Malum Prohibitum

By: Wildfire Sky

You guys made me realize that perhaps I should have gone into more depth about where I'm going with the whole Spock-Romulans revenge thing. I wanted to wait, but now might be a good time to let you take a peek into my mind so you can understand that Spock's pursuit is not just a glaring plot-hole.

A/N: My beta, audia-katia (in her infinite brilliance), suggested I explain the Praetor: The Praetor is the leader of the Empire and of the Romulan People. The person (male or female) holding this position is the very embodiment of honor, accomplishment, discipline, and D'era, the destiny of the Romulan people to spread out and conquer the stars. The Praetor is elected by the Senate from candidates worthy of the position and who are popular with the Romulan people, as he or she must be the representative and role model of all Romulans.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or any of its characters.

Malum Prohibitum

Chapter Three: The Lie

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Avell's fists clenched against the consol of the transport ship's private viewer as he glared down at the grainy image of Admiral Lord. Speeding to Romulus at full warp, Avell had expected an uneventful ride home. He had expected to step from the ship and proudly present to his Praetor that the threat of Spock against their planet had been all but removed. He had expected that his great Praetor would bestow his blessings upon him for his hard work.

What he did not expect was for his longtime friend to contact him not three hours after his departure and reveal that their agreement – the salvation of the galaxy – had fallen apart as quickly as it has been built.

"Gregory…" Avell hissed through clenched teeth, "Do you realize what you've just done? How incompetent can yo--"

Lord looked as stressed as Avell felt. "Don't lecture me, Avell, I had no choice. Agreement or not, the Fleet Admiral was going to send the Enterprise no matter what. Admiral Pike had spoken to him before we even met today. Be glad that I at least managed to get Commander Spock put under house arrest for the duration of the mission."

"But he's still on the damn ship!" Avell couldn't believe this. Everything was going to be ruined, "The whole point was to keep that half-breed away from Romulus and her territories. Do you honestly believe that your human crew will be able to stop a Vulcan should he try and take the ship?"

"Commander Spock won't try and take over the ship, Avell," Lord admonished, "be reasonable."

Avell bristled, his nails digging deep into his palms. "Be reasonable? I was being reasonable, Gregory, when I listened to you. I was being reasonable when I went against the direct orders of my Praetor and agreed to that ridiculous compromise. I was being reasonablewhen I trusted you to keep that damn Vulcan away from our planet rather than demanding his surrender like I should have!"

Lord scowled angrily. "Look, Avell, as sorry as I am, I told you there was a chance that Commander Spock or the Enterprise would be required to go near Romulan space. You didn't want to listen to me then, and you're not listening to me now." He glared, "Spock will not take over the ship. I promise you that."

"You've already broken one promise," Avell snapped, "I'll expect as much this time."

Lord's lips pulled into a thin line of tightly veiled fury. He wanted to give voice to the venomous words contained within his mind, but it would not help the already dire situation. They were like two stubborn bulls. Someone had to give in or they would continue to blindly charge at each other.

Avell spoke again, his voice tense but controlled, "We are traveling at Warp Two to Romulus. It will take approximately six days to reach the outer edges of our territory."

Lord quirked an eyebrow, "You're telling me this, why…?"

"I'm hoping that in six days, you will have found an agreeable solution to this extremely inconvenient mess you've created."

"You could give me six months," Lord said tersely, "and that wouldn't be enough. The Enterprise is going to the Neutral Zone. There's nothing you or I can do about it. I can't change what's happened. But, at least I've prevented Commander Spock from having the ability to leave or even take over the ship. You can accept that."

Avell wanted to punch the screen in front of him. Damn these humans and their ridiculous need to compromise! They thought everything was give and take, that everything could be solved by an even trade. It showed how young and undeveloped the human race actually was. Perhaps when they've existed as long as Romulans have they will realize there truly is no such thing as compromise.

"Where is the Enterprise now?"

"Classified."

"Gregory," Avell's teeth clenched, "you will have only one chance to save your Commander. The Praetor is expecting my call before I arrive, so I will give you as much time as I can. And I grant this only because you are my brother. Had you been anyone else, negotiations would have been over long ago."

