I forgot to say in Chapter 1, thanks to BewilderedFemale for the idea of using Taurik in this story. And thank you, 0afan0 for your invaluable feedback and suggestions!
Cadet Taurik arrived in Cairo on Monday. Egypt was a dramatic change from New Orleans. It was much hotter, and it was arid instead of muggy. And this was a much older place, thousands of years older. He was reminded of his own home on Vulcan. Perhaps next summer he should follow Sam's example and go back there over the break instead of taking another class. For now, however, he would focus on his chosen studies.
Cairo: "The City of a Thousand Minarets," it was aptly nicknamed. From the nearest tower, he could hear the muezzin calling the followers of Islam to their prayers. That was a drastic contrast to the angelus bells he had heard coming from the cathedral at Jackson Square that morning. Yes, humans certainly had fascinating religious customs.
Taurik stepped out of the midday heat and into the shady courtyard of the student dorm building. His room was on the second floor, and it opened up onto a verandah, with intricately adorned arches, which surrounded the inner patio. He was only going to stay there that night, as he had to catch the boat to Luxor in the morning. The enclosure was apparently deserted at the moment, so he went down and sat under the palm trees to meditate.
Later that afternoon, Taurik went back out to go to the Egyptian Museum, where he was to meet his fellow students. The streets were bustling with boisterous people and animals. He made his way down the lane, through the noise, hustle, and assorted commotion. From a nearby street vendor came the aroma of baking pita bread and simmering soup. His stomach rumbled. He would obtain nourishment after his appointment, he decided.
At last he arrived at the museum. In the lobby, another cadet was waiting for him, a Benzite. Taurik did not know enough about that species to be able to tell the gender of the individual. When the cadet saw him, he/she stood up a smiled. "You must be Cadet Taurik," the voice sounded feminine. "I am Hoya. Welcome to Cairo. A most stimulating place, isn't it?"
"Thank you, Cadet Hoya," he said, "And yes, this city is indeed intriguing."
"I'll show you to Dr. Wasem's office," she stated, "if you will please follow me."
Taurik held his hands behind his back as he followed Hoya. She led him to the non-public area of the museum. "Cadet Taurik is here, Dr." Hoya said.
Dr. Wasem spun around in her chair to face the doorway. "Taurik," she greeted with a small smile, "Come in, come in. Have a seat."
"Thank you again for allowing me this opportunity, Dr. Wasem," said Taurik.
"You're quite welcome. I think this will be an informative semester for us all. You two are the first non-humans to take this class."
"I'm curious to see how this will play out," said Hoya eagerly.
Dr. Wasem's expression became serious as she turned to Taurik. "I'll be frank with you about this side expedition of yours, Cadet," she said, looking up at him through her glasses. "I don't agree with her theories, but there isn't enough evidence to prove her wrong, and she's quite tenacious. She's one of my top students, so I'm indulging her. My point is, don't expect a lot to come out of this project."
"I understand, Doctor." Taurik said.
"I suggest you make the arrangements for your trip with her today, or she might leave you behind tomorrow morning," the professor said. "You'll find her in the library, taking last-minute notes before she leaves, no doubt."
"Yes, Dr. Thank you," he said, standing up to leave.
"See you in two weeks, Cadet," she smiled.
Taurik dipped his head and left to make his way toward the library. As it was nearing the end of the day, the room was deserted. His superior Vulcan hearing picked up a slight shuffling noise, along with soft humming, coming from the back of the stacks. That would be his unacquainted colleague, no doubt. When he reached the aisle in question, he looked up. Standing at the top of a tall ladder was a beautiful young human woman. Fascinating, thought Taurik. He would have recognized the singer from New Orleans anywhere.
"Ms. Broussard?" he addressed her from the bottom. Startled, she nearly fell backwards. Taurik quickly grasped the ladder in order to steady it, and carefully leaned it back against the bookshelf.
"Oh, thank you," she said with relief. "For a moment, I pictured myself crashing into this shelf, which probably would have caused the rest of these shelves to topple over like dominoes. Then they would never let me back in here again." She giggled nervously.
"That may or may not be a correct assumption," he commented.
"Wait," she suddenly realized, "how did you know my name? Haven't I seen you somewhere before?"
"Yes, you saw me this past Friday as a spectator at a jazz club in the Vieux Carré," he said. "I know your name because it was announced before you came onto the stage. I am Cadet Taurik, a transfer student from Starfleet Academy."
"Oh…" she blinked pensively. "Well," she said as she slid down the ladder, "it's nice to have you along, but you'd better keep up and pull your weight."
"I assure you I have every intention of doing so," he assured her. "I am curious as to whether your theory about the existence of Hamunaptra is correct or not," he said bluntly. "All of the authorities on the subject disagree with you."
