Every city has its own nightlife, and New Vulcan was no exception. Infinite diversity in infinite combination was a grand, complex philosophy broad enough to include some Vulcans' desire to enjoy music, dance, and occasional boisterous social interactions with beings both similar to and different from themselves.

Surak himself might have raised an eyebrow, and then shrugged tolerantly at some of the smiles and other emotional expression beneath the dim lights of Mu-yor Uralau. The clandestine nightclub had a Vulcan name, loosely translated by off-worlders and Standard language speakers as night sing, or Lullaby. It catered to Vulcans with rogue emotions and the many off-world temporary workers on New Vulcan.

McCoy, grumbling that he couldn't risk his doctor's hands in a bar fight, returned to the guest house. Kirk and Sulu let Scotty lead the way, following directions whispered by the lute player at the reception. Lullaby was tucked away down a side street, its unmarked door shielded by a row of tall potted plants.

Two Vulcan bouncers with biceps and thighs like small beer barrels eyed them and requested proof of identity. Then one shone his flashlight on the Federation insignia on Sulu's dress jacket, grinned broadly, and patted Sulu's shoulder with one heavy hand while he told the other guard to allow the Enterprise men immediate entry. Although relieved to know that the Federation was welcome on Vulcan back streets, Sulu wondered if his shoulder might show a little bruising in the morning.

As though powered by a single clockwork, the heads of the nightclub patrons swiveled towards the Enterprise men. Some eyes widened, others narrowed, a few - humans - winked. Adobe walls and dim lighting made the room seem like a hospitable cave. The walls were decorated with wood carvings and images of customers enjoying themselves on previous nights inside Lullaby. The men found a round stone table surrounded by big, square cushions and sat down.

"Not bad. This is kind of a classy place," Jim said.

"Captain, I wouldnae risk our safety in a dive. Not that I have any problem with dives, as the bartenders tend to pour with a heavy hand - but New Vulcan, for all of its apparent stability, is an unknown quantity. I requested that he meet me in a place patronized by foreigners."

"I've been in worse clubs," Sulu shrugged. He glanced around; nobody seemed drunk, although more than tea was obviously on offer. Patrons talked or moved to slow music on the modestly sized dance floor. A Vulcan waiter greeted them in Standard, handed them small digital menus, and departed, turning to give Sulu a lingering glance.

"Hikaru, ye have made a conquest," chuckled Scotty.

"Really? I think that he was sizing me up," Sulu replied, unsure of how to read the man's lack of expression. He surveyed the room again and located two additional exits.

"All right, Scotty. What do you expect to find in this place?" asked Jim as they tapped their drink selections into the menus. A persistent sense of uncertainty caused Sulu order a drink in a sealed bottle.

"That musician I promised chocolate to, for one. He's not shown up yet. As for the rest, we must be sociable, have a bevvy, circulate and ask questions."

Mirrored panels and colored lights appeared on the ceiling. The music changed to a song with a steady, rocking beat and compelling rhythm.

"Before I get to socializing, I'm going to show my appreciation for their DJ's good taste." Scotty headed for the dance floor to dance happily alone, followed shortly by Sulu. Jim grinned and shook his head in response to Sulu's inquiring smile. He hadn't loosened up enough yet to feel like dancing, and at least one of them needed to pay attention to their surroundings. The drinks arrived quickly; Jim ordered a plate of Vulcan appetizers. Vegetarian, of course.

None of the tension surrounding the Parliament Building had carried over to Lullaby. Scotty and Sulu were burning up the dance floor with a couple of other humans, a violet-skinned person of flexible gender, two Coridians, and one brave young Vulcan man; apparently most Vulcans were more inclined towards slow dances. The clientele seemed to be a mix of working-and-middle class folk with a few diplomatic elites; Jim recognized a few alien guests from the reception. Conversation and a few peals of laughter were audible above the music, which played at a lower volume than an Earth-based club in deference to sensitive Vulcan hearing. No one stared at the Enterprise crew any longer.

Except one.

