New Vulcan, 2261

Shop of Lapan-zupsu Donstelralth

A few pieces of beautifully carved and upholstered furniture sat on display in the front of the small shop. A tall, stocky Vulcan wearing a canvas smock walked through a set of double doors at the back, saying, "Moi kima (good afternoon)..." before he looked closely at her and blinked rapidly.

"Moi kima," Nyota responded, her long fingers held aloft in the customary salute.

The carpenter masked his surprise, blinking only once more before he slightly inclined his head and continued in heavily accented Standard. "I, my name is Stelendos, apprentice. I bring the head carpenter, the shop owner, to you."

"Thank you," Nyota replied in Vulcan. The young carpenter flushed slightly green, dropped his gaze, and quickly vanished into the back of the shop.

Feeling awkward, Nyota wondered if she should have responded in Standard instead to indicate her appreciation for the man's attempt to communicate with her. Everyone liked to be complimented for their use of a language not their own. She sighed and sat down on a long bench with sinuously curving armrests. Most of her interactions with Vulcans had been among the elite and upper middle classes, she realized, and an outsider could follow their patterns of courtesy and behavior without putting much thought into it.

The head carpenter, a Vulcan of middle years, strode into the front of the shop. She was surprised to see that he wore his hair long, in the pre-Surakian style.

She rose to her feet. "Moi kima. My name is Nyota Uhura."

"And I am Donstelralth. I already know who you are. Welcome to the shop. May we speak Standard? I do like to keep my language skills fresh. I used to have a few Earth clients before...well, one must go on as best one can, and there is as much need to earn a living on New Vulcan as in our old home. I am pleased to have visitors from all planets. How may I assist you today?"

"Some time ago, I saw a beautiful carved table you made. It was one of the most striking pieces in a museum exhibition organized by the diplomatic corps of New Vulcan. I have heard many wonderful things about your craftsmanship."

"It is kind of you to mention it. I am aware of your presence in diplomatic circles. You are the subject of considerable interest as the bondmate of the son of Ambassador Sarek."

"I suppose that I could hardly have expected to come here unnoticed, or unknown."

"Indeed not." Donstelralth's gaze flicked back toward the windows set into the double doors, where Nyota thought that she saw pointed ears and bowl haircuts quickly duck out of sight. She stifled a smile.

"Please forgive the intrusive curiosity of my staff. I will speak to them about their behavior."

"There is no need. I am accustomed to it by now, believe me. Osasu Donstelralth-" he raised both eyebrows as though unaccustomed to being addressed with the honorific, but she pressed on - "I came to ask if you will accept a commission, something for a gift. A couch, suitable for someone tall. Something that people...a person with long legs could comfortably stretch out on. I am asking you because I knew that you have worked with clients from several galaxies. I thought that you would be familiar with...different habits of seeking comfort while at home." Mindful of the inquisitive workers beyond the doors, Nyota strove to keep her voice low, yet calm enough to avoid any suggestion that she was embarrassed by her own request.

Donstelralth said, "The Ambassador's son is indeed of a notable height compared to many humanoids, or even some Vulcans. Perhaps such a couch would be most comfortable if it were not only of a size appropriate for humanoids with long legs -" his gaze quickly swept down along the length of her ankle-length skirt before meeting her eyes again "-but also of a breadth appropriate for two such beings to sit, or lie down side by side."

Feeling her face grow warm, Nyota bit her lip, then nodded. "Precisely."

"This gift is a surprise?"

"Yes, for the winter holiday season. I would like it delivered to the Earth home that we temporarily share, please."

"Understood. The design process, fabrication, and delivery will be carried out in secret. Please, be seated." The carpenter activated a large screen on the wall facing the display furniture. "These are our standard designs." He touched the corner of the screen, showing her images of several different couches. "Any of these may be adapted to fit your requirements. Occasionally we receive requests for specialty furniture designs. We are always pleased to complete such requests to the highest functional and aesthetic standards. May I add," he said, looking at her with a serious expression, "specialty designs are handled with great discretion, despite the apparent curiosity of my staff. No information about your furniture design will be shared with anyone without your permission."

Nyota wondered if some clients had requested furniture designed for bedroom play, but couldn't imagine speaking such a question aloud.

"I appreciate that," Nyota responded, although she wondered how long it would be before the secret escaped into the realm of Vulcan gossip.

Donstelralth let a few more images of sweeping wooden curves, graceful carvings, and plush upholstery fade in and out on the screen before responding. "The furniture we create does, as you said, have something of art in it. Vulcans are, as Earths might say, a practical people. This shop could create functional chairs, tables, couches without ornamentation. However, most beings enjoy some form of aesthetic enhancement. The furnishings we build are pleasing to the touch and to the eye, and they are also durable. The wish to make one's personal environment a pleasant one is not a sign of weakness. Perhaps you will think me eccentric for speaking so personally, but I believe that we have something useful to learn from the Pre-Surakian period. "

"I hope that you will forgive me for asking a personal question, but is that why you wear your hair long? An homage to the Pre-Surakian period?"