Lord's mouth curled into a half-snarl, "And had you been anyone else, brother, I would have ended our 'negotiations' the minute you walked into my conference room."

Ignoring the biting sarcasm, Avell continued, "If you do not find a way to restore our original agreement and have Commander Spock removed from the Enterprise, then there will be no other options and no second chance."

"Meaning what?" Lord's voice was challenging.

The Romulan ambassador leaned forward, catching Lord's eyes, "I promise, Gregory, if you do not fix this, if you embarrass me and dishonor me before my Praetor, I swear upon my house…"

His hands shook with barely contained fury as he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. Threats would not do. Not now. He took a long, deep breath and opened his eyes, sitting straight in his chair.

"Find the Vulcan. Get him off that ship or get that ship back to Earth." He glared down at Lord. Hand hovering over the consol's controls, Avell spat out the words he'd wanted to say from the beginning. "Negotiations are over."

For the first time all day, Lord looked completely floored. "Avell wait—"

The screen went black.

Avell remained seated at the console for a moment longer, trying to collect himself and muddle through this disastrous ordeal.

He knew, beyond a doubt in his highly educated mind, that the Praetor would be furious. His master might have accepted the original agreement between two high ranking officials. He trusted that a man whose charge was to protect a planet could at least uphold his word and honor.

But this…to turn your back on a truce before the ink was even dry was unacceptable by any standards. Human or Romulan.

Avell's thoughts darkened. Romulans held honor to a level almost of that of Klingons. They may not be so murderously intent on proving their honor as the militant species, but certainly their lives and laws revolved around it, and those in the military were absolutely bound by it. Standing by the mnhei'sahe - their ruling passion, the honor their lives revolved around - was drilled into the minds of Romulans since birth. You must be honorable, dutiful, courteous, and strong in everything you did. To deviate from it was unthinkable.

Gregory's failure would certainly comeback tenfold. A serious breach in cultural customs had occurred, unwittingly or not, and no proper Romulan would tolerate it. As the Praetor's selected representative, anything that Avell said was taken as the Praetor's own words. So by being unable to contain the Enterprise and her Vulcan commander as promised, Lord had - for intents and purposes - lied to the Praetor.

No one lies to the Praetor.

Avell swore violently. Starfleet, for all their superiority, would someday be the death of the entire universe if they did not learn to curb their insistent need to control everything around them.

He knew what had to be done. Brothers or not, Avell had his own skin to worry about at this point for the Praetor would certainly be looking for a scapegoat for this embarrassment. His House could be in danger if he didn't confront this head on.

Taking a deep breath, Avell spoke aloud to the ship's communication system.

"Computer. Connect me to the Praetor."

There was a short beep of acknowledgement and the face of a young Romulan male appeared on the screen a moment later. "Shaoi kon, Ambassador R'Mor."

"Shaoi ben. I request conference with the Praetor immediately."

The reply was swift, clipped, and practiced. "The Praetor is not accepting any incoming transmissions. You will have to speak with him at another time."

Avell grumbled to himself internally before replying, his own tone short. "This is a matter of urgency. Put me through to him at once."

"The Praetor is not available." The young Romulan looked irritated, "I will inform him of your call, Ambassador R'Mor."

Avell released a torrent of vicious curses. "Who are you to deny me? You will connect me to the Praetor this moment, or I will see to it that both you and your House are severely punished for your disrespect and disobedience!"

Although his face paled, the Romulan remained steadfast. "I mean no disrespect, Ambassador R'Mor. But the orders of the Praetor are above all others. I'm sorry, sir, but there's nothing you can do that he can't do worse." The young Romulan shifted, "I'm disconnecting you, Ambassador."

"Wait." The Romulan paused at the desperation that unwillingly entered Avell's tone. Gritting his teeth in annoyance, he tried a different tactic, "I understand your situation and I commend you on your absolute obedience to the Praetor. You should be highly praised for your loyalty, not punished. Excuse my brashness."

The Romulan flushed. "There is nothing to excuse, Ambassador."

"But I must speak with the Praetor. As a fellow Romulan, you can be assured that my loyalty is as unwavering as your own. Which is why you must understand that I would not ask twice – let alone three times – to speak with the Praetor unless it was a matter of great importance. For the safety of the Empire, it is imperative that I speak with him."