Jim recognized the Vulcan woman he'd met at the reception; T'seau, her name was, or something like it. He certainly remembered her shapely figure even if he wasn't sure of her name. T'seau sat near a few other Vulcan women, all of them engaged in playing some sort of board game. Her large, dark eyes were fixed on Jim.

Spock had taught him enough about Vulcan culture to make Jim understand that her steady, curious gaze might be considered rude. Jim preferred to believe that she just couldn't help herself, and he'd felt gratified when she had asked Nyota to introduce her at the reception.

McCoy spoke derisively of what he called "Jim's 'aw-shucks-ma'am' country boy routine". Maybe it was unoriginal but it worked. Nobody had turned Jim down yet - even if the person in question had never heard of Iowa.

"Tell me of this Iowa," the elegant Vulcan woman had said at the reception. Like most Vulcans, she held her head and body still, but her eyes moved up and down Jim's chest and legs, lingering at his crotch - well hello, there, ma'am, I'm happy to see you - then back up to his face. A few other people joined the conversation then, and Jim reined in his flirtation, but the nature of the Vulcan woman's interest was clear.

The way she looked at him now suggested that her interest had not faded even after the shock of the attack on Gav and the interrogation by Vulcan security. Maybe he could get her to tell him if she'd heard any gossipy speculation about the attempt on Gav's life, or public opinion of Sarek, some hint of why anyone would want to frame Sarek for attempted murder.

T'seau inclined her head in greeting. Jim let a wicked version of his country boy smile spread across his face. T'seau's eyes widened.

So far, so good. Time to bring out the big guns. Leaning back on one elbow, Jim angled his body and put himself on display. He let his legs, nicely outlined by his well-tailored trousers, part slightly.

T'seau's mouth opened; she held her drink in mid-air.

Jim took a small, olive-like vegetable from the appetizer tray and slowly slid it into his mouth while holding T'seau's gaze. He rolled the little green globe on his tongue for a moment.

T'seau nearly dropped her drink.

Before he chewed the little vegetable and washed it down, Jim held up his drink in a gesture of salute, then lowered his lips to the rim and drank, still looking at her. The sudden return of Sulu and Scotty broke their shared gaze.

"Scotty, I didn't know that you were such a good dancer." Jim teased.

The engineer paused in mid-drink and looked offended. "I am from Edinborough, as ye well know. I have spent a good amount of time in London, Manchester, Chicago, Atlanta, and Washington, D.C., thank ye very much. Obviously ye need to travel more. Of course I know how to dance!"

"Hey, you're braver than I am when it comes to dancing, man. Same for you, Sulu; you never met a dance floor you didn't like."

Sulu rolled his eyes. "Don't start, Jim. I told you that I went to high school in Oakland, and I used to win the call-in music trivia contest on the ship's entertianment comm channels regularly...until Len started beating me at it."

"Now that we've convinced everyone we're only out for a good time tonight, let's start questioning the locals," Jim said, glancing over at T'seau.

Sulu nodded. "I'll ask that human couple how welcome they feel on planet. Spock's hinted at how his being half-human continues to be problem for some Vulcans. His being partnered with Nyota may add to any previous bias against Sarek for marrying a human woman."

Scotty looked towards the door. "That chocolate-craving musician has arrived." He opened the flap of the small satchel he carried, keeping it out of sight below the edge of the table. "Time to do business, and get a little information in exchange."

"I may step out for a little while, but I've got a tracking device on the waistband of my trousers." Jim stood, looking over towards T'seau, who had left her friends' table and moved to a smaller table by herself.

"Ah, Jim, ye are so predictable. I could set the chronometers on the Enterprise by ye," sighed Scotty, "but if your approach works, I will not scold ye for it."

"Too bad he didn't glue that tracking device to his ass," muttered Sulu as Jim approached T'seau. "His trousers may not stay on long enough to help us find him."

"That woman he's after...she's Vulcan," Scotty said curiously.

"Yeah. And he's Jim."

"As a first-time visitor, I'm curious about what it's like to live on New Vulcan." Conversation was one of Jim's great talents and he soon put T'seau at ease. He managed to say little about himself or the Enterprise beyond what appeared in Federation publicity media.

