Hypothesis Confirmed

Author's note: As usual, while this story features characters from my other Endeavour stories, it is standalone and does not rely on them. It is also, I have to admit, the shortest and most plot-free of the stories so far, but the next one should have more to it.

*****

Risa – the Pleasure Planet. At last, the Endeavour was stopping off for shore leave at a place actually suitable for the purpose. And, as far as Leandro could tell, it hadn't even really been planned.

Which made sense, in a way, given that the Captain tended not to think in that way. For some reason that he was not privy to, the Endeavour had to make a side-trip to the planet, some distance out of its normal way. A rendezvous with another ship was the rumour, although why the other captain had chosen to meet here, he had no idea. But, it would seem, the other ship must have been late because they apparently had a few days to spare, and there certainly wasn't any sign of another Starfleet vessel in orbit.

There was considerable speculation as to which of the senior officers might have persuaded the Captain to let the crew take advantage of the stopover. Much of that speculation was bawdy, Risa having the reputation that it did, but all Leandro could tell was that it probably hadn't been the Chief Engineer, since he would be staying on the ship for the duration.

So here he was, standing in the transporter room, about to beam down to the surface of a planet for the first time in quite a while. He was looking forward to it as much for the simple break in routine as for any of the other delights that Risa was supposed to offer. If he could just soak up the sun on the beach for an afternoon, that would be enough. Holodecks, after all, could never quite duplicate that, not least because of the psychological knowledge of where you actually were.

"I am afraid I will have to ask you to wait a little longer, Ensign Pessoa."

Leandro, already hefting his light bag of essentials, looked across at the Saurian transporter officer, eyebrow raised.

"The next group are going down together."

The reason for his delay turned out to be four female officers, obviously a group of friends. The Bolian he did not know, although he had seen her around, and all he knew about one of the human women was that she was a nurse. The other human, Sumati Chennapragada, he did know, since she was a fellow engineer, albeit not in his own section, and... well, everyone had heard of Lugmilla.

"She's kinda hot out of uniform," whispered Chuck, leaning over so that the women wouldn't hear him.

"Agreed," said Dorel.

"I wouldn't mind... wait," said Chuck, looking confused and glancing up at their companion, "you're Rigelian. Why would you think... and which one are you talking about anyway?"

Dorel smiled, but said nothing. Leandro suspected that the big alien had been teasing Chuck, although you never knew for sure. It wasn't as if the American had specified who he had been talking about either, although it was presumably either Sumati or the nurse. Honestly, Chuck could be a real jerk sometimes, and Leandro couldn't imagine that either of the women would give him the time of day.

In fact, while Dorel could be good company – if rather a minimal conversationalist – Leandro had been disappointed to arrive in the transporter toom at the same time as Chuck. Now he was going to have to find an excuse to get away from the man.

"Nah, seriously" said Chuck, "you gotta tell me. Don't want you busting my chances..."

Dorel snorted, otherwise remaining impassive.

"Hey, there's a fifth space on the pad," Leandro called out to the women, "mind if I take it?"

"Uh, we've got one more just coming," said the Bolian, looking a little embarrassed.

"Actually, I think Sh'ree is transporting separately with Max," said Sumati, "she told me that she's got something else planned for today."

"Huh," said Lugmilla, shrugging bulky shoulders, "this wouldn't be a plan that involves renting a double hotel room and not coming out for 24 hours, would it?"

A wink passed between the women that suggested that this was, in fact, quite likely. Chuck would probably have leered had he not still been unsuccessfully trying to interrogate the Rigelian officer. Unfortunately for him, while he might not have been paying attention to anything the women said, the latter could apparently hear him, as both the nurse and the Bolian woman were giving him a decidedly frosty look.

"Sure, hop on," said the Bolian, "and let's get down there."

"Thanks. Sorry, big guy," he added to Dorel as he stepped up onto the pad, "catch you later."

The Rigelian grunted, giving Chuck a resigned look that the latter still somehow failed to pick up on. Just as the transporter hummed to life, Leandro heard the American, apparently thinking he could no longer be overheard, pressing on, "'cause the one I'd like to see in a tiny bikini is..."

