Brent restrained himself from asking about the bells and simply chuckled to himself slightly. He ate his dinner in silence, letting the Vulcans eat in peace as well and before long he and the others had finished their meal and Brent ordered himself a large glass of lemonade from the waitress as she walked by. "The Captain is a bit odd. I think the Romulans were dead set against letting the Federation chart this area, and sent her over as a way to maybe placate some of the hawks in their little Senate, Congress, Clubhouse..." Brent waved his hand a little bit as if to signify that he could continue on like that but did not out of respect for his guests.
He took a drink from his lemonade when it was delivered before Brent continued. The older Vulcan couple had so deftly avoided the topic of their return that Brent assumed they were a part of that same intelligence service that the annoying gnat Voran was a part of. Interesting. He looked at the two of them again and considered asking them what they would do on return but decided against it. "Would you care for anything else. The chef I'm sure would love to fix you a desert."
Clubhouse? Vulcan or no, Sajel could not help but feel the corners of his mouth twitch for a millisecond. "Indeed, a logical conclusion Lieutenant. The Sundered are as territorial as a mother Sehlat and for the senate to merely insist upon a Galae contingent is in fact … what is the phrase? Curving over backwards?"
Three more glasses of tea appeared and the elder Vulcan was beginning to feel rather … spoiled. What a contrast to their time on Temep`Shar. It was almost disorienting. Almost.
But the open curiosity in twilight blue eyes was hard to overlook in any case. It was T'Min who beat him to the proverbial punch. "I apologize for the 'silent answer', Lieutenant. Having spent so much time amongst our own kind, obviously our interspecies skills have suffered. However, as you perhaps know from your … Companion's behavior patterns it is common practice among Vulcans to … politely overlook a question one cannot or does not wish to answer. No offense was intended."
Silent glances were exchanged and the young one with the jet black hair nodded slowly, solemnly.
'They don't know, Brent. They can't tell you what they'll do because they don't know.'
What Sakarra didn't know was how to tell her beloved that all the Vulcans wanted - was to go home.
Home.
It was in their eyes, radiated off them like Nevasa's heat, sang in their veins like the wind over the Voroth sea.
Home.
Whatever would happen after that … would happen.
Brent nodded. "No apology is needed. I understand," he said before taking a drink of his lemonade. "Well if you're looking for ideas. May I suggest finding a nice quiet place and relaxing in the sun for a while. Maybe one of those cocktail drinks with the little umbrella's in them," he said his hand moving over his lemonade like it was some kind of umbrella to protect it from gods know what. "I'm sure that you could look through some of the ships records here to find of the new literature that has been published on Vulcan since you have been away. If you would like such a thing of course. I'm sure if you ask Savant nicely she'll be more than willing to help you out," he said with a smile.
Sakarra nearly showed outright amusement at the myriad of subtle clues on the two other Vulcans' faces. Whatever they might have expected to find on this ship, this marine certainly was not it.
It was Sajel who recovered first and picked up his tea in one smooth movement "Savant is your librarian?"
Perhaps the first thing he should research was the meaning of umbrellas in combination with alcoholic beverages. And then he noticed the silent laughter shimmering in astonishingly black eyes.
It was not quite like having family around, but certainly the next best thing. Understanding without words, the low current flowing without effort. Subtle clues sent and received as if in a dance invisible to all but those who knew it.
But there was one puzzled note in all this and it was sounding clearly from the man by her side. And suddenly Sakarra realized that although her beloved was fully aware of the wordless interaction, the meaning was less than clear to him. Without thinking, she slid a hand towards his and let her fingertips rest lightly against cool skin.
Thoughts, images, … feelings … flowed gently between them.
A Vulcan, alone among an abundance of other species, Fascinated, intrigued, often amused, sometimes appalled. More often than not … puzzled.
Alone. Unable to decipher the rules that governed human interaction, too polite to expect that the outworlders would simply accept her ways or even learn how to make a Vulcan be at ease, allow her to show the warmth that came so naturally when their kind ... recognized one another.
Alone.
And then, suddenly, others. Puzzle pieces clicking into place, harmony and belonging.
'It was inconsiderate of me to not see it sooner, ashal-veh.' The bemused state of being an onlooker to incomprehensible things was not one she cherished, let alone wanted Brent to experience. So she showed him. The small tilt of T'Min's head that meant 'Go ahead, I don't mind.' The look in Sajel's eyes that was both indulgent – apparently, a man in love saw nothing wrong with seeing others showing affection openly – and more than a little curious.
The unmoved faces of two Vulcans, so alive and eloquent in Sakarra's mind.
Lingering grief in both of them, sternly held at bay in the woman's rigid posture, calmly accepted by the male. The silent delight to have found one of their own here, and the deep gratitude.
All the minute clues, even the good will automatically extended to the human who had obviously gone through the trouble of winning a Vulcan's heart.
'You might say it is like a marine stuck with fleet officers for a long time … and then suddenly there are two people greeting you with the words Semper Fi.'
Brent paused for a moment as he began to see the responses of the Vulcans as Sakarra did. He looked between the two of them with her guidance and nodded. 'So I see,' Brent said nodding his head towards the other Vulcans before he smirked ever so slightly at his response to what Savant was. "No actually she's a feisty and independent AI program that was brought on board recently. She has helped me a great deal in paperwork and a few other matters related to my position here. I'm sure if you ask her nicely she'll be more than willing to help you find something in alignment with your tastes."
T'Min's quirked brow relayed clearly she was not certain how one would pose a 'nice' inquiry to an AI described as 'feisty', though the very concept sounded quite … intriguing. Fascinating, actually.
No doubt young Havor would find the helpful program the wasp's elbow (or some other insectoid joint) - if he had not already located it while burrowing into the ship's database like a Valit in search of Cir-cen roots.
"Your advice as well as your gracious assistance is appreciated, Lieutenant." Sajel's level baritone betrayed no fatigue and even another Vulcan would have found it difficult to see anything but alert calm in willowy T'Min's posture. As it happened, the young one sitting across from them had received the same training they had – and perhaps something else as well because she was pointedly refraining from showing any indication that … she knew.
"Would you please extend our gratitude to the cook as well." T'Min gave a courteous nod to the other woman who returned it gracefully before both elder Vulcans finished their teas and stood. Sajel's polite half-bow earned him an equally courteous tip of the head and he extended his paired fingers to T'Min.
Quietly the two V'Ket left the mess hall and as if following a wordless signal, the four other Vulcans in terracotta uniforms fell in behind them.
It was strange to see them like this – without swords strapped across their backs, no sidearms, only the purposeful stride and the silent pride that somehow created a space before them as people unthinkingly stepped out of their way. Sakarra could not help but watch until the last shimmer of terracotta had disappeared through the doors.
"I do not believe I have thanked you properly yet, Brent." A slender hand held on to the glass with soothingly hot tea, but Sakarra paid little attention to the rare and exquisite spices. "For keeping your promise."
=/\= To be continued =/\=
Brevet 1st Lieutenant Brent Warren
Marine Commander
LtCmdr Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helm
USS Charon
Sajel & T'Min
V'Ket