Perhaps it was unfair to distract her by leaning forward in his chair and smiling directly at her while she answered his questions on general subjects. Jim rested his elbows on his knees so that his clasped hands hovered close to T'seau's knees, which parted slightly as she fell under the spell of his presence.

Morose, the Vulcan lute player complained to Scotty. "My prowess as a musician attracts the attention of many. However, tension occasionally makes it difficult to demonstrate one's prowess in other areas." He looked at the packages of chocolate inside the small bag Scotty had given him.

"There is nae shame in needin' a wee bit of personal encouragement. P'raps ye can use it sparingly and soon relax enough t'please yer lady without it."

Shaking his head sadly, the musician broke off another piece of chocolate and stuffed it into his mouth.

"Whoa there, mon. Slow down a bit, ye need time to accustom yerself tae that chocolate!"

"It is no trouble," the musician assured him as he munched away. "At one time my tolerance for chocolate was quite high. During my travels on Earth I had little need for artificial stimulation in intimate situations. My transition to New Vulcan is difficult. Chocolate is not forbidden here but imports are carefully monitored; we wish to prevent addiction among our people. If it were not for my present difficulty, I would avoid this temptation completely." He sighed. "Thank you, Osu Scott. The exchange of a mere two song requests at the party is uneven. I owe you more."

"Answers to a few questions about people in this city would be a fair exchange. Tell me a few things, and we'll call it done. What say ye?"

"So just what is the general opinion of public figures such as, for example, Sarek?" Jim asked, rolling his shoulders as though suddenly uncomfortable. "Pardon me, MissT'seau, but would you mind terribly if I unbuttoned my jacket? It's not exactly a good fit for this climate, and -" he smiled at her - "I feel a bit hot."

T'seau took a deep breath, bit her lip, and answered, "I certainly find it acceptable; I am not always as formal as other Vulcans. Please, be comfortable. You may address me as simply T'seau, if you like."

Maintaining eye contact while his fingers moved down the row of buttons, Jim shed the jacket with a roll of his broad shoulders. He wore a close-fitting black Starfleet issue t-shirt underneath. T'seau made a little "Mmm" sound, and then caught herself, biting her lip. It was a very soft looking and nicely shaped lip, and made Jim wonder why Vulcans were so fond of finger kissing.

"Generally speaking," Jim said conversationally as he draped his jacket over his chair, "would you say Sarek is popular?" He managed to move a tiny bit closer to her, his bare forearm within touching distance of T'seau's hands. She stared at his chest as she began to answer.

"Yes, Sarek's wisdom and experience appeal to many. Some Vulcans exhibited temporary xenophobic behavior during the first year following the destruction of our planet. Sarek and others made speeches asking us to remember the importance of IDIC to our future. Vulcans will find it difficult to survive if we create barriers between ourselves and other planets. Most Vulcans understand this now, and have returned to living in agreement with IDIC; we accept off-worlders. Spock, although half-human, is also well respected by many, in a professional sense. Spock's friends and supporters tend to be friends of his father. I do not know if he has many personal friends on New Vulcan." She thought for a moment, and continued.

"I have heard few members of the diplomatic class say that Sarek does not show enough loyalty to Vulcans as a group, that he misinterprets IDIC. I disagree. I am interested in befriending off worlders," she said, looking at Jim. "Very interested."

"I'm pleased to hear that, and not just because I'm with the Federation." Jim gave her a slow, sexy smile. T'seau's eyelashes fluttered.

Sulu's conversation with a tipsy human couple, who were relaxing with fruit wine following their work shift at a water filtration plant, suggested that humans and other non-Vulcans lived fairly peaceful lives on the new colony. Though seen as outsiders, they feared no aggression in public places, and their Vulcan neighbors and colleagues were polite, if not always quick to befriend them.

