Spock said.

“One more thing”, Teresa replied. She went over to the four G’bennu Ytar and fired her phaser at them on a medium stun setting, to make sure that they did not wake up again any time soon.

The red alert followed them into the Jefferies tube, too.

“You could have just nerve pinched that last guy as well, you know”, Teresa remarked, crawling behind him through the tube. Her right arm still ached a little, but the pain was manageable. Most of that arm was bare because Spock had ripped off the fabric of her uniform and the rim of what remained of her upper sleeve was drenched in crimson blood. She also felt the hunger gnawing at her stomach walls; their belated lunch had been interrupted when they had barely begun it.

“What?”, Spock made.

“You beat him up”, she said plainly, “that’s not usually your style.” She did not have to say any more. They jointly remembered the livid rage that had shot through him when he had seen her collapse, bleeding, not knowing exactly how badly she had been hit.

Spock pressed his lips together, crawling further ahead. “I lost control.”

“You didn’t do anything terrible”, she told him, attempting to assuage his sense of failure. “You fought him like a non-Vulcan Starfleet officer would have. He’ll be alright.”

“I am Vulcan”, he replied. “And I let my emotions get the better of me and violently lashed out.”

There was nothing else she could say to soft-pedal these facts. “Well, don’t let it happen again, then”, she concluded calmly.

“I won’t”, he said, his jaw set tight. At the same time, he could not help but think that should Teresa sustain another, more severe, potentially life-threatening injury, he might go out of his mind.

“You won’t”, she said firmly, having witnessed this train of thought. “I know you can hold it together when it comes to it.”

He wondered how she could be so sure.

“I have faith in you”, she declared plainly. “I know you.”

“I am beginning to get to know myself in entirely new ways”, he responded grimly.

“Spock”, she said loudly and sternly, “doubting yourself like this will not help you. Remember your upbringing. Throw out the thoughts that do not serve you. Anyway, the next time you get angry like that, you’ll already be on your guard and have a better grip on yourself.”

He did his best to follow her orders. While she threw him an approving glance, he took several deep breaths, clearing his mind as much as he could, pacifying the troubled waters. He had more important things to think about now, anyway.

They had reached a ladder. He helped her clamber out of the tube behind him more quickly, pulling her up.

“By the way”, she added more quietly as they were ascending the ladder, “I would probably also go out of my mind if something happened to you. So take care of yourself, do you hear me?”

His heart sank a little. “Understood”, he made.

Teresa’s lips twitched only a tiny bit at this Starfleet-style answer. She was too worried about Voyager and all of its crew.

Two minutes later, they were furtively crawling towards the end of the Jefferies tube, not uttering another word. Once he had reached their side of the hatch cover, Spock pressed his ear against it.

“Unlock these controls immediately”, he faintly heard an unfamiliar voice command in a sharp tone, over the ringing of the red alert.

“I told you; we don’t have the command codes”, Harry responded coolly.

Spock made way for Teresa, so that she could come to a halt next to him. She pulled up her weapon and adjusted the settings, while he did the same, and they looked at each other, muted concentration on their faces.

“Who has them?”, the unfamiliar voice asked roughly.

“I don’t know.” Harry’s voice again.

“Of course you know!”

With the utmost caution, Spock opened the hatch cover just the tiniest amount with both of his hands. Apart from a very quiet, almost imperceptible click, it made no sound. He kept holding the hatch cover in exactly the same position so that Teresa could peek through the thin gap he had opened. She saw nothing but carpet. Nobody on the bridge reacted, which is why it was safe to assume that nobody had noticed the hatch opening, at least none of the attackers.

Spock incrementally moved it further and further to the side, widening Teresa’s and his own field of vision. They were some ten centimetres above the floor, in the wall on the left side of the turbolift that was next to the operations station. She saw six of the G’bennu Ytar, five of them with their weapons drawn and keeping Ensign Baytard, the human helm officer on duty, and another officer, a Rigelian female, in check. Three of them were standing on the upper level of the bridge, directly in front of the hatch they were hiding in; two more were positioned on the lower level, with their backs to the viewscreen, which offered another impressive view of the nebula and of the G’bennu Ytar patrol ship, and with their gazes and weapons directed at the operations station. Spock and Teresa were partially hidden from their view by the Captain’s chair. The sixth individual bent down in front of the Captain’s chair, down to something Teresa could not see, asking: “What about her? I suppose she knows the command codes. Isn’t she your Captain? Captain ‘Janeway’?”

