Stardate 2257.177
Regulan Sector

Before Velek even opened his eyes, his ears were bombarded with a symphony of nasally snuffling and snoring. He took several slow breaths and rolled out of bed, ducking under Mavis' limp arm hanging down from the bunk above.

She was flat on her back, mouth wide open, fast asleep. Her claims of being a still sleeper were true, but a quiet sleeper she most certainly was not. He rushed through his morning hygiene routine and dressed quickly, a task which was difficult in the narrow latrine. When he reemerged in his quarters, Mavis was exactly as he'd left her.

Why had the ambassador decided on this arrangement? It was extremely improper for an unbonded male to cohabitate with an unbonded female. He wasn't entirely certain of the marital status of the other males on board, nor was he certain it would have been better for Mavis to stay with one of them, but there were literally hundreds of ways the accommodations could have been reconfigured to give Mavis a private space.

The most reasonable option, considering rank and position and Tavek's illness, would have been to move Tavek out of his quarters into Sovok's room and move Velek and Sovok into Tavek's double bunk while Mavis occupied Velek's former room. Or Velek could have slept on the floor in Sovok's room. Or in the cargo bay. Mavis uttered a loud grunt and pulled the arm dangling off the bed up to her stomach to scratch it. Seeing this, Velek decided he would rather sleep in the cargo bay.

The ambassador was a logical man, and it was logical to assume the ambassador had realized this. A human toddler could have realized this. Therefore, it was logical to conclude the ambassador had another motive for assigning them to share these quarters. It was obvious the ambassador didn't trust Mavis, nor should he, and the most logical explanation was he expected Velek to watch her. Velek supposed of all the individuals on board, he was a poor choice of jailer but the only logical choice, considering he was most familiar with her.

Since she was sound asleep and he was quite hungry, he reasoned it would be safe to leave her for a short time while he went to procure first meal. Perhaps he could even obtain food for her and bring it back to the room and avoid having to escort her around the ship. He quickly exited his quarters and engaged the button to lock the door behind him.

In the multi-purpose room in the back of the ship where they took their meals, he found Sovok sitting alone at one end of a long, narrow table with four stools tucked on each side. He was reading a PADD and didn't look up to acknowledge Velek, so he stopped by the replicator to acquire a bowl of the traditional Vulcan breakfast for himself and took a seat at the opposite end of the table. A few moments later, Toran and Ambassador Sarek arrived and ventured toward the replicator.

Toran and the ambassador opted to sit diagonally across from each other, each of them leaving a single seat between themselves and Velek and Sovok. It was fascinating how Vulcans always sought to achieve the maximum possible distance away from any other intelligent being.

"Live long and prosper Sovok, Velek," the ambassador said.

He and Sovok looked up from their bowls of soup and replied in unison, "Live long and prosper, ambassador."

"Where is our guest this morning?" the ambassador asked, turning to look at Velek.

"She was asleep when I left my quarters," he explained. "I locked the door behind her, as you-"

"Good morning!" a perky voice interrupted.

Everyone at the table turned to see Mavis standing in the doorway, except for Ambassador Sarek, whose eyes remained locked on Velek. "You were saying?"

"I was sure I had secured it," Velek replied without a shred of confidence in his voice.

Mavis' face was turning vivid green. She looked at the ambassador and said, "I know you said I should stay in the room, but you said it was ok to come out at meal times and it is time for breakfast and I heard your voices at the end of the hall and I just thought…"

"Welcome, Mavis," Amabassador Sarek said. "Please, join us."

She shuffled toward the table. Velek's mind darted back to the keypad by his door and he realized in his haste to leave the room, he had locked it, but only from the outside. There was a separate button to secure the door from the inside but he'd never used it. He so rarely locked the door at all. Prior to Mavis' arrival, he never supposed anyone aboard would enter his room without permission. Also prior to Mavis' arrival, he'd never been asked to keep someone confined to his quarters.

As she approached, it became obvious there was no ideal place for her to sit. She could sit across from Velek and next to Toran, or across from Toran and between Sarek and Velek.

"Sovok, Toran, this is Mavis," the ambassador continued. "She will be traveling with us to Vulcan.