"It is agreeable to know that you are well versed in Vulcan history, if not surprising. Yes, that is part of the reason. I am a newcomer to the higher realms of Vulcan society. At one time during my youth I had hoped to study the architecture of our planet, and eventually to train to become a torvausu, an engineer or a teacher. My family had no wealth or influence. So...my plans changed. All of our plans changed. The roads and bridges I would have built would be gone now. At least I am teaching my apprentices something useful. I am a furniture maker with enough skill to convince some influential Vulcans that I am an artist as well, and therefore I am free to display some mildly odd behavior. Nothing that would frighten away my clientele, but I am allowed to be different."

A corner of his mouth turned up in a sad half-smile; then he looked down and wrote some notes in Vulcan script into a padd with a large screen, a kind used by engineers and visual artists. "May I say...it will be a matter of personal pride that you selected my business to create a gift for Osasu Spock. Some Vulcans look down upon him for his half-human parentage. I, as a fellow outsider, admire his integrity and his persistence."

"Sir, I have great admiration for your talents. I'm sure that your apprentices are learning more than carpentry. Some useful life lessons, perhaps?"

"Perhaps." Donstelralth looked flattered, but made no further reply; the apprentice Stelendos appeared carrying a tray of tea things. Nyota smiled at him as he set the tray down, but this only seemed to confuse him; he flushed a deep olive green. Nyota wanted to make him feel better and spoke in Standard. "Thank you for bringing the tea, and for speaking Standard with me when I first came in."

"Yer welcome, Okosu", he stammered in Standard and Vulcan, before fleeing to the back of the shop.

A different apprentice entered; he knelt down to place two large books of fabric samples on the table before her. Less shy than his co-worker, he looked at her, and said clearly in Standard, "Madam, we have also other collections of samples of fabric, if it pleases you."

"Serranstivlen has been working with the shop for nearly two Standard years now. He helped us organize the move to New Vulcan. He is also a talented carver," Donstelralth said, nodding at the apprentice.

"Thank you, Osavensu," the young Vulcan said. He cast one more interested look at Nyota before he turned and left. Apparently Spock wasn't the only younger Vulcan paying attention to human women. Nyota wondered what this might mean for the future of the Vulcan colony.

"Very talented, and a bit arrogant," sighed Donstelralth. "Please make some changes and suggestions for the design, if you would like." He handed her a stylus and moved the padd in front of her.

Nyota accepted the stylus and made notations on the template image of a couch displayed on the padd's screen. Made comfortable by the calm, unpretentious atmosphere of the shop, she stayed for nearly a full hour and a half of Standard time, chatting with Donstelralth and accepting additional cups of tea from the apprentices. She was amused to see that a different young Vulcan brought out the tea tray each time, allowing each of them to steal a closer look at their human visitor.

Donstelralth fixed Serranstivlen with a stern look when the young Vulcan made his third trip from the workshop, this time bearing a bowl of fruit. "How goes your progress on that table for the cultural center?"

A faint green blush appeared beneath the tawny color of his face as he protested, "I applied the last coat of stain this morning. It is not dry yet. We apprentices desire only to make the lady comfortable." He scurried back into the workshop, and there were no further interruptions.

At one point, Donstelralth explained quietly that certain clients chose to submit life-size holos of themselves using their existing furniture in various positions and movements. The holors were measured by a computer program so that the new furniture could be built to suitable dimensions. This made it possible for them to enjoy the commissioned pieces in their favorite ways. He explained it as indirectly and politely as possible while looking at the screen on the wall, but Nyota found herself unable to respond and she quickly changed the subject. The risk of such holos getting into the wrong hands was too distressing to contemplate. She couldn't imagine asking Spock to pose for such holos with her, anyway.

Soon, Nyota and Donstelralth reached an agreement on the design and fabrication of the couch. It would be delivered on the date she specified, three months hence. Nyota insisted on paying in advance. As Donstelralth initiated the funds transfer, Nyota could almost hear the sound of credits flowing out of the 'couch fund' account she'd set up.

The couch had cost several months' worth of saving and planning. No doubt Spock would declare this large furniture purchase to be illogical, as they had not yet selected a permanent home or scheduled a date for their formal bonding ceremony. Nyota didn't believe in missing opportunities. Months might go by before she encountered anyone else skilled in Vulcan crafts. Only a year ago, she would have bragged about her ability to live for a month using only the possessions she carried in a small backpack. Now she was gradually surrendering to a nesting instinct that had begun to shape her life with Spock.

Thanking Donstelralth, she left the shop.