A pause of consideration before the Romulan let out a small grunt of consent. "Hold. I will transfer you to his private line. Glory to the Empire."

"Glory to the Empire." Avell replied as the screen went black. He took in a long deep breath and used the short minutes between transfers to try and look as calm as possible as the face of the most dangerous man in the Romulan Empire appeared on his screen. He seemed relaxed enough to Avell; perhaps there was still a chance he might come out of this unscathed.

"Glory to the Empire, Grand Praetor! I ---"

He jumped as a harsh, guttural bellow erupted from the Praetor. "You little bastard!!"

Avell winced in fear, immediately dropping his gaze from the Praetor's blazing eyes. So much for calm.

MP**MP**MP**MP**MP

"He's certainly playful!"

A large hand enveloped the tiny ones grasping for purchase within the cleanly trimmed beard before them. Letting out a small whine of protest, the owner of the hands tried to escape from his cage and return to the exploration of the beaming face leaning over him. Releasing the hands, the Romulan male plucked the small newborn from his crib and sat down on the floor, placing the babe in his lap. Gurgling happily at the brief flight, the child immediately reached for the beard again, this time managing to grab a handful.

"Quick, too!" the Romulan released a gruff laugh, allowing the newborn to explore. Dark eyes glanced over at the brown haired female sitting on the far side of the lavish nursery, reclining on a window ledge in the soft warmth of the Romulan sun, her long curls spilling over one shoulder.

She smiled at the comment, violet orbs falling on the babbling infant. "He gets it from his father, Great Praetor. You're quite playful yourself."

The Praetor grinned and nodded enthusiastically. "Of course I am! How do you think I managed him?"

He held the infant above his head, displaying him proudly like a well-earned trophy. Screams of excitement immediately burst from the babe as his father repeatedly propelled him into the air, arms waving rapidly in an attempt to get higher.

The female watched calmly as the Praetor leapt to his feet, diving and lifting the child with rapid succession. "You're going to make him sick, Great Praetor."

The Romulan male never took his eyes from the child's excited face, beaming happily though the smile seemed to fade at his eyes. "I've asked you before, Arrenhae, do not call me Praetor."

"It is what is proper."

"And you are my wife." The Praetor finally paused in his play, tucking the squirming infant beneath his arm like a large sack as he turned towards the still-seated Arrenhae. "You should never think that what is proper in public is what must be done in private. So long as you are by my side, there's no need to call me Praetor."

Reaching for her son, Arrenhae sighed, her eyes lowered. "This is still so new to me. I'm fearful I will accidentally address you by your name rather than your title in a situation that requires it. I may embarrass you."

The Praetor brought a hand to her face, caressing it upwards until she finally looked at him. "That is a foolish fear, a'rhea. Even if you did, I would not care. Hearing my name from you brings me such joy…I would rather face total seclusion than never hear it again."

"Such a romantic," Arrenhae offered a sarcastic smirk as she leaned into his caress. "Imagine what the world would think if they knew the fearless Praetor had a soft spot for sweet nothings."

He returned the smirk with his own, leaning against the opposite wall and watching as his wife played with their son. The comfortable silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft cooing and delighted gurgles from the mother and son. He considered the infant carefully, watching how the child interacted with his mother: the quickness of his grabs, the strength – comparatively – in his hold, the attentive look in his eyes as he locked onto everything around him, all were important.

"He will grow up to be strong. He will live a good, honest noble life."

Arrenhae glanced up at the strong conviction in her husband's voice. "I love him as much as you do, dear one…but we both know that's not true."

The Romulan ruler clenched his fists in a flash of hot anger. "Do not become like the rest of these traitorous fools! I will not let that happen. Not again. Not to him. Our son is stronger than that."

"How can you say that?" Arrenhae looked at him with disbelief. "Explain it to me so I can share your confidence that our son is not destined to terrorize the galaxy and nearly bring it to war."

The Praetor bit back a harsh snarl of contempt. As much as he cherished Arrenhae, the woman could be positively infuriating at times!

"He will be taught properly about upholding true honor and the difference between vengeance and justice." He reached out to stroke the small head of his child, his voice dropping to a low, pained tone, "I will ensure that the history of our future does not repeat in its past."

