DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of SterJulie and is copyright (c) 2004 by SterJulie. Rated PG.

It Was Only Logical

Ster Julie

It was the first Thursday night of the month and the Recreation Room was buzzing with anticipation. It was Concert Night.

Now, some of the crew were classically trained musicians, First Officer Spock and Communications Officer Lieutenant Uhura being two of many. Others were natural talents who had not had the benefit of voice or music lessons. Then there were those who loved to get up on stage, even though their voices were better suited for the shower.

Inspired by their encounter with Mr. Flint, Spock traded his Vulcan harp this evening for the ship's very adequate grand piano. Dressed in a soft midnight velour tunic and slacks, he showcased some of the never-before-heard compositions of the man once known as Brahms, Tchaikovsky, Bernstein, and more. It was a moving tribute to the once eternal, but now very mortal man who had first been a soldier in ancient Greece.

If Spock's performance gave a somber solemnity to the concert, it was quickly forgotten by Uhura's rowdy, bawdy performance of show tunes and love songs. Whereas Spock's performance drew polite applause, Uhura received a raucous ovation.

Spock spent the remainder of the evening contemplating the disparity in the crew's reaction during his and Uhura's performances. He found that he was curious about the differences in the crew's response.

Before he knew it, the formal portion of the concert was over. The finale was usually all of the musicians on stage in one impromptu piece.

"Do you know anything less highbrow, Spock?" McCoy teased. Kirk elbowed the doctor.

"Highbrow?" Kirk commented. "Bernstein?"

"Hey," McCoy replied, "if it ain't country, it's highbrow!"

Without taking his eyes from McCoy, Spock played a very bluesy rendition of "Georgia On My Mind," which quickly turned into a sing- along, at least, for those who knew the words. Again, Spock noted the crowd's reaction and made a decision.

"Lieutenant Uhura?" he called softly after the performers' last bow.

"Yes?" she replied, turning toward him.

"I have a musical question for you," he said. "When would be a good time to discuss it?"

Uhura thanked the last of her well-wishers and gave the Vulcan her full attention.

"Perhaps if you asked your question," she began, puzzled, "I would know how much time to set aside for our discussion."

Spock nodded.

"Fair enough," he replied. "I noticed tonight that your songs evoked a greater response than the newly discovered works of Mr. Flint."

Uhura was confused. Was Spock saying that he was jealous that she got a bigger round of applause than he did?

"Do humans place a greater value on songs with words over instrumental pieces?" Spock asked.

Uhura thought a moment. She wanted to give Spock a proper answer.

"Mr. Spock," she began, "some humans need more time to process instrumental music. Some of us have to figure out what it is saying to us."

"Saying?" Spock repeated, puzzled. Uhura nodded.

"Music can evoke an emotional response," she continued. "On the other hand, a song can tell us immediately what it means through its lyrics."

"Ah," Spock replied. Uhura looked at Spock askance.

"Don't Vulcan songs evoke a similar response?" she asked. "Or are they all logical?"

"Like any other culture," Spock began, "Vulcan music has a broad range of styles. Some are logical, while others are not."

Uhura looked around playfully.

"And which style do you like, Mr. Spock?" she asked in a conspiratorial manner, as if his answer would hold a secret truth. Spock raised an eyebrow at the lieutenant's odd behavior, and then he noted the playful twinkle in her eye. He leaned in and copied her pose.

"I 'like' none of the styles," he whispered back, "but I appreciate many of them."

Uhura leaned back and laughed aloud, shaking her head.

"Who knew you were so funny?" she chuckled.

Spock paused for a moment. The hour was late and he knew that they both had alpha shift the next day. It would be logical to continue this discussion at another time.

"Lieutenant," he began, "I have more that I wish to discuss on this topic. When could we continue this talk?" Uhura thought a moment.

"How about after shift tomorrow?" she suggested.

"I have a department meeting at 1600 hours, Spock replied. "Perhaps after that?"

"I have something at 2000 hours," Uhura answered as she thought. "How about during dinner? We could 'meet and eat.'"

