Dane was relieved when her daughter was born. She was glad the baby came early, for it had been a difficult pregnancy. Despite the various medications the doctor gave her, there had scarcely been a day when she felt completely well, and it was a struggle to meet her commitment to the Philharmonic. At day's end she had dropped into bed, exhausted…but through it all Simon had not complained, even when all the housework fell to him and every meal came from a replicator.
Now that she was at home on maternity leave with little Devon, she began to question her fitness as a mother. The doctor said there would be no more children, and she was not the least bit sorry. This one seemed more than enough, all of five pounds, with golden curls and completely human features. A twenty-four hour a day, ever present responsibility that was making her as nervous as her cat. Poor LaRue puffed her white fur every time she set eyes on the newcomer, and Dane could not help but commiserate. Motherhood was not at all like she had envisioned.
It was different for her sister-in-law. T'Beth stopped by frequently to fuss over Devon as if she was the cutest thing on Earth. T'Beth already showed from yet another baby she was carrying, but pregnancy barely slowed her down. She was such a good mother that Dane envied her.
oooo
September brought a fierce heat wave to Arizona. Inside the house on Eleventh Street, the temperature rose as the old cooling system struggled to keep up. Little Devon sprouted rashes and became colicky. Each night, Dane and Simon took turns walking her, but the daytime hours all fell to Dane. She developed a constant, nagging headache that made her short-tempered. One morning she felt so overwhelmed that she burst out crying. When Simon asked her what was wrong, she turned on him.
"You wanted me to have a boy, didn't you? Well I'm sorry, this is what you got…and there won't be any more, either!"
Simon stared at her in shock. "Dane…I'm not disappointed, really. I love her…I love you both."
He tried to touch her face, but she backed away. She did not feel at all loveable. She was a terrible mother—anyone could see it. And she was a terrible wife, too.
Troubled, Simon left the house. He scarcely noticed the blazing sun as he walked up the street to the Yanashite complex, where he served as a priest. He entered the temple and was vesting for morning Kuru when the Temple Master approached him.
Yosak said, "There is sickness in the city."
"Yes, I've heard," Simon absently replied. "NewsNet carried the story last night."
Yosak's face was grave. "Warn the congregation. It has been identified as Virulitis Yatara."
"What?" Simon had lived on Vulcan, where the virus was considered little more than an annoyance. But this Phoenix outbreak involved humans, not Vulcans, and the symptoms were dangerously severe. There had even been a death.
Yosak explained, "The Center for Disease Control has determined that the heat wave activated the virus in our Vulcan population. From there, the virus mutated and jumped to humans who have no inborn resistance."
Simon felt a stirring of fear. At nineteen, he had contracted a Vulcan disease that affected his musical ear for years. Now, as a Yanashite priest, he mingled with Vulcans on a daily basis.
"Warn them," his superior repeated. "There is unrest in some quarters of the city. A negative influence such as CUE might well use this unfortunate turn of events against the Yanashite Community."
Simon closed his eyes in prayer, then entered the temple with his young servers.
oooo
Dane could hardly believe what Simon was asking of her. This morning she had been angry with him, but now she clung to her husband like a frightened child.
"No," she repeated. "I don't want to leave you. And what difference would it make if I went to Plum Creek? Vulcans are there, too."
Simon placed his hands on her shoulders and as he gazed into her eyes, she could sense something of his own fear.
"Dane," he said, "sweetheart. Listen to me. The sickness hasn't reached Idaho…and it's a lot cooler there…too cool for the virus to survive. You and Devon will be safe. T'Naisa can help you with her."
Dane backed away, her feelings wounded. "You think I can't take care of my own baby?"
In a corner of the living room, Devon began to fuss and cry. Evening was coming on, and Dane's head throbbed fiercely. With tears in her eyes, she escaped into the bedroom.
Simon changed Devon's diaper and tried to feed her a bottle of formula, but the baby spit the nipple from her mouth and screamed. Jiggling her in his arms and singing softly, he paced the living room until she quieted. Then holding her close, he settled in front of the phone screen and called his father. Spock already knew about the medical crisis. As head of the Earthside seminary, he had issued a statement of regret, hoping to defuse what threatened to become a volatile situation.
With a creeping sense of urgency, Simon spoke to him about Dane. "Father, I want her and the baby out of here, but she won't budge." He lowered his voice. "Lately she takes everything I say the wrong way."
Spock glanced off-screen, then returned his attention to Simon. His expression was grim. "It would seem that the decision has been taken out of your hands. Arizona has just been placed under quarantine." He paused, drew a deep breath, and continued. "A new human mother is often quite emotional. Be patient with her, Simon. Try to curb that quick temper of yours."
Quick temper? Simon grit his teeth and signed off. Was it his fault, then? Was he the only problem?