And then they were elsewhere.

"I do not know that man!" said Leandro, jokingly raising his hands, "he's nothing to do with me!"

"Yes, you do," pointed out Sumati.

"True, but I'm going to go somewhere else before he works that out," he turned to leave, knowing that he had a few more minutes before the next batch was due to beam down, "thanks for giving me the slot."

"No problem. We'd better be going ourselves. Now, Lugmilla, where's this bar you mentioned...?"

–-***–-

Avoiding Chuck was not, as it turned out, particularly difficult. The American was likely to head to somewhere loud and busy, or failing that, at least somewhere close, so all Leandro had to do was head to a beach some distance from where they'd beamed down. Of course, the whole place was buzzing with tourists, so a genuinely secluded place was out of the question, but some of the beaches away from the main hotel area were more than quiet enough for some decent relaxation.

So he stripped to his shorts, lay back on a towel and soaked up the warmth of Risa's golden sun. He would take a dip in the ocean a little later, he thought, watching the waves gently breaking on the shore. A few other tourists were down there already. Nobody he knew from the ship, which in itself made a change.

A group of four were playing some sort of ball game. It appeared to be something like beach volleyball, except that they were standing waist deep in the water. Whatever it was, they didn't seem to be playing it very seriously, and the human couple seemed to be taking every opportunity to hold hands or put arms around waists in between bouts. The woman was petite, oriental, and wearing a very skimpy black bikini, the man taller and darker skinned.

The other couple were Trill, and about the same age. As he watched, the ball was caught by an unexpected wave, and bounced up towards the beach to the group's laughter, the sound floating up to him on the light breeze. The Trill woman went to fetch it, and, yes, he noted, as she stepped into the shallower water, the spots really did go all the way down.

He turned away, a little embarrassed to have been watching them, although they didn't seem to have noticed, and he wasn't really that close. Instead, he noticed an older couple, hand in hand, walking along the edge of the waves. Not everyone here was young, but at least they all looked contented. He sighed and leaned back, deciding on one last bout of sunbathing before he took to the sea himself.

He closed his eyes, feeling the warmth soak into his naturally tanned body. He could hear footsteps nearby, and some sort of bird calling in the air far above. What sorts of birds did they have here? He had no idea, although there were some in the science division who could doubtless have told him.

The footsteps were getting closer, but he decided to ignore them. It was unlikely to be anyone he knew, and there was more than enough space on the beach to ensure that nobody needed to set up their towel near to his. Whoever it was would pass by.

But they didn't.

The footsteps came closer still. They were light, and feminine, he thought. He didn't have one of those fertility things set up by his towel, so he doubted it was a native Risan, and if there were people selling things on the beach, he hadn't seen them until now. The footsteps stopped, right next to him, and he opened his eyes, leaning up and shading his face against the sun with one hand.

"Do you mind?" asked a calm and decidedly sexy voice.

For a second he was caught off guard, just seeing a slender body silhouetted against the sky. She was clothed, albeit lightly, with long hair, and pointed ears... his eyes suddenly adjusted and he recognised her.

"T'Sel..." he said, wondering what she was doing here, "no, of course not."

"Thank you," she said, sitting down quite close to him, adjusting her white summer dress – more of a wrap, really – as she did so.

The thing about Ensign T'Sel, of course, and it was likely that the botanist herself was one of the few on the ship who didn't know this, was that she was stunningly attractive. Even the less humanoid members of the crew knew, albeit in their case more by observing the reactions of their human colleagues than for any other reason. Yet the Vulcan seemed oblivious, and even somebody like Chuck wasn't stupid enough to do more than admire from a distance.

But still, for all that Leandro tried to avoid getting on the wrong side of his female colleagues by being too forward, it was something he could hardly fail to notice himself. He glanced across at her, her cool emotionless face with those deep brown eyes, that black shoulder-length hair falling around leaf-shaped ears, and tried to avoid visibly flushing as he noted the way the white material of her dress was just a little translucent in the bright sunlight. The way she had folded the skirt as she sat down left one leg mostly bare, flawless skin shining. She didn't seem to have noticed.