"As a rule," Spock began uncomfortably, "Vulcans eat in silence, but perhaps I can find an appropriate compromise."

Uhura chuckled softly at Spock's, well, Spock-ness.

"Good night, Mr. Spock," she said as she patted his arm. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Good night, Lieutenant," he replied.

* * *

The next day's shift was so uneventful to be downright boring. Uhura found herself thinking back to the discussion she and Spock had had the night before about music. She stopped him with a touch as he passed her station.

"The anticipation is killing me, Mr. Spock," she began. Spock just looked at her, not understanding what in the galaxy she was talking about. "What did you want to discuss further?" she added. "About music?"

Spock briefly contemplated admonishing Uhura about keeping her mind on her work before replying.

"I have been having difficulty in one of my compositions," he said softly. "I was hoping to show my work to you, and perhaps to gain a new perspective."

"Ooh, now I am intrigued, Mr. Spock," Uhura bantered playfully. "What sort of compositional difficulties?"

"I am trying to write a song," he replied, his voiced pitched even softer. "With lyrics."

Uhura batted her eyes at the First Officer.

"Why, Mr. Spock," she nearly cooed, "You have to be inspired to write music."

"I am," he said enigmatically. Uhura fanned her lashes again.

"Is it I, Sugar?" she whispered, smiling coyly.

Spock gave Uhura his most inscrutable gaze. Uhura did not miss the tell-tale twinkle in his eye. She pretended to be hurt and sniffed.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Spock," she began, "but I will be unable to help you."

Spock leaned closer and whispered, "If I promise to write the next song for you, will you reconsider?"

Uhura looked up and saw the silent plea in Spock's eyes. She could see this was really important to him. She nodded and patted his arm.

"I'll help you," Uhura promised. "Are we still meeting at 1800 hours?"

"Yes," Spock nodded, straightening, "in the Recreation Room."

"Is something wrong?"

Spock and Uhura exchanged glances and turned toward the voice of their Captain.

"No, sir," Spock replied. Kirk looked from one officer to the other.

"You two were whispering at length," Kirk continued as he placed his fists on his hips in his best Alpha male stance. "Is there a conspiracy brewing?"

Spock was about to answer when he caught "that look" on Kirk's face. As his mother would say, someone was pulling his leg.

"Not at this time," Spock countered.

"Well, then," Kirk replied, "let's get back to work, shall we?"

Spock replied with a curt nod as he returned to his post.

"Yes, sir," Uhura replied meekly, even though she was practically burning with curiosity. 1800 hours couldn't come fast enough.

* * *

When Uhura entered the Rec Room, she found Spock sitting at a corner table, an air of "Do not approach me, I am working" surrounding him.

Uhura knew better. Grabbing a large mug of soup, she ventured right up to his table.

"Is this seat taken?" she purred.

"It is now," he answered in greeting, clearing away some of the clutter he had strategically placed to save a seat without looking like he was saving a seat. Spock pulled out the chair for Uhura.

"Your mama taught you well, kind sir," she said playfully.

"Indeed," Spock agreed.

Uhura sipped at her soup, trying to be calm and patient. Spock nearly jumped when she suddenly leaned forward in her seat.

"I can't stand it!" Uhura whispered fiercely. "Who is it?"

Spock reluctantly pushed a padd to her, but did not release it.

"I prefer not to say," he said in a low voice. "I think it is evident in these lyrics, but instead of guessing who it is, I'd rather you just rate the lyrics on their own merit."

Uhura eagerly took the padd and began reading. Spock studied her facial expressions, which quickly went from a smile to a frown. She returned the padd. Spock waited.

"So?" he prompted.

"Well, my mama told me, 'If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all.'"

Spock sat back.

"Is it that bad?"

"Honestly?" Uhura asked. Spock nodded. "It's awful," she replied. Spock slumped in disappointment.

"Then how do you suggest I proceed?" he asked in a small voice.

Uhura leaned forward, placed one arm on the table, and got into her lecture mode.