Because Vulcan custom dictated that it was proper to stand when being introduced to someone, Sovok and Toran rose to their feet, which clearly made Mavis uneasy. She gave a little wave of her hand and said, "Hi."

"Mavis, this is Sovok, my communications direction, and Toran, the ship's navigator."

Velek peeked at Sovok and Toran, curious how they were internally resolving this unexpected development. He examined the sparse facts from their point of view. Mavis' long hair and casual manner indicated she was not a follower of Surak. Given they'd just come from Nebor's End, it was reasonable to conclude she was a resident of that colony, and given no announcement had been made that they were taking on a passenger, the only logical explanation for her presence was that she'd stowed away. The spark of recognition occurred in each of their eyes at almost precisely the same moment and now everyone in the room was on the same page in a matter of seconds without having ever uttered a word about it.

"It is an honor to meet you," said Sovok and Toran.

"Perhaps you would like to select a meal and be seated." The ambassador gestured toward the replicator on the wall.

Mavis gave a small smile and drifted toward the replicator. She raised a hand and touched a button but nothing happened. She tried several more buttons with no success. Sensing her growing distress, Velek joined her and whispered, "Are you familiar with the operation of a replicator?"

"No," she admitted without looking at him.

"I can assist you."

Relief and gratitude formed in her eyes. He pulled up the main page of food items. "You can search among first meal, mid meal, or end meal items, in addition to supplemental foods and drinks."

She stared blankly at the loopy Vuhlkansu script, raised a finger, then put it down again. Perhaps the selection was overwhelming her.

"What would you like?"

"Uh, I- food?"

"Perhaps you wish to browse the section for first meals, or search for a specific food alphabetically."

Her eyes darted between the screen and the floor several times. Every time her eyes returned to the flowing vertical text, there was no shred of recognition or comprehension. Her eyes began to glisten and Velek's confusion at her indecision flipped to pity.

"Do you speak Vuhlkansu?" he whispered.

She gave the tiniest shake of her head and mumbled, "No."

Without saying a word, he pressed the button to change the Vuhlkansu text into the horizontal Standard print. She squinted at the directory and selected an item halfway down the screen. A large plate of pasta with cream sauce appeared below. Velek raised an eyebrow but decided he was being illogical—perhaps it was customary to eat a hearty first meal in Nebor's End.

As they returned to the table, Velek elected to take the seat next to Toran so Mavis could sit across from him and not be forced to sit next to a stranger. He slid his bowl of plomeek soup across the table and motioned for her to sit.

She lifted one of the long, wide noodles with one of the outermost tines of her fork, raised it up in the air, and nibbled on the end. Her peculiar feeding habits drew the attention of everyone at the table.

"This is delicious," she proclaimed, grinning broadly. She picked up another noodle and slurped it down with audible gusto.

"The flavor is, wow. I love everything about it—the texture, the taste. Do you eat meals like this all the time?"

Velek stared at the plain pasta dish on the plate, thinking it actually looked rather uninspired. He could sense Sovok and Toran staring at her in his periphery and wishing to defuse their growing bafflement, he replied, "First meals on Vulcan are often small and light. Nutrient-dense dishes such as the one you have selected are typically eaten for midday meals."

"Oh," she said, blushing. "I didn't know."

"You have committed no offense," Ambassador Sarek responded, glancing at Toran who was still watching Mavis. "What do you typically consume for first meal in Nebor's End?"

"Oh, you know," she mumbled, looking down at her fork. "Potato soup, potato flatcakes, rice pudding, pallas roots. In the summer, maybe some fresh starberries if you can get up early and get them before the birds. Just depends on what's available."

Sovok stood and gave a small bow to the others at the table, placed his bowl in the reclaimator, then left. Mavis shoveled food into her mouth, gnawing on it so vigorously he could see and hear much of the chewing process. Despite devouring her food like a ravenous predator, he and the others were finished with their meals well before her, thanks only to much smaller portion sizes.

After the ambassador and Toran departed, Mavis set her fork down and gave him a concerned look.

"Is something the matter?" he asked.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"What gives you the impression you did?"

