(Standard Year 2251)
Return to Valjiir Stories
"I think I should tell you that I've read Selar's journals concerning genetic restructuring," Sorrm began easily as he walked with Jilla into an empty workroom. "And I’ve studied the reports in certain medical journals from a few years ago."
Jilla flushed. She had been made aware that Selar’s research tapes were receiving extensive study on Vulcan. Spock had been more generous in informing her than Selar's father had even thought to be. While there was apparently no record of the direct application of Selar’s research, his theories were being widely dissected, and when coupled with the medical logs from the Enterprise… Starfleet had protected her from Vulcan's scientific curiosity and outrage - so far. She had accepted it would only be a matter of time before this became inevitable. "Yes, Dr. Sorrm," she replied politely.
He smiled at her. "Sorrm, please. I'm sure you know Vulcans don't hold with titles."
Jilla flushed faintly at the correction.
"And I've seen your medical file."
She nodded. It did not occur to her to wonder how he had managed that.
"Since your bonding with Spock was, shall we say, unfruitful..."
"It was entirely accidental and we both agreed dissolution was the only..." Jilla interrupted. Sorrm took her hand. She found, to her surprise, that she didn't pull it away.
"I don't disapprove, Jilla. In fact, I think you're doing exactly as Selar would've wanted. You do plan on having children someday, don't you?"
Her flush returned. "Sulu and I - have not discussed..."
"Nonsense, every man wants children, the more the better; especially sons. And you are genetically Vulcan enough. Spock would have made a better choice from a strictly Vulcan point of view, but Sulu will get vitality into the gene pool more quickly."
"I do not see what such things have to do with..." Jilla began.
"It's very important, Jilla; from an historical perspective, doubly so." Sorrm's voice had a slight edge to it. "Selar must've told you that much."
"Told me...?" she said confusedly.
"Why he — " Sorrm paused, " — experimented with you." He turned away, then pivoted back to face her, his tia radiating righteous fury. "McCoy should be strung up!" he blazed angrily. "Jilla, it would've been so wonderful! After all the work...!"
"Sorrm, what are you talking about?" Jilla demanded, her agitation matching his.
"He stopped pon farr! Stopped it before it could achieve its goal! Your husband's goal!" He turned his face upwards. "You see, Selar, what it's done to us? Made us ashamed of our drive! Damn Surak to all the hells of the universe!!"
"Sulu is my husband!" Jilla exclaimed indignantly. "Selar would not have joined you in such an oath! It was to enable me to achieve the joy and peace of logic that he altered my genetic patterns!"
Sorrm suddenly smiled, but his tia was condescending. "Is that what he told you?"
"It is the truth!" Jilla insisted.
"And is the theory that Vulcans take off-world wives to revitalize our species a lie?"
The words burned. "I was not some guinea pig for Vulcan eugenics!" Jilla cried, tears filling her eyes.
Sorrm enfolded her in a comforting embrace. "No, no, dear Jilla, of course not," he soothed. "Your husband –“ He paused, and corrected himself. “Selar loved you and wanted to help you, of that I have no doubt. But that he was able to love you so only proves all I've said. Selar knew. His journals make that clear." His hands gently held her face, turning it up to his own. "You were and are, as Lady Amanda was before Sarek chickened out, as Ruth is, as Lady Alana is, a last, desperate attempt to reinfuse our race with the spirit and vitality Surak took from us. Spock, his children, Stell's children, your children are the only hope of a race dying from stagnation and deliberate sabotage." His fingers gently stroked her thick hair, the tips of her ears. "We are warriors, we are conquerors; how pathetic to be known throughout the galaxy as green-skinned sheep." At her horrified stare, he smiled again. "I'm not advocating barbarism, Jilla, nor imperialistic expansion. Only that we be what we are, what the gods meant us to be: proud, strong leaders, dominant only to the extent that Terrans are now. Isn't that our heritage? It is only Surak that cheats us!"
Jilla found it very difficult to swallow. Her mind was ablaze with the pictures Sorrm’s words created: Vulcan lords, their dark eyes clear and wise, minds keen and alert, bodies of sinewed muscle and proud stance, black hair worn in the warrior's braids of Pre-Reform Clans. "Sorrm...I..." she stammered.