"Some of the greatest finds in history have been discovered by people no one else believed in, Cadet," she pointed out confidently.
"That is true," he conceded. "Am I correct in assuming that your claims are inspired by the works of Evelyn O'Connell?"
"Inspired, yes," said Marianne, "but my work is based primarily on evidence from archeological finds and references in the ancient texts."
"Indeed?" Taurik asked, intrigued. His first encounter with Marianne Broussard had given him no indication that she was such a rational and scholarly woman. In fact, his impression was that she was nothing more than a coquette.
"Everyone says that Evelyn O'Connell was a quack, but I know I can prove otherwise," she insisted passionately.
Taurik was about to respond when the security guard approached. "Excuse me, Mademoiselle Broussard," he said, "but we closed ten minutes ago."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Labib. We're just leaving now."
When they walked outside, the streets were not as noisy and crowded as they had been earlier. The sun was descending to the horizon. "Hey, have you eaten yet?" Marianne asked.
"I have not."
"I'm meeting the third member of our team for dinner. Why don't you come along?"
"Your proposition is acceptable," Taurik said, interiorly relieved that he would be able to eat at last. He followed her to a small café not far down the street. The same smell of bread and soup filled his nose again. At one of the tables sat a human man, whom Taurik guessed was from either the European or North American continent.
"What did you do, stop for hookah? I've been waiting half an hour," the man said indignantly when he saw them. "And who's the Vulcan?"
Without bothering to explain herself, Marianne proceeded to make the introductions. "John Norris, this is Cadet Taurik from Starfleet. He's our other teammate for the dig."
"Yeah, how ya doin.' Can we eat now, please?" Taurik noticed the similarities between John and his roommate, Sam, so he deduced that he was from North America.
"Don't mind him, Taurik," Marianne told him as they sat down. "Johnny always gets cranky when he's hungry." They promptly ordered their food. John and Marianne ordered shawarma pitas, while Taurik had lentil soup with a side of hummus and falafel. The finished their meal with Turkish coffee and baklava.
"What time and where should I meet you, Mr. Norris?" Taurik asked after they had eaten.
"Call me Johnny," he insisted. As Marianne had predicted, "Johnny" was almost a different person, now that he was no longer ravenous. "We'll be at dock number ten at 5am sharp. Don't be late."
"Vulcans are always in the habit of being punctual, Johnny," Taurik informed him. "Good evening," he wished them. He wandered back to his hotel. The sun had already gone down, and the night breeze was starting to cool things off a bit. It had been a rather fatiguing day. Another assault on the senses, but once again quite informative.
The next morning, Taurik was at the dock at exactly 4:55 am. Marianne arrived at 5:05, and Johnny dawdled up at a tardy 5:10. The Vulcan at first thought he would call attention to his colleague's failure to arrive at his own directed time, but then he thought better of it.
Marianne had arrived with coffee for the three of them. It was a thoughtful gesture. Taurik, of course, did not require caffeine in order to wake up. He accepted the cup, however, when it was handed to him. Marianne's golden cheeks were glowing and her lovely brown eyes sparkled with the reflection of the early morning light. If he refused, she would frown, and he did not wish to see that.
They boarded the boat and before long they were off, sailing up the Nile to Luxor. The journey would take approximately twenty-three hours. Taurik could not make an exact calculation, as he was unfamiliar with some of the factors. It was the first time he had ever been on a boat. How absorbing it was, he thought, that time itself seemed to revolve around the rhythms and whims of the river.
As they traveled south, the heat would increase. That did not bother Taurik; in fact it would be a welcome change from the other cooler parts of Earth he had been staying at since he came. He surmised that Marianne and John would not appreciate it so much, however. He stood on the upper deck and watched as the boat passed by a herd of hippos. Almost without warning, the rosy twilight burst into brilliant dawn.
"Isn't it wondrous?" asked Marianne sentimentally, leaning on the railing. Her amber curls were lit up by the aurora.
"It is," Taurik concurred, observing her intently.
"Wow!" John suddenly stopped as he was coming up the deck stairs. "You look gorgeous, Marianne. Like Isis or something," John voiced what Taurik realized he was thinking himself.
"Oh, Johnny," she rolled her eyes, "will you please be serious?"
"Ok, ok," he held his hands up, "I'm just saying…Bah! I'm going to go find some breakfast," he stormed off.
"It would appear that John has amorous intentions toward you," Taurik remarked phlegmatically.
"Nah, he's not for me," Marianne waved her hand as though she were shooing away a fly. "He's not at all the type of man I'm looking for."
"Indeed?" he asked, his curiosity awakened. "What type of man are you looking for?"
Marianne thought for a moment. "I would like a man who could be wicked, but instead chose not to be," she said dreamily.