"Most off worlders would tell you the same. There's that philosophy of theirs, you know IDIC? Vulcans are interested in knowing different people. There's some as won't bother with humans much but they're mostly all right. Socializing is rare, at least where we live. I'm glad for places like the Lullaby. The atmosphere's right; they don't tolerate bias here. Like that Orion guy next to us, people wouldn't pick on him about his background in this place." The man drunkenly clapped a hand over the tender part of Sulu's shoulder, making Sulu grit his teeth. "You Federation guys picked the right place."

Keeping his expression neutral, he nodded in agreement. "It does seem mellow." He politely extricated himself from the couple's boozy conversation and glanced over at the Orion man, who was pretending not to watch him. Perhaps he'd overhead the human man discussing him. Sulu approached and extended his hand. "Hey, how's it going?"

The Orion hesitated, and then extended a well muscled arm for a quick handshake. Sulu felt familiar calluses on the man's hand; a smooth thickness along the thumb and index finger from gripping handles and repetitively pushing buttons; a certain flatness along the opposite side along the edge of his palm and his little finger, gained from resting one's hands on a control panel. Pilot's hands, like his own.

Freelance pilot? Or a pilot in training here on New Vulcan, perhaps? Sulu had had Orion classmates at Starfleet, Gaila among them. Thinking fast, Sulu aimed a few general questions at the Orion man, asking about New Vulcan and city life. The man's gaze darted around the room as he gave imprecise responses. Obviously, he didn't want to talk to Sulu. Soon he excused himself and left.

Sulu ordered another drink and settled down alone at the table, surreptitiously using his communicator to contact the navigational team he managed on the Enterprise and request a database search for registered Orion pilots. Finishing, he glanced around the room. Where was Scotty?

Swaying to the music, the Vulcan musician snapped his fingers and moved his shoulders.

"...and that is what I know of Sarek at this time. He is respected. Public opinion of Coridians and others varies. Tellarites may not be popular, but Vulcans do not resolve conflicts with secretive violence." He popped another chunk of the rich, dark chocolate into his mouth and hummed.

"Seriously, lad, it's high time ye put those chockies away now and hurried home to yer lady friend."

"Is it not good to be prepared?" the musician asked with a grin. He stood up and began dancing next to the table.

Jim wondered if T'seau was attempting to resist his advances by speaking of dry philosophical matters, then decided she was truly passionate about IDIC.

"Intelligent, empathetic beings are willing to learn throughout life. On New Vulcan, we must be willing to accept the help of other beings and also to think of ways to help them in turn. Through such actions, we preserve IDIC and we preserve ourselves."

"That's a brilliant philosophy, Miss T'seau." Jim idly stroked his chest with the fingers of one hand.

"It is logical to provide the greatest possible safety and health to the greatest number. My response to your question was tangential in nature." T'seau's gaze followed Jim's fingers. "Yes, Sarek is popular. I did not understand why anyone would suspect him. Sarek has much influence, but he does not lead New Vulcan. Perhaps someone is jealous of his ability to affect political decisions and public opinion."

"I hope for a quick resolution. As for being an off worlder, I've been treated well since I arrived, even though I'm human. T'seau, I like you."

"Oh." As Jim shifted positions, she raised her gaze from below his waist. "I find your company agreeable as well. It is unusual for some human men to spend this much time speaking with a woman, is it not?"

"I like women." Jim beamed at her.

"That is not what I meant. You appear to enjoy my company, although I am a woman."

For a moment, Jim dropped the act. "Yeah, I do. You're interesting. I've never had such a long conversation with a Vulcan woman."

"I have met human men before and I had the impression that some find female minds inferior and our conversation tedious."

"Honestly, I disagree. I find most women intelligent, and observant. I prefer having a bridge crew with plenty of women because they notice things that I don't, and they multitask. I'm sorry that those human men you met weren't nice to you; you're beautiful and smart and you deserve better."

"Thank you, but I am also dishonest. Perhaps you suspect that my interest in you goes beyond conversation."

Jim winked at her. "Yes, ma'am. I was counting on it."

T'seau's face spread into a pretty, though startled, smile. "You appeal strongly to my sense of vanity."

"I'm willing to appeal to any senses you got, ma'am."

