The Cultural Center of New Vulcan, capital city

Mid-morning

Spock was not always expressionless, something which became obvious if one paid close attention. Nyota saw hints of sadness, resignation, and finally calm acceptance move across his face while they explored the small collection displayed inside the Cultural Center of New Vulcan. Among the artifacts rescued from planetary destruction and items donated by diasporic Vulcans living on various planets, there were several pieces donated by relatives of Spock's late mother, Amanda; typical family gifts of Vulcan artwork, textiles, and household objects. Wishing to help Vulcans preserve their cultural memory, many of Amanda's relatives donated or loaned their own treasured mementos to the Cultural Center.

Nyota looked at an elegantly tapered vase, glazed in a deep shade of blue; one of Amanda's favorite colors, she remembered. "It seems right that these gifts found their way here. Your mother was always so kind. She gave so much during her life, and she continues to give through these objects."

"I was reluctant to come here and see these objects during my first few visits to New Vulcan," Spock admitted quietly. "Now I accept it. Any sense of personal loss I feel is tempered by my appreciation for the generosity of the Grayson family, and the acceptance of their gifts by the Vulcan people."

A growing archive of recorded interviews and other media described the way Vulcan had looked, sounded, and felt; cultural preservationists interviewed new subjects every week in an attempt to capture memories of their old home. Spock and Nyota decided to browse the interview collection some time in the future.

The small size of the Cultural Center's entire collection shortened the couple's visit, and they decided to move on to the Botanical Gardens early in order to escape the hottest hours of the day.

"I have been told that the historians wish to interview us as well," Spock said as they descended the Cultural Institute's broad double staircase.

"You and Sarek?"

"No. Us. Despite the initial lack of welcome shown to you by certain citizens, the majority are curious. Some ask me about you when I travel here alone. Did you not notice Vulcan passerby staring as we walked here?"

"Weren't those stares of disapproval? I was doing my best not to notice." Nyota had tried to keep her face calm and avoided looking back at the faces turning to look at them, although she couldn't help herself from smiling at a few children and elderly people - no teeth showing, of course.

"Your caution is somewhat justified, based upon your unkind treatment by certain biased citizens. However, it is possible that other Vulcans wish to greet or speak with you, but do not know how to approach you without giving offense," Spock replied.

"Oh! I hadn't thought of it that way." Nyota turned the possibility of Vulcan shyness over in her mind, wondering if she appeared unapproachable. Vulcans expected expressionless faces on their own people; perhaps they had assumed she'd look friendlier, like someone they could be emotionally expressive and sociable with, and were disappointed? Not that she was obliged to change herself to meet someone else's idea of what they thought she was. Perhaps she could speak with Sarek and T'voria, who was unusually extroverted for a Vulcan woman, later.

The familiar tone used for contact between the Enterprise bridge crew sounded as they reached the lobby of the Cultural Center. Nyota almost reached for the communicator she'd brought in her shoulder bag, but the signal was for Spock, not her.

Spock listened to the person speaking on his communicator and Nyota browsed a display of furniture to give him privacy. A beautifully carved wooden table sat atop the platform; she walked around it several times, fascinated by the smooth curves and intricate details carved into it. Animals, clouds, and twisting vines carved along the table's legs and sides almost seemed to pulse with life. It had the beauty and seriousness of an heirloom piece, yet the table was obviously new; the smell of recently carved and varnished wood hung in the air around it. Words were carved around the edges of the table in Vulcan and Standard script:

A gift to the people of New Vulcan

made in honor of the lost ones of Vulcan

May we all work together in harmony as we strive to rebuild

INIFINITE DIVERSITY IN INFINITE COMBINATION

This table was carved by Donstelralth with the assistance of his apprentices Serranstivlen and Stelendos

on New Vulcan

Nyota made a note of the name of the talented woodcarver. Spock closed his communicator and approached her.

"Jim has requested that all Enterprise crew meet briefly at the Botanic Gardens. Dr. McCoy will join us briefly before he departs to meet with Sarek. According to Jim, he went 'out on the town' last night with Mr. Sulu and Mr. Scott."

"Uh, oh." Nyota raised an eyebrow.

Spock half-smiled, pleased by how completely natural Nyota's mirroring of his own gestures had become. "The Captain assures me that no one was arrested."

"Yeah, not this time. And the purpose of this meeting is...?"

"Each one of them gathered what he believes is useful information last night; they are making an unsanctioned effort to prove my father's innocence. I suggested that it would be logical to compare our observations and determine what information is useful."

"It's interrupting our date, but I also observed something last night. I want to be included in this discussion."

