The Municipal Botanical Gardens, New Vulcan

Late morning

The wait for camel rentals in the Botanical Gardens was brief. No foreign visitors other than the Enterprise crew seemed to have been attracted to the shady avenues and colorful plants, and only a few Vulcans strolled past. The air felt warm and dry and a few Vulcan women wore veils of lacy openwork threads, perhaps to filter out dust.

Nyota and Scotty chose their camels first. The engineer mounted his with surprising grace and ease, mentioning his past desert travels on Earth during a pre-Federation job.

Apprehensively, Nyota took a few cautious steps toward the camel selected for her and looked up into its large, black eyes.

"Easy, friend," she said gently. How should she approach it? Dogs and cats were easily charmed; this creature would make her earn its good opinion. "Hello, aren't you lovely? You've got beautiful long eyelashes." The camel extended its neck and sniffed along the folds of the full skirted dress she wore. "Oh, friendly camel, you're so nice. Who's a pretty camel?"

Jim grinned. "Listen to you, sweet talking that critter. Does that work on Spock?"

Nyota responded only with a raised eyebrow, which made Jim laugh.

The camel's handler looked at Nyota with a bemused expression and coaxed the camel into a kneeling position. Covering her hand with the cloth of her skirt to minimize skin contact, Nyota let the handler help her into the saddle, which she clung to as the camel stood. It was a bit like being aboard a ship in rough water; she shifted her weight, trying to maintain her balance while the camel rose up on its long legs. Spock watched, his face impassive, but she sensed mild concern. Determined to meet the challenge, Nyota managed to keep her seat and with the handler's assistance she and the camel walked in a broad circle a few times. Scotty was already some distance ahead on the path, riding his camel at a comfortable pace.

"Nyota!"

It was easy to look at a wide surrounding area from the camel's long-legged height. Nyota saw T'voria approaching, her skirts swaying as she hurried over. Although the Vulcan woman did not smile in the public setting, as T'voria drew close Nyota thought that her facial expression indicated that the eccentric, friendly dressmaker was pleased to see her and the Enterprise crew.

"Moi kima - greetings, Osasu Spock, esteemed Enterprise visitors. It is agreeable to meet you again."

"Moi kima, T'voria. Forgive for not dismounting - I'm still new at riding. What brings you to the Botanical Gardens?"

"I often come here during the mornings while my children are at school. The quiet atmosphere is appealing. I see that camels are of interest to your crew?"

"Just curious, ma'am. Horses, I can handle. It would be a shame to leave New Vulcan without trying something new." Jim smiled and winked at T'voria, who blinked back at him, then squeaked nervously, fidgeting with her skirts. Behind her, Nyota mouthed the word "MARRIED" at Jim. The young Vulcan woman was most likely unfamiliar with flirtatious, attractive human men; Nyota feared that Jim's behavior might confuse her. Also, other Vulcans were nearby, and they might observe T'voria's discomfort.

"T'voria, please don't take Jim's behavior seriously," she said gently. "Just a human social custom. Attention without intention."

Relaxing, T'voria smiled at Nyota and laughed audibly. Nyota realized that aside from Spock, she had never heard a Vulcan laugh, and certainly not in public. It was a marvelous laugh, crystalline and musical; Jim and Sulu looked intrigued and McCoy glanced away from the camels to regard T'voria appreciatively. Almost immediately, a deep green flush rose underneath T'voria's tawny skin. A few other Vulcans standing nearby paused in their conversation to stare.

McCoy chuckled. "That quote applies perfectly to Jim. Good call, Ny; a Communications Officer has to use the right word at the right time. She's right, ma'am, Jim's acts like a rascal but he's harmless-"

Flowing skirts, sleeves, and a flash of metal whirled toward Jim. He let out a surprised cry and leapt out of the way. Ongoing combat training kept his reflexes sharp; the blade of the knife sliced open the side of his shirt but only grazed his skin, cutting a thin red line. Thrown off balance, the assailant, whose face was covered by a dust-filtering veil, staggered forward, backed up, then prepared to lunge again.