"Why do you so often use this term, "ma'am" ?"

"As you know, it's a polite form of address. I could call you by your first name instead, as you asked. But I think you like it when I say it to you, when I defer to you...ma'am."

T'seau was unable to suppress another smile. "Am I so obvious? Let us speak honestly. Captain Kirk, I am not a...'nice' or chaste Vulcan woman."

Jim laid the country boy routine on thick. "You seem mighty nice to me. Ain't nothing wrong with letting a guy know you like him."

Unconsciously, T'seau slid a finger below the neckline of her dress. "If we continue this conversation...privately at some point, it will please me greatly if you continue to speak in this Iowa fashion."

"Yes, ma'am. " Jim wiped a suddenly sweaty hand over the leg of his trousers, which now felt too tight in the front.

Imagine that; hearing a man talking as though he'd just come in from working in the back forty was a turn-on for a well-off, independent lady on a world as far from Iowa as one could get. He wasn't complaining.

"Right, that's enough, mate. Put it away before someone notices!" Scotty lunged for the bag of candy, but the giggling musician snatched it out of the way and shoved him. His intent was playful, but in his chocolate-addled state he was not mindful of his strength. Scotty sprawled across the table, sliding across its smooth surface and knocking two glasses to the floor. Other patrons turned to stare. Sulu heard the ruckus and put his communicator away. One of the brawny Vulcan bouncers strode across the room.

"Is there a problem, gentlemen?"

"No, not at all! The fellow was joking with me and forgot that his strength exceeds mine, 'tis nothing more."

The Vulcan musician spread his arms wide. "Give me a hug," he shouted at the bouncer. Pieces of chocolate dropped from the package in his hand onto the tile floor, cracking into small pieces near the bouncer's toes.

Scotty looked up at the bouncer from his awkward position on the table. Sulu reached his side and held up both hands in a placating gesture.

"I can explain," both men said simultaneously.

"Do so. Please," the blank-faced bouncer replied. "Are you aware that the use of chocolate is not generally approved of on New Vulcan?"

Sliding off the table, Scotty stood with an erect officer's bearing. "As much of the city has no doubt heard by now, the Federation ship Enterprise sent us to attend the series of diplomatic meetings at the Vulcan Parliament. I brought this chocolate with the intention of sharing it with other delegates, as an example of one of Earth's finest products." He sighed and let his shoulders slump. "Ever since I was a wee bairn, me Mam always suggested that I take along a wee gift when meeting new folk, as a means of makin' friends."

As Scotty's brogue thickened, Sulu studied the floor tiles, fighting guilty laughter. Jim had his country boy act, and Scotty had his humble Scots lad act; Sulu didn't use any such acts himself, and that made it difficult to keep a straight face when he observed someone else putting it on.

"Tonight's unfortunate attack on the Tellarite delegate ended that party early, and the chocolate did not see its intended use tonight." Not exactly a lie, he thought. "This musician played some nice songs at the party, and I offered the chocolate to him. I had nae idea of its quick and powerful effect! Chocolate puts me in a good mood...but never as good a mood as he's in now," the engineer finished, watching the Vulcan musician as he giggled, wobbled, and fainted into the bouncer's arms. "I am very sorry, gentlemen."

"Understood," the bouncer sighed. Two tall Vulcan waiters appeared, picked the musician up, and carried him into a back room. "He is well known here, and this behavior is unlike him. Melancholy is his typical demeanor. We will contact his friends and see him safely home."

"Aye, that's a relief. Forgive me for disturbing the peace of this fine establishment. I do hope this willna reflect poorly on the Federation. 'Twas intended to smooth over the rough parts of this evening."

"Imperfection is part of many interactions between beings. I will not hold you for arrest for either disturbing the peace or illegal importation. Nor will I ban you from Lullaby, but please refrain from all future unsanctioned distribution of chocolate and non-native substances on New Vulcan."

"Terribly sorry, and thank ye for understanding. Er, p'raps we'll move on now, eh Sulu?"