"Nyota...I am sorry, I did not think -" Spock sighed. "I assure you that I do value our time together. It will take some time for them to join us. We shall have time alone together in the gardens, and I will be protective of our time together after the meeting." He stroked the back of her hand. "You shall even have your camels today, if you wish, tal-kam."

Nyota laughed despite her disappointment. "It must seem as though I'm fixated on those camels, but aren't they fascinating? Their long eyelashes make them look so sweet, yet they seem to have tempers like hot pepper! Don't you find them interesting, in a contrary, illogical way?" she asked as they walked out into the late morning sunlight.

"In all honesty, I find the creatures unnerving and unpredictable. Their tendency to randomly seize mouthfuls of one's clothing is startling. However, I am willing to join you in your quest to understand them."

...

The morning air was still cool and fresh as Hikaru Sulu strode along the city streets. He'd promised his crewmates to return in an hour, saying he had an errand to run alone. Seeking out information alone was probably foolhardy, but it seemed like his best option under the circumstances. His keen navigator's memory served him well as he retraced the path the Enterprise men had taken last night. He recalled a food shop over here, a half-empty lot of used transport vehicles on sale over there.

Sulu kept his shoulders squared, his gait brisk and confident. He pretended indifference to the admiring glances following him. Sulu knew that he was handsome but it had never gone to his head; he wondered why something as simple as a person's looks made people let their guard down, allowing themselves to be charmed and led into risky situations. He wasn't an outrageous flirt like Jim, who joked with mock jealousy that Sulu only had to show up to draw attention to himself. Using sexual attraction to get something from someone seemed a bit wrong to Sulu. When he liked someone, he voiced sincere compliments on beauty, intelligence, or skills and hoped that events would unfold naturally. Now he was about to be insincerely flirtatious. It felt vaguely immoral, as though he were about to pick someone's pocket.

Lullaby, like all nightclubs, seemed reduced in size and glamour in daylight. The front door was firmly shut; the potted plants outside looked dry and dusty. Sulu looked at the communications panel next to the front door, but it was covered by a piece of metal mesh that made it unusable. The street was absolutely silent until a door slammed somewhere in back of the building. Sulu tried to appear casual as he followed the sound.

There was indeed a door in back, but it was also closed and locked; it didn't give when he pressed a hand against it. The vents on the back of the building were too high to look into without attracting attention. Sulu returned to the front of the building, halting suddenly as he came face to face with the Vulcan waiter who had eyed him last night standing near the front door.

The man didn't smile, but he looked vaguely pleased. Sulu pushed back the sunglasses he wore, spearing his fingers with a stroking motion through his thick black hair. More than one lover had complimented Sulu on his hair. A few had begged him to caress their bare skin with it. The man's eyes followed Sulu's fingers and the flexing of Sulu's biceps. He unfolded his own thick arms.

Arrgh. It's tough to fake flirtation with somebody who's probably strong enough to break you in two.

"Greetings," Sulu said. "Maybe you remember me?"

"Could I forget one such as you?"

Figures that a Vulcan would get right to the point. "No more than I could forget someone like you," Sulu managed, a bit nervously. The Vulcan looked just a fraction happier, and Sulu plunged into his questioning. "I wonder if you could tell me about someone else who was here last night." The man's expression went blank, and Sulu thought that his shoulders sagged a little bit. "Not for personal reasons, professional ones. You probably know who I am?"

"Starfleet man, Federation."

"Yes. My name's Hikaru Sulu. I spoke briefly with someone here who, if I understood correctly, has some experience with flying ships. Just had a professional, mechanical question for him, wondered how to get in contact. An Orion."

"Yes, an Orion man comes here sometimes. I do not know his name. He only has come a few times during past month, drinks, does not speak with many." The Vulcan looked at Sulu curiously. "As a foreigner, you seek other foreigners? Or are you social with Vulcans?"

"I'm social with anyone who is peaceful, generally speaking." Sulu saw no need to mention his years of combat and weapons training; being Vulcan, this man might try to involve him in a lengthy debate. Or maybe not.

"Will you return to Lullaby?" the Vulcan asked, almost wistfully. "Do not worry; you and our friends will be admitted despite the unusual incident last night. It provided me and my co-workers with amusing conversation. If you return here, I will purchase you a drink."

"Thank you, I'll consider it." Flirtation, flirtation! "Uh, I'd really like to have a drink with you, but I can't promise you anything. I'm not sure when or if I can return. Do you know that Orion's name or his contact information? Does he work for the space port or anything?"

"I do not have any of this information. I do not think my co-workers know. The Orion speaks little and watches much. As do I. You are aesthetically appealing." The man blurted out the last sentence shyly.