Onlookers gasped, and several agitated camels stirred as though about to bolt. McCoy quickly moved away from the stumbling, then kicking legs of the nearest camel.

"No! Drop it!" Furious, Nyota gripped the saddle firmly and swung one leg over the camel's back to dismount, ready to defend Jim.

Not that he needed any defense. T'voria moved behind the attacker, grabbing the wrist of the hand that held the knife, but she was shorter and slighter of build and was pushed to the ground. Sulu moved quickly to take her place and twisted the attacker's wrist until the hand opened and the knife dropped to the ground. Human strength was no match, unfortunately, and Sulu too was pushed away; he kept his footing and aimed a roundhouse kick. The kick connected, but the attacker only stumbled, then turned and ran away at an uncanny speed. Instinctively, Nyota leaned forward at an angle which had once felt second nature during her sprinting days on the Utendaji Preparatory Academy track team and gave chase.

She'd seen that the attacker was strong; as a gap opened up between them, Nyota quickly realized that they were fast as well. Catching up seemed impossible, and even if she did catch up - Oh, no. She didn't have her phaser with her. T'Pau and the Vulcan socialites had intimidated her enough to make her go into Vulcan society unarmed, though ladylike. At least she could see the attacker's escape route. Nyota's lungs ached and she felt her pace slowing against her will. The person in the veil hurtled through the open entrance gate and towards a waiting transport vehicle. Accomplices? If they were armed, Nyota realized, it was all over -

"Nyota! I told you to stop!" A pair of strong arms wrapped around her arms, lifted her off her feet and pulled her close to a solid, broad chest. Gulping air, Nyota felt Spock's fear and protectiveness across the bond.

Tal-kam, you were not armed! You pursued an assailant alone!

"Sorry, Spock, I wasn't thinking," she gasped aloud.

That is distressingly obvious. Spock had a way of thinking sarcastically. He set her down on her feet as Sulu, McCoy, T'voria, and an agitated Jim Kirk ran up and stopped beside them. The attacker climbed into the vehicle, which hurtled away, weaving dangerously in and out of traffic along the road until it disappeared from view.

"Uhura, couldn't you hear me shouting commands?" Jim demanded, panting from the exertion. "Nobody on my crew puts themselves at risk, Captain's orders. Thanks for trying, but you shouldn't have pursued without backup."

"Sorry, Captain. I reacted without thinking. I just - I've been a little bit tense on this planet."

"Ain't we all," panted McCoy, resting his hands on his knees while he caught his breath. "Captain, I need to look at your injury."

"Oh." Jim glanced down to see thin streaks of blood smeared across the skin bared by the torn fabric of his shirt. "I didn't even feel it while I was running, I was so angry. Some diplomatic mission this is turning out to be."

Thumping hooves sounded Scotty's arrival. Although his camel was not galloping, he had managed to make it hurry, and he'd managed to keep his seat. "Captain, are ye all right?"

"Fine; I've just lost a little blood and one shirt."

...

Angry voices shouted at each other inside the fleeing vehicle.

"You are reckless! The Enterprise humans could have easily captured you, standing next to them like that! Are you truly Vulcan if you are so impatient and foolish?"

"Do not shout at me! I may allow you into my bed but I am still your equal, more than your equal. Your plan to eradicate Gav the Tellarite failed. I grow tired of waiting. Sarek should have been arrested last night, and that half-human chimera he spawned and his human toy both expelled from this planet."

"Your logical plan failed to come true," came the sneering reply.

"It is not my fault! Sarek has more influence than I knew. Those Federation starship humans are in my way. I intended to frighten them into leaving."

"Your way? Not our way?"

"Do not argue with me! Our way. Why doubt my loyalty to you? You will receive a large share of the dilithium profits, if that is your concern." Reassuring fingers smoothed over the greenish knuckles tightly gripping the controls. "Slow down now; we are well beyond the city limits and those humans were not well organized enough to follow us. Let us abandon this vehicle and seek out a private place. We have much to discuss. Gav remains unconscious, and Sarek remains free. A change of plans is in order."

...