"Jilla, isn't it a proud thing to be Vulcan?" he asked fervently. "Yet the Council tells us not to speak of it, or is pon farr common to all races?” He frowned at her wince. “You see, even you, one not born to the insidious distaste shies away from it. But it is pon farr that makes us what we are. Why should we mold our lives to denying it? That's a lie, and I won't live a lie!" He grasped her hands, kissing them impassionedly. "Lady, can you?"
Jilla could barely breathe, so strong was the emotion pouring from Sorrm's being. She was tempted, more than tempted to agree, with all the passion he was calling forth from her. The intensity pounded in her, the certainty of all he had said - until she became aware of the persuasion in her mind: the tingling deep within her that had signaled the working of her bond with Spock. Or had it not been the bond, but the telepathy she'd felt? The sense of approval and command, regard warmer and sharper than a friends', more keen, more piercing...
Come. You want this. How can you not? I wish you to. I call to you. Come. Kah'en.
NO!!!
She used all the protection and possessiveness of her bond to Sulu to close her mind to the unwanted intrusion, even knowing that it would echo through the bond to him. Gathering her Vulcan reserve like a cloak around her, she pulled away from Sorrm's embracing hands.
"I do not live a lie," she said firmly, answering his last emotional plea. "I do not agree with your radical views, nor did Selar, nor does Spock. And I would ask you to remember that concerning - The Time - my personal life is my own."
Taken somewhat aback, Sorrm said, "McCoy didn't think so."
"I understand his reasons." Jilla interrupted.
Sorrm’s expression grew very serious. "Don't be ashamed of it, Jilla." he said. "Pon farr is all that Surak left of what we are. Selar did know it. And you, dear Lady, are proof."
"Sorrm, I have told you..."
"Vulcan will attempt to destroy such proof."
Jilla’s anger flared. "Do you threaten me?"
"No, Lady, not I," Sorrm assured her. "Never I. I merely warn you. But remember it, and think about all I've said." With a dismissing nod, Sorrm silently left the work room. It took several minutes for Jilla to clear her mind before leaving to return to her work.
The emotional storm hit Sulu like a thunderbolt. There was no reason to it and no rational comprehension. He suddenly knew that Jilla was being threatened and the knowledge pounded in him with a very real pain. He'd felt this four times before: the first after Jilla had gone through the tel-arin on Indi, when her scar had burned his back and his soul. The second was on Canti when he learned she had been raped. The third was when her hands were at his throat, payment for his betrayal with LiLing. And the fourth, and most like this time, when she had told him of Spock’s cold commands and cruel domination. Yet this was the first time he'd felt it when not in her presence.
He bolted up from the bed, barely taking time to throw on a kimono, and was out in the corridor before he realized that he didn't know where Jilla was. Working with Ruth, but that could be anywhere.
"Damn!" he spat furiously.
"Commander?"
At Spock's voice behind him, Sulu whirled. He was so intent on the protective, possessive call in his brain that he was almost unaware of the Vulcan stepping back from the challenge in his eyes. "Jilla," he managed.
Spock nodded sudden understanding. "Engineering section 24D," he said.
Sulu raced to the turbolift without an acknowledgement. After a moment's silent contemplation, Spock reached toward the wall intercom.
Ruth had stopped muttering obscenities and had returned to studying the schematic readouts. She was aware that Jilla had been gone longer than "a few moments", but firmly refused to fall into a damsel-in-distress act.
"She's a big girl, she can take care of herself," she repeated. "She's a big girl, she can take care of herself. And I'm not her real mother."
Spock's voice over the intercom startled her. "Lieutenant Commander Valley.”
"Yes, Captain?" she replied automatically, punching the comm button on her terminal.
"Where is Mrs. Majiir?"
Ruth made a face. You've got it too, Boss? "I'm not sure. Why?"
"Mr. Sulu is - agitated."
There were volumes in the word. Ruth understood the implication immediately. "Sorrm!" she growled.
"I beg your..."
"She's with Sorrm!"
"On my way. Spock out."
So much for she's a big girl. Ruth closed the comm and started in the direction Sorrm and Jilla had taken. She's not still vulnerable to Vulcan - persuasion, is she? She's bonded to Sulu now.
