A Vulcan Touch
Posted on February 28th, 2011 by T'Kirr and Ian Blackthorne

“A Vulcan Touch”
T’Kirr and Ian Blackthorne

Her shoulder bag was light, and if it had belonged to anyone else, Ian would have been surprised. Most people would have accumulated more after living in one place for nine years, but his new wife was not most people. T’Kirr had not even spared her former quarters a last sentimental glance as they left, bound for their new home together – his quarters. Of course, she had already partially moved in; over time, more and more things necessary for increasingly frequent overnight stays had accumulated, most evident in the counter of the bathroom sink. Today just made it official.

By comparison, T’Kirr’s load was much lighter. She looked down at the instrument case in her hands, effectively switching their running topic from recent happenings on Gencodia to the present. “I’ve had this over a year, but it seems there has been little time to play it.”

“Ah well,” he began with a sidelong grin at her, “such is our life. Would you trade it for anything?”

She paused in thought. “Our life?” After checking his expression for affirmation, she frowned slightly and thought some more as they made their way down the corridor. Her life many years ago had been sprinkled with an abundance of idle days, some of which she had fond memories. Much meditation was usually involved, and while she had found those times enlightening in their own way, they certainly didn’t compare to her life today. “No, I wouldn’t.” T’Kirr ran a hand over the instrument case. “And while Gencodia is beautiful and has great potential for relaxation, it ultimately does not fulfill my purpose in life.”

“What then,” he began as they approached his – no, their – door, “would you say is your purpose in life?”

“I would think that obvious,” T’Kirr commented as Ian triggered the door and motioned for her to precede him. She held the instrument to her chest as she moved past him and into the room, perking an eyebrow as she drew closely by. “Keeping you out of trouble.”

It was widely believed that Vulcans had no sense of humor, but Ian loved hers. Perhaps she had lived among aliens for too long, but he thought it more likely that the Vulcan wit was far sharper than many could grasp. It wasn’t often that she chose to use that particular dagger, but she never failed in her aim when she did. He laughed loudly in response, lines of mirth framing his mouth. “I’d ask that you do a better job then!”

Upon entering, T’Kirr’s eyes immediately went to the nook created between the end table next to the couch and the dining area. She walked over and set the case on the floor and opened it. Carefully removing the ancient Vulcan lute, she placed the base on the floor, and held it up by its neck. “Here?”

“Wherever you would like it, since this is your home now too. Though, I think we should fashion a stand, to keep it off the floor.”

“I’ll check the replicator. It may have something suitable.” Ian watched as she crossed to the replicator and browsed a catalog of predefined musical instrument stands, one of which shimmered into existence at her command. It was made of black metal, in a simple utilitarian design that prompted his nod of approval; after all, the instrument was the object on display, and a fancy stand could distract one’s eye.

After she had placed the stand and her lute in the nook, like planting a flag of ownership over her new home, Ian smiled and said, “It looks quite nice there.”

T’Kirr nodded. “Agreed.” She gazed at it a few moments more, as if making sure, then looked around the room. It was just as she had left it before their shifts, but now, with Ian standing near the doorway with her pack and her lute was in place, it was somehow more… hers. This was to be her new quarters, with Ian. She finally met his eyes, and she could see he was thinking the same thing. What now?

As if in answer, he crossed to the coffee table and carefully placed her bag upon it, remembering there was at least one breakable item inside. Unzipping the top, he asked, “The lute’s a good start, but the room needs more of your touch.” As far as Ian was concerned, she could turn his quarters into the temple on Mt. Seleya and he wouldn’t object, but he also knew that T’Kirr would never carry it to that extreme. Still, even Vulcans need their tastes of home.

Meeting him at the table, T’Kirr picked up two old books, both of which were well worn with age but didn’t appear to be falling apart any year soon. She scanned their spines briefly before holding them out to Ian and looking over her shoulder at the bookcase. “Add these to your collection?”

He took the books from her and placed them on a shelf as he chided, “It’s our collection now.”

“Indeed,” she conceded gracefully. T’Kirr unwrapped a small piece of pottery. It wasn’t quite a vase and had two spouts opposite each other. She gazed at it a moment. “I made this thirty-eight years ago.”

Ian briefly sensed distance from her, but temporal distance, not emotional. “That was another lifetime to you, now,” he said, his voice projecting complete confidence in the truth of his words.

She nodded, accepting his ready understanding without pause. Their bond had been growing steadily, and they often found themselves finishing the other’s sentences or assisting the other without needing to ask for it. Ian was better at reading her than she was him, just as he was with anyone. It was still difficult for T’Kirr to pick up on his conscious images unless they were touching, or he was overtly projecting them (which recent practice had encouraged him to do more and more often), but they could interpret each other’s emotional states pretty well. “I haven’t spent much time on Vulcan in the past several years. Back when I made this, I hadn’t even left the planet yet.”

“You’ve come a long way, and I don’t just mean that we’re bloody far out into new territory.”

Next from the bag came two partially-used meditation candles, red and orange. T’Kirr set them aside and drew out a couple of off-duty garments from the bottom of the bag and, draping them across an arm, headed for the bedroom. In response to Ian’s psychic inquiry, she mentally invited him to follow. Naturally, he obliged, and she began to hang her things in the closet. “The crew has become quite attached to Gencodia. Do you think Lost Harbor will be sufficient entertainment anymore?”

“I think so, we’ll just have to put some more work into it. Flesh out some of the existing characters, add some new ones, and perhaps… introduce some more elements of fiction?”

“Perhaps. I imagine we could find reason to return and check on the outpost’s progress, especially if we’re passing through on our way to continuing our exploration of the area.”

“Of course, we’ll be back here. After all, there’s a new city named after our ship, and we have to check in on it.” Ian stretched and allowed a yawn to escape. “It’s been a long day, I could use a shower.” With a glint in his eye, he added, “Care to join me?”

While the hint of mischief was plainly evident in both his expression and mind, T’Kirr deftly ignored it as only a Vulcan woman could. “You go ahead. I’ll replicate us some dinner.”

He nodded and went into the bathroom contented, knowing they’d have some intimate time later. After his shower, he emerged rejuvenated, to the ethereal sound of a Vulcan lute. Ian put on a towel and returned to their bedroom to find his wife stretched out on the bed, wearing only the lute she was playing. She lay on her side, her slender bronzed form partially obscured by the musical instrument that she idly strummed, while her hazel eyes locked with his as he entered.

A smile spread across Ian’s face. Yes, he decided, these living arrangements would work out just fine.