"Let's look at lyric styles," she began. "Lyrics can convey a message, or tell a story. The story could be told in a linear fashion or in a circular fashion."

"Circular?" Spock asked. "Can you cite an example?" Uhura thought a moment.

"Look at the creation story in Genesis. This story has a refrain that denotes the progression of time," Uhura continued. "'Evening came and morning followed, the next day,'" she quoted.

"Now, a linear story is one that has a beginning, middle and end," Uhura continued.

"Like historical facts?" Spock interjected. Uhura nodded.

"Or even like, 'O My Darlin' Clementine,'" she added. "The song describes Clementine, tells about how she fell into the water and drowned, and how the narrator feels about it."

Uhura looked up at Spock. The Vulcan seemed lost and dazed.

"Let's try another approach," she said, shifting in her seat. "Think of her name."

"Clementine?" he asked.

"No, silly," she replied, "your … the recipient of this song." Uhura gave Spock a moment.

"I am not very romantic," Spock observed.

"Why would you say a thing like that?" Uhura countered.

"Because I just thought of her full name, rank, and position on this ship," Spock replied, dejected. "Her latest performance review report also came to mind."

"Hmm," Uhura replied. "You're right. Not romantic at all." She tapped a perfect fingernail on the table. "Try this. Picture her in your mind."

"Clothed or unclothed?"

"WHAT?!" Uhura breathed. "Have you seen her unclothed?" Looking up, she caught "that look" in Spock's eye and knew he was teasing her. She gently punched his arm in response. "Picture her however you wish," she said softly, adding under her breath, "you naughty boy!" She leaned closer and nearly whispered, "Why are you attracted to her? Does she have a beautiful face and body? Does she have more of an inner beauty? Is it another quality about her that draws you to her?"

Uhura sat back and watched Spock think. Except for a narrowing of his dark eyes, his face was frozen in thought.

"She is very brave," Spock said at last, "very strong, yet very gentle." He took a breath. "As to her beauty…"

Uhura moved her soup mug so she could lean even closer.

"…she is aesthetically pleasing."

Uhura sat back. That must be how a Vulcan refers to something beautiful. It didn't sound romantic either.

"Do you think she harbors feelings for you, Mr. Spock?" Uhura asked dreamily, leaning her head in her hand. Spock nodded.

"She told me she loved me long ago," he answered.

"Long ago?" Uhura repeated. "What took you so long to write this song?" Spock shifted in his seat.

"When she made this declaration," he murmured, "I was not … free to accept her feelings."

"You were still engaged to be married," Uhura observed. Spock nodded.

"We have been circling each other ever since then," he replied. Uhura lurched forward.

"Write down 'circling,'" she said suddenly. Spock opened a new page and wrote the words as directed.

"Why am I doing this?" Spock asked as he complied.

"Just looking for inspiration," Uhura answered. "Go on. Tell me more about her. Are you friends?"

Spock considered this for a while.

"We are not friends in the same sense that the captain and I are friends," he replied at last. "However, we behave in a friendly manner toward one another."

"Hmm," Uhura replied again. "I'm not convinced, but write down 'friends.'" Spock bent to his padd again. "Did you know her before she came aboard?" Spock shook his head. "So you met her in space?"

Spock looked at Uhura, his head tilted to one side.

"Should I write 'in space,' maestra?" he asked with a small smirk. Uhura smiled.

"Now you're getting the idea!" she beamed. Uhura took the list and looked over the four words written on it. "There's not much here to work with," she murmured. "Tell me, Spock, why are you pursuing a relationship with her now?" Spock shrugged.

"It was only logical," he replied. Suddenly two heads popped up at the table. Spock reached for the padd just as Uhura was shoving it in his direction.

"It was only logical," he wrote.

"That sounds like a promising title," Uhura commented.

Spock didn't hear her. He was moving words around on the padd's little screen. "In space" soon became "between the stars."

Ignored, Uhura sipped at her mug one more time. Its contents had gotten cold. She got up, went back to the replicators and reheated her soup.