And Sorrm has the scruples of an Orion slave trader. She damned her own automatic response to telepathic intrusion, the instinctive strengthening of her shields that had also prevented her from realizing till now what Sorrm had done. He was using his telepathy, wasn't he? she berated herself. What Vulcan invades another's privacy like that? A crazy one! Or one intent on making an Indiian feel what he wants her to feel.
Ruth pushed aside the unpleasant memory of how easily Jilla could be manipulated by telepathy. Spock had reasons, good ones, she reminded herself. Harsh logic, but not twisted. The thought that Sorrm might consider himself logical was dismissed as quickly. No Vulcan who kisses the hands of women he isn't married to is logical. No Vulcan who kisses the hands of women period....
She reached the corridor that led away from the engineering labs and stopped, debating for a moment where she should look.
If I concentrate on Jilla, I'll find her in no time. But if Sulu is affected, that might touch him too, and --
The raucous call of a red alert signal destroyed the train of thought. Uhura's voice calling battle stations and for the Captain's immediate return to the Bridge sent her racing for the turbolift.
Spock reversed the direction of the turbolift car without hesitation.
Jilla headed quickly for her post at the relay board from the Bridge to the engine monitors, and was grabbed from behind before she had gone five meters. She spun to face her bondmate and was nearly crushed in a fierce embrace, Sulu's possessiveness screaming into her tia as she responded. The emotion enveloped her like a force screen, and she clung to Sulu, letting him feel her renewed sense of safety and belonging. For seconds that passed in eternity, the red alert claxon ceased to matter. The unvoiced unity passed between them, a thing indescribable in its joy and intensity. While it lasted, even damnation was excluded. And though the knowledge returned with extra potency seconds later, that, too, ceased to matter.
"Battle stations," Jilla said as Sulu's embrace eased.
"Christ, I'm out of uniform," he muttered. He pulled the kimono more properly around his body. "Such is life." His gaze searched her face. "Tell me later."
She nodded.
"Love you, hon." He gave her a quick kiss, then turned and ran back the way he'd come.
"I love you," Jilla whispered after him and resumed her hurried pace to her station.
The turbolift hissed open and Spock's firm, calm voice cut through the confused din on the Bridge. "Status, Mr. Chekov?"
Pavel Chekov glanced backward from the con, then gestured at the screen. "A Klingon scout vessel, Captain," he said, rising to his feet. "It appeared without warning less than a half million kilometers to port, paralleling us."
"Appeared?" Spock asked, easing into the center seat.
"Yes, Captain. They must have been cloaked."
"And they are not now." Spock was not merely stating the obvious. The only reason the Klingons would have for dropping the cloak would be as a preliminary to attack. He swiveled the con to face Communications. "Lieutenant Commander, demand identification and statement of purpose."
"Aye, sir," Uhura replied from her board.
"Mr. Chekov..."
Before Spock could complete his sentence, the turbolift hissed twice in rapid succession; the first time disgorging Ruth, who hurried to the Science Station. When it opened once more, Sulu rushed in and went immediately to the Helm, more than a bit breathless considering Spock had seen him not ten minutes before in a kimono and the First Officer was now in uniform.
"Mr. Sulu, shields at maximum," Spock ordered, again turning the con to its forward position. "Arm phasers and photon torpedoes."
"Already done, sir," Sulu informed him after a quick check. Spock nodded approval to Chekov, who grinned back.
"Miss Valley, report on the Klingon ship."
Ruth adjusted the sensors. "Power levels at norm, sir. There is no activation of their weaponry or shielding."
Spock's eyebrow rose. "Miss Uhura, is there any response to our challenge?"
She shook her head. "None, sir."
"Helm, prepare for sudden evasives on my order."
"Aye, sir," Sulu answered.
"Why have they taken no action at all?" Chekov wondered. "They haven't raised shields, haven't come about on attack run..."
He stopped. All motion on the Bridge ceased as the forward screen went suddenly empty except for the unblinking stars.
"The Klingon cloak has been activated," Ruth announced, her head still over the visor of the weapons computer. "Sensor contact lost."
Spock frowned. "Full stop, Mr. Sulu. Engines at station-keeping."
"Aye, sir."
Chekov's eyebrows shot up. "Stop? We'll be a sitting duck!"
