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Translator's note: dotor means plan. [Star Trek: AOS] [AU]
The beginnings of a side-fic to the monstrous AU that I will never be good enough or motivated enough to actually write.
http://www.starbase-10.de/vld/
--
On her first visit to the famed USS Enterprise, Amanda waited for her transport into space in a crowd of officers fresh from shore leave. There, rumours passed around her as though their carriers believed her thin, gauzy veil blocked all noise from reaching her ears.
From these whispers, Amanda learned about ship grievances and ship triumphs, friendships won and friendships lost, food both appetising and abhorrent. She learned that her own son, Spock, had met his lover Nyota in a forbidden, star-crossed romance that defied logic and drove him to pursue his beautiful, intelligent student while she was just a cadet at the academy--and he, already a lieutenant and professor!
She kept her smile placid, giving no sign of having heard. When she finally arrived in the transporter room, Spock and Nyota were there to greet her. Spock permitted her to hold his shoulders and stare into her son’s eyes, and Nyota accepted a hug and a smiling kiss on the cheek. As Amanda walked down the ship’s corridors, arm-in-arm with her son and his human partner, she wondered, not for the first time, why the two allowed such rumours to exist.
But then, it wasn’t her place to question them.
If anyone had ever thought to ask Amanda how her son and Nyota had met, they would have learned that the much-talked of event had actually been precipitated by Amanda herself. She had met Nyota--intelligent, reserved, charming, beautiful, Nyota--at a linguistics conference held on Betazed. Spock had arrived at the conference on the last day, and Amanda had taken the opportunity to introduce them. She had been hopeful of sparking a lasting connection, but not overly optimistic about the chances. She was as surprised as anyone when the two had hit it off.
She had been perhaps unpleasantly surprised with the relationship’s longevity.
But no, that was unfair. Amanda smiled at Nyota, trying to inject a fondness into her expression that wasn’t completely genuine. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Nyota, it was simply that--well, she had always hoped to have a special connection with her future daughter-in-law. She had wanted to be a mentor of sorts, to share recipes and parenting tips, to advise on household management, to go shopping together, to be a friend and a confidante and a second mother.
Nyota had no need of a mentor, fiercely independent as she was, nor was she interested in domestic arrangements of any kind. Though always kind and respectful to her lover’s mother, she was not successful in disguising her disapproval of the dependency, the submission, the weakness she saw in Amanda’s decision to leave her home, her family, her career behind for the sake of an older, wealthy Vulcan in a powerful political position.
It still took strength, though a different kind from the one you carry with you, Amanda wanted to argue whenever she say Nyota’s smile freeze into a polite veneer. Wouldn’t you do anything, give up anything, suffer anything, for the sake of this overwhelming love? But Nyota wouldn’t, Amanda knew. Nyota saw no strength in the mutability of self.
Amanda wondered if Spock knew that, too.
If so, was he happy, knowing that his partner was content to be with him only while their paths ran parallel, that she would be sad to leave him if their futures branched off into different directions, but would leave him nevertheless?
Was he happy?
Spock and Nyota led Amanda on a spiralling tour of the ship that ended in the mess. Nyota encouraged Amanda to try anything she liked from the synthesiser, while Spock firmly warned Amanda off of the plomeek soup. Amanda laughed and shared a smile with Nyota, who was looking at Spock with fond eyes.
It was only natural, Amanda thought, watching her son and his lover. After all, no wife was ever good enough for a son. Hadn’t she learned that herself, on her own introduction to Sarek’s family?
Spock turned to Amanda and enquired after her pursuits. She told them, laughing, of a flurried trip to the largest bazaar in Shi’khar, searching desperately for the rare ingredient necessary to make the favourite dish of Sarek’s very particular mother, who had arrived at her son’s household with almost no forewarning.
No wife was ever good enough for a son. And, she reminded herself as Nyota’s face grew patient and condescending, no mother was ever good enough for a husband.
--
Rumour has it that her son and his lover met at Starfleet Academy. Rumour also has it that a ship like the Enterprise can’t go a single Terran day without disaster striking and the known universe only being saved by a foolhardy and dangerous--but ultimately successful--rescue mission.
Sometimes, Amanda mused, smiling ruefully at the shackles that chafed at her wrists, rumour had a point.
Spock was unconscious, green blood streaking across his face from his attempts to fight against their captors. Nyota was awake, desperately trying to work out a plan of escape with no tools, constrained arms, an unconscious Vulcan, and a diplomat’s wife who was, Amanda admitted to herself, rather useless in the current situation.
The situation seemed dire, and then their captors dragged in another limp, bruised body, carelessly binding it to the wall beside them before they left in a clang of armour. The door had barely hissed closed behind them when their new cell-mate blinked open bright blue eyes and flashed them a wide grin.