Tiny hands grasped his again, drawing his fingers to a toothless mouth. Once more, silence reigned in the room, but this time there were no giggles, no coos, and no laughter. Even the baby seemed to feel the tension as it quietly sucked on his father's large index finger, wide eyes staring up into the anxious faces of his parents.

"Arrenhae." He covered her hand with his own, squeezing gently and staring into her eyes with absolution, "You must trust me. Our son will not become what everyone thinks. I will replenish our name and keep it strong, I promise you."

"How?"

The Praetor straightened, a ghost of a smile whispering across his lips. "I will restore the mnhei'sahe that was taken from us, in proper Romulan fashion. Politicking with Starfleet has come to an end. The one who has brought shame to our family, the one who…" the words choked in his throat as he felt a sudden wave of fury wash over him. "…who killed our son, I will see that he suffers."

"What have you done?" asked Arrenhae, watching him closely.

"I have done what every father who has watched his child murdered has the right to do. I have put into motion an arrangement that will bring back our honor." He smiled down at the chubby infant, taking him from his mother. "And I will give him back his future."

The child babbled excitedly as the Praetor lifted him to eye level, returning the wide smile.

"You will not die a second time, Nero."

He didn't see the curious, yet skeptic, look that crossed his wife's face.

A soft knock against the wall drew the couple's attention towards the large doorway where the young Romulan secretary stood, eyes downcast respectively.

"What is it?" the Praetor growled, the annoyance creeping into his voice, "I said I'm not to be disturbed today."

The Romulan inclined his head. "Forgive me, Grand Praetor, but Ambassador Avell R'Mor is standing by to speak with you."

"He's planet-side already?" the Praetor blinked in surprise.

"No, Praetor. Ambassador R'Mor is still enroute, approximately one hundred and forty-four hours out. He's transmitting via the com uplink on board his vessel."

"Tell the Ambassador that I will speak with him once he returns to Romulus."

The Romulan hesitated, lifting his eyes from the briefest of moments. "I beg your forgiveness, Grand Praetor, but the Ambassador says it is of some urgency…in regards to the safety of the Empire."

The safety of the Empire. The one phrase that controlled the movements of all Romulans, including the Praetor.

He could hope to spend time with his family as much as he wanted. However, once attention was demanded in order to defend against a threat to the Empire, even a Praetor had no choice but to respond.

Taking a deep breath, he turned back to his wife, handing baby Nero to her with a promising smile. "This will not take long."

"Nero and I will wait for your return, Praetor." She offered a soft smile, "Go and do your duty for the Empire."

Brushing the back of his hand against her cheek once more, the Praetor stood and followed the Romulan attendant to his private office on the other side of his massive home. It was by his own personal decision to keep his family and work separate. There was no need to bring the brutality of ruling an Empire into his own bed.

It took nearly five minutes just to cross from one side to the other and the entire time, the Praetor ignored the reverent greetings of his other subjects and family members. As they approached his private quarters, the guard sitting at station before his door leapt to his feet and jerked open the heavy frame, snapping to attention.

The Praetor waved a hand in acknowledgement as he swept past with his attendant on his heels. The young Romulan rushed around to the wide desk that stood before a massive polarized windowpane that revealed the expansive Romulan city and political hub, Krocton, below. Powering the Praetor's desktop viewer, the Romulan stepped away.

"Ambassador R'Mor, Grand Praetor."

"Thank you." The face of Ambassador Avell materialized on the screen.

The Romulan backed to the doorway, careful not to turn his back to the Praetor as he left. "Glory to the Empire." The door firmly shut behind him.

"Glory to the Empire, Grand Praetor!" came Avell's confident greeting, "I ---"

The Praetor rounded on the smiling Ambassador, his dark eyes narrowing to dangerous slits as he glared venomously at the shocked Romulan. "You little bastard!" he barked out, his contained fury finally released, "When I say I am unavailable, I'm unavailable! Do you understand?"

The Ambassador seemed at a loss for words. "I…uh, forgive my impudence, Praetor. I didn't mean to disturb you."

"I'm sure." He took a moment to pulling in a long breath, "Are you going to tell me why you've disrupted my afternoon or just continue to stare at me?"