"Thanks. No one's ever complimented me in quite that way before. Sorry, I've got to go deal with some work issues now, but perhaps we'll see each other again." Sulu smiled at the Vulcan. "You are quite aesthetically striking yourself."

The Vulcan stared at Sulu as though he were about to faint under the combined brilliance of the gathering sun and Sulu's smile. Sulu waved goodbye and left, still feeling uneasy.

Kind of odd that no one would learn a regular customer's name. Maybe he paid for his drinks using anonymous currency chips. Much of New Vulcan's infrastructure remained incomplete. Planetary security did not extend to thorough monitoring of all private citizens or guest workers; such monitoring would have violated the Vulcan idea of a free society. New Vulcan's resources were largely diverted towards housing, basic services, food and water, education. Someone with the right knowledge could probably travel, make purchases, and even move on and off planet without using a real name or any name at all. Nyota had told him about the ship leaving New Vulcan airspace without clearance; Sulu suspected that the secretive Orion might know how where that ship took off and landed. Whoever this Orion was, he had enough funds to pay for dilithium crystals to fuel his ship, a small, fast model popular with experienced pilots.

Preoccupied with his theories, Sulu almost missed the bridge leading back to the guesthouse. He turned back and crossed the small river, one of several running through the city. The guesthouse was in sight when he saw the Orion man approaching him as he crossed the bridge.

Sulu waved to get the man's attention. "Hey - hello! Last night, at Lullaby? Can I talk to you?"

The Orion man backed away, then turned and ran in the opposite direction.

"Hey! Wait up!"Sulu pursued him, drawing a few curious stares from the handful of other foreigners in the square outside the guesthouse. The Orion changed directions, turning down a broad street lined with market stalls, and disappeared among a crowd of shoppers.

Sulu slowed down and kept moving through the crowd, trying to catch his breath as he looked into stalls, into faces. No luck; the man was gone. Making a Starfleet officer chase you in public made a person look guilty, but he'd reserve judgment until he spoke to the Orion again. Sulu doubted that this would be their last encounter.

...

Four Enterprise men, even out of uniform and wearing discreet civilian dress, made a handsome sight. Such a sight was also a rare one; even the most sophisticated Vulcans slowed their steps to watch as Jim, Leonard, Sulu, and Scotty strode four abreast along a broad promenade.

Scotty winced slightly and rubbed the small of his back as they neared the entrance to the Botanical Gardens. Jim nudged him in the ribs. "Age creeping up on you, Scotty?"

The engineer scowled at the Captain, who seemed disgustingly energetic and restored after nothing more than three hours' sleep and a shower. "Listen, Bright Eyes, you try getting yer arse thrown across a stone table and see how refreshed ye feel come morning. I'm surprised to see ye still awake after staying out 'til dawn."

Jim smiled and shrugged. "I had a good reason to stay out."

"Most farm boys do their plowin' in the daytime, no' all night long. Ye are a busy farmer indeed," muttered Scotty.

Leonard rolled his eyes. "Could we please elevate the tone of this conversation, gentlemen? I could offer you a hypospray for your back, Scotty."

"No, thank ye, Doc. I'll try to ice it again when we get back to the guesthouse," Scotty replied, determined to be stoic.

Two people stood facing one another beneath tall flowering plants beside a pond some distance ahead. Spock held one hand, palm down, above Nyota's hand, which faced his with the palm up. As their crewmates drew closer they observed that although neither spoke, some sort of energy seemed to move between their hands, which slowly moved closer together. Spock stared down at Nyota with an expression of unguarded tenderness, mirrored in her face as she looked up at him.

"Give them a moment," Jim said quietly, gesturing to the others to stop walking. Hearing him, Spock looked up, and the intimate connection was broken.

"Good morning, gentlemen," Spock said hastily, his cheekbones flushing green.

Nyota gasped softly, covering her hand with a fold of her skirt although her hand was empty.

What's that all about? Jim wondered. Maybe I should have listened more closely to what that Vulcan woman T'seau said last night about hands, sex, and bondmates.

Nyota quickly regained her composure and straightened her shoulders in an officer's posture, letting her arms fall to her sides. "Uh, good morning, everyone. Hope you're all okay after last night?"

McCoy said, "We're still intact and out of jail, despite these three gallivanting about town last night."

"Gallivanting, Doctor?" Spock's eyebrows rose slightly. "Please explain."

As McCoy, Sulu, and Scotty summarized the night's events, Nyota tilted her head towards Jim, requesting to speak privately a few steps away.

"Jim, I'd have appreciated your including me in that call to Spock earlier. I'm an officer too."