In his arms, Devon stirred and began to whimper. As he studied her little face, he forgot his momentary anger. How perfect she seemed—a fresh new life born of the love he shared with Dane…their one and only child. What did her future hold?
He watched her grimace with pain, and said, "Poor little thing."
Once again he offered her the bottle, and this time she sucked from it.
oooo
That night, Dane ate a little food from the replicator and slept so soundly that Simon did not have the heart to awaken her for her usual shift with Devon. His bit of Vulcan blood gave him added stamina, but did he carry enough Vulcan genes to spare him from the serious form of the virus? All day at work he had washed his hands repeatedly, but soap and water offered only limited protection against an airborne disease.
At daybreak, the baby fell into a deep sleep. Simon settled her into the living room cradle and stood at a window watching the sun rise above the houses across the street. He heard Dane coughing in the bedroom and knew she was awake. She coughed again—an odd strangled sound that made his heart seize.
"Simon…" she called to him.
He hurried down the hall and started into the bedroom. Still holding the door, he saw the ugly blotches on her face and stopped short, let go of the handle, and wiped his hands on his shirt.
"I'm so sick," she moaned. The coughing started again, and then she was throwing up.
Terror clutched at Simon's insides as he stared at her. Backing up, he ran down the hall, grabbed Devon from her cradle, and charged out into the fresh air.
oooo
"Quick thinking," the doctor said as he completed his examination of Simon and Devon, releasing them after the standard three day quarantine. "Your wife says you got the baby out of the house right away."
Devon was crying. Simon's face burned as he swaddled the infant in a light blanket and took her into his arms. Something different from quick thinking had sent him running from his house. Not heroism, but fear for his personal health. Blind panic. It was a wonder that he even stopped for Devon. Looking back on it, he felt a cloying sense of shame.
His throat tightened and the words burst from him. "I only want to know…about my wife…is she going to die?"
The doctor framed his response carefully. "She's getting the best of treatment. She's young…she's strong…and she has a lot to live for."
Simon forced himself down the hospital hallway and found Dane lying under an isolation field. An IV cuff pumped fluid and medication into one limp, blotchy arm. Drugs kept her from coughing, but her respiration was ragged, as if each breath hurt. The isolation field prevented him from touching her, but he was glad it was there, keeping the virus contained.
Devon had stopped crying, but somehow Dane seemed to know they were present. Opening her eyes, she looked at them.
Simon said, "Devon and I are cleared to leave. I'm taking her over to T'Beth. She should be safe there. They've closed the schools and the theaters. Most of the churches are suspending services, too." He didn't tell her that Yosak was keeping the temple open for the Vulcans, or how nervous it made him.
"I love you," she said hoarsely.
Tears stung the back of his eyes. "I love you, too."
oooo
The epidemic spread. Despite all efforts at containment, the daily news reported a rising glut of admissions to Arizona hospitals. Three more patients died. Businesses closed their doors. The streets and air lanes grew ominously silent.
Each afternoon, Simon made his way to St. Elizabeth Hospital and sat at Dane's side for a few hours. The red marks on her skin had faded to pink. Her breathing was regular and she was coughing less, but for now the isolation field remained in place.
Dane looked longingly at him and said, "I wish I could touch you."
Simon shifted in his chair. He was too embarrassed to admit what was in his heart-that he was glad the field was still in place. Though he loved Dane with all his heart, he did not want her hands on him…not yet, while there was even a slim chance of contagion.
"I can't wait to go home," she said.
Simon thought of their little house on Eleventh Street. He had been staying at the priests' residence and scarcely stepped foot in the house since the day he grabbed Devon and fled. Health officials had scrubbed the place, but though it was deemed safe for occupation, he only made quick visits to care for the cat.
oooo
The better Dane felt, the more she chafed against her confinement. As she looked back, it now seemed that her worries over motherhood had been foolish. Each time T'Beth brought Devon to visit, Dane ached to hold her baby in her arms.
"Soon," the doctor promised.
Simon came and went. He seemed so quiet that she began to worry and asked, "Are you alright? You're not getting sick, are you?"
The question visibly annoyed him, but she could not help being concerned. Some men did not readily admit to sickness, as if being ill somehow made them less manly. It was a relief when the isolation field came down and she was moved out of the quarantine wing. Now she could touch Simon and even kiss him, but he seemed very tense and no longer shared any of his mind with her.
Dane thought she knew what was wrong. She had kept up on the news, where a fresh topic was being loudly debated. A certain political element wanted Vulcans relocated and confined to camps until the epidemic spent itself. Members of the anti-alien group CUE were calling for their permanent deportation, but neither view made any sense at this point. The mild Virulitis strain carried by Vulcans would not infect other species. Humans were spreading the mutated virus.