Avell swallowed visibly, a nervous look on his face. "I apologize, Great Praetor, but I wanted to inform you of my mission on Earth before my arrival on Romulus."

"The Vulcan is in your possession." It was a statement, not a question. It was a matter of life for Romulans; his orders were always executed without hesitation. "I'm glad for this. Soon our people will have their due justice and they will thank you for your hard work in bringing this Vulcan criminal to his judgment."

The anxious expression did not diminish with the praise. A cold sweat broke across Avell's forehead. "No, Praetor, there was a…complication. The Vulcan is not with me at the moment."

"What?" The words failed to sink in. No? Since becoming Praetor over a year ago, the word 'no' had almost been absent in his life. It was almost as though Avell was speaking an alien language. Nails digging into flesh, the Praetor forced his mind to clear. "Explain."

"Forgive me, Great One, but those Federation dogs refuse to relinquish Commander Spock. They say that we have no reason to pursue him, that our claims are unjustified." Avell's throat seemed to dry as he struggled to get the words out, "However, I'd managed to arrange with one of their Admirals to prevent Spock from entering Romulan space in order to stem any acts of revenge by the Vulcan. If they were to fail in that, then we may capture him without ramifications."

He took in the furious glare of his leader and blanched.

"It…seemed reasonable…"

The Praetor let out a low growl. "I sent you to Earth to bring the Vulcan back to Romulus, not play politics with the humans. In a hundred and forty-four hours, that half-breed should be bleeding to death on an execution block, not exploring the galaxy on a warship! What part of 'bring me the Vulcan' did you fail to comprehend?"

"Great Praetor ---"

"How can I protect our people when the one who allowed millions to die still enjoys life?"

There was silence as the Praetor stared down at Avell, waiting for an explanation. The Romulan kept his gaze lowered, trying not to look up as he spoke in a hushed, almost pained voice. "Praetor, I must say…I do understand the human's position on the matter."

A vein bulged in the Praetor's left temple. "Come again?"

"They say that we have no right to demand the capture of Spock. They say he has done nothing. Great One," Avell's dry throat caught uncomfortably as he tried to swallow, "...perhaps they are right? After all, it was not this Spock that allowed Romulus to burn, but another Spock pulled from the future by Nero. There is evidence that this future Spock now lives among the remains of his people on New Vulcan. Should it not be him that we are pursuing, and not his younger self? That, to me, Great Praetor, would bring true justice."

"Then it's a good thing that fools like you aren't in charge."

Avell stiffened at the insult but held his tongue. "I don't---"

"If I let Spock live, I let him live to fail. In this rare instance, the past is allowed to learn from the future. If there is no Spock, then there is no one to disappoint us. A more capable Vulcan will take his place in protecting us from impending disaster." A cold smile breezed across his face, "And once the remaining Vulcans see what happens to those to break the mnhei'sahe, I doubt Spock's replacement will fail to succeed. That is why Commander Spock must be brought before judgment. Romulus will be saved by our actions now."

More than that, the Praetor thought, my family's name will be restored, my son's murder avenged, by our actions now. There will be true justice.

"I…I understand, Great Praetor." Truly, Avell was still confused, but further disobedience may only increase his punishment. "As always, you are wiser than any. But, humans are not as logical as we are. The Federation will never hand him over without conflict."

"Why?"

"They have simply placed him under minimal containment onboard the Enterprise - which will be allowed to proceed in mission operations as normal. There is feeling that the restriction is a compromise in preventing Commander Spock's actions, but this is not in accordance to our original agreement."

"If this were not such common occurrence among their kind, I would be insulted." The Praetor sighed. "So twice they have broken the mnhei'sahe. Such a barbaric culture."

Avell remained silent.

"It doesn't matter. The Federation doesn't have a choice. If they cannot abide to a simple contract – no matter how foolish it is…" his venomous glare bore down as Avell flinched, "then they do not deserve our respect. Inform your captain that you will not be returning to Romulus just yet. Have him navigate to these new coordinates." The Praetor paused for a moment, entering into the data screen a series of coordinates. Avell froze as they flashed across his screen.