"The comparison to a semi-aquatic fowl in repose, though undoubtedly intended only as a metaphor, is not entirely apt," Spock disagreed. "We are armed, we are shielded, and we are aware of the possible danger. Furthermore, the Klingons do not intend to attack. Miss Uhura, cancel red alert."
Ruth sat back, thoughtful. "An accident?"
"Perhaps."
"That would explain why they didn't attack," Sulu put in. "A scout wouldn't stand more than thirty seconds against a Federation heavy cruiser."
"But a scout," Spock elaborated, "with a cloak could hope to penetrate Federation space and follow a heavy cruiser, and still have a chance of remaining undetected."
"But what is it doing here?" Chekov asked. "Why take the risk?"
"We shall attempt to answer that. Miss Uhura, open a channel to Starfleet; encryption code four."
"The Klingons have broken code four, sir."
"Exactly. But they may not yet know we are aware of it."
Sulu smiled. "Putting to use lessons from the master," he observed.
Spock nodded acknowledgement. "Message as follows: Apparent malfunction aboard previously noted Klingon scout ship made its presence obvious. They can no longer be unmindful that we are aware of them. Request further instructions regarding current mission. Enterprise out. End message."
"Previously noted!" Chekov exclaimed approvingly.
"Perhaps we can force their hand. They must be planning something, and their preparations cannot yet be mature or they would have already acted. If they think we have been aware of them all along..."
"...it could force them to move now, before they're really ready," Sulu finished.
"Or abandon their plans entirely."
"Message sent," Uhura reported. "We can expect Starfleet's reply no sooner than ten minutes."
Sulu scowled. He was careful not to drum nervous fingers on the Helm. His system was still flushed with adrenalin from Jilla's call...
With a sudden burst of surprise, Sulu realized that that was precisely what it had been. And that he'd heard and responded. It's the bond, it has to be, he mused. For the first time he began to consider the implications of more than the word.
He was interrupted by Ruth's voice asking quietly, "Is Jilla alright?"
He started. Is it not so special then? "You heard?" he replied.
She shook her head. "Spock told me."
He wasn't quite successful at covering the flash of jealousy. "He heard."
"No. He said you were affected."
Sulu smiled, the possessiveness melting away in the renewed feeling of being unique. "Yeah, she's alright."
"Sorrm?"
Jealousy returned full force. "I don't know," he snarled. "Red alert."
Her sympathetic hand caressed his shoulder. "Watch him, Roy," Ruth said as she stepped back up to the Science Station. Sulu watched her fondly, then his attention swung to the turbolift door as it hissed open.
"Spock, I demand an explanation!" Sorrm thundered. Sulu's resentment flared through him and he found himself beginning to rise from his chair. Spock's swift glance angered him, but started his brain working again. He forced himself to sit back down. Sorrm strode to the con, followed by Tara Ryan.
"Captain, Dr. Sorrm needed to see you immediately," Tara said. Her voice was without inflection.
Spock stared at the Security Chief's rigid demeanor. "Miss Ryan, we are on red alert..." he began.
"I forced her," Sorrm broke in. "It was necessary. I will not be kept in the dark if my mission is in danger."
Sulu stopped the growl in his throat. Ruth didn't stop hers. "Your mission?!"
Spock stood, his raised hand acknowledging Ruth's comment as well as silencing any further reaction. "You are dismissed, Miss Ryan," he said. "I will deal with Dr. Sorrm."
When she didn't move, Spock raised a warning eyebrow at Sorrm. Sorrm waved his hand, relenting. Tara blinked, then stared around her at the Bridge. "Captain?" she questioned.
"Dismissed, Lieutenant. We will discuss this later."
Tara nodded, staring uneasily at Sorrm, and left the Bridge.
"Mr. Sulu, you have the con," Spock said. "Inform me when Starfleet Command responds to our message. I will be in my quarters."
"Aye, sir," Sulu replied darkly. It was only after the Vulcans had been gone for several minutes that Sulu realized the confidence Spock had just shown in his First Officer.
Spock was silent on the journey to his cabin. Sorrm's not-so-quiet fuming gave him a grim satisfaction for reasons he did not care to investigate. Once the door had closed behind them, he forestalled the expected outburst by speaking first.