"Right." The human couple Sulu had spoken with mentioned other restaurants and clubs where off-worlders congregated. His communicator vibrated and he glanced at its screen.

Going to talk private w Vulcan lady. Meet me out side

"I need to start placing cash bets on Jim; I could retire early," Sulu sighed. He thanked the Vulcan bouncer and gave Scotty a meaningful look as they headed for the exit. "Kirk. Woman."

Scotty rolled his eyes. "It takes a long spoon tae sup with Vulcans, but the Captain has thrown away the spoon."

A cheerful-looking Jim awaited them in the street; the Vulcan woman stood some distance away.

Speaking quietly he said, "Listen, guys, I need to go and talk privately with T'seau - that's her name - at her home."

"No, Jim. We just left a reception where at least one of the guests is not what they seem. Not safe," countered Sulu.

"She is bonny but ye do not know her well enough to go tae her flat alone."

"If I required a background check every time I wanted to get down with somebody, I'd never - okay, I'll go somewhere semi-public with her, or something. Thing is, she can't really be seen with me in a typical Vulcan establishment and I'm not bringing her back to the guesthouse with all of your prying ears."

"You could sit in the transport vehicle and talk to her, or go to another off worlders' club."

"Good idea, Sulu, we'll do both things. Done, and done."

Scotty mumbled something. "What?" Jim asked.

"And how are we to get back to the guesthouse if ye get inspired and leave us stranded?"

Sulu laughed. "We can always rent camels."

The sensuality of the New Vulcan night surprised Jim. The night air was warm enough to be comfortable, and tall blooming plants perfumed the broad streets. Small groups of pedestrians and camels passed the small vehicle rented for the visit to New Vulcan.

T'seau was that rare thing, a Vulcan woman with some degree of independence. Jim couldn't guess her age, but she told him she was single. She shared a home in a well-kept neighborhood with a cousin, who she explained was away working on construction projects in rural settlements.

"This park is sees enough foot traffic to be safe," she said as they sat beneath the spreading branches of a treelike plant. "Off-worlders come here frequently, as I do myself. There is no need for you to be concerned about being observed, or overheard if we...make noise."

"I'll be quiet," he said, smiling at her. "I wouldn't want to do anything to make you uncomfortable."

"You are considerate," T'seau said.

"I do try to be."

Jim Kirk loved sex. In other news, water is wet.

Jim thought that sex should not be a mere spectator sport. He wasn't always very interested in watching holos of it, which puzzled some of his friends. Jim appreciated opportunities for visual stimulation, but the activity itself appealed to him more powerfully.

Someday, he'd learn how to handle the volatile combination of emotions and sex. He'd tried talking to his partners more and listening carefully. Jim had even secretively made appointments with a Starfleet therapist, but the frequent suggestions that he reflect upon his past disturbed him; he didn't always like what he found there. However, he was willing to practice better communication with partners, as long as there were some opportunities to communicate in bed.

Despite his efforts, he still found himself hearing the angry words, "You just don't understand, Jim!"

His honest reply, "You're right. I don't understand," led to shouts and ducking the padd thrown soon after at his head.

It wasn't that Jim didn't care about his partners; he tried hard to ensure that the pleasure was mutual, and he loved the tease of foreplay and the intimate conversations of afterglow. People spoke so much more freely after you'd just given them a screaming climax, and he found the conversations interesting. Unfortunately, Starfleet responsibilities complicated relationships, and he couldn't pursue sexual flings with his Enterprise crew. Rumor had it that his reputation was so bad that no crew would easily take a chance on him anyway.

Jim believed that if he ever fell in love with a crewmate he would strive to love them back, to protect them from gossip and danger. Less than two years into the mission, he'd had to discipline seven different crew members for their mutterings about Spock and Uhura, warning the gossips about damaging crew morale. Starfleet life involved danger and sorrow, and he wondered why some people couldn't let go of their biases and leave a rare and beautiful thing alone. The galaxies held enough suspicion, hatred, and divisiveness already. Why to add to it?