"Great One, this is…"

"An opportunity to redeem yourself. Go there and wait for further instructions." The Praetor sent him a harsh look, "I know you are close to your human friend, but there should be no need to tell you to keep your mouth shut."

"None, Great Praetor, but what will I tell the humans?"

The Praetor thought for a moment. "Tell them that despite their own failure to uphold our agreement, we will not attack the Enterprise unless they enter into Romulan space."

"May I ask the purpose of sending me here? This is still within Romulan territory, which the Enterprise likely will not enter. I fail to comprehend how this will help us capture Spock."

"The Federation won't tell us where the Enterprise is, and space is much too large to search. Why should I waste resources having to hunt for the Enterprise?" The predatory grin returned to the Praetor's face. "It's much easier to let them hunt us. If the Federation is as predictable as they are ignorant, you won't have to wait long before the Spock comes to you."

MP**MP**MP**MP**MP

Spock braced one hand against the shower wall, his head bent and body enjoying the sensations as the soft pulses of the sonic shower fell across his tense frame.

It had been over seven hours since Spock last spoke to Nyota and in thirty-two point five minutes, he would have to report on deck to serve out his final shift. Unfortunately, that did not mean he would have time to speak. The main crew would be taking turns departing for an hour for a dinner break before the next eight hour shift. Spock would have to stay on the bridge and temporarily take command for Kirk, so there would be no opportunity for them to have some privacy.

"Computer, activate water spray." Immediately, a blast of warm water sprayed down from the ceiling of the shower, wetting the Vulcan's finely kept hair. He reached for a bottle of shampoo and dumped a generous amount into his hands. Despite the eight hour breaks between shifts, a relatively novice crew meant Spock rarely found time to do the most simple things. He would take the opportunity now.

He would have to wait a full nine hours, and by that time they would be closing in on the Neutral Zone. From their station near one of the Federation's outposts, it was only a ten day journey – at optimal warp - to their destination just outside Romulan space. Preparations needed to be made if he was to live comfortably during his eight month confinement and that would leave little time for Nyota.

Stepping from the shower with a fresh mop of wet hair, Spock pulled a towel from beneath his immaculately organized vanity and quickly toweled his hair dry before wrapping the slightly warm towel about his waist and stepped out into the cold of his room. There was a sharp, involuntary inhale as the cold of the ship hit him, goose bumps immediately springing out all over his body. He'd earned permission from Kirk to raise his room's temperature to eighty degrees, but it was still much too cold for him.

Spock stood in the middle of the room for a moment, the towel around his slim waist catching the rivulets of water that streamed down his finely-toned body. Suddenly, he dropped to the floor and lay on his back across the soft carpet of his bedroom, closing his eyes for a moment to compose and relax his mind. He could feel the faint, pleasant vibrations in the Enterprise's hull as she traveled through the system at warp. It was an experience he'd picked up from Nyota. While traveling from Earth to their initial outpost assignment – a three week long excursion, even at maximum warp – Nyota would often urge him at lay on the floor with her.

"Come on, you'll love it."

"I adamantly disagree with that statement." Spock eyed the outstretched Nyota with only the slightest hint of trepidation, "It is illogical to love an inanimate object. And if you are referring to the common human phrase that I will somehow 'enjoy' the experience, I again disagree. Even with our modern cleaning units, a common carpet contains over 250,000 microorganisms per square inch and 3,000 different species of bacteria, many of which can lead to ---"

"Spock, shut up and lie down."

And he had done so, albeit unwillingly. Now, it had become one of his favorite things to do when he was alone, something he would never admit to her. Even a half-breed Vulcan hated hearing 'I told you so'. It was something he could take advantage of at any time. Even when the ship wasn't at warp, one could still sense the vibrations caused by the powerful starship engines; it was simply more pronounced during warp. His mind at ease, Spock let the gentle vibrations work against his stressed body.

His eyes slid shut and he let himself wander.

It was the low pitched ding of his doorbell that pulled Spock from his contentment, his deep onyx eyes opened calmly as he stood gracefully from his place on the carpet. Aware of his state of undress, Spock padded over to his door, activating the tiny view screen next to it. He blinked in tightly veiled surprise at the person standing before his door, but still opened it.

"Hey." The voice was almost shy but clearly worried.

