Sochya Spock

the peaceful one with whom I share almost all physical attributes,

to whom I have pledged my allegiance,

has secured quarters for me on this foreign version of my vessel…

Enterprise…such a different meaning from the one I know.


~ by T'Naehm on April 26, 2011.

27 Responses to “Sustainance”

  1. Beta shift complete, I politely excuse myself from indulging in what had previously been becoming my customary evening dinner with the Captain in favor of procuring nourishment from the replicators and making my way to Deck 6, where the turbulent T’Naehm Spock has been granted current residence, stepping inside once I have been acknowledge.

    “Greetings..” A pause, assessing. “Given the the hour, I thought this logical.” I set the tray of vegetarian assortment down upon the desk within his quarters.

    “…I trust your day has passed satisfactorily?”

    • I am not properly attired, but I answer when Sochya Sa-Kai arrives.
      After excusing myself to do so, I return, and look down at the proffered consumables, touched at the gesture. I realize that Spock has spoken, and I failed to respond.

      “I beg your pardon, Sa-kai Sochya…” I begin, addressing him in our manner. “I am not certain how to convey to you my gratitude.”

      I quickly endeavor explication “No one has ever attempted to anticipate my needs…” I leave the sentence, and lower my gaze once more to the feast before us. “I see, too, that your people have abandoned the more brutal act of carnivorous consumption.”

      • “We have,” I confirm, waiting first for him to seat himself before doing the same opposite him, the desk between us.

        The fact that I intend to eat with him goes unvoiced…it was easily surmisable by the amount of supplement brought with me.

        “Your people have not?” I draw a bowl of fruit neatly closer to me.

        “Your gratitude is acknowledged, Sa-Kai T’Naehm…you are most welcome. If none have anticipated your needs in the past, here, while you occupy this ship, I will be doing so to the best of my ability.”

        I pause here, brown gaze lifting to meet his, “If you would prefer carnivorous selections in the future, I shall make note of it.”

  2. A fondness for my Dewk’a Sasu enters my person, causing my vocal pattern to seem slightly abrasive, rough.

    “There was a time the scribes noted that my ancestors attempted to eradicate our omnivorous diet, in favor of vegetation only…”

    I place the cloth over my lap and offer one to Sochya. “But it was soon discovered that we regretted the lack of hunt.” I incline my head

    “K’ifa or Pustau.” I spread my hands.

    “That and the population control of our prey. It was, logical, to become omnivorous.”

    • I accept the cloth from T’Naehm, careful to not initiate any direct contact of our hands, soon placing the cloth upon my lap as I listen.

      An imperceptible frown line develops between elegantly angled brows at the knowledge that in his universe the lives of Vulcan animals are slaughtered for the mere sake of population control. …But given what I witnessed within his mind, I feel no surprise.

      “…I see. The opposite held true for the Vulcans in this universe, nonetheless it shall be noted for the future that you are not averse to meat.”

      Lifting my fork, I neatly spear a cranberry, inspecting it briefly before placing it into my mouth, ever the methodical consumer.

      “You did not state whether your day passed to your satisfaction.” An idle comment…an observation.

      • I inhale deeply, gathering my thoughts in attempt to force them into some semblance of order.

        “I hesitate to clarify my opinion on the matter, Sochya.” I remember his tenderness toward all living things, learned from our exchange.

        “However, I must confess My inclination with regard to our conversation, is to protect you, somehow.” I stab zucchini with the utensil, and consume it giving my mouth something to do while my thoughts attempt to obey me.

        I swallow & feel my cheekbones shade pale jade as I resume “I am ambivalent with regard to meat. However, I find the primal aspects of hunting and dispatching prey…” I avert my gaze “most agreeable.”

        I clear my throat, and imbibe chilled liquid refreshment from my glass, pouring the clear fluid into his.

  3. A broccoli stem is properly cut, a fork placing a piece into my mouth where it is chewed and swallowed while I listen once more.

    “Protection is not done by withholding requested information, T’Naehm…if your time is passing disagreeably, I wish to rectify it.” I am, however, touched by his desire to ever subtle warmth to my gaze.

    I take a drink of the offered liquid refreshment, understanding surfacing in regards to why they hunted. …They derived enjoyment…perhaps pleasure from it.