"Everyone was staring at me. It was so awkward."

"Meals aboard the ship are usually subdued affairs and you are… quite animated."

"I didn't mean to offend anyone."

"I am certain you have caused no offense. It is merely that you are quite different than the Vulcan females we are accustomed to."

"I don't- it's only that- all Vulcans are like this?"

"Explain."

"So quiet and serious all the time?"

"Aside from the various V'tosh ka'tur sects, yes. The majority of Vulcans follow logic. Logic is rarely vivacious."

"Do you like being logical?"

He thought to himself for a moment. There were many times he wished he could allow himself to experience the joy of music and theater without a subsequent cycle of guilt and shame, and then more shame for feeling guilt and shame. "I have never known a life outside of logic."

"I've never known a life with it," she muttered, using her fork like a shovel to capture another glob of noodles.

"Do you wish to learn more about it?"

"I don't know. I don't think I could give up smiling. I don't think I could give up feeling feelings."

"It is a common misperception that Vulcans do not have emotions. We simply seek to master them through the exercise of logic. It is a profound distinction."

"The ambassador gave me a copy of The Teachings of Surak."

"That was generous of him. Have you begun to read it?"

"It's just- I- it's- it's not-"

Velek suddenly understood. "I have a copy in Standard, if you wish to borrow it. The essential word in the sentence is borrow. I will want it back."

Mavis gave him a strange look. "I know what borrowing means."

"You said a similar thing to me about your father's clothing," he explained, adding, "Which I returned to your employer, in case you wondered."

A vibrant laugh escaped her lips. "Did you just tell a joke?"

"No," he replied in earnest. "There is no logic in inducing amusement, therefore, I do not tell jokes."

"Maybe not on purpose."

"Not ever."

She plucked the last two noodles from her plate with her fingers, threw her head back, and dropped them down her throat. He almost considered saying something about her abhorrent table manners but decided it may not be his place to correct her. But if not him, then who?

He briefly imagined her impending arrival on Vulcan and felt a twinge of… something. He closed his eyes and repressed whatever the nameless emotion was. If the morning meal was any indication, Mavis would not be well-received and it disturbed him that she would be excluded.

He watched as she got up, took her plate to the reclaimator, then stared at the device, utterly clueless about how to proceed. There was no logic in feeling protective of a woman he barely knew, just as there was no logic in feeling disappointed in a society he knew all too well. Still, he felt both things.

Mavis rolled onto the top bunk and cracked the cover of Velek's copy of the Standard edition of The Teachings of Surak. Dread poured through her as the characters quickly became a jumble of nonsense. Her eyes drifted closed and she flipped to a random page and tried to read.

The letter L followed by the letter O. Loo? Loh?

Next was the letter G, followed by an I and a C. Loh-gis? Mavis gritted her teeth and shook her head. Loh-gis wasn't a word. The word was obviously logic. Who designed the letter C, a character that could sound like a K or an S? Why not just use the letter K if a K sound was required? Logik? Or better yet, lah-gik, because that was what the word sounded like.

She took a deep breath and continued. The next word was easy enough, I and S, is. Logic is. Her progress was halted at the phonetic maze that was the very next word. She said each letter aloud, beginning with "E" and ending with "L." Then she made each sound she imagined each letter should make. "Eh-teer-nahl." Eternal?

"Logic is eternal?" she muttered. She sighed and closed the book. "Congratulations Mavis, you just finished a sentence."

The same sense of shame she felt earlier in the dining room resurfaced, threatening to manifest itself in tears. Her district in Nebor's End never had very good teachers, but that never bothered Mavis much because she never was a very good student. She could do her numbers well enough—an acute understanding of money was critical to survival in her colony and useful in her job as a mechanic—but words always proved an impossible thing to master. At least Velek wasn't here to see her struggles and tell her she was dumb.

After breakfast, they'd returned to the room, he gave her Surak's book in Standard, and she flopped down on the top bunk and pretended to read it for a few minutes. Then he'd received a message from Sovok summoning him to resolve some kind of diplomacy-related emergency and promised to be right back. He also informed her not to go anywhere, as if she didn't know.