Garden employees showed them to a private office, where McCoy cleaned the wound, which was more of a bad scratch than a slice. Jim, although disconcerted by the attack, kept up a stream of bitter, bravado-infused jokes and pretended not to notice T'voria sneaking glances at his bare chest.

Spock stepped into a different room to report the attack to Sarek. Nyota overheard a tightness in the tone of his voice. The words he used became shorter, the sentence structure more formal; apparently Spock and Sarek disagreed on something.

With Jim safely examined and bandaged - use of a replicator for a skin patch would have to wait until the doctor had access to a medical facility - Leonard McCoy turned his attention to T'voria.

"Young lady, do you mind answering a question on behalf of the Federation? How did a nice stay-at-home mama like you learn military-style attack and wrist holds for disarming someone armed with a knife?"

Sulu cocked his head and regarded T'voria inquisitively. "I was about to ask the same question, Ms. T'voria, but I didn't want to put you on the spot."

T'voria rubbed her hands together nervously, but replied, "I have not always been a housewife." She looked at Nyota. "When we talked, I did not lie to you, Nyota. I told you much about my life on our ancestral planet and on New Vulcan. This is what I did not tell you: when I was younger I feared that this scar on my face would make it difficult, if not impossible, for me to marry. I decided to pursue some career or training so that I might live with some degree of independence. I spent some time in combat training with planetary security forces. Indeed, a few years passed before my parents successfully arranged a good match for me. Combat trainers told me that I have a talent for fighting, but I am not typically aggressive. When the opportunity for marriage arose, I took it."

McCoy said, "Well, I can hardly blame you for any of that, Miz T'voria. It's always good to have a backup plan so you're able to handle whatever life throws at you."

"Why didn't you tell me?" asked Nyota.

"For years, I have attempted to be more like a traditional Vulcan lady, but the social gates are usually closed to someone like me. I do not usually tell anyone that I know how to fight."

"You remember how those other Vulcan women spoke to me in the cave. My Starfleet training made T'ober suggest that I'm not much of a lady, either."

"I admire you; you have a career, and you have many professional skills," T'voria said plainly. "Why would I discuss my inferior training?"

"Didn't look inferior to me," Nyota responded. "You were brave and selfless, and we all appreciate what you did, even though you shouldn't have risked it; you've got your family to think of. As for a career, well...you've got two kids and you're managing a household on an unfamiliar planet. Speaking as an observer, I think that being a parent is one of the toughest jobs there is."

"Ain't that the truth," McCoy sighed, thinking of his daughter and ex-wife. He looked at T'voria's scar again; he wanted to ask her how she'd gotten it, but politeness stifled his question.

Spock returned. His face was calm but a greenish flush along his cheekbones and ears betrayed a recent emotional reaction. "Captain, you are well?"

Jim stood and rolled his nicely muscled bare shoulders. T'voria blinked rapidly, staring. Sulu exchanged a look with Scotty and rolled his eyes. "Bones repaired me well enough for now, and he'll add a skin patch when we get to the medical facility this afternoon. I'll make a quick recovery and be back on the town soon."

"Perhaps not, Captain. Sarek is concerned for your safety and requests that the Enterprise crew immediately move into the diplomatic manor where Nyota and I now reside. There is room for all, he assured me."

Nyota's hopes for a few quiet evenings spent lounging half-dressed on the rooftop garden, with Spock equally half-dressed vanished. True, her crewmates would be respectful of their privacy, but their presence would restrict her usual intimate behavior as well as Spock's. Spock considered it vulgar to describe either one of them as a "screamer" but the label fit both of them, especially following long periods without any sexual activity. The bedroom soundproofing, if there were any at the manor, was probably unequal to that on the Enterprise. Even if Jim were on his best behavior, he and Scotty and Sulu and McCoy might find it difficult to avoid awkward moments at the breakfast table. Not that she wanted to endanger her crewmates, but she yearned for a few secluded hours with Spock.

"I thank Sarek for his generosity, but we might could remain at the guesthouse," Jim said tactfully. "We'll just request that they enable extra security methods."

