Spock (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
your_logic_is_impeccable) wrote2014-01-25 11:02 pm
your_logic_is_impeccable) wrote2014-01-25 11:02 pm
Entry tags:
Day 66
[ A continuation from here. ]
Complete silence followed Spock as he descended the ladder. He paused, for the briefest moment as he glanced at the empty hole that used to be the door’s lock, then walked into the hallway.
The Enterprise had waited until he was in the hall before speaking. Spock could hear their murmurs while he waited for the elevator, and willingly chose not to pick up on Jane’s words.
He missed Uhura. It wasn’t easy for Spock to admit, even to himself, but he missed her incredibly. Humans as a species have overcome significant obstacles, including xenophobia. Their acceptance of various races and ethnicities had pushed human civilization to be more tolerant of those who are different — to treat them not as the other. But as the Commander observed, even in Starfleet, such human graciousness seemed to only extend to other humans.
When faced with another species entirely, Spock has observed that most humans forget that their own civilization, along with its customs and culture, are neither predominant nor commonly adopted by other species. The Federation, comprising of multiple species, recognized this fact and as such, and Starfleet’s basic diplomacy courses taught cadets never to assume that a respectful gesture from their own culture would communicate respect.
Eyes wandering around the inner walls of the elevator, Spock, back ramrod straight and hands held tightly behind him, thought back to each of the candidates he met during his time in Niflheim. Only Mr. Merlin directly expressed and acted on the understanding that human culture is human, not universal.
But Uhura had understood. She treated him not as a human would treat another human, but how one would treat a Vulcan. She knew he was careful with touch, bound to the logical, private in nature. She knew that his own suppression of emotion was not a result of any number of causes which would cause the same action in a human: Introversion. High intelligence. Self-defense mechanisms. Spock could not, as his fellow cadets had frequently enjoyed to tease, simply “come of of his shell.” His lack of emotion was a deliberate choice, an act that allowed him to think and perform logically. It was not and will never be a burden he needs to overcome.
And Spock understood as well that to accommodate their physical and emotional differences, Uhura had sacrificed certain levels of her own desires. In return, he had to the best of his ability accommodated his own actions in the areas most important to her.
When the Commander arrived in front of his own door, he turned the knob, entered and proceeded immediately to his desk and pulled the curtain. He eyed his notebook, then flipped it open and uncapped a nearby pen.
“First Officer’s Log. Morning. Day 66 post-arrival.”
He missed the hours spent in silence, working while sitting on the window ledge on the observation deck. After she had discovered the location on her own, Spock had always looked forward to seeing Uhura there.
“At 08:23, I received a distress call from Captain Jane Kirk. Arrival at 08:35 resulted in my witnessing an attempt by the Starship Enterprise’s to calm the Captain. A heavy cloth, most likely made up of 100% polyester, prevented normal breathing. The material could not be lifted nor ripped, only cut, which now leads me to hypothesize that it was under the influence of advanced technology...”
Describing his decision to meld with Kirk, thereby giving the Enterprise opportunity to make the cut with the lowest probability of injuring the Captain, was simple. What came after however, was troublesome. Spock decided the matter was not necessary to record.
So he closed the notebook, ending the log with the time he exited Jane’s quarters, and noting that while a minor injury was sustained, all threats to the life of Jane Kirk had been eliminated.
Then, the Vulcan’s fingertips fell together as Spock prepared to tackle a more daunting task: Love. Specifically, a love that Spock refused to reciprocate. To do so in these circumstances was illogical in multiple ways, the first and primary being that his own capacity for love was occupied.
The love Jane Kirk desired from him belonged to Nyota Uhura, and the Vulcan was convinced that there it would stay.
They had decided to pursue a relationship in sincerity, therefore he was aware that he and Nyota had an unwritten agreement to remain monogamous. Unless he found definitive proof that returning to the same universe would be impossible in Uhura’s lifetime, the fact that she was in another universe now was irrelevant to the honoring of such an agreement.
If he were to stray from their agreement …
Spock could not consider the idea.