"Dr. Sorrm," he stated, "you are a passenger on this ship; a civilian guest. As such, certain privileges are granted you out of courtesy. In return, behavior respectful of this ship's crew, Starfleet regulations and standard procedures is expected."
"Spock..." Sorrm began. Spock interrupted.
"A civilian does not demand explanation of an unusual situation by forcing his way onto the Bridge. Whatever you need to know will be explained to you when I feel the time is proper. Such behavior is inexcusable, Sorrm; even from you."
Sorrm folded his arms, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Very nice, Spock," he said. "I knew there had to be some fire left in you."
Spock carefully checked his exasperation. "I cannot allow your disrespect of this ship's functions and personnel to continue. If you persist..."
"Functions I’ll hardly argue,” Sorrm put in disdainfully, “but personnel? To whom have I shown disrespect?"
"...if you persist I will have no choice but to confine you to your quarters."
"To whom was I disrespectful, Spock?"
"Lieutenant Ryan, for one. A Vulcan..."
"Gods, don't quote proper Vulcan control at me!"
"Very well, no telepath respectful of one non-gifted would interfere with that one's will for personal gain," Spock replied stiffly. "That is assault, and I will advise Miss Ryan to press that charge..."
"If not for personal gain, then for what?"
"Which applies also to Lieutenant Majiir..."
"Oh, that's definitely not for personal gain." Sorrm paused. "Although now that you mention it..."
"Sorrm, I will not argue with you!" Spock's voice was thunderous in its intensity. Sorrm frowned.
"You still haven't told me what's going on."
"I have no intention of giving you any information regarding this ship's status. Our mission is to transport the research party. Our stated arrival time has been altered by minutes. Such a change does not concern you or the mission as I understand it. Any other information is not pertinent."
Sorrm stared searchingly into Spock's eyes. Though the scrutiny was uncomfortable, Spock did not waver. "What happened, Spock?" Sorrm asked softly. "We used to think along the same lines."
"I never..."
"That's Sarek talking."
"I am my father's son."
"You're also your mother's son. Or are you still ashamed of it?"
Spock stiffened, the logic uncomfortably similar to Ruth's. Yet my wife is not usually mistaken, he reminded himself. Nor is she Vulcan. Sorrm is both. "We are discussing your behavior, Sorrm," he said. "Your theories have no relevance to..."
"Au contraire, Spock. My behavior is directly related to my beliefs," Sorrm grinned.
"Then perhaps it is time you altered both," Spock stated. "In any case, I will not tolerate less than circumspect behavior on my ship, and if it continues, I will confine you. Is that clear, Dr. Sorrm?"
"Oh, perfectly, Captain Spock."
Spock nodded and turned to leave. "You will return to your cabin, I trust with no further incident," he said over his shoulder. He did not wait to hear the reply, but Sorrm's grin mocked him.
And worried him.
Sorrm shook his head. That Spock would not see the evidence he himself epitomized was disheartening. He had hoped for allies.
"But allies or not," he murmured to the empty room, "my plan will be implemented, for the Soul of the Warrior."
Ten minutes passed slowly, even though Sulu's adrenalin surge had calmed. Something else was nagging at him. Pavel had asked the obvious question: why were the Klingons taking this immense risk? Why follow the Enterprise? Did their current mission have anything to do with it? Were the Klingons even likely to know what their current mission was? Spock had been careful in his baited message to give no hints. But even if they did know, what good would it do them? The Enterprise had been to the Guardian before. Fleet had maintained a small protective outpost for the last year and a half to provide protection for the occasional use by historians. The Klingons already knew that the Federation had an interest in the Guardian planet; they even knew about the Guardian itself. Only 18 months previously they had attempted to force a kidnapped Captain Kirk to reveal its secrets. He'd escaped through the portal into Earth's past, but the Klingons couldn't repeat the journey using Kirk's method: He'd simply called 'Edith, help me!'
So, the Klingons know about the Guardian, he pondered. They know the Federation knows about the Guardian. The only thing they don't know is how to use it. Why follow the Enterprise for that?
Unless they do know the current mission. Hide out and watch the historians. And if that's the case...
Sulu swiveled the con to communications. "Uhura, get the Captain, on the double," he said urgently.