“Leave her alone”, Harry told that person angrily. “Don’t you see she’s barely conscious? You shouldn’t have hit her that hard. She won’t be able to tell you anything, either.”

Biting her lip in worry about Janeway, Teresa extended her head a little further forward and looked to the right, where she saw Tuvok lying motionlessly on the floor behind the tactical station. Harry must still be standing at the operations station to the left of them.

“Then get me someone who can. I don’t want to have to hit anyone else so that you do. Or get me your physician so that she regains consciousness. And I want someone to stop this incessant noise.” The red alert kept on wailing in the background.

Without a sound, Spock lowered the hatch cover completely to the ground and set it down on the carpet next to them. Exchanging another look of silent agreement with Teresa, he picked up his phaser rifle and they both pointed their rifles into the room, which were adjusted to the wide dispersion setting and the highest stun setting, while they were doing their best to exclude the two officers standing next to the helm from their aim.

“Well?”, the leader of the group said to Harry. “I won’t ask you a second time.”

On my mark… three… two… one… mark, Spock counted in his head.

Their beams reverberated through the room, hitting all but one of the G’bennu Ytar. The last one turned around in search of the source of the phaser blast and was overpowered and knocked unconscious by the two officers at the helm.

“What the – ?“, Harry made, but his face brightened when Spock and Teresa climbed out of the Jefferies tube. “Am I glad to see you.”

“Likewise”, Teresa answered, while Spock went over to Tuvok, who showed no visible signs of injury. “He is alive”, he announced a moment later.

Harry let out a sigh of relief.

Ensign Baytard and Teresa had approached the Captain, who was bleeding from the head, her eyes flickering open and shut. Another officer, a Deltan male, was lying at the foot of the science station, a nasty bruise on his face, but his chest was rising and falling almost imperceptibly. Preoccupied, Teresa moved Janeway’s head into a healthier position and lifted up one of her eyelids with her fingers. “She urgently needs to get to sickbay, too.”

“Where is Commander Chakotay?”, Spock inquired.

“Don’t know”, Harry replied. “He wasn’t on duty. Comms were locked down together with the bridge controls.”

Spock strode over to where Teresa sat on the floor with the Captain, kneeling down in front of them. “I am sorry”, he said to Teresa, who nodded understandingly, then he carefully patted Janeway’s cheek. “The command codes, Captain. Please.”

Janeway let out a small groan, her eyes once again opening and closing in quick succession. Spock patted her cheek once more, a little more forcefully this time.

“Will you assume command?”, Harry asked him. “That would be fine with me.”

Spock nodded earnestly. “Captain!”, he said more loudly.

Janeway’s eyes flickered open once more. This time, her gaze was slightly more awake and she looked as though she was trying to focus it on whatever was in front of her.

“Commander”, she whispered faintly; her voice was barely audible under the constant ringing of the red alert.

“The command codes”, Spock repeated.

She nodded almost imperceptibly and moved her lips. Spock bent further down and placed his ear close to her mouth so he could hear the sequence of numbers and Greek letters she was sharing with him.

As soon as she was finished, her eyes closing again, he quickly got up and entered the sequence into the helm controls. There was a beeping noise from the computer. “Bridge controls restored.”

“Status report, Ensign”, Spock said.

“The attackers caught us by surprise; the nebula had made it difficult for our sensors to function properly”, Harry reported quickly. “The Captain assumed that they were familiar with the area and had expected ships to hide in this nebula. They disabled our shields with an unknown type of energy pulse. We have a hull breach on decks six, seven and eight; forcefields are in place. The nebula has begun corroding the hull, but the damage is minor so far. Power levels have dropped to 64%.”

“Casualties?”, Spock asked.

“Unknown at the present moment”, Harry answered.

“How many intruders are on the ship?”

Harry pressed a few buttons on the operations panel. “31”, he answered, “almost all over the ship.”

“How many life signs on their ship?”, Spock continued. He was proceeding with quick, concentrated precision.

“Another 25, all G’bennu Ytar.”

“Then they haven’t transported any of our crew onto their ship”, Spock deduced. “Do you read any more of their ships in the area?”

“Negative.”

“How many of the intruders are in engineering?”

“None in the main engineering room; there I only read Starfleet personnel. There are seven of their life signs in the adjacent storage room, however.”

“Good”, Spock muttered and pressed his comm badge. “Bridge to engineering.”