“Don’t worry,” he told them jovially. “This is all part of the plan.”
Nyota let her head bang back against the prison wall and groaned.
--
Amanda disliked Jim Kirk on sight.
Handsome, brash, and arrogant, he was the carbon copy of the bullies she had known all her life, and she felt a flash of fury that her wonderful son had to suffer living in close quarters with yet another ignorant, oppressive antagoniser.
Now, she watched as he joked through the severity of their circumstances, teased and flirted over Nyota’s attempts at reasoning with him, and smilingly though firmly dismissed Amanda’s cautions.
“And how,” Nyota was demanding through gritted teeth, “do you plan to deal with the way we are all shackled to the wall with jamming signals broadcasting to block our transporter signal?”
“Oh,” he shrugged, “that won’t really matter pretty soon. Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I--”
“Lieutenant Kirk,” came Spock’s voice, calm but slightly hoarse, “although your attempts at staving off panic through humour are appreciated, they are, at this time, wholly unnecessary. Therefore, I ask that you refrain from sharing what is doubtlessly an absurd and blatant untruth.”
“Oi,” said Kirk, though to Amanda’s surprise, he was smiling, “I’ll have you know it was an absurd and blatant partial truth that I was planning on sharing, thanks.”
“Nevertheless,” Spock murmured.
“Doing alright?” asked Kirk, before Amanda could enquire the same.
“I am recovering,” Spock replied. “I am certain you have developed an ill-conceived escape route?”
Kirk’s reckless grin returned at full force. “If you mean a shockingly brilliant plan, then the answer is yes.”
Nyota scoffed. “Maybe we’d be more prepared to praise your plan if you’d provide us with any details, o brilliant one.”
Kirk affected an expression of exaggerated shock. “Oh, did you want details, Uhura? You should have just asked!” Kirk ignored the grinding of Nyota’s teeth and turned to Spock. “Could I have the time, Commander?”
“It is now 27 minutes and 54 seconds past the 14th hour.”
Kirk looked impressed. “I can never quite figure out how you do that.”
“Your confusion is understandable, as it requires discipline and focus,” said Spock drily. “Your plan, Lieutenant?”
“My plan will be obvious to all in about 1 minute and 50 seconds, Commander. You just relax and wait for the fireworks.”
Spock’s eyebrows turned downward. “Lieutenant,” he began, but he never finished his thought. The room shook with a massive explosion, and somewhere above them came the sound of frantic shouting.
“Huh,” said Kirk. “That was early. Unless…” He glanced contemplatively at Spock for a moment, then shook his head. “Nah,” he continued. “Definitely early.”
The wild, delighted glow in his blue eyes was the last thing Amanda saw before the world around her disintegrated into a mass of particles.
A moment later, Amanda was standing on the transporter pad on the Enterprise, listening as Kirk hailed sick bay over Spock’s protestations.
Amanda was quiet as she watched the ship’s chief medical officer fuss over her son. There was a brief lull when the CMO--a man who was at once angry and gentle, a walking contradiction--moved his wrath on to Kirk, stabbing him with hyposprays. Nyota was watching them, biting back a grin.
In the moment of their distraction, Spock took the opportunity to speak, voice soft. “I apologise, Mother.”
Amanda blinked at him in surprise. He must have seen her confusion, because he continued almost immediately. “Had you not come to the Enterprise in an effort to ascertain my well-being, you would not have been placed in danger on my behalf.”
Amanda sighed. “Oh, Spock. It wasn’t your fault. Besides,” she added, allowing a twinkle of humour to enter her eyes, “I’d go through more than a little kidnapping to spend time with you.”
Spock’s eyebrow twitched upward, but she could see that he recognised the joke for what it was. “I take it from your statement that you expect a greater number of visitations on my part.”
“Just keep in mind that there’s always a pot of plomeek soup waiting for you, Spock,” she said. “And not that synthesised nonsense, thank you.”
“Really?” asked a loud voice, jarring them from their private conversation. Kirk’s bright eyes were now turned toward her. “You make plomeek soup? I’ve heard it’s pretty complicated. Would you mind sharing your recipe?”
Amanda reminded herself that staring was beneath her dignity. “Oh, not at all, though the ingredients are difficult to come by off of Vulcan. Do you cook, Lieutenant Kirk?”
Kirk smiled at her. “A little,” he said. “When I can.”
“He was raised on a farm,” Nyoto butted in, though her teasing tone was friendly rather than malicious. “With chickens.”
“Goodness,” Amanda replied, some of her affected surprise genuine. “Quite the novelty in modern-day Terran society.”