Without a word, her hand moved to the board and the turbolift opened. Sulu didn't take the time for a joking 'that was quick'. "Captain, I think we'd better get to the Guardian, all possible speed," he said, rising from the con.
"Indeed, Mr. Sulu? Has Starfleet responded?"
"No, sir. But the Klingons don't know how to use the Guardian. Yet. We've told them we're on to them. Waiting for our passengers to show them won't work now. So they might try to get that information from those stationed at the outpost."
Spock's eyebrows lowered fractionally. "Klingon logic," he said finally, having obviously followed the same line of reasoning as Sulu had.
"Thanks," Sulu grimaced.
"It is fortunate my First Officer is capable of so altering his thought patterns as to accurately perceive a foreign mind." Spock turned to Uhura and Sulu grinned. "Lieutenant Commander, message to Starfleet, code five: Regarding code four transmission; situation warrants immediate accelerated action. Proceeding to Guardian planet, warp 9. Spock out."
Sulu had moved to the Helm and was already setting the controls to implement Chekov's plotted course on Spock's order. "Captain," he said as he worked, "shouldn't we warn the outpost about a possible Klingon attack?"
"It would serve little purpose other than to telegraph our strategy," Spock replied. "Even forewarned, our outpost is not equipped to withstand hostilities as great as a Klingon scout can provide. All we can do is to arrive as quickly as possible."
"And hope for the best."
"Warp factor nine, Mr. Sulu."
"Aye sir."
Ruth waited for Starfleet's acknowledgement before approaching the con. Spock had just made Valjiir's Guardian project of paramount importance - and that much more difficult. The three days' time she and Jilla had planned for was now shortened to under 24 hours.
"Captain," she began. Spock glanced up at her. "Request permission to be relieved of all normal duty for the duration of the journey to the Guardian. If Valjiir is to have any chance of completing Starfleet's project..."
"Understood, Miss Valley. Request granted. I will inform Mrs. Majiir."
"Thank you. And sir..." Ruth lowered her voice to a near whisper. "Can you do something about Sorrm? The last thing we need is his interruptions."
"Agreed." After a short pause, Spock turned again to Uhura. "Lieutenant Commander, locate our civilian guests and inform them of our change in arrival time. Ask them to meet me in the passenger's lounge in ten minutes for explanations."
"Yes, sir," Uhura replied.
"That ought to do it," Ruth rejoined. "Thanks again, Boss." She touched her fingertips briefly to Spock’s arm. To her pleasant surprise, his fingers met hers in a returned acknowledgement. She smiled and left the Bridge feeling warmed and strengthened.
Her contentment lasted until the turbolift opened on the Engineering level.
Sorrm waited there.
Ruth tried to simply nod and walk past him. She knew it wouldn't work but had to try it anyway. Discretion was supposed to be the better part of valor, but she'd never been very good at it.
"I heard the Captain has some information for me. At last," he said without preliminary. "If you can tell me, I can save myself a trip." His voice was completely impersonal and as inflectionless as any normal Vulcan's.
What happened to Mr. Charm? Ruth thought. "I don't discuss the Captain's business," she said, just as impersonally.
"Proper, I'm sure, but hardly in character," Sorrm returned.
Ruth bristled. So we've replaced him with Mr. Nasty, have we? Never one to ignore an insult, she retorted, "Given your vast knowledge of propriety." At least I can say you started it.
Sorrm frowned, a decidedly unpleasant look, Ruth noted. "Woman, you waste my time."
"That's 'Lieutenant Commander' and I'm not keeping you from reporting to the passenger lounge."
"'Woman' I said, and I was being polite."
Ruth folded her arms, her dignity too stung to recall that she was working under a time limit. "Look, mister, I've got better things to do than play insult games with you. If you want to know what Spock has to say, go talk to Spock and leave me alone. You're not supposed to be down here anyway, so since you have to take the turbolift you might as well..."
"Spock's chattel should be more respectful of Spock's equals," Sorrm broke in.
"WHAT!?!" All concern for Starfleet fled at the words and Ruth's eyes flashed fire. "Spock's chattel?!"
Sorrm's smile was condescending ice. "I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, of course."
"I beg your pardon?" Ruth nearly hissed.