    The idea itself inspires a faint shiver that I suppress with ease..ancient Vulcan ways were carried on where he is from. I lower my gaze.

    “Will your contentment not be negatively affected by the lack of any such things here?” They are frowned upon.

    • I bite deeply into a Klingon apple, chewing heartily, in thought

      “I have led you to believe, by my lack of comment, that I am displeased.”

      I lean back in my seat, bracing it against the wall “in truth, I was referring to our common cultural identity…Although the word does not seem appropriate.”

      I study the imprint my teeth have made in the flesh of the fruit, the outer skin-pale, but the insides, blood red.

      “Are your people unaware of the vaksur…the sanosh of witnessing one experiencing kusut?”***


      • “You mean to imply that you are not displeased?” Why else will he not offer an answer?

        I lower my fork in favor of folding my hands properly upon my lap, posture remaining erect and impeccable as I study him with my gaze, observing as he assess the bitten Klingon apple…his words somewhat uneasing.

        “There is no vaksur in kusut…no logical sanosh to be gained from it.” As far as I have been taught, as far I personally know.

        My expression remains impassive, but inwardly…no, perhaps best to temper curiosity.

      • My Sa-kai & I discuss all manner of topics returning often to eat & drink. At some point we have his chess set sent up to us for a long leisurely match.

        “I am, admittedly, out of practice.”

        I tell him as he resets the pieces, having defeated me.

  4. Brown eyes flicker back to my Sa-kai as sensitive digits set the last piece back into its customary position.

    “All is well, you were a worthy opponent, regardless.”

    The game had lasted far longer than it generally did with Jim, indicating better moves, and deeper thought.

    “You will regain practice while present aboard the Enterprise.” For Chess is one of my preferred pastimes.

    • I incline my head politely, thinking what a shame it is that he cannot…or rather Will not participate in My cherished pastimes.

      I clear my throat, at last at ease enough to discuss our earlier miscommunication.

      “Dewk’a Sasu…your crewmates are quite kind but my earlier hesitance was not due to a disagreeable day.”

      I turn my head, arching one brow ruefully “Hardly.”

      I walk to the round shape in the wall that serves as a window, allowing a view of the space surrounding the starship he knows.

      • I hesitate at his words, curiosity simmering, but also a select level of uncertainty at his finally opting to answer my much earlier query.

        I draw myself into a stand with a quiet, self contained grace, fingers mindfully adjusting my uniform top to rid it of minor wrinkles…and indeed perhaps for something to occupy myself with for 2.6 seconds.

        “Kindness…” My kindness, in particular?

        I find myself endeavoring to comprehend this better. “…is what led to your unsatisfactory day?”

  5. I turn to face him, unable to remove the mirth that lights my human eyes “Spock! The day was completely satisfactory.”

    I avert my gaze as a thought comes to mind that I must not entertain: how it could have been made to be perfect.

    “I simply meant to convey to you that I have never before experienced such…a humbling hospitality from any. Least of all Vulcans, particularly from–”

    …I hesitate to use the familiar word, since I learned from him the love with which he was raised.

    “our Father.”

    • His use of my –our– name in actuality is grounding, and my previous unease that perhaps he had not passed a satisfactory day passes, and I incline my head in acceptance, hands joining together behind my back as I watch him from my place near the desk, listening.

      Awareness finally spreads within me…recalling memories of his I had witnessed.

      “The difference between how we were raised and in what environment,” indeed how became who we are at present, “is great.”

      There is an unvoiced sadness beneath my eyes that his raising had been the decidedly less fortunate of us both to the point that hospitality is such a novel concept.

      • Something barely perceptible passes over Sochya Sa-Kai at my sharp utterance of his…our name.

        It causes me to catch my breath. I want to-further develop my hypothesis, but I am certain this is not the right time.

        I find the need to physically shake my head, to-clear it.

        I realize it may be misconstrued as disapproval of the way things are. This is easier than having to explain myself. I turn back toward the window, hands clenching subconsciously, and find the strength to speak


  6. For all our visible similarities, the familiarity present in his mind when one with mine, he continues to bemuse me with the most subtlest of actions or nonactions…with select or avoided words.

    “If I might inquire,” I voice at length, stepping forward to stand at his side, staring out at the expanse of space and all the promise it holds. “…does your lack of experience with hospitality lead you to experience discomfort on account of it?”