"Uhura, it's just that...you're Sarek's daughter-in-law. I didn't want to upset you, considering your potential emotional response to this whole situation."

"Spock's his son, and you called him. His emotional response may not be obvious, but believe me, he does have emotions involved here, strong ones. Women deal with unwanted dangers as often as men do in our galaxy, you know that. I also want to see Sarek cleared of suspicion. Please include me in our future discussions of this in the same way you include the men, Jim."

"Right." Jim remembered what he'd told the attractive Vulcan woman T'seau last night, claiming that he valued the presence and insights of the women members of his bridge crew. Jim had assumed that Nyota would stand by and let the men lead the discussion, which was unlike her. "Won't do it again, Uhura. Come on, let's all sort this out together."

The group walked further, pausing inside a half-circle of columnar, cactus-like plants.

"All right," Jim said. "Who heard something, who saw something? Go around the circle and tell it."

McCoy said, "I ain't got much, so I'll go first. Sarek didn't say anything last night that suggested someone may be trying to set him up. He's got that huge bodyguard to protect him - I know, Spock, his job title is valet, but come on now, that guy looks like he could wrestle a camel and Klingon at the same time and win. Seems trustworthy, if not a great conversationalist. At least he can protect Sarek if somethin' else happens."

Scotty spoke next. "Sadly, the chocolate bought me little except some tipsy philosophizing from that lovelorn Vulcan lute player. I did get the impression that foreigners are generally welcome on New Vulcan, as they have their own troubles to deal with."

Jim spoke up. "I consulted with a Vulcan citizen last night, a casual conversation." Seeing everyone except Spock blink at him, he persisted. "We talked, and she let me in on a bit of local gossip, mentioned a Vulcan woman named T'ober, said that she has political aspirations?"

Nyota and Spock exchanged a look. "We both know her, and she was at the party last night, speaking with the Andorian Thelev," Nyota said. T'ober made it plain that she is not fond of humans, but I didn't hear her say anything about Sarek, the Coridians, or the Tellarites."

Everyone looked at Spock.

"I observed and heard the same things related to the attempted murder of the Tellarite delegate Gav that everyone else did." The overheard gossip about his sexual tastes was most likely unrelated to the incident and he would not shame Nyota by referring to what they had done inside the transport vehicle.

Nyota spoke. "The Andorian delegate, Thelev, has an accent inconsistent with those I've heard in studies and archival recordings of standard Andorian or in common Andorian dialects. Maybe it means nothing, but I noticed it...even dreamed about it. Oh, and he said something suggesting he was only familiar with humans who don't look like me and even asked if I were human like all of you. Aside from being insulting, that remark seemed odd for someone working in the diplomatic corps."

Nyota felt Spock respond with a wave of disgust at the Andorian's words, but she continued. "I explained that Black and brown skinned humans are part of Earth's population and Starfleet and got the impression that it was news to him."

"Ny, I woulda been happy to set him straight on that for you," McCoy said protectively. "I may be from Mississippi, but my Mama raised me to respect all people's humanity, regardless of skin color."

"He said that to yer face, did he? Dobber," muttered Scotty.

"Oh, I'm not sure it was that, guys, though I do thank you - it just was like he didn't have much exposure to humans. Yeah, Thelev didn't seem to like me much but maybe it wasn't for that reason - and I know when that's happening, after years of dealing with bigots. Perhaps he's new at the job and hasn't traveled or watched holos much, or was poorly trained."

"Don't make excuses for him, Nyota," Sulu sighed. "He shouldn't have said that to you. It wasn't just ill-informed, it was rude."

Jim continued, "One ignorant, inexperienced Andorian who speaks before he thinks. Not sure where to go with that. Sulu had an Orion man run from him - you tell it, Sulu, so we get the details."

Sulu described the inquiries he'd made and the morning's the chase, adding "This guy had pilot's calluses on at least one hand. Spock, Nyota, I made a leap of reasoning and wondered if he'd be connected to that small ship you saw leaving New Vulcan airspace. Database searches didn't list a single licensed Orion pilot who gave New Vulcan as either a temporary or permanent residence. This guy has no license, but he does have a record - busted several times for smuggling and piracy."

Uneasily, Nyota thought of Gaila and the way every Orion seemed to have a bad reputation, even if it were undeserved. "So maybe this man is transporting illegal goods from New Vulcan to Orion? That would explain the pilot's calluses, but the ship we saw that morning was too small to transport much cargo. He'd have to be carrying something small and portable."

"What's New Vulcan got that Orions can trade quickly? Gold or other precious metals? Gems?"