Taurik raised an eyebrow and shook his head, "You have an overactive imagination, Ms. Broussard." There was the slightest hint of annoyance in his voice.
"Let me guess," she said, raising a mocking brow in return, "you think I should just repress it and let it stagnate inside me?"
"That is not what I think," he calmly corrected her. "I mean that you have the ability to become more than you are, more than most other humans I have known, in fact. You can achieve a great deal if you learn to develop and better control your mental facilities."
Her mouth opened in wonder. "Why, Mr. Taurik," she blinked, "did you just complement me?"
"I was merely stating a fact," he said ostensibly, "but I suppose you may take it that way if it pleases you."
Her face lit up with a radiant smile. "That is the nicest thing you have ever said to me."
"Your inclination toward exaggeration could use some tempering as well," he added.
"Very well," she said, sobering herself, "what do you suggest?"
"I suggest you write," the Vulcan answered. "It is obvious that you read a lot, and that is a good start. However, you will actualize mastery if you learn to use language yourself instead of merely reading the words of others."
"I already write quite a bit," she said.
"Academically yes," the Vulcan said, perfectly patient, as he joined his hands together, "but that will do little to discipline your emotional side. I suggest you write fiction."
"You don't think that's frivolous escapism?" she asked in disbelief.
"It has been my observation that humans use fiction in order to deal with emotions, but also subjects that are considered to be taboo, or otherwise subconsciously uncomfortable. There are many important issues that must be resolved, such as the subject of mortality, for example. Sometimes a fantasy setting is the only way for humans to comfortably think about these types of questions. Therefore, the answer is no, I do not think it would be frivolous for you to write fiction."
She blinked again as she processed his words, and then gave him a partially restrained smile. "That's very logical advice, Mr. Taurik. I'll take it."
"Good," he said, "I look forward to reading your first story."
Her eyes widened. "You want to read what I write?"
"I believe that is the point of the exercise."
"Alright," she said reluctantly.
John called to them from the bottom of the stairs, "Are you two coming to breakfast or not?"
The rest of the day went by uneventfully. The students passed the time on the lower deck, as their cabins were too small for anything other than sleeping. Had he been alone, Taurik would have chosen to stay on the upper deck. His companions, however, preferred to stay out of the blazing midday sun. They started out playing Hearts with a deck of cards they found lying around.
After a lunch of harira soup and dates, the trio of associates mentally went their separate ways. John fell asleep in his chair, while Taurik and Marianne took the opportunity to catch up on their studies. Every so often, Taurik found himself stealing glances across the table. Marianne was engrossed in her work, and took no notice of the Vulcan observing her. As the afternoon wore on and grew hotter, she started to nod off. John continued to snore heavily.
Though they had done practically nothing all day, they unanimously agreed to turn in early that evening, as the boat would be docking at Luxor around four in the morning.
"Good night, Ms. Broussard," Taurik said before she entered her room, which was between his and John's. And then it occurred to him that perhaps, like other humans from the North American continent, Marianne may not have liked being addressed so formally.
"Good night, Cadet Taurik," she smiled, with a twinkle in her eyes. No, she was from the southern region, he recalled. Most of the humans from there preferred more genteel mannerisms. It was yet another quality for him to admire about her. However, he had not forgotten that she was also quite flirtatious. She had succeeded in stirring him twice already, but he was determined that it would not happen again.
Marianne sighed longingly as she collapsed onto her bed that night. It had been a long day, but she was anything but tired. You have the ability to become more than you are, more than most other humans I have known, in fact… That was high praise indeed coming from a Vulcan. But he wanted to read whatever it was she was going to write. He would rip it to shreds! Or maybe, he would not. Taurik's criticism so far was constructive, but also tactful. He seemed to respect the fact that humans were passionate beings, and tailored his remarks accordingly. He would be nice about it, she decided.
But what was that reaction to her description of her dream beau? It was the second time she had gotten an emotional response out of him. It was only a slight reflex, but it did not escape her notice. He was vexed. But why? Her fanciful mind naturally wanted to think that it was because he had "amorous intentions toward her" himself. If that were the case, Taurik could have been displeased that her description did not characterize him. The thought made her giggle into her pillow.
Marianne had always thought that Vulcans were rather handsome, in an elfin sort of a way. But the fact that they strongly rejected emotion of any sort just as quickly turned her off. A relationship with a Vulcan would probably be dreadfully dull. And then there was Johnny, the exact opposite of insensitivity. She felt guilty for rejecting him; it was like kicking a dog. But she had no interest whatsoever in getting into a relationship with him.
Taurik was not her type of man, either, but Marianne shamelessly enjoyed the fact that he evidently had a crush on her, too. That he was a supposedly dispassionate Vulcan was the best part.