It took a few seconds, but then he received an answer. “Torres here. Spock?”

“I have assumed command of the bridge, as the Captain and Tuvok are incapacitated”, he explained. “What is your status, Lieutenant?”

“Well, I am glad you’re alive and kicking”, B’Elanna commented. “How is Teresa?”

Spock threw Teresa a glance; she was still sitting on the floor behind him, holding the Captain’s hand. “‘Alive and kicking’”, he replied in a dignified and collected tone.

“Great”, B’Elanna made and enumerated, just as quickly as Harry: “We managed to overpower the attackers who beamed in here and put them into the storage room. We have three injured, one with a gunshot wound; she’s stable. Warp and impulse engines are operational. I think I have figured what kind of energy pulse they used to disable our shields; it’s some kind of highly stabilized, modified tetryon-goryon pulse, quite ingenious.”

“Can you counteract its effects and restore shields?”, Spock asked.

“Yes. We’re working on it. We’ll have to reroute power from non-essential systems and secondary life support to achieve it. Once we have restored the shields, you should keep them at a continuously modulating frequency.”

“Understood. How much time do you need?”

There was a short moment of silence. “Give me three minutes.”

“You have two.”

“Acknowledged”, B’Elanna responded, obviously somewhat annoyed by the fact that Spock, like most commanding officers, gave her less time than her estimates. “Torres out.”

Spock immediately turned back to Harry. “Are any of the transporter rooms manned?”

“Yes”, Harry said after four seconds of checking. “Lieutenant Baxter is in transporter room 2; he’s alone.”

Spock’s hand once more wandered to his comm badge. “Bridge to transporter room 2.”

“Baxter here”, came the answer, accompanied by some laboured breathing.

“This is Commander Spock. Are you injured, Lieutenant?”

“I am capable of carrying out commands, Sir”, Baxter replied in a strained voice.

“Very good. I want you to lock on to all 31 intruder life signs on Voyager and prepare to transport them back to the patrol ship on my command; can you do that?”

“Yes, Sir. Just a moment.” After fifteen seconds of laboured breathing, Baxter announced: “Locked on. But the transporter needs more power, Sir.”

“Stand by. Bridge to engineering.”

“Torres here.”

“We need more power to the transporters, Lieutenant. Transporter room 2.”

“On it. Carey, reroute the remaining power from secondary life support to transporter room 2.” Fifteen seconds later, B’Elanna announced: “You have your transporter power, Commander.”

“Acknowledged, Spock out. Bridge to transporter room 2.”

“Transporters fully operational now, Sir”, Baxter stated.

“Good. Stand by.”

A short moment of silence followed. Spock took a deep breath and then looked around on the bridge. His eyes fell on the two officers who were still standing next to helm control. “Ensign Baytard, assume your post at the helm. Ensign…?”

“Ra-toch Fel, Sir”, the Rigelian female said.

Spock gave her a short nod. “Take the science station. And you”, he turned around to look at Teresa, “go to tactical.”

Teresa lost no time in following this order. Carefully, she let go of the Captain’s hand, leaving her lying on the floor with still flickering eyes, speedily got up, walked onto the upper level and stepped over Tuvok and behind the tactical station. Harry looked at her and Spock with some confusion; he thought he would have been the better choice for the tactical station.

“Weapons status”, Spock demanded.

“Phasers are at 19% percent, photon torpedoes ready”, Teresa told him.

“Not good enough. Reroute all available power from the main deflector dish to the forward phaser array.”

“Acknowledged”, Teresa made and carried out the necessary modifications. The last time she had been at a tactical station had been during her days as a cadet on department rotation, but she remembered her training; Spock knew that. And thanks to the detailed memories he had shared with her two days ago, she had no difficulties in operating the 24th-century controls and knew about the advances in weapons systems. However, the main reason why Spock had placed her and not Harry at the tactical station was that he anticipated that their mental connection would enable them both to react more quickly to the situation, as they could exchange information or commands without speaking, if necessary. “Phasers are now at 56%.”

“That will have to do”, Spock stated. He waited another fifteen seconds, then he pressed his comm badge again. “Lieutenant Torres, your two minutes are over.”

“Give me ten more seconds”, B’Elanna pleaded.

Spock waited, wearing the same highly concentrated and centred expression he had been exhibiting ever since he had asked the Captain for the command codes a few minutes ago.

