Disclaimer: I don't own Pike, Number One, Spock or Nyota

Although chronologically this follows "Descartes Error" (S/U) origins and "The Vulcan" I've attempted to write it as a standalone piece. Events in these previous stories may be mentioned, but not without explanation.

Special Thanks to Beta Notes from the Classroom

Transit

There were seven hours, forty-three minutes and nineteen seconds before Spock would see Nyota again. Taking a deep breath, Spock focused on the game...or more precisely, on his opponent.

Number One's slender arm reached out and grasped the chess piece. She lifted it and Spock saw it tremble slightly in her hands. His eyes flicked to Pike...the older man's eyes met his.

Number One was getting much better. She had some hair on her head now. They were in her quarters and she wore pajamas, but she was sitting in a chair, not lying a bed. She'd put on a little more weight. And this was the longest she'd been able to play chess since Spock had come back from Epsilon 1235.

Number One and Engineer McSpadden had saved the Farragut but had taken in over 18 Gyi of radiation. Doctor Puri was calling it a miracle they were both still alive. Survival after that dosage was only 50%, even in this century.

Number One set the piece down on the board too heavily and knocked several pieces to the side.

"Okay, young lady," Pike said. "You've had enough."

"Goddamn you," Number One said, staring at the board. Her body swayed dangerously. "Must you be so condescending!"

Pike smiled, "When you behave like a child...yes. You should have stopped playing fifteen minutes ago."

Number One made a low noise in her throat.

Spock hadn't quite decided if he found her constant pushing of her limits an admirable quality -- how could one improve otherwise? Or infuriatingly illogical. It seemed one could test one's limits slightly less.

Pike looked at Spock and nodded...There was a routine to these games and this was Spock's cue. "It occurs to me that I could use this time to prepare for my shore leave..." he said, rising to his feet. It wasn't a lie...Spock had been getting a lot of practice at prevarication -- he could use this time to prepare...but he did not need this time to prepare...

"Anxious to leave, Spock?" asked Number One, with a raised eyebrow.

Spock raised an eyebrow in return. Actually...he was, need or not.

"We're not going anywhere until you get into bed," said Pike.

This was also part of the routine.

Number One said something in Klingon that a few weeks ago would have made Spock blush. Now, however, he was inured.

Pushing herself up with her hands, Number One stood up and made her way to the bed. Pike and Spock followed a pace behind her on either side...the last two games she'd managed to make it back on her own but...

Number One began to sink, the movement so fluid that it was like she was melting. Before she fell to the ground, Spock and Pike were both underneath an arm...her hand briefly touched Spock's and he felt flickers of emotions and sensations by now familiar...frustration...irritation...exhaustion...

Spock blinked...she was getting better.

"Dammit. I hate this!" said Number One.

"I did not sense the urge to vomit," said Spock. "I believe you are recovering."

"Sorry, Spock... Didn't mean to touch your hand," she mumbled as they carried her to the bed, her feet barely touching the ground now.

"It is quite alright." And it was. Her feelings were much easier to deal with than the ones he'd picked up from Nurse Chapel when she'd given him his mandatory birth control hypo last week....Spock restrained a shudder.

Moving away as Pike helped her maneuver into bed, Spock watched Number One's eyelids sink and Pike pull the covers up to her chin. The Captain stared down at her for too long; even Spock recognized it as an affectionate gaze...or something more. Sometimes he wondered if he were here to play chess or to be a chaperon.

Spock checked his internal clock. Seven more hours, twenty-nine minutes, forty-three seconds...Enough time to sleep, meditate, grab breakfast, transport planet side, pick up the rented hover car and meet Nyota at the transport station. Actually, if he left now he could get there early--

"Captain?" he said quietly, putting his hands behind his back.

"What?" Pike looked up at him. "Oh, yeah...let's go..."

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

"Yes, the Tillal'a'ha, the native sentient species of Altair 25, were a pre-warp society when they joined the Federation...about where Earth was around the 1980's, no internet, basic computers. The Federation gave them the option of joining because they're close to the neutral zone and there was intelligence that the Klingons were thinking of invading," responded Nyota.

"Wow, you're so smart. How did you know all that?" asked Raina, the girl in the seat next to her.

Nyota felt a little embarrassed, for herself and for her companion. This girl and her friend went to Oxford?

Nyota tapped her PADD, currently displaying the Time Out Guide to Altair 25. "I read the first chapter of the guide," said Nyota.

"It's so sad that the natural development of the society was interrupted," said Raina's companion, Gena. "And did they have to put a Starfleet base on the planet? They are completely destroying the native culture."

"The Federation and Starfleet have worked hard to honor the native culture of the Tillal'a'ha...and actually, the Tillal'a'ha themselves view the Federation's arrival as a natural process in what they call 'The Rejoining'....they believe the only constant is change. If there ever was a society ready to be fast-forwarded into the twenty-third century, it's them. Klingons would have completely devastated the culture," said Nyota, trying to sound as inoffensive as possible.

Raina looked at her for a long moment and then said, "I don't think the Klingons would have actually invaded. They haven't been truly aggressive for years..."

Nyota's jaw dropped. "Haven't you heard about Epsilon 1235?"