Amanda disliked Jim Kirk on sight, but as she carefully entered directions for the preparation of her son’s favourite meal onto Kirk’s PADD, she found she was no longer certain what to make of him.
http://www.starbase-10.de/vld/
--
On her first visit to the famed USS Enterprise, Amanda waited for her transport into space in a crowd of officers fresh from shore leave. There, rumours passed around her as though their carriers believed her thin, gauzy veil blocked all noise from reaching her ears.
From these whispers, Amanda learned about ship grievances and ship triumphs, friendships won and friendships lost, food both appetising and abhorrent. She learned that her own son, Spock, had met his lover Nyota in a forbidden, star-crossed romance that defied logic and drove him to pursue his beautiful, intelligent student while she was just a cadet at the academy--and he, already a lieutenant and professor!
She kept her smile placid, giving no sign of having heard. When she finally arrived in the transporter room, Spock and Nyota were there to greet her. Spock permitted her to hold his shoulders and stare into her son’s eyes, and Nyota accepted a hug and a smiling kiss on the cheek. As Amanda walked down the ship’s corridors, arm-in-arm with her son and his human partner, she wondered, not for the first time, why the two allowed such rumours to exist.
But then, it wasn’t her place to question them.
If anyone had ever thought to ask Amanda how her son and Nyota had met, they would have learned that the much-talked of event had actually been precipitated by Amanda herself. She had met Nyota--intelligent, reserved, charming, beautiful, Nyota--at a linguistics conference held on Betazed. Spock had arrived at the conference on the last day, and Amanda had taken the opportunity to introduce them. She had been hopeful of sparking a lasting connection, but not overly optimistic about the chances. She was as surprised as anyone when the two had hit it off.
She had been perhaps unpleasantly surprised with the relationship’s longevity.
But no, that was unfair. Amanda smiled at Nyota, trying to inject a fondness into her expression that wasn’t completely genuine. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Nyota, it was simply that--well, she had always hoped to have a special connection with her future daughter-in-law. She had wanted to be a mentor of sorts, to share recipes and parenting tips, to advise on household management, to go shopping together, to be a friend and a confidante and a second mother.
Nyota had no need of a mentor, fiercely independent as she was, nor was she interested in domestic arrangements of any kind. Though always kind and respectful to her lover’s mother, she was not successful in disguising her disapproval of the dependency, the submission, the weakness she saw in Amanda’s decision to leave her home, her family, her career behind for the sake of an older, wealthy Vulcan in a powerful political position.
It still took strength, though a different kind from the one you carry with you, Amanda wanted to argue whenever she say Nyota’s smile freeze into a polite veneer. Wouldn’t you do anything, give up anything, suffer anything, for the sake of this overwhelming love? But Nyota wouldn’t, Amanda knew. Nyota saw no strength in the mutability of self.
Amanda wondered if Spock knew that, too.
If so, was he happy, knowing that his partner was content to be with him only while their paths ran parallel, that she would be sad to leave him if their futures branched off into different directions, but would leave him nevertheless?
Was he happy?
Spock and Nyota led Amanda on a spiralling tour of the ship that ended in the mess. Nyota encouraged Amanda to try anything she liked from the synthesiser, while Spock firmly warned Amanda off of the plomeek soup. Amanda laughed and shared a smile with Nyota, who was looking at Spock with fond eyes.
It was only natural, Amanda thought, watching her son and his lover. After all, no wife was ever good enough for a son. Hadn’t she learned that herself, on her own introduction to Sarek’s family?
Spock turned to Amanda and enquired after her pursuits. She told them, laughing, of a flurried trip to the largest bazaar in Shi’khar, searching desperately for the rare ingredient necessary to make the favourite dish of Sarek’s very particular mother, who had arrived at her son’s household with almost no forewarning.
No wife was ever good enough for a son. And, she reminded herself as Nyota’s face grew patient and condescending, no mother was ever good enough for a husband.
--
Rumour has it that her son and his lover met at Starfleet Academy. Rumour also has it that a ship like the Enterprise can’t go a single Terran day without disaster striking and the known universe only being saved by a foolhardy and dangerous--but ultimately successful--rescue mission.
Sometimes, Amanda mused, smiling ruefully at the shackles that chafed at her wrists, rumour had a point.
Spock was unconscious, green blood streaking across his face from his attempts to fight against their captors. Nyota was awake, desperately trying to work out a plan of escape with no tools, constrained arms, an unconscious Vulcan, and a diplomat’s wife who was, Amanda admitted to herself, rather useless in the current situation.
The situation seemed dire, and then their captors dragged in another limp, bruised body, carelessly binding it to the wall beside them before they left in a clang of armour. The door had barely hissed closed behind them when their new cell-mate blinked open bright blue eyes and flashed them a wide grin.
“Don’t worry,” he told them jovially. “This is all part of the plan.”