… the result would be a loss of trust, followed by a loss of many parts of their relationship — if not the agreement entirely.
Standing up, Spock began slowly pacing the outer rims of his allotted quarters. He faced two possibilities.
The Captain was surely aware of what she had communicated to him through her own touch. Her earlier experience of transforming into a Vulcan, as well as Spock’s own answers to her questions, would inform Jane of this fact.
The first option, is to leave the matter unaddressed.
Jane would either chose to confront him regarding the matter, or never speak of it herself. Spock estimated a 67.3% chance that Jane would chose the former. In situations that are not life and death, the Vulcan did not gamble. A 67.3% chance meant that such a scenario is what he expected to unfold.
Which led to the second option: direct confrontation.
Another few paces and Spock’s long fingers reached for the curtain and pulled it back.
In direct confrontation, his own goals would be to communicate his desire for a purely professional relationship. To accurately communicate his position, he would need to first directly acknowledge Jane’s emotions, and second, state that he could not reciprocate them. It will be difficult for her to hear, and in his experience, non-Vulcans never handled this type of conversation logically.
He estimated that any direct confrontation would have a 95.6% chance of straining their friendship and …
… a 48.3% chance of ending their friendship entirely.
Spock picked up his notebook and tricorder, and headed out of his room. His purpose and focus now focused on the physical actions at hand.
He would, ultimately, select option two. Despite it’s bleak and unforgiving probabilities, it offered the highest probability for a friendship to exist between them in the future. But now would not be the opportune time to speak with Jane. The Vulcan would wait a minimum of 24 hours before approaching, and in his mind, it would allow her the time and distance necessary to detach herself from what had happened this morning.
In the days following, Spock submerged himself into work. After the nightmares, the only work he wished to focus on was reconstruction, and if possible, creating technological and industrial growth. Whatever his emotions truly were, Spock did not think about them. He suppressed them, as he had done nearly all of his life. And to those emotions he could not suppress, Spock only fully experienced them as a necessary precursor to discarding them from the careful weights and balances that governed his logical life.
Maybe he loved Jane. Maybe he loves Jane. But if he does, Spock did not, and does not, plan to ever show it.
Complete silence followed Spock as he descended the ladder. He paused, for the briefest moment as he glanced at the empty hole that used to be the door’s lock, then walked into the hallway.
The Enterprise had waited until he was in the hall before speaking. Spock could hear their murmurs while he waited for the elevator, and willingly chose not to pick up on Jane’s words.
He missed Uhura. It wasn’t easy for Spock to admit, even to himself, but he missed her incredibly. Humans as a species have overcome significant obstacles, including xenophobia. Their acceptance of various races and ethnicities had pushed human civilization to be more tolerant of those who are different — to treat them not as the other. But as the Commander observed, even in Starfleet, such human graciousness seemed to only extend to other humans.
When faced with another species entirely, Spock has observed that most humans forget that their own civilization, along with its customs and culture, are neither predominant nor commonly adopted by other species. The Federation, comprising of multiple species, recognized this fact and as such, and Starfleet’s basic diplomacy courses taught cadets never to assume that a respectful gesture from their own culture would communicate respect.
Eyes wandering around the inner walls of the elevator, Spock, back ramrod straight and hands held tightly behind him, thought back to each of the candidates he met during his time in Niflheim. Only Mr. Merlin directly expressed and acted on the understanding that human culture is human, not universal.
But Uhura had understood. She treated him not as a human would treat another human, but how one would treat a Vulcan. She knew he was careful with touch, bound to the logical, private in nature. She knew that his own suppression of emotion was not a result of any number of causes which would cause the same action in a human: Introversion. High intelligence. Self-defense mechanisms. Spock could not, as his fellow cadets had frequently enjoyed to tease, simply “come of of his shell.” His lack of emotion was a deliberate choice, an act that allowed him to think and perform logically. It was not and will never be a burden he needs to overcome.
And Spock understood as well that to accommodate their physical and emotional differences, Uhura had sacrificed certain levels of her own desires. In return, he had to the best of his ability accommodated his own actions in the areas most important to her.