He should really stop thinking like that... but that was easier thought than done.

"Ensign Pessoa," she began after a brief pause, "or may I call you 'Leandro'?"

Even her voice was unconsciously sexy, a soft silky tone with a calm, level inflection that somehow made it even more enticing.

"Sure... T'Sel. We're off duty after all."

"Indeed so. Which makes this an ideal opportunity for extra-curricular experimentation."

Okay... she probably had not meant that to sound the way it did.

"I have formulated a hypothesis that I am unable to test further without assistance. I have determined that you would be a suitable partner in conducting this experiment. However, given the present circumstances, and the human need for suitable periods of relaxation, I would understand if this was not convenient for you."

Had it been almost anyone else, he would have brushed her off, and suggested some other time, during off-duty hours on the ship. But his mind was somewhat clouded by the desire just to listen to her voice, and, perhaps even more so by a mixture of flattery and curiosity. He was an engineer, so what sort of experiment did a botanist need him for? And why him, in particular? They had talked before, of course, so it was not as if they were strangers, but there had to be other choices at least as good on the ship.

"Not necessarily... I didn't have anything specific planned. But perhaps I should hear what the experiment is first? Then I can decide."

"That seems logical," she agreed. "As you know, I am employed on the USS Endeavour as a botanist. Naturally, however, I have a wide training in the biological sciences and a general interest in their application. A narrow field of study would be overly limiting, both in matters of intellectual stimulation, and, more pragmatically, with regard to potential advancement within Starfleet."

"Furthermore, the complexity of ecological interactions means that it is not possible to study botanical processes and growth patterns without some reference to the animals associated with those plants, including predators, symbiotes, and so forth."

Leandro nodded. What she said made sense, albeit phrased in a typically Vulcan fashion, but he had absolutely no idea where she was going with it.

"I recently encountered an alien organism with an unusually long reproductive cycle, the synchronisation of which had profound effects on the local plant-life. This factor could, for example, have been relevant to attempts to colonise the planet in the future, as it could affect long-term agricultural production. Specifically, the organism, a form of small arthropod-analogue, reproduced in large swarms on an eleven- year cycle, remaining largely dormant for the majority of the remaining period."

"Like cicadas?" offered Leandro, glad that he was able to add something to the conversation, "we have those on Earth."

"Exactly so. My research into similar phenomena did unearth references to Terran periodical cicadas, such as Magicicada septendecim. The details are different, in that periodical cicadas are fossorial during the non-reproductive instars, but the principles are similar."

'Fossorial'? 'Instars'? No, she'd lost him again.

"However, this reminded me of another organism with a similarly long-term reproductive cycle, with which you will also be familiar." He must have looked blank, because T'Sel continued talking, "I refer, of course, to the Vulcan species."

"As you will be aware, we Vulcans become reproductively active only during a brief period once every seven years. This is a biological imperative, necessary for the continuation of our species, and there has been significant neurochemical and biomedical research conducted on the matter of alleviating some of its more undesirable side-effects. In addition, there have been administrative efforts to prevent it from impeding organisational efficiency. For example, I will be returning to Vulcan in good time prior to experiencing any such effects, and will not be interacting with Starfleet during that time period."

Well, of course; everybody knew that. But it still left Leandro none the wiser, and, if anything, he was just becoming more confused.

"However," T'Sel continued, "there is a problem with this narrative; an inconsistency that appears not to have been solved, or, that I can determine, even addressed, by other researchers. Once I identified this inconsistency, I became curious, since there must naturally be a logical explanation for the existence of the two differing approaches to reproductive activity within my species. The question is therefore raised as to whether or not this apparent discrepancy has a biological, or a sociological, root."

Leandro held up his hand to stop her. "Two different...? Uh... sorry, I don't understand. I thought Vulcans all..." he glanced around, and was glad to see that nobody else was close enough to hear, "you know, that you all..." he struggled to find the right words, "used a common approach?"