"Lieutenant." Spock tactfully masked the surprise in his voice as his internal clock swung to life, providing the information he required, "It's only two forty-five. Should you not be at your station on the command deck?"

At her slow approach, he stepped aside, allowing her entry.

"I had to leave." A slight scowl crossed Uhura's face as she entered his quarters, pressing a paper bag into his hands. "I can't concentrate. I've been trying for the past eight hours, but I just can't."

His eyes narrowed in concern. "Explain."

"I don't know." She shook her head pacing over to the couch and lowering her tired body into it, "I just…I can't…" she looked withdrawn, "I guess it's because of this morning Spock. All day I've been trying to figure out what you have to tell me that's so urgent. It's been distracting me."

An eyebrow shot up. "I apologize for causing you any undue stress."

"It's not your fault. It's just that you can be so damn mysterious sometimes." She flashed a teasing smile before shaking her head and standing. "You can tell me after we eat. I'm way too hungry to listen to anything right now."

Spock's mouth twitched in an almost-smile. "Indeed."

It was moments later, as Spock stood to clear the bowls of soup from the table that he could feel the saturating tension descend upon the room. He'd wanted to draw out the quick lunch as long as possible to avoid this, but it was necessary for Nyota to know.

Briefly, he wondered if discussing a Code 47 with another crewmember would be an extreme violation of Starfleet policy – and if he were honest, he would know it was so – but he didn't dwell on the consequences. They were preferable to Nyota's reaction if he didn't tell her.

When he returned, Nyota was no longer at the small dining table but had instead relocated to the nearby couch. She sat there silently watching he sat next to her, eyes tense. For a moment they remained in silence, one watching the other with a mix of curiosity and caution.

As the silence stretched into a full minute, Nyota let out an impatient huff of a sigh and rolled her eyes as she came up from the couch.

"This is ridiculous, Spock," she chided with an annoyed glare, striding over to stand in front of him, "I know you're the silent type, but honestly, it can't be that bad."

"Forgive me. I was trying to formulate the situation into a fashion that will cause the least amount of stress."

"Spock. I have to deal with an overbearing, flirtatious Captain who can't take a hint, onboard a crowded starship, in the middle of nowhere, and the only means of escape are my room – which he has access to - or into the vacuum of space." She grinned, "I'm used to stressful situations."

"And yet you continually protest that there is nothing to do."

Nyota would have missed the teasing tone in his voice had she not learned to look for it. She waited for Spock to speak, sensing the need to be patient.

The Vulcan Commander stood stiff before her. "Nyota, it is of the utmost importance that what I am about to say not leave this room."

"Of course."

He inclined his head in gratitude. "A situation has arisen that has forced the Captain and I to comply with less than logical demands from Starfleet Command. These demands require that I conform to a rather disruptive assignment for the duration of our mission."

Uhura stood there before him, her face blank. "Ok."

Spock blinked. "That…is not the response I expected."

"Well, you haven't really told me anything. At least nothing beyond what's expected."

"I fail to comprehend."

"Spock," Uhura sighed, stepping closer so she could stare up into his warm dark eye, "if you have something to tell me, then please stop with the mystery and just say it. If you can't tell me, then I'd rather you not bring it up in the first place, especially if it means I can't think all day."

Spock winced. "I apolo ---"

"If you apologize one more time, I'm walking out the door."

Alien jaws snapped shut like a steel trap.

"Thank you. Now. What. Is. It?"

Spock let out the tiniest of sighs, bringing up a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "While I will not apologize, as requested, I would like to offer you my regrets. It appears that the consequences of my future may still be having an effect on my present. For reasons still unexplained to me, I have been ordered to remain in my quarters for the duration of this mission."

Nyota tensed. "What?"

"I have been placed under strict limitations to prevent my movement while I remain onboard the Enterprise. I am to stay in these living quarters, undisturbed, until the end of our mission."

"And when you say 'undisturbed'…?"

Spock's hard eyes locked on her face. "I mean to say that you will not see me again until our return to Earth. Eight months from today."

"What?" Uhura pulled away from him, taking at step back to let her eyes sweep over his stone face. She wasn't angry so much as she was confused. "Why would Starfleet order such a thing? If this honestly had something to do with Nero, it doesn't make sense that you would be punished for it."