    Peripherally, I note that the lines of his body seem stiff.

    • I understand that this may be a grave error, but he is less than six inches away from me.

      I inhale deeply, eyes closed, and I utter the only words in my mind.

      A simple force of habit, the urge to suppress it over-ridden perhaps by our evening together, the easy camaraderie we’ve fallen into in such a short period of time.

      “You may inquire…” I speak sternly, “If you can rephrase your question in a manner twice as polite, ~Sa-Kan~.”

      • It would appear to be my turn to stiffen, the action just scarcely visible along the lines of my body, the response almost natural to his stern tone coupled with his manner of referring to me, my inhale of breath stopping short.

        It takes a moment, but my gaze turns to him, noting his closed eyes, perhaps his effort to control..something.

        I do not know what to make of my response to it.

        I do rephrase the query.

        “If you would be so benevolent as to please grant me an answer..does hospitality unease you in any way?”

  7. Upon resuming the act of respiration, it occurs to me that I had halted doing so pursuant to my demand.

    I open my eyes halfway in a nearly intoxicating wave of pleasure. The corner of my mouth twitches.

    I turn to face him “No. It does not displease me.”

    I reach for him in a movement that is intentional as it is risque, for our kind. I trace a thumb over the skin rapidly before-taking a step forward, toward the window

    “Rom Sa-Kan***, I am pleased with your prompt obeisance, Sochya…”

    *** Good Boy.

    • His opting to initiate contact with me causes my breath to still once more, perhaps in a hitch upon noting the pleasure felt through it…his pleasure, and my own internal response to it as if in echo.

      Rom Sa-Kan.

      I suppress a shiver, almost grateful when he steps forward and out of contact with me as I attempt to piece together briefly scattered thoughts, perception, regard in the wake of bemusement.


      That is all I state…perhaps all I am able to, all the queries in the universe present in one word.

      • I turn to face him, my face stern and almost feral in seriousness


        It is an answer, a command, and indicative of much more.

        When coupled with the arc I allow my angled brow to execute, I am satisfied that he understands every unsaid word.

  8. I meet his gaze, study his expression, the fascinating –albeit somewhat frightening– changes from our earlier evening to now.

    A number of rapid heartbeats pass, felt strong and swift in my side…an understanding filling me.

    Eyes close as I exhale softly, chin dipping down as I lower my head a few inches. An acquiescence of a sort.

    • A lamb. A sacrificial lamb.

      I fight to still my breathing, as I watch a vein in his throat pulsate.

      What does that make me?

      I sigh, and place a finger beneath his chin rapidly removing it when he looks up again. “Come.” I walk with him stopping short of the door to my quarters.

      I want to say something that will ease his pulse…just as I enjoy knowing I have caused it to thrum.

      • I search for something suitable to say, but find eloquent words failing me at present as my weight shifts ever unnoticeably from one foot to the other by the door, eased if nothing else by the prospect of leaving.

        I require….clearly, I require meditation.

        Reflection on illogical responses within me that I am yet uncertain what to make of.

        “…You have my gratitude for your willingness to pass time together,” a pause, an ever brief hesitance. “May you sleep well, Sa-Kai T’Naehm, until tomorrow.”

  9. With every step we have taken toward the door, I desired to stop.

    I want him to stay, and I want him to run.

    Our hands somehow stay behind our backs, which remain ram-rod straight, despite matching auras of…defeat?

    I replay the ten steps we took to get here over and over again within my mind. I find my focus trained on his mouth, listening to his words, analyzing each syllable.

    I swallow hard, and incline my head “Run-tor muhl, t’nash-veh Sa-Kai***…” My fingers ache.

    *** Dream Well, my Brother…

    • I experience a dryness in my mouth at the focus of his gaze, swallowing with marginal difficulty before inclining my head in response.

      “Isha, t’nash-veh Sa-Kai…” Likewise.

      I unclasp my hands, taking note of how digits pulsate in time with my pulse…illogical yearning…, raising one in the Vulcan Salute. “Dif-tor heh smusma.”***

      To leave, to stay, so many pulls, but with some effort I draw my eyes away from him…ear tips shading a pale jade as my hand lowers…and take my leave of his quarters.

      I breathe.

      *** Live Long And Prosper

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