"Indeed, you are correct. The utilisation of a single, optimum, strategy for minimising and containing the socially deleterious effects of biologically essential functions is only logical. However, not all members of my species employ rigorous logic."

"I don't... oh, wait, I see what you mean. Romulans! Huh. I never really thought about that. I suppose they must have the same problem." He paused, and then added, "or do they?"

The Vulcan nodded. "It is indeed evident from our observations of Romulan culture and society that, as we would expect, their biological processes in this regard are those universal to the species. Naturally, the social implications are different, as they would have been among my own distant ancestors, and, while we know little of the precise details of how they deal with the issue, it is clear that they must do so in some fashion."

"However, that they may have a different method for controlling the..." she actually halted for a second, and Leandro wondered if this was a sign of embarrassment on her part, "...the Pon Farr is not the discrepancy to which I refer, as it would be a different cultural adaptation to the same biological imperative. Where the discrepancy arises is that evidence from those who have dealings with Romulans indicates that they also engage in such activities outside the Pon Farr period."

"In short, the question is, 'why do Romulans engage in sexual activities when there is no chance of conception'?"

She turned towards him, an enquiring look on her face, as if expecting him to provide an answer. Leandro looked around him, noting that the older couple were some way down the beach now, and that the ball-playing group seemed to be wrapping up their game, eagerly chatting as they headed up onto the sand, facing away from him. It did not look as if they would be overheard, which unfortunately gave him no excuse not to respond to T'Sel's question. It had, he reflected, to be just about the strangest conversation he had ever had with a Vulcan, and that was saying something.

"Uh... well..." he tried to avoid thinking too much about the shapeliness of the woman next to him, but without much success, "perhaps they just enjoy it?"

She nodded, as if pleased he had just worked out something complex and significant. "That would be my deduction, too. Indeed, it is difficult to reach any alternative conclusion, especially considering the ubiquity of recreational sexual activity among known humanoid species."

"And yet, we Vulcans are an exception to this rule. Were it not for the existence of Romulans, one might suppose this to be a biological constraint. However, with the evidence available, two possibilities present themselves. Firstly, the long genetic isolation between Romulans and Vulcans has led to an alteration in the phenotype of one or the other population, such that there is, indeed, a biological difference between the two. There are other examples of such phenotypic variation between us, after all."

Leandro decided that he would take her word for that, whatever it meant.

"However, my hypothesis is that the second alternative is the more likely to be correct. Unfortunately, there appears to have been no research on this matter, so far as I have been able to determine. I suspect that the matter is considered indelicate, and not worthy of scientific investigation. Yet I, as a biologist, cannot agree with this assessment, and find the resulting lacuna in our knowledge to be unfortunate. To rectify this omission, if only for my own personal curiosity, I have attempted an experiment to confirm my hypothesis. Regrettably, my early experiments were unsuccessful, and I believe that they cannot be progressed further without assistance."

"Sorry," said Leandro, "could you back up a bit there? What hypothesis? I don't think you've said."

She paused, tilting her head minutely to one side as she considered what he had said. "My apologies. My hypothesis is this: that there has not been sufficient time to create such an extreme phenotypic variation, and therefore that the absence of recreational sexual activity among Vulcans is a social phenomenon tied to our acceptance of the primacy of logic."

"That is, I hypothesise that Vulcans are capable of experiencing sexual pleasure outside of a reproductive context, but simply choose not to do so, due to social conditioning already entrenched in our pre-adolescent phase."

"As I have said, my previous experiments to confirm or refute my hypothesis were inconclusive. Therefore..."

"Wait... wait... what? Experiments?" Leandro was getting decidedly flushed now; the conversation had turned in a direction that made it harder than ever to ignore T'Sel's undeniable charms, and he was having to fight to keep from jumping to the obvious conclusion.

"I attempted manual stimulation to induce arousal," the Vulcan woman replied, with not a flicker of emotion, "however, my failure to achieve a satisfactory conclusion could be equally well attributed to the social conditioning I referred to earlier, as to any physiological deficit. That is, I cannot exclude the possibility of a false negative result due to the necessity of the stimulus being itself influenced by my own logical, and unemotional, thought processes."