Nyota let her head bang back against the prison wall and groaned.
--
Amanda disliked Jim Kirk on sight.
Handsome, brash, and arrogant, he was the carbon copy of the bullies she had known all her life, and she felt a flash of fury that her wonderful son had to suffer living in close quarters with yet another ignorant, oppressive antagoniser.
Now, she watched as he joked through the severity of their circumstances, teased and flirted over Nyota’s attempts at reasoning with him, and smilingly though firmly dismissed Amanda’s cautions.
“And how,” Nyota was demanding through gritted teeth, “do you plan to deal with the way we are all shackled to the wall with jamming signals broadcasting to block our transporter signal?”
“Oh,” he shrugged, “that won’t really matter pretty soon. Hey, did I ever tell you about the time I--”
“Lieutenant Kirk,” came Spock’s voice, calm but slightly hoarse, “although your attempts at staving off panic through humour are appreciated, they are, at this time, wholly unnecessary. Therefore, I ask that you refrain from sharing what is doubtlessly an absurd and blatant untruth.”
“Oi,” said Kirk, though to Amanda’s surprise, he was smiling, “I’ll have you know it was an absurd and blatant partial truth that I was planning on sharing, thanks.”
“Nevertheless,” Spock murmured.
“Doing alright?” asked Kirk, before Amanda could enquire the same.
“I am recovering,” Spock replied. “I am certain you have developed an ill-conceived escape route?”
Kirk’s reckless grin returned at full force. “If you mean a shockingly brilliant plan, then the answer is yes.”
Nyota scoffed. “Maybe we’d be more prepared to praise your plan if you’d provide us with any details, o brilliant one.”
Kirk affected an expression of exaggerated shock. “Oh, did you want details, Uhura? You should have just asked!” Kirk ignored the grinding of Nyota’s teeth and turned to Spock. “Could I have the time, Commander?”
“It is now 27 minutes and 54 seconds past the 14th hour.”
Kirk looked impressed. “I can never quite figure out how you do that.”
“Your confusion is understandable, as it requires discipline and focus,” said Spock drily. “Your plan, Lieutenant?”
“My plan will be obvious to all in about 1 minute and 50 seconds, Commander. You just relax and wait for the fireworks.”
Spock’s eyebrows turned downward. “Lieutenant,” he began, but he never finished his thought. The room shook with a massive explosion, and somewhere above them came the sound of frantic shouting.
“Huh,” said Kirk. “That was early. Unless…” He glanced contemplatively at Spock for a moment, then shook his head. “Nah,” he continued. “Definitely early.”
The wild, delighted glow in his blue eyes was the last thing Amanda saw before the world around her disintegrated into a mass of particles.
A moment later, Amanda was standing on the transporter pad on the Enterprise, listening as Kirk hailed sick bay over Spock’s protestations.
Amanda was quiet as she watched the ship’s chief medical officer fuss over her son. There was a brief lull when the CMO--a man who was at once angry and gentle, a walking contradiction--moved his wrath on to Kirk, stabbing him with hyposprays. Nyota was watching them, biting back a grin.
In the moment of their distraction, Spock took the opportunity to speak, voice soft. “I apologise, Mother.”
Amanda blinked at him in surprise. He must have seen her confusion, because he continued almost immediately. “Had you not come to the Enterprise in an effort to ascertain my well-being, you would not have been placed in danger on my behalf.”
Amanda sighed. “Oh, Spock. It wasn’t your fault. Besides,” she added, allowing a twinkle of humour to enter her eyes, “I’d go through more than a little kidnapping to spend time with you.”
Spock’s eyebrow twitched upward, but she could see that he recognised the joke for what it was. “I take it from your statement that you expect a greater number of visitations on my part.”
“Just keep in mind that there’s always a pot of plomeek soup waiting for you, Spock,” she said. “And not that synthesised nonsense, thank you.”
“Really?” asked a loud voice, jarring them from their private conversation. Kirk’s bright eyes were now turned toward her. “You make plomeek soup? I’ve heard it’s pretty complicated. Would you mind sharing your recipe?”
Amanda reminded herself that staring was beneath her dignity. “Oh, not at all, though the ingredients are difficult to come by off of Vulcan. Do you cook, Lieutenant Kirk?”
Kirk smiled at her. “A little,” he said. “When I can.”
“He was raised on a farm,” Nyoto butted in, though her teasing tone was friendly rather than malicious. “With chickens.”
“Goodness,” Amanda replied, some of her affected surprise genuine. “Quite the novelty in modern-day Terran society.”
Amanda disliked Jim Kirk on sight, but as she carefully entered directions for the preparation of her son’s favourite meal onto Kirk’s PADD, she found she was no longer certain what to make of him.