But that was thirtyish minutes ago. Her eyes drifted closed and she started to doze but a low moan caught her attention. It took a few seconds to decide it was a person making the noise, not some faulty duct or other piece of machinery. Just as she threw her legs over the bed to jump down and investigate, it stopped. Had it been coming from the person in the room next door?

She paced along the wall, half-tempted to extract the panel and reveal her former hiding place, if only just to press her ear that much closer to the room next door. During her deliberations, she noticed the PADD on Velek's desk was slightly askew. A flashing blue power button in the corner stirred a childlike impulse to press it and the moment she did, a burst of lyrics spewed into the silence.

"Because our love fits like a glove and I just can't get enough of it!" sang a woman.

"This thing we have just drives me mad, honey please give me some more of it!" a man crooned in reply.

Mavis' eyeballs threatened to bulge out of her head. What the hell was this? It was so loud. She needed to make it stop before—

"What are you doing?" Velek growled.

Too late. Mavis picked up the PADD and frantically plucked at the only two visible buttons, but that just made the music louder. He snatched it from her grip and instantly the booming music evaporated.

"What gave you cause to think you could touch my belongings?" His voice was harsh and flat.

"It was an accident," she lied. Or maybe it wasn't a complete lie—she had meant to press the button, but she never intended to cause a scene.

"Do you enjoy violating my privacy at every turn or is it just a happy coincidence that you do?"

"I- I'm sorry."

"Do not touch my things."

"I said I'm sorry."

"And yet you have not verbally agreed to leave my personal effects alone."

Mavis' face was growing quite hot now. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were becoming emotional."

"And if I didn't know better, I would say you were rude and entitled."

A slurry of swear words crept toward the tip of her tongue, but he turned on his heel and was out the door before she could fling them at him. She wanted to tear after him and let him know exactly what was on her mind, but she stopped at the door, halted by the invisible line the ambassador had instructed her not to cross.

She clenched her back molars so hard she was sure they would shatter. She yelled, "Joke's on you! There's plenty more of your stuff in here for me to touch!"

The moment she said it, she smacked herself in the forehead. She was acting like a five-year-old and maybe he had a point: maybe she shouldn't have messed with his things.

The press of the cool metal door against her forehead brought a little more clarity but only made her want to cringe more. Dwelling on her many shortcomings was an easy pastime and it wasn't like there was much else to do in this tiny room.

"Errrrrrrrrrrraaaaaagh!"

Mavis leapt back, staring at the door in wild terror. The scream had definitely come from next door. Despite the deafening thunder of the blood rushing through her ears, she could hear someone nervously panting and crying. Whoever he was, he certainly sounded like he was in pain.

"Sanu," cried the masculine voice. "Sanuuuuuuu!"

Mavis knew so little of the language of her ancestors, but sanu was a common word uttered in Nebor's End. It was the Vulcan term for "please" and had mixed into the local language with Federation Standard, along with dozens of other words and phrases.

He began muttering long strings of unintelligible Vuhlkansu. Everything inside Mavis pleaded with her to help him, yet Ambassador Sarek had instructed her to remain in the room. Surely helping someone or seeking help for them counted as an exigent circumstance. And surely a logical species would agree that some scenarios existed that would make rule-breaking reasonable. Or maybe someone else would hear him screaming and investigate.

Seconds ticked by and the man continued to wail. She took a deep breath and made a decision. She would step into the hallway, knock on his door, and ask if he was ok. She wasn't going to run off or steal—not that she would have anyway—and if the ambassador asked her about it, she would just lay out the facts and stand by her conscience.

She opened the door and ventured into the corridor at the same time as her neighbor and found herself face-to-face with a tall Vulcan man she'd never seen before. His eyes were curiously both unfocused and wildly glowing and the moment they fell on her, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. He looked like he'd taken some seriously bad drugs. The man clearly was very sick, but not with any sickness Mavis was capable of dealing with.

She held up her hands defensively and slowly started to walk back into her room, but he flew at her with lightning speed, clamping the lower part of her face firmly between his palms.

"What the hell?" she shrieked. "Stop!"