Jim observed a certain softness in Spock's expression when he looked at Nyota as they left the bridge together at the end of a shift. At such times Jim delayed his invitations to Spock suggesting a game of 3-D chess for at least two hours, knowing his messages would go unreturned while the couple stood close together on the Observation Deck or disappeared into private quarters.

It must be very reassuring to have at least one steady, caring person who looked at you so tenderly. Jim wanted to know what it felt like. He was ready to try, almost. Problem was, he couldn't figure out who would put up with him for more than a few months.

He looked over at T'seau, knowing that she was as emotionally uninvolved in this encounter as he was, perhaps even less, but he thought her attractive.

"Do you think...would you let me touch your hands?" he asked, almost shyly.

"You know of the ozh'esta? That happens between bondmates. For those who pursue solely recreational pleasures, mouth kisses or variations of the finger kiss are common."

"Uh...variations?"

"I will demonstrate." T'seau touched his arm and raised Jim's open hand to press against hers. "Only telepathic beings tend to find this exciting. If you desire it, I could attempt to touch your mind with my own."

Normally adventurous, Jim felt himself retreat, uneasily. "Huh. That seems so -personal. I don't know if I can do that."

T'seau smiled. "Mind contact often lacks appeal among beings unaccustomed to it. We may indulge in the more 'normal' forms of skin contact, instead."

Not in a public park while wearing a Federation dress uniform, he wasn't. But Jim wasn't ready to give up completely. "Kiss? On the mouth?"

T'seau agreed.

It wasn't so bad, getting partially undressed and making out in the shadows of a public park, even if Jim was the one who did the undressing. They kissed and touched and rolled over some sort of soft grasslike plants, finally taking a break to talk.

Vulcan names were difficult for Jim to differentiate, but he figured out from T'seau's conversation that some elite Vulcans disliked Sarek while others blamed off worlders, and others still didn't care who was in charge as long as they could obtain some personal wealth from their loyalty. Greed was common on any planet. Jim asked for the name of the woman T'seau described as greedy again, to make sure that he heard it clearly, filing it away as a question for Spock. Then he distracted T'seau again by launching into a line of sweet talk about her hands, and where he wished she would place them on his body.

Sleep clouded Nyota's thoughts, making her wonder why she was back inside the transport vehicle outside the Parliament Building. As she awoke she smelled the same slightly piquant fragrance of the flowering trees that had shielded her and Spock from inquisitive eyes the night before.

The feeling of smooth cloth against her bare legs reminded her that she was in bed, not spread out on the plush seats of the vehicle and shamelessly lifting her hips to meet the glide and stroke of Spock's hands. Something soft and cool brushed her fingers as she extended one hand. Opening her eyes, she saw flowers above her. One thick dark purple petal detached itself and landed on her forehead. She rolled onto her belly and looked at the blossom-laden branches gathered in a large vase on the bedside table. The other side of the bed was empty. Spock had provided flowers to greet her this morning in his stead.

Smiling, Nyota propped herself up on one elbow and looked at the flowers. She'd once read about an old Polish wedding custom of braiding a crown of rosemary, representing love, wisdom, remembrance, and fidelity, for a bride to wear on her head. She quietly mentioned it in passing to Spock as they passed a large rosemary bush on Starfleet's campus. Going beyond cultural anthropology, she'd admitted that she thought that it might be a wonderful, sensual indulgence to wake up next to sweet-smelling plants the morning after. He'd barely responded, and she had accepted it as one more sign that they held different opinions about certain aspects of romance. Now she was reminded of his potent memory as she looked at the branch bouquet. It was illogical to remove branches from a flowering plant for the frivolous rationale of sensual pleasure, but he had done it anyway.

Their bond was active, but muted; she sensed Spock reviewing a document about diplomatic protocol somewhere inside the large house. He was calm, preoccupied.

Relieved, Nyota closed the bond and said a quick prayer of gratitude. Seemingly no harm had come to Sarek or anyone else overnight. She finished and opened the bond and her eyes again, appreciating the flowers and enjoying the smooth texture of the sheets against the areas of her skin laid bare by her gown, which had ridden up around her waist. When one had spent months aboard a starship, it took some time to become acclimated to a warmer climate such as New Vulcan. She would rise soon, and make the best of the cool early morning.