"Well, you're hardly his wife; not by his precious Vulcan propriety." Sorrm's eyes traveled critically over her. "There is no bond. Lady Jilla carried that distinction. No betrothal. That was Lady T'Pring."
"T'Pring was and is no lady," Ruth growled through clenched teeth. Sorrm grinned, a cold display of teeth.
"Just very, very Vulcan. Flawlessly logical. Completely unemotional. A perfect representative."
"Shut up, Dr. Sorrm."
"All you have is a Federation contract that isn't even acknowledged as valid on Vulcan."
"I said shut up."
"Which leaves you as chattel... or nothing. And you're not nothing - assuming Spock does bed you."
"SHUT UP!!!" Ruth screamed it and Sorrm grasped her arms.
"Is that what you want, Ruth? Proper Vulcan definitions? Cold, logical, with no room for the realities of the heart? It's how you'd be treated on Vulcan."
"I am not...!" Ruth began in denial.
"Only because Spock is Amanda's son as well as Sarek's. He demands respect for you. A Vulcan would not. The hide-bound traditionalists that follow Surak's insanity would acknowledge nothing of the love that makes you Spock's wife!"
Ruth stared silently into Sorrm's eyes. The fury in them softened and he smiled, letting her go. "So who's crazy, Ruth?"
He stepped into the turbolift. Ruth rubbed her temples for several minutes before resolutely going to find Jilla.
In the turbolift, Sorrm laughed out loud. Seeds planted well, he told himself jubilantly, in case, just in case I fail.
"So he asked me 'who's crazy’ and I think I know the answer: me." Ruth's fingers were flying over the terminal keyboard as she spoke.
"You?" Jilla questioned, making modifications on her statboard.
"For getting involved with Vulcans in the first place. Which incidentally makes you crazy, too."
The scratching of the stylus stopped and Ruth gave herself a mental kick. A glance at Jilla showed the Indiian motionless, eyes lowered. Ruth sighed.
"I'm sorry, Jilla. I wasn't serious."
Jilla's faint smile didn't cover the sorrow. "I know."
But it hurt you anyway. You've got pointed ears, why is it so hard to remember you were kicked off the planet? Me and my big mouth. "Hey," she said abruptly, "let's knock off and get some sleep. The next simulation has to run for a couple of hours anyway and we'd be fresh." At Jilla's raised eyebrow, Ruth added " - er."
"Very well. But I expect you back here in two hours."
"Yes'm." Ruth hit the final enter key and rose from the computer. "Have a good nap," she said as she started toward the lab door. Then she turned and added softly, "Don't dream."
Jilla's eyes smiled up at her. "Thank you, Ruth."
"Least I could do. Goodnight."
Jilla carefully placed her specifications board into the computer hook-up and entered the commands to begin the simulation run. She waited a few minutes to make sure there was no misfeed of data, then left the lab. She carefully avoided thinking until she was in her own cabin.
Sulu slept peacefully in their bed. She was quiet in undressing. His arms came around her as she slid in beside him, and the safety that always came with his touch freed her frozen thoughts. She would have to tell him all Sorrm had said... all Sorrm had done. The memory of the Vulcan’s attempted command shamed her. Not her fault, she knew, yet... She would always be vulnerable to telepathic manipulation, particularly to Vulcan telepathy. It was a fact, despite her bond with Sulu. And that fact would always cause him pain. He rarely showed it, for her sake. He was getting very good as what Terrans called 'psyching up': the willing of oneself to believe and feel a certain, selected emotion regardless of any conflicting twinges. It was not perfect, of course. She could still detect those twinges - sorrow, anger, jealousy, frustration. She bit down on the rising well of her emotions. Why did she have to inflict this on him? It only made it more difficult to deal with, knowing how she was hurting him.
He shifted slightly, his right hand sliding down her left arm, his fingers entwining in hers. It had become so natural a gesture that he did it in his sleep: holding her left hand to keep her from clenching it. And, she knew, to share the pain of it with her. She wondered briefly if he could feel the burning along her palm. He'd felt it once, just after - She stiffened with the memory of the telin-arin, the ceremony of damnation she had endured three years before. He had taken her agony then, shared it in furious expression of her shame. And hurt with pain of his own. I am sorry, my love, she thought grievingly. I am sorry!