"Those were rogue Klingons...and besides, most of that is just rumors...I don't think twenty-five-thousand humans really died..." said Gena.

"And anyway," said Raina, "humans were attacking Klingon clanships...so, of course, they would retaliate."

"I don't think," Nyota said struggling to keep her voice calm, "that the humans on Epsilon 1235 were responsible for attacking Klingon clanships."

She was ignored.

"I think it's just a Federation excuse to have a base in a strategic location," said Raina.

Nyota stared at the two girls. She couldn't really tell them about her work in the sensory array lab at Starfleet Academy...

Just then the captain's voice came on. "We will be approaching Altair 25's Equatorial Island Chains in thirty-three minutes. If your final destination is Starfleet Base, the Olin'ari' and Fanozinia Ruins, City of T'illal, please report to your scheduled shuttle..."

Nyota swallowed. She was almost there. She felt a smile slipping over her features; her body felt like it was literally vibrating...she was happy and nervous and anxious and ecstatic...she took a deep breath...

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Spock stood just outside of customs, surrounded by a full spectrum of hominid greetings.

There were a few Vulcans sprinkled in the crowd, greeting relatives with nods and quick, nearly imperceptible finger touches.

And then there were the natives of Altair 25 themselves, the Tillal'a'hans. They were humanoid, with skin the color of sandstone, pointed ears higher and more delicate than a Vulcan's, and heads of white hair.

Their standard greeting was to push their bodies together, press both their hands to the hands of the other -- palms and all five fingers on each hand completely touching -- then to touch their cheeks together, one long lingering touch upon each side. From a Vulcan touch telepath's perspective, especially one attuned to the touch of hands and fingertips, it was an incredibly intimate gesture on public display.

The Tillal'a'hans' greetings almost made the human embraces, kisses and handshakes seem rather restrained in comparison...but...

Putting his hands behind his back, Spock remembered when he'd arrived in Nairobi. Nyota had almost hugged him...he'd drawn back instinctively. He understood the sentiment behind her gesture, but the thought of an embrace in public was still...too much...the idea made him feel vulnerable. Exposed.

Where was Nyota?

Her shuttle had landed fifteen minutes ago...he gazed through the doors separating him from customs. The lines were long. It was the perfect time to visit Altair 25's Equatorial Islands...

And then he saw her through the glass doors, hair drawn up in a neat pony tail, wearing a long white dress and sandals, sweater wrapped around her waist. She wasn't looking in his direction; her eyebrows were drawn slightly together. She had only two bags, both rolling behind her, one on top of the other. How very efficient; there would be no trip to the baggage claim area...but she seemed to be sagging under their weight. He tilted his head. Altair 25's gravitational pull was only seven-eighths that of earth...how had she managed on her own planet?

Nyota's gaze met his. She smiled wide and quickened her pace...he tilted his head. It almost felt as though his heartbeat was aligning to her steps.

At exactly .75 meters in front of him she stopped. Her smile got a little less broad. She bit her bottom lip and inclined her head.

"Nyota," he whispered.

"Spock," she replied, looking up at him, her eyes moist.

The moment seemed to hang in the air. He took in Nyota's mocha skin, her wide eyes...he had once heard a human in his department describe Nyota as being doe-eyed. He supposed the comparison was apt -- although her personality was hardly timid. She could be absolutely fierce in her convictions...in bed...

Her face was different than he remembered, maybe because so many of his memories were now of her face on a subspace comm screen? She looked more alive, her skin tone was more vivid, but...her cheeks were gaunter than when he left, and between her brows now, ever so faint, were two creases. These were new. He had not seen them over the comm…

She was his. She was the woman he was almost bonded with. He knew if he could embrace her as the humans around him were doing, she would be overjoyed...and yet, when he thought of doing so, his arms felt like they were made of lead. Like they didn't belong to him and he could not control them, as though they had some will of their own and would not deign to budge from behind his back for such a gesture.

So he tried to give them something to do. He nodded. "May I take your bags, Nyota?"

"Oh, yes, thank you," she stammered.

Spock wheeled them behind him, pointed down the hall, and said, "This way; the hover isn't far."

"Oh, great," she fell into step at his side, looking ahead.

The greeting was inadequate.

Weren't they, for all intents and purposes, bonded? Something existed. What had the Vulcan Gray Guardsman, Novasch, said? It was a bond that was incomplete...but...

He looked down at her; she was staring straight ahead.

Gently reaching out with his free hand, he brought his index and middle fingers to her own. As soon as he touched her cool skin, she looked up at him and beamed.

Spock felt...like he was home...It was if he had been parched with thirst but hadn't realized his need until he'd taken a sip of water, and now that that cool sip was rolling through his body, he needed more.

It was such a tiny touch that emotional transference was limited, but...he felt...happiness...hers. Clearly. He echoed. She bit her lip as she looked up at him, still smiling.

They were in a terminal bustling with hominids of many species; the logical part of Spock's mind knew this. But another part felt like they were completely alone.

A/N:

I published another chapter of "The Devil Likes Chocolate" on Thanksgiving...just fun, per the usual. Find out why Toshi is a bad boy...

Thanks for reading to the bottom of the page. If you've got the time I'd really like to hear from you. Reviews are the only way fanfiction authors and our beta's get paid...so if you were mildly entertained please review!