"I believe that Sarek has more than physical safety in mind. This is a diplomatic matter. Considering recent events, it is his opinion that a show of unity among those with Federation ties will dissuade further conflict among foreign delegates and Vulcans. A Vulcan who opens his home to off-worlders shows a desire for peace and progress. This does not mean that Sarek has no personal regard for the Enterprise crew; indeed, he assures me that he thinks well of all of you. However, this is a time when friendship serves as a useful example to others. Your presence at his house will be a potent symbol."

"I understand." Jim glanced around at his surprised crew. "New orders, everyone. Back to the guesthouse to pack up, on the double, and we move in with Sarek for the duration of our visit."

"Does this mean we won't be able to move freely around the city?" Sulu asked, thinking of his investigations earlier that morning.

"No, Mr. Sulu; Sarek simply requests that Enterprise crew go into the city together in small groups. My father employs private security personnel, and they will accompany you."

"I dinna need nor want a babysitter," sighed Scotty. "How many people in this city could possibly have it in for us? We won't be in danger everywhere we go, surely."

"Y'all know that we can't risk it," McCoy said. "If somebody told me last week that I was gonna see somebody try to stab Jim while he was standing at a Rent-a-Camel concern on New Vulcan, I woulda laughed at 'em. Nothing's predictable when you're working this gig. That's Starfleet life for ya."

...

The crew piled into two separate transport vehicles: McCoy, Scotty, and Jim with Sarek's large valet -who-wasn't-a-valet, and Sulu and T'voria with Spock and Nyota. Spock suggested that T'voria contact her husband, despite T'voria's insistence that she was unlikely to be the target of repercussions. While T'voria reluctantly used the transport vehicle's communicator to assure her husband of her safety, Spock quietly contacted Sarek by text input and requested specialized security surveillance at T'voria's home and her children's school. He finished the message and looked up to see Nyota watching him.

"Thank you," she whispered, brushing her fingers across his hand. Spock was pleased. The security request was typical professional practice, but Nyota sensed the empathy of his actions. Spock did not wish any harm to come to this Vulcan woman he hardly knew, whether or not she had befriended his wife. The group dropped T'voria off at her husband's workplace, gathered their possessions from the guesthouse, and made their way to Sarek's manor, where the Vulcan statesman awaited them.

A few hours of meditation might be required later, Spock thought; so much strife had occurred within a short time period. Heat streamed through the protective windshield and Spock frowned slightly as he drove. The hottest period of the day was still four hours and twelve minutes away. Why did he feel slightly warmer than usual? He was not ill. He pressed a button on the dashboard, requesting diagnostic information on the transport vehicle. All mechanical systems were operating normally. A quick glance through the windshield revealed no external heat sources other than the sun. He could only conclude that the heat came from himself. Awareness dawned, and with it a sense of unease.

Spock switched the vehicle controls to autopilot for a few minutes so that he could properly concentrate on mentally calculating the years passed since he had last had his Time. He hadn't had Nyota's love and support seven years ago.

His previous Pon Farr had come upon him gradually, over a period of anxious weeks. Skin flushed with heat at odd times, lustful dreams, his meditation robes feeling like sheets of flame upon his too-hot body. A flash of heat would appear one week, and the following week would be uneventful. Then he would battle sensual thoughts the following week while the pressure built. The progress was slow, but inevitable.

Seven years ago, he had fought Pon Farr through what felt like endless hours of meditation and exercise, and he had won. He'd been lonelier then, his efforts to seek support for his struggles awkward and confused.

Nyota knew what he'd experienced; Spock had admitted it first in a hushed voice, then lifted his fingers to her temple and shown her. Admirably, she hadn't backed away from him. She had calmly taken everything in, cradled his face in her hands as his own hand fell away from her temple, and placed a soft kiss on his mouth. I am not afraid of you; we will live through it together when the time comes.

Spock glanced at his bondmate's profile. She seemed pensive, worried. He could hardly burden her with such a subject now. He calculated the years and months again; perhaps his Pon Farr was still a year or more away.

No. The numbers were right.

He was wrong.