‘I think you're doing exactly as Selar would've wanted.’
Sorrm's words echoed in her mind, a blasphemy as great as her bond. Selar was - is - mnorindar, no matter how Vulcan. He did not want this.
Yet...
'...the only hope of a race dying from stagnation...'
'Is the theory that Vulcans take off-world wives to revitalize our species a lie?'
'Pon farr is all that Surak left of what we are. Selar did know it. And you, dear Lady, are proof.'
Did Selar believe it? And if so, would her children, even by another, not bring a renewed spark to...
NO! There is no proof. Selar did this out of love, not his race's needs, even if he believed in those needs. And I will not, at least, desecrate that love, though I violate all else.
With the thought, the pain of her damnation seared sharply into her. She buried her face against Sulu's chest, waiting until the bronze warmth and muffled heartbeat soothed her shame.
Spock was deep in meditation when Ruth entered their cabin. She made a face, then decided she needed him more than he needed solitude. She quietly stepped behind him, resting two fingers lightly at his temple.
Beloved.
Awareness came gently, as she had intended.
Sorry to interrupt, but I have to talk to you.
She felt his acknowledgement and moved to sit on the deck before him. He blinked, his eyes focusing on her.
"Sorrm," he said. She nodded.
"Spock, am I accepted on Vulcan?" She studied his face carefully and so noticed the surprise and the slight hesitation before he answered.
"You are my wife."
"You're avoiding the question."
Spock rose from his meditation chair. "I am not. You are my wife."
"But on Vulcan, Spock?"
Ruth took the hand he extended down to her, rising to stand beside him. "We have the pon-san," he reminded.
"From your mother," Ruth rejoined, her foot prodding the bonding rug on which they stood. "Tell me the truth. I can take it."
"Dei'larr'ei, you are my wife. Why this sudden questioning?"
She turned, starting across the room. "I guess that gives me my answer." She could almost feel Spock's frown.
"Ruth," he said sternly, "we are not yet bonded. Our contract is a legally binding document, giving the sanctity of law to our union. As such, Vulcan recognizes it."
"As such," Ruth repeated, and again faced him. "A marriage in law, but not in - what? Spirit? Morality?"
"Simply not as it is performed on Vulcan."
"But if we were to live on Vulcan we wouldn't be considered married, would we?"
"We do not. I fail to see your concern."
"My concern," Ruth said, her voice strident, "is that Sorrm may not be so damn crazy after all! Answer the damn question!"
Spock’s eyes hardened. "What has he told you?" he asked.
"Spock, if you don't answer me..."
"It is semantics, Ruth. We are wed. Vulcan acknowledges that. We are not bonded. That, too, is fact. It is also fact that when The Time comes again, we will be properly bonded. Properly..." he went on, forestalling her protest, "...by Vulcan tradition, which does not imply superiority. It will simply be a culturally valid expression of what already exists. You are my wife, simply not my bondmate. Yet. And so it would be on Vulcan."
There were furious tears in Ruth's eyes and she swallowed hard. "Jilla was wife and not bondmate and they threw her off the goddamned planet!"
Spock's arms came gently around her. "Dei'larr'ei, Vulcan acknowledges you. There is no need for this fear." His hands cupped her face, his thumbs brushing her cheeks. She lowered misery-filled eyes.
"Sorrm said..."
"Sorrm does not speak for Vulcan."
"He said Vulcan acknowledges me because - and only because you insist they do."
"And?"
"Is it true?"
"I also do not speak for Vulcan. I cannot know what the Council will do in all circumstances." Spock gently urged her gaze back to his face. "Nor do I care, beloved. Let Vulcan think what it will. It cannot matter less."
Ruth smiled, giving Spock a fierce hug. "I love you!"
"And I you. Why, my wife, do you give credence to anything Sorrm says?" They moved together toward the bed.
"It seemed, at the time, the logical thing to do?" At Spock’s frown, she laughed. "No, really. It seemed to make sense."
"If one is already pre-disposed to see the worst in Vulcans," Spock replied, his eyebrow arching.
"Yeah." Ruth shrugged. "I'm sorry."
"Indeed."
Ruth's grin matched the teasing gleam in Spock's eyes. "Touché. I've only got a couple of hours. Let's go to bed."
"Yes, my wife."