Suddenly, however, they heard another voice, emanating from a communication device lying next to the individual who had questioned Harry. “Betreknik, what is taking you so long? Not all the teams are reporting back. What is your status? Betreknik, report.”

Spock drew his hand phaser and fired it at the device, reducing it to a smoking shell. “Lieutenant Torres, now!”

“Got it!”, B’Elanna exclaimed.

“Bridge to transporter room 2, now.”

“Yes, Sir”, Baxter panted. “Energizing.” All around the bridge, the bodies of the unconscious intruders dematerialized, leaving behind their projectile weapons and the smoking remains of the communications device, and four seconds later, Baxter announced: “They’re all off the ship, Sir.”

“Raise shields”, Spock called out to Teresa. “Maintain a continuously modulating frequency.”

“Shields are up”, she subsequently replied.

“Charge phaser banks. Target their weapons”, Spock ordered.

“Phasers locked on target”, she announced a few seconds later.

“That was quick”, Harry muttered, perplexed. He could not know why she was so familiar with the controls.

Teresa saw that the other ship was charging weapons and raising shields, too, but there remained no time or necessity for her to share that information out loud.

“Fire”, Spock commanded at the same moment in a cold and determined voice, his eyes locked on the ship on the viewscreen.

Teresa pushed the button firmly and watched the phaser beam go off and impact the patrol ship, where it caused an explosion in its aft section and sent it hurtling down to the right. The phaser blast also ignited some of the plasma strands in the nebula, but as Spock had anticipated correctly, this type of plasma burned out quickly without causing any significant damage to either the patrol ship or Voyager. The shields were holding.

“Direct hit”, Teresa declared, a little astonished at her own precision. “Their weapons are disabled; their shields are down.”

Spock was not finished yet. “Target their tetryon-goryon pulse emitter.”

“Locked on”, Teresa informed him.

“Fire.”

Their second phaser beam caused another explosion on the patrol ship.

“Tetryon-goryon pulse emitter successfully destroyed”, Teresa announced and added, looking a little apologetic: “We also partially damaged their engines.” Locking onto the target had been more difficult this time, as the ship had been at the onset of an evasive manoeuvre.

Spock took a deep breath; his shoulders relaxed slightly. “Good shooting, Lieutenant”, he said collectedly and added, considerably more leisurely: “Hail them, Ensign Kim.”

Harry nodded and opened a channel. “Channel open.”

“Voyager to G’bennu Ytar patrol ship”, Spock addressed them smoothly. “Do you require assistance?”

The woman who had sparred with Captain Janeway yesterday appeared on the viewscreen, looking exceedingly furious and incredulous. “Not as long as you don’t want to repair our weapons and tetryon pulse emitter, Voyager”, she said with a derisive sneer.

“I regret that that will not be possible”, Spock declared politely, one eyebrow raised. “We could assist you with the damage to your engines, though.”

Her incredulous and mocking smile grew wider. “ You ‘regret’? That will not be necessary.”

“As you wish.”

“Then there is no reason to maintain communications”, she spat.

“On the contrary, there is”, Spock countered sharply. “You are hereby warned to not attack us again, neither your patrol ship nor any other. We told you we would leave this region in 42 hours from now. This is still the case. We make no claim on your territory or resources. If any other of your ships dares to attack us or impede our journey through your space, we will not hesitate to return fire in self-defence. Your weapons and shields are no match to ours and we have found a way to counteract the effect of your tetryon-goryon pulses on our shields. Your ships would sustain unnecessary and heavy damage in the pursuit of a vessel which will voluntarily leave your territory in 42 hours, anyway. Have I made myself clear?”

The woman had listened to his speech with a proud and unmoved expression.

“42 hours, Voyager”, she declared, then she gave a sign to someone behind her and the screen went back to the view of the nebula and the patrol ship. Slowly, the patrol ship turned around and then disappeared between the dust clouds of the nebula.

For a few seconds, everyone remained motionless and in relieved silence. Then Teresa rushed back towards the Captain and Spock said, his voice considerably calmer and slightly exhausted: “Cancel red alert” and reiterated his initial command: “Status report, Ensign Kim.”

The wailing and red flashes of light stopped and a pleasant tranquillity descended onto the bridge.

“More casualty reports are coming in”, Harry informed them. “All in all, there are 21 casualties; 20 injured… one dead.”

Everyone turned around to look at Harry.

“Who?”, the Captain asked faintly. “Who is dead?” Teresa had not realized that she had regained consciousness.

