All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Pride and Logic: Chapter 1
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a Vulcan in the grip of Pon Farr must be in want of a mate. Or, at least that was the conclusion the few people outside of Vulcan society who were aware of Pon Farr came to when they considered the peculiar seven-year itch of the Vulcan. However, like all emotional and carnal desires that plagued the Vulcan psyche, Pon Farr and the resulting plak-tow could be dealt with through very intense meditation. Meditation, unfortunately, was not a proven method for most Vulcans and the onset of Pon Farr required most to return to Vulcan to take a mate or suffer the agony of plak-tow and a painful death. For one Vulcan, whose veins flowed with an equal amount of human blood, meditation had always been the preferred course. While other Vulcan’s had despised him for his disadvantageous parentage, it was in this area that having human heritage was a distinct advantage. In the season of Pon Farr when logic and reason fled the normal Vulcan mind, Spock remained largely unaffected. So, when another seven years had lapsed since his previous Pon Farr, Spock made the decision not to return to Vulcan. Instead, he remained at Starfleet Academy in order to fulfill his professorial duties. As he had done each of the previous three years of his tenure at the Academy, Spock was to accompany the rest of the faculty to the New Term Formal, where cadets were allowed to acclimate to Starfleet and mingle with their instructors and classmates in a setting less hindered by the strictures of rank.
Despite attending the event several times as a new recruit and an instructor, Spock was never able to fully comprehend the logic behind a ball. Surely there were more efficient and logical means of introducing oneself to your colleagues than wearing constricting attire, imbibing alcoholic beverages, and engaging in savage dancing rituals. If debate instead of dancing were the order of the day, balls would not be such an illogical endeavor.
“Then it would hardly be a ball,” was his mother’s reply to a similar observation of Spock’s on the eve of his first ball.
Spock gazed at the picture of his mother on the view screen, noticing the amused set of her mouth as she regarded him.
“Promise me that you will at least dance with one young lady. Although it may seem frivolous to you, attending such events and socializing with your colleagues is necessary to advance in your career.”
“My academic record and performance should be more than sufficient to secure the necessary promotions for advancement in Starfleet, Mother.”
“Yes, Spock. However, advancement is often about whom you know in addition to what you know,” his mother paused and let out an understanding sigh. “Promise me that you will attend this ball and that you will dance at least one dance.”
Spock paused to consider his mother’s request. He knew that he could not deny any request that she made of him, no matter how illogical it appeared to him.
“You have my word, mother. I shall attend this ball and dance for exactly one dance.”
Spock stepped before the mirror in his quarters and adjusted his dress uniform. He was almost grateful for the standard issue blue and black uniform that distinguished him as a commander. His attire for this year’s ball required considerably less effort than his attire for his first ball as a student. As a cadet he had to suffer through his mother’s selection of a proper suit of clothes as she would not allow him to attend the ball in his cadet uniform. This time his choices were limited to whether he should wear the platinum or gold braid on his chest. Spock affixed the platinum braid to his chest before making his way out of his quarters only to be met by the smiling blue countenance of Lieutenant-Commander Shuran.
“I do not require an escort to every ball, Shuran,” Spock greeted his friend and colleague.
“Good evening to you too, Spock,” Shuran laughed in reply. “I am well aware that you do not need an escort. Perhaps I just enjoy your sunny disposition too much to walk to the ball alone.”
Spock simply raised one brow at his colleague’s sarcastic reply.
Shuran laughed once more, before smoothing down his shock of white hair and adjusting his black and red uniform. “Let’s go and give the new cadets a proper Star Fleet welcome!”