When the Commander arrived in front of his own door, he turned the knob, entered and proceeded immediately to his desk and pulled the curtain. He eyed his notebook, then flipped it open and uncapped a nearby pen.
“First Officer’s Log. Morning. Day 66 post-arrival.”
He missed the hours spent in silence, working while sitting on the window ledge on the observation deck. After she had discovered the location on her own, Spock had always looked forward to seeing Uhura there.
“At 08:23, I received a distress call from Captain Jane Kirk. Arrival at 08:35 resulted in my witnessing an attempt by the Starship Enterprise’s to calm the Captain. A heavy cloth, most likely made up of 100% polyester, prevented normal breathing. The material could not be lifted nor ripped, only cut, which now leads me to hypothesize that it was under the influence of advanced technology...”
Describing his decision to meld with Kirk, thereby giving the Enterprise opportunity to make the cut with the lowest probability of injuring the Captain, was simple. What came after however, was troublesome. Spock decided the matter was not necessary to record.
So he closed the notebook, ending the log with the time he exited Jane’s quarters, and noting that while a minor injury was sustained, all threats to the life of Jane Kirk had been eliminated.
Then, the Vulcan’s fingertips fell together as Spock prepared to tackle a more daunting task: Love. Specifically, a love that Spock refused to reciprocate. To do so in these circumstances was illogical in multiple ways, the first and primary being that his own capacity for love was occupied.
The love Jane Kirk desired from him belonged to Nyota Uhura, and the Vulcan was convinced that there it would stay.
They had decided to pursue a relationship in sincerity, therefore he was aware that he and Nyota had an unwritten agreement to remain monogamous. Unless he found definitive proof that returning to the same universe would be impossible in Uhura’s lifetime, the fact that she was in another universe now was irrelevant to the honoring of such an agreement.
If he were to stray from their agreement …
… the result would be a loss of trust, followed by a loss of many parts of their relationship — if not the agreement entirely.
Standing up, Spock began slowly pacing the outer rims of his allotted quarters. He faced two possibilities.
The Captain was surely aware of what she had communicated to him through her own touch. Her earlier experience of transforming into a Vulcan, as well as Spock’s own answers to her questions, would inform Jane of this fact.
The first option, is to leave the matter unaddressed.
Jane would either chose to confront him regarding the matter, or never speak of it herself. Spock estimated a 67.3% chance that Jane would chose the former. In situations that are not life and death, the Vulcan did not gamble. A 67.3% chance meant that such a scenario is what he expected to unfold.
Which led to the second option: direct confrontation.
Another few paces and Spock’s long fingers reached for the curtain and pulled it back.
In direct confrontation, his own goals would be to communicate his desire for a purely professional relationship. To accurately communicate his position, he would need to first directly acknowledge Jane’s emotions, and second, state that he could not reciprocate them. It will be difficult for her to hear, and in his experience, non-Vulcans never handled this type of conversation logically.
He estimated that any direct confrontation would have a 95.6% chance of straining their friendship and …
… a 48.3% chance of ending their friendship entirely.
Spock picked up his notebook and tricorder, and headed out of his room. His purpose and focus now focused on the physical actions at hand.
He would, ultimately, select option two. Despite it’s bleak and unforgiving probabilities, it offered the highest probability for a friendship to exist between them in the future. But now would not be the opportune time to speak with Jane. The Vulcan would wait a minimum of 24 hours before approaching, and in his mind, it would allow her the time and distance necessary to detach herself from what had happened this morning.
In the days following, Spock submerged himself into work. After the nightmares, the only work he wished to focus on was reconstruction, and if possible, creating technological and industrial growth. Whatever his emotions truly were, Spock did not think about them. He suppressed them, as he had done nearly all of his life. And to those emotions he could not suppress, Spock only fully experienced them as a necessary precursor to discarding them from the careful weights and balances that governed his logical life.
Maybe he loved Jane. Maybe he loves Jane. But if he does, Spock did not, and does not, plan to ever show it.