In the meantime, Spock was busy at work. The song seemed to be writing itself, following an ABABCCAB pattern, but Spock felt that something was missing. The bridge needed one word, one syllable …

"Aaah!" Uhura sighed in satisfaction after she tasted her reheated soup.

"Ah!" Spock added to the song. His burgeoning relationship left him feeling very satisfied. "Ah!" suited him - and the song - quite nicely.

Spock reached under the table and pulled up his Vulcan lyrette. He plucked a few notes, scribbled a notation on the padd, plucked a few more notes, and made more notations.

Uhura finished her soup as she watched him in fascination. A change here, another there, and soon Spock was done. He pushed the padd back to Uhura as he began to play, humming softly. Uhura followed along with the lyrics.

"How beautiful!" Uhura breathed as she brushed away a tear. "Chris is going to love it!"

"Chris?" Spock questioned. Uhura's mouth dropped open.

"Isn't this for Christine Chapel?" she asked.

"What made you think that?" Spock answered. "Does it imply that in the lyrics?" Uhura looked at the padd again.

"Not the lyrics," she answered, "but your earlier story sure sounded like Nurse Chapel." Spock thought a while longer.

"Should I make any changes?" Spock asked. Uhura read the short song again.

"Oh, don't change a word," she breathed. "It's perfect."

Suddenly, Uhura put down the padd and placed her fists on her hips.

"I'm terribly jealous, Mr. Spock," Uhura stated in mock annoyance. Spock looked at her in shock. "Remember that your second song is promised to me." Spock sat back.

"Do you want a song like this, Lieutenant?" he asked with a twinkle.

"Of course not," Uhura replied. "I expect my song to be written for me to sing, something that will challenge my vocal capabilities. Something as darkly beautiful as I."

Spock sat back with his harp on his lap, considering Uhura's request with a playful look on his face again.

"As my mother also told me, 'Be careful what you wish for,'" he replied. "You may just get it."

* * *

It was several days later when everything was arranged just so - no emergencies, no schedule conflicts, and - best of all for Spock - no witnesses.

As requested by Mr. Spock, Uhura lured Christine Chapel to an empty observation lounge. The ship was passing through a spectacular region of space - the Cat's Eye Nebula (NGC 6543) and the view this evening was spectacular. Sitting in the center of the room was Spock, holding his lyrette, dressed in a dark Vulcan robe. Uhura tried to disappear into the shadows, but Christine pushed her toward the Vulcan.

"Here she is, Mr. Spock," Christine called as Uhura looked at her in shock. "Sorry we weren't on time. Some people can be so difficult!" The nurse waved and left the room. Uhura could hear the privacy lock snap into place.

Spock picked up his harp and began to play softly, the beautiful nebula backlighting him.

"This was for me?" Uhura asked as she made her way to Spock.

"Yes," he breathed. Uhura thought back to their earlier conversation.

"When did I ever tell you that I loved you?" she asked.

"I recall a bad shore leave on Camus 7…" Spock began.

"I was stinkin' drunk at the time!" Uhura exclaimed.

"And then there were other times when you were less verbal, but loving nonetheless," Spock continued.

"Name one!" she demanded. Spock stopped playing.

"Are you saying that you do not love me?" he said in a small voice. Uhura shook her head.

"No," she said, "I mean, yes, I do love you, but I thought I should keep it to myself."

"Why?" Spock breathed. Uhura shrugged shyly.

"I didn't think you were interested," she whispered. Spock began to play again.

"I am very much interested," he said, gazing at her intently. Uhura gave him a vixenish glance.

"How interested are you?" she purred.

"Let me tell you how much," Spock said as the music crescendoed and he sang these words:


It was only logical

That we should meet between the stars.

It was only logical

That we would be more than friends

Lonely journeys, lonely paths

Always searching, circling--Ah!

It was only logical

That I should take - you - in - my - arms.

Spock laid aside his harp and gathered Uhura into a long-awaited embrace. Soon enough, they pulled back just enough to find each others' lips in a deep, satisfying kiss.