Return to Valjiir Stories
Return to Valjiir Continum
The deck plates below his feet were humming, with measured thumps at rhythmic intervals. Jim Kirk stopped walking just outside Rec Room 6. The deck plates, humming? He was aware that there was an allegedly Impromptu Valjiir performance scheduled, but a guitar and a lyrette had never to his knowledge made the deck plates hum.
He glanced at the closed rec room door, noticing the lights that indicated the sound-proofing had been activated. Now why did she do that? he wondered. Usually Ruth Valley was more than happy to entertain any crewmembers who happened to be passing by in the corridors. In fact, she usually insisted the rec room door remain open.
His curiosity getting the better of him, Jim stepped up to the door.
The sheer volume of the noise that assailed his ears when the door hissed open was nearly enough to drive him back into the corridor. The bone-rattling thrum of a base guitar coupled with the heavy thunder from the drum kit pounded into his brain, momentarily blocked out all thought. He was only vaguely aware of Ruth Valley’s voice competing with another, darker male voice:
He took a step backwards, and bumped into someone who was obviously just coming into the rec room. He turned, forcing his as yet known companion back out into the corridor, letting the door slide mercifully closed on the assault of his senses. With an audible sigh of relief, he glanced up, seeing Spock’s quizzically rising eyebrow.
“Spock,” he managed, “what is that?”
“Music, Captain,” Spock replied.
Jim frowned. “You call that music? What happened to the Valjiir Impromptu Concert?”
"Miss Valley and Mrs. Majiir have joined with Lieutenant DelMonde and Ensigns Intansah, Mrraal and Redford to form another performance venue,” Spock informed him.
“That?” Jim reiterated skeptically.
“It is different,” Spock agreed.
“It’s noise, Spock.”
“Not precisely, Captain, as ‘noise’ is typically defined as sound, especially unintelligible or dissonant, of any kind. Music is neither unintelligible nor dissonant.”
“Bets?” the Captain found himself muttering.
“While the combination of these particular instruments is far louder than Valjiir’s usual acoustic guitar and lyrette,” Spock was continuing, “I find the results to be pleasing in a primitive, atavistic way.”
“You actually like this – this cataclysmic…” Jim stammered.
“As I stated, yes. I find it stirs emotions in a pleasantly non-aggressive manner, which serves as a meaningful as well as satisfying exercise in the maintenance of Vulcan disciplines.”
Jim shook his head. “Cataclysmic,” he repeated sourly, then turned and continued down the corridor. “It better not shake my ship apart.”
Spock gazed thoughtfully after him, then reordered his thoughts and entered the rec room.
“And if you don't love me now - "
Then her guitar was likewise competing with an amplified one and Jim could hear the strains of Jilla Majiir’s lyrette adding complexity to the already cacophonous mix.
"…you don’t love me now…”
“You will never love me again…”
“I can still hear you - ”
“…still hear you sayin…”
“- sayin’ you would never break the –
“…never break the chain!”
“Why nondenominational?” Ruth wanted to know.
“There is no shared heritage between you,” Spock replied. “You are Antari and Hebrew. Mrs. Majiir is Vulcan and Indiian. Mr. DelMonde is of Cajun and Creole descent, Ensign Mrraal is Caitian. Miss Intansah is Hindu, Mr. Redford a native of the Appalachian region of North American on Terra.”
“Hmmm…” Ruth mulled the name around in her mind. Then she smiled at her husband. “I think I like it. Cataclysmic Nondenominational it is.”
The Chain by Fleetwood Mac
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