Star Trek does not belong to me, of course.


"Spock? Could you come here for a moment?"

The person in question put down the shears and turned away from the potted plant he had been pruning.

Jim was sitting behind his desk, staring at the computer screen, brows slightly furrowed, expression disbelieving.

"What is it?" Spock asked as he moved to stand behind him.

"Well apparently there's some Vulcans who started writing poetry in the style of some classic poet Keh … Kresh-"

"Kh'reth. A renowned poet of the ancient times, famous for his love poems." Spock demonstrated the fact that his encyclopaedic knowledge encompassed subjects far beyond rational science.

"Yeah, well the thing is, they are now writing new poems in the old style-"

"Only logical. In the light of the necessity to rebuild the Vulcan culture, it is beneficial to reinvigorate and recreate the old traditions."

"Sure. But would you just look at this with me? It's supposed to be a Standard translation of some of the new stuff."

With interest, Spock leant over Jim to get a better view of the screen. Jim joined with him on the silent reading, hoping that maybe he had somehow … misread the whole thing the first time.

The Unforeseen Amalgamation of Two Contradictory Elements

The probability of their amorous liaison appeared statistically inconceivable,
as unlikely as two identical quarks occupying the same quantum state.
But the exclusion principle is discredited and the impossible seems so believable,
when seeing this most appealing interracial homosexual couple of late.

At this precise moment, as if on cue, both readers briefly exchanged a look, Jim's was still incredulous, Spock's somewhat mildly intrigued. Then they returned their attention to the text.

The first one was reckless as a volatile combustible, prone to rule-bending,
displaying self-destructive tendencies, he had been guilty of many unwise deeds.
But preventing the annihilation of humanity rectified his standing,
and earned him so deservedly the position of the youngest Captain in Starfleet.

The other was as incommensurable as a sentient being incommensurable can be,
locked in the ivory tower of science, valuing emotional repression.
But confronting several life-threatening, stress-inducing situations forced him to see
that it was sometimes conducive to grant his feelings the freedom of expression.

Thus akin to two complementary DNA structures joining in the process of genetic recombination,
these two so divergent, yet so convergent individuals urge all known galaxies to applaud their bond's formation.

And that was the end of the poem. Jim continued to hypnotize it, until he noticed the name of the translator, written in a smaller font size. Nyota Uhura. This did not really help matters.

"Well." Spock broke the meditative silence at last.

"Do you suppose it's the translation that makes it seem like -" Jim tried to grasp at straws, glancing at Spock.

"I do not believe the translation to be at fault."

"So um, just to make sure we both understand it the same way … It is about us, isn't it?"

"Yes," Spock confirmed.

"But how do they even, how do they even … I mean, doesn't that seriously freak you out?"

Spock nodded.

"Yes, it does indeed. It is truly a masterpiece."


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