"Not people, I hope," Nyota said, still thinking of Gaila. Orion women had little control over their lives and bodies on their home planet.

Spock sensed her discomfort. "I assure you that anyone dealing in human trafficking or slavery on New Vulcan will be punished swiftly and severely. No profit is equal to the cost of a life and a katra."

"What if the profit isn't from something tangible?" McCoy reasoned. "Information? Espionage?"

"Energy," Sulu said. "Dilithium crystals."

"Mr. Sulu, New Vulcan does not have significant deposits of dilithium," Spock said.

"No, but this week New Vulcan was the host to Coridian delegates, and their planetary system is spilling over with dilithium, making them influential," Sulu replied. "So influential that they're on the verge of joining the Federation, which made someone - Gav, the Tellarite delegate - unhappy enough to argue in public with Sarek and anyone else who would listen."

"If Gav voted out the Coridians, access to dilithium would be inconvenient - for legal and illegal trade. So someone had to get Gav out of the way." Scotty tapped his chin, thinking. "The logical culprits would be the Coridians, eh? They want to supply dilithium, get rich. But nobody saw any Coridians leave the party. We know that Sarek wouldn't lose his temper and try to kill a guest, no matter how rude."

"It was the method of attack which led to the accusation of Sarek," Spock reminded them. "Initial examinations suggested that Gav's injuries were consistent with Suus Mahna. Fewer than a thousand remaining Vulcans are expert practicioners of traditional Vulcan martial arts."

"Perhaps someone hired an assassin? A Vulcan hit man?" Jim proposed.

Sulu shook his head. "You could always learn to fight like a Vulcan, even if you didn't master the art. I could break a bone with Akido or karate just as I could with Suus Mahna. Method aside, the bone's still broken, but just because I break it on New Vulcan instead of in San Francisco, somebody may quickly decide that a Vulcan did it."

Nyota sighed. "Context is everything. The assassin could be anyone."

Spock's gaze swept the half-circle. Emotion - affection, appreciation - flowed from him across the bond, and Nyota wondered if the others also sensed it. "I am grateful to all of you. Collectively, I believe we may solve Sarek's problem, and help to obtain some justice for Gav."

"So all we gotta do now is find one nameless Orion in a big city with an incomplete infrastructure, and ask him questions. Ain't that just peachy? Y'all do remember that Vulcan security forces are supposed to be handlin' this, right?" McCoy demanded.

Jim's voice took on a placating tone. "Our crew isn't actually investigating this case. We're just informing ourselves about a local event and getting to know the residents. Right, Spock?"

"Indeed. I see no problem with acquainting oneself with current affairs in a peaceful manner. If some of what the Enterprise crew learns about the Orion man and the attack on the delegate Gav is useful to Vulcan investigators, that is merely, as humans say, 'lucky'."

McCoy titled his head back and gestured towards the heavens in a plea for help. "Give me strength! All right, everybody do what they think they gotta do, but keep it legal."

"Don't we always keep it legal, more or less?" Jim smiled innocently. "Right, everybody, stay safe and keep your eyes open. I propose that we all meet up at dinner tonight for purely social time; Spock, I've sent an invitation to Sarek."

"I'm interested in renting a camel," Scotty said. "I'd like to know a bit more about the beasties. Sulu?"

"Sure, why not? I can manage a horse; camels are a new challenge for me."

"We will accompany Sarek to his appointment with Dr. McCoy later, but we have two free hours now." Spock looked at Nyota, wondering if she preferred that the two of them be alone. He felt her struggle, and then give in to the wish to be sociable and polite.

"Maybe we can join you on those camels," Nyota said. Spock brushed his fingertips over the soft skin of her forearm.

When?

Tonight? I cannot be sure, she responded. She let him touch her thoughts briefly, revealing her worries over Sarek and the violence at the party, her lingering feelings of rejection by the Vulcan socialites, her feelings of being an outsider.

I want you. I will protect you. You are hardly alone or abandoned here. Ashayam, please set these things aside and let us enjoy being together tonight.

Nyota did not seem completely reassured, but she understood him, and that would have to suffice.

They caught up with their crewmembers, who were entering an area where a line of camels chewed their cud, occasionally glancing with disdain at approaching humanoids.

Someone else also caught up with the Enterprise crew, though their unnoticed companion thought it wise to follow at a distance. A man openly carrying a knife might have drawn attention in such an environment, where Vulcan and foreign families walked, chatted or sat quietly beneath shade plants.

Fortunately, it was easy to hide a knife, even an expensive, well-polished one, within the folds of a skirt.

Dobber= 20th/21st century Scottish slang for a stupid person

...