Even so, she knew that Simon must be worried. She worried, too. It was not so much the threat of internment or deportation. That was not likely to happen, but there was no telling what some hothead might do. She was glad Simon did not look one bit Vulcan.
oooo
Simon woke suddenly from a nightmare in which someone had stabbed him in the chest and he was coughing up blood. For a frightening moment the pain lingered, then disappeared. He breathed deeply in relief.
He lay alone in a bedroom at the priests' residence. Though it was morning, the room felt hot. He rose and went to a window. The sky was a solid blue, the air perfectly still. Sun beat down on the desert plants blooming in the courtyard below.
Today Dane was coming home. As Simon dressed, he wondered if it would be better for them to stay here for a time, where he would always be close at hand if Dane needed him. Here among Vulcans, the baby might actually be safer from contagion. But he knew what Dane would say. She loved their little house, and perhaps in these trying times, it was best to distance his family from Vulcans.
After readying himself, he donned a cream colored robe and green cape, and went downstairs. Leaving the building, he crossed the courtyard and entered the temple through a back door. Today Yosak would need his help distributing the Living Water. The daily Kuru was drawing large crowds of Yanashites seeking the strength and comfort of their faith. From the vestibule, Simon could see Yosak at the altar. The temple master had just completed the Consecration. Simon came out and knelt near the servers in the sanctuary. Closing his eyes, he gave himself up to prayer.
A resounding bang at the rear of the temple made him look up. There was a sound of shoes on tile. He turned his head. Five men were running up the center aisle, their human faces contorted by hatred.
Simon's heart began to slam.
"Bastards!" shouted the apparent leader of the group.
Simon stood. His hand touched the shoulder of the boy nearest him. "Get out, both of you," he said low, "and call the police."
The servers headed for the vestibule. At the altar, Yosak took stock of the intruders and immediately transferred the chalices to the wall safe.
The human rabble leaped into the sanctuary and their leader confronted the Temple Master. "Filthy Vulcan bastards! Isn't one planet enough for you?"
Suddenly the man drew out a weapon, and Simon began to fear for his life. In that terrible instant he thought of Dane and Devon depending on him…but Yosak and every one of these Yanashites were depending on him, too.
Several men in the congregation went to their feet, but no one came forward. From their position, they could not see the weapon. As Vulcans, they would take time to assess the situation before acting. But for Simon, time slowed to a crawl and he began to notice every detail—the way the sunshine streamed from the skylights, the whimper of a child, and a curl of incense in the air. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a Yanashite quietly speaking into a phone.
The man with the weapon approached Yosak.
"Die," he growled, "you cold, calculating son-of-a—"
The gun discharged, sending an orange bolt of energy into Yosak's midsection. The impact threw him against the altar, and he collapsed. A child screamed.
Simon heard a commotion in the temple, but his eyes were on the weapon—some sort of phaser pistol. The barrel aimed at Yosak a second time. Simon could see the Temple Master breathing, fighting for life despite the smoking wound in his chest.
All at once his indecision left him and he felt impossibly calm. Breaking into action, he rushed the altar and threw himself over his fallen superior.
Looking up into the angry face of the assailant, he said, "Leave him in peace! This man has done nothing to you!"
The weapon targeted Simon between the eyes and he felt his scalp tingle.
"Why, you're not even Vulcan!"
"I am one-quarter Vulcan and entirely Yanashite," Simon replied fearlessly.
"Then say your prayers," the man sneered…and pulled the trigger.
At that very instant, a Vulcan reached the shooter and upset his balance. The beam went wide and discharged into the floor. A mortal struggle was in progress, but the humans were far outnumbered and outmatched. As the last of the intruders dropped, Simon tended to Yosak until the emergency medical team arrived.
oooo
Dane gasped when the information flashed onto NewsNet. She was eating breakfast in her hospital bed, waiting for her release order. Suddenly the assault on the Phoenix temple was all over the news.
"One man gravely injured," spoke the reporter. "A Yanashite priest."
The breath caught in her throat.
Then her wrist phone chimed, and it was Simon. "Just letting you know everything's okay. I'm here in the hospital with Yosak; lucky his heart is down low, or he'd be a goner."
Simon came straight from the emergency department to Dane's room, and caught her in his arms. They kissed deeply, and this time he held nothing of himself back.
oooo
It was through the police report that the story of Simon's bravery became publicly known. Dane proudly printed and framed a news release and hung it on the bedroom wall, near the doorway where he had turned and fled from her on the day she fell sick. Funny, how a man frightened by a germ could throw himself into the path of a phaser. Sometimes the smallest things tripped a person up. They could smile about it now that the weather was cool and Virulitis Terra had disappeared from the city, leaving the majority of humans in a more tolerant mood. They could even laugh a bit now that Devon had outgrown her colic and the three of them slept peacefully through the night—at least, most nights. And if people walking by their little house sometimes heard a violin playing brief, bittersweet passages of music, it was only Simon at work on his latest composition, "Eleventh Street Blues".
oooOOooo