The outer door of the suite opened, and Nyota looked over her shoulder. Spock appeared in the doorway, fully dressed.

"Ha'tha ti'lu, beloved,"she said.

"Good morning, tal-kam. Please do not move yet," he said as she began to turn over so that she could sit up. Nyota cast him a questioning look over her shoulder.

"When you reopened the bond a moment ago, I sensed that you took pleasure in the feeling of the cloth against your exposed skin," Spock said softly. "It distracted me sufficiently that I desired to see it for myself." His gaze moved over the uncovered curves of her backside, lower back, and her legs. "I have neglected you."

"I don't feel neglected. We've both had serious things to think about, and your father is in trouble. "

Spock sighed and leaned against the doorjamb. "The troubles we have encountered during this visit cause me to desire more distractions than usual, Nyota."

"We'll have our time together, later. Is Sarek well?"

"I found him awake and seated at the table with tea and a stack of padds and documents early this morning. He avoided responding to my inquiry about how well he rested. All diplomatic meetings at Parliament are postponed until further notice and the release of a report from New Vulcan Security forces. Later this afternoon he will have an appointment with Doctor McCoy."

Nyota quickly climbed off the bed and walked over to him. "What's wrong? Did all of the trouble last night make him feel sick? Is it stress, or something else?"

"Yesterday my father alluded to feeling ill. Today he informed me that he has not been completely well for some weeks. He contacted Dr. McCoy because the few Vulcan doctors in the city are in constant demand. Thinking it best to put the needs of the general population first, Sarek made use of his Federation connections and previous knowledge of Dr. McCoy's experience in xenobiology to request an examination."

Gently, she stroked his face. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I know that there's little we can do until he tells you what's wrong, but when he does speak about it, please let me in. Let me help. You know that I care for your father."

Spock closed his eyes and pressed his cheek into the palm of her hand. "For that, I thank you, and I cherish you." He opened his eyes. "Sarek has asked me to give him a few hours alone to meditate before Dr. McCoy arrives. You say that I have not neglected you, but I disagree. We have spent little time alone together since our arrival. Please allow me to show you New Vulcan as I know it; come to the Botanical Gardens and the Cultural Institute with me."

Nyota smiled. "Spock, are you asking me on a date?"

"Indeed, I am. Please excuse the lack of advance notice." He kissed her forehead. "Is your schedule full?"

"For you, angel, today's open. I want to share my day with you. Give me thirty minutes to shower and dress."

"Perhaps thirty-two point five, based upon past experience?"

"Spock, it only takes that long when you're watching and you try to 'help' me put my underwear on. Ooh, how nice, it's been too long since I saw that half-smile."

"It has been far too long since I saw your full smile."

"Let's keep trying, sweetheart. On a different note...I want to try the camels again this week. We were pretty distracted during that hike. I'd like to leave New Vulcan feeling...camel-competent."

"An interesting turn of phrase. It is more precise than the word 'fun', I suppose. Agreed, Nyota. We may develop some proficiency in camel riding this week, circumstances permitting."

Sulu stepped out of the shower and saw message lights flashing on both his communicator and padd. Quickly reviewing the messages, he saw that the database search conducted by his staff turned up a few dozen licensed Orion pilots known to the Federation. The whereabouts of several Orion pilots remained unknown, including one last known to be active within New Vulcan's galactic sector and using several pseudonyms. The Orion he'd met last night had avoided saying his name.

Unfortunately, nobody knew where that Orion male was now, which was unsurprising; his background included a few convictions for smuggling, piracy, and other questionable activities. The database image of him was indistinct, its pixels blurred.

None of it added up to a reason to murder Gav, at least not in a way that made sense to Sulu.

Sulu pulled on his one of his most well-cut casual shirts and trousers that flattered his strong legs. Maybe there was something to learn from Jim's crude approach to seductive intelligence gathering. Sulu still had a few questions to ask, and he might as well provide some visual distraction.