"I don't believe this is as much punishment as it is precaution."

Skeptical arms crossed her chest. "And what makes you think that? Have you suddenly become a danger to the crew?" The sarcastically veiled curiosity was hard to detect, even for Spock.

"Perhaps not directly. Based on the fact that we are being deployed to the edges of the Romulan Neutral Zone so soon after the conflict with Nero, and considering that tension is still high between the Federation and Romulus, it would be logical to conclude that this is a precautionary step taken by Starfleet to ensure that the Romulans aren't provoked into action."

Nyota was shaking her head in disbelief. "I still don't understand. Did you do something during that horrible day that I missed? You weren't the only one involved with that, Spock. All of us were. If they wanted to keep from provoking Romulus – for whatever ridiculous reason - then the restrictions would apply to the entire starship, not just you." She glowered bitterly. "This is the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

The corner of Spock's mouth twitched. "Agreed."

She looked up at him for the first time with anxious eyes. "You're not going to really comply with this are you?"

"Starfleet Command has ordered it."

Dark eyes blazed. "It makes no sense!"

"As the Captain expressed, you don't have to like every order you're given. But you must still obey it. We are officers in Starfleet, Nyota," he slid his knuckles down the side of her arm, enjoying the small jolts of contact. The last he would have in at least eight months. "This is our life."

She sighed. "'Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do and die.'"

Spock's head tilted just so. "An interesting quote."

"The Charge of the Light Brigade. Alfred, Lord Tennyson."

"Hmm. Perhaps I shall add that to my collection of reading material for the mission."

Suddenly Nyota let her head fall against Spock's hard body, the Vulcan barely having time to react as her arms wrapped around his broad form, trying to mold herself within his chest. "Please don't sound like you're giving into this, Spock."

"As you so brilliantly quipped, I have no choice."

"I'm not going to like it."

"I know."

"You're leaving me alone. With Kirk."

"Not alone, k'diwa." He slowly brought his face down until his cheek was pressed against the top of her head, bring his arms around her own body. "I will not deny that I find this most distressing. Being apart from you when you're so close…"

A soured smile glanced across his lips.

"We Vulcan's try to keep our weaknesses hidden, mostly under the reasoning that it's illogical to reveal our limitations to others. There was a time, before the teachings of Surak freed us from our violent behaviors and lifestyles, that we would fight and kill to keep what we didn't want known safe. Although our methods have changed somewhat, our motives have not."

Nyota's voice was muffled by the material of his shirt. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because…" He brought a hooked finger to her chin and lifted her face to his. Slowly, he rested his lips against hers, enjoying the soft feel of her softness against his; reveling in the wild, yet subtle smell of raspberries that was her own, a smell that he'd come to savor and need more that substance.

Her hands trailed to the back of his head, desperately pulling him closer as she tried to deepen the kiss, her tongue brushing against his lips and gaining the access she desired. He could sense the love and barely-there misery flowing between them in a chaotic loop. He gently pulled away, resting his forehead against her own and sending waves of reassurance into her troubled mind.

"Because, my beautiful Nyota, I believe that my weakness has been found."

She smirked, quirking a playful eyebrow. "So you would fight to keep me safe?"

Spock immediately pulled away. "Absolutely not."

Nyota jerked at his serious expression and suddenly her face was contorting to Spock-directed anger. But before she could speak the words of annoyed frustration building behind her lips, Spock pulled her back up into a fierce embrace.

"I would not just fight, k'diwa. I would die to keep you safe."

Softening beneath his embrace, Nyota couldn't help but laugh.

"You are so corny."

MP**MP**MP**MP**MP

Did you know that a "moment" is equal to 1.5 minutes or 1/40 of an hour? Now you know!! Isn't Wikipedia awesome?!? So, please take a "moment" and review!!

Hope this chapter gave some insight as to why Spock is being pursued rather than Spock Prime. The next couple of chapters will explain even further, but I want to give you just a bit of tease.

Translation notes: shaoi kon/shaoi ben = greetings in Romulan; mnhei'sahe = the honor code that Romulans live by. It's very important to them and if they feel it has been trampled on, they will go to extreme measures (including war) to even things out.