Harry looked extremely uncomfortable, but he hesitated only for a second or two. “Lieutenant T’Lara”, he said.

There was stunned silence. Teresa and Spock turned to look at each other; they saw the incredulity in each other’s eyes.

“Where?”, Teresa finally managed to utter.

“Uh”, Harry made and looked at his console again. “She’s in sickbay.”

Spock twitched, wanting to storm off but immediately remembering that he was still in command. He saw the horror growing on Teresa’s face.

“Go”, Janeway muttered. “Harry can assume command.”

Taking a deep breath, Spock nodded and told her: “We’ll take you with us.” He carefully lifted the limp Janeway up from the floor, letting her blood-stained head rest against his shoulder. Teresa got up, like in a trance. While they stepped into the turbolift, they heard Harry’s voice through the ship’s speakers: “Ensign Kim to any uninjured personnel. We need people on the bridge. Transporter room 2, beam Commander Tuvok and Lieutenant Soralia directly from the bridge to sickbay.”

They didn’t say a single word in the turbolift and on their hasty way through the corridor to sickbay. Spock held onto the Captain, who was unconscious again. Teresa set one foot in front of the other, her mind strangely empty.

Sickbay was full of people. The Doctor and Tom Paris attended to the projectile wounds of Ensign Belaris, Crewman Chell and five other members of the crew, with several others lending a hand. Tuvok and Lieutenant Soralia were being lifted onto stretchers, as all the biobeds were full. Four other people were already lying on stretchers in a corner, Mbezi Onagawa among them. Naomi Wildman stood in another corner, watching the hectic activity with wide eyes.

“Captain!”, Tom exclaimed, rushed over to them and examined her head injury. “Over there.” He directed Spock to a biobed that was just getting empty. “Are you alright?”, he asked Teresa with a glance at her bare arm and blood-soaked uniform sleeve, while Spock carefully lowered Captain Janeway onto the biobed. Teresa nodded.

“Great”, Tom made, affectionately gripping her other arm for a short moment, then he turned around to the Captain, pulling out his medical tricorder. Teresa and Spock took a step back.

Teresa’s gaze wandered around the room, over the injured bodies lying everywhere, until her eyes fell on a figure on a stretcher that was lying on the table in the consultation room, apart from the rest. A second later, Spock followed her gaze and grew slightly pale.

“We should help”, Teresa murmured, referring to the hectic activity all around them.

Spock nodded, his eyes still on the stretcher in the consultation room.

They therefore spent the next half hour tending to the wounded with the others, applying the standard medical knowledge any Starfleet officer possessed and following the instructions of the Doctor and Tom. Captain Janeway had a concussion. Tuvok had a broken shoulder, probably because he had been hit on it with one of the projectile weapons; Lieutenant Soralia had a broken jaw. Ensign Onagawa had internal bleeding. Lieutenant Baxter came in with another projectile wound, in his foot. Some other people had plasma burns, decompression trauma or shrapnel wounds as a result of the hull breach on decks six, seven and eight. The less severe injuries were of course given lower priority, but most of them could soon one by one be cured. The worst cases were soon out of danger. Some of the treatments applied were new or different to Teresa and Spock. She tried with all her mind to not let her thoughts return to the immobile figure in the consultation room.

Eventually, when they had nothing more do to, she could not avoid it any longer. Slowly, she stepped towards the stretcher, her eyes resting on the corpse lying on it. Spock saw and followed her.

For an entire minute, they silently looked upon their granddaughter. Heavy, blackish-green and blistery burns covered the entire left sight of her body, except for her shoulder and her face. The uniform fabric in the affected places had been burned away almost completely. Teresa thought she was glad that her face was intact. Her eyes were closed.

“I am very sorry”, the Doctor said gravely, having followed them into the consultation room. “She was standing directly next to an EPS conduit on deck seven when it ruptured. She was already dead when they brought her in and too severely burned. I tried to revive her, but there was nothing I could do. If it is any consolation, I believe she must have died immediately.”

“Thank you, Doctor”, Spock answered, as Teresa remained quiet, too distracted to reply. The Doctor put a hand onto her shoulder for a moment, his head bent low, then he gave a deep sigh, returned to the treatment room and exchanged a sorrowful look with Tom.

Spock replaced the Doctor’s hand on her shoulder with his own and Teresa, still somewhat distractedly, lifted up her own hand and grasped it.