"Sanu," he whimpered, squeezing her jaw so tightly she wondered if he was trying to break it.

He yelped other words she didn't understand and almost instantly had her back pinned against the wall, pressing his body into hers. Whoever he was, he was strong. His hot breath poured over her face and his fingers dug into the flesh of her jaw and neck, wriggling around like they were trying to find just the right spot.

"Get off of me," she begged. A warm feeling started to flow down her face, almost as if it were coming from him. She struggled harder. "Please. You're hurting-"

Something slammed into him from the left, throwing him off balance and sending him flopping onto the floor. The man was back on his feet so fast that Mavis barely had time to register that it was Velek who'd stopped the unwanted assault. The two men became an instant tangle of swinging arms and legs and Mavis watched in stunned horror as the much broader, taller, and angrier stranger pinned Velek to the floor and began beating him mercilessly.

"Velek! No! Stop! Please! Don't!"

There was so much blood and screaming and chaos. Mavis grabbed the man by his hair and tried to pry him away, but he was a solid mass of dedicated rage. She scratched, pulled, and pummeled with all of her strength, but he barely registered her blows as he began strangling Velek. The whole mess ended just as abruptly as it began when someone shoved her to the side and plunged their fingertips into the crook of the stranger's neck, incapacitating him immediately.

"Velek!" she howled, crawling forward on her hands and knees toward his limp body. "Velek!"

People were moving around in her periphery but all she could see was the broken and bloody form of her dead friend. She began to mumble, "He killed him. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead."

A pair of hands reached for Velek's neck and she slapped them away rabidly, instinctively assuming the stranger was coming back to finish the job. "Leave him alone!"

A swell of intense pressure in her right shoulder faded into dizziness and that was the last thing she remembered. When she woke up, her head was splitting in half and her hands were throbbing. She held them up, wincing at the bright light overhead, and was stunned to find blood caked on her knuckles and embedded under her nails. Then she remembered… Velek.

She pulled herself into a sitting position. She was in the corner of Velek's quarters. Toran was seated in a chair beside Velek's bunk and holding a tricorder, Velek was lying in the bunk with a face so swollen it was barely recognizable. She gently massaged her forehead and tried to make sense of her surroundings.

"You will likely have a headache for the next several hours," Toran announced. "It is among the most commonly reported side effects of a nerve pinch."

"A what?" she muttered. "Velek, is he-"

"He will live," Toran said. "I have treated his broken bones and torn ligaments and administered anti-inflammatory medications to help with the swelling in his face and hands."

"You're a doctor?"

"No, merely a graduate of the Starfleet Academy paramedic course. The inflammation will subside within the next two to four hours and when it does, I can begin treating his facial lacerations."

"You're sure he'll be ok?"

"Yes."

"And me? What happened to me?"

"Ambassador Sarek subdued you with a nerve pinch."

"Yeah, you said that. What does that even mean, a nerve pinch?"

"It is the preferred, non-violent means of pacifying individuals. You were becoming quite hysterical in your belief that Velek was dead and were not permitting me to assess his injuries."

Mavis stood on two shaking legs and lurched forward. "What the hell was wrong with that guy? Why would anyone do this?"

Toran swallowed and turned his gaze back to Velek. "The man who assaulted you and Velek is not well."

"Obviously," she spat. "Is it drugs? Mental illness?"

He stole a small glance in her direction, a mild expression of confusion spreading across his face. "You have not deduced- you truly do not know?"

"Deduced what? What are you talking about?"

He began packing the tricorder back into the bag at his feet. "I must return to my duties. I ask that you notify me if any change in his condition occurs. There is a switch by the door for you to communicate with the bridge."

Mavis crossed her arms. "What, so that's it? The guy next door nearly beats Velek to death and all you can say is he's 'not well?' Is he still next door or is he locked up? If he's sick, is he getting help?"

"The entry to your room will remain locked at all times from the exterior," Toran continued, rising from the chair. "The door codes have been changed. I have access to these quarters and will bring you meals and regularly monitor Velek's recovery."

"Wait, we get attacked and we're the ones being jailed?"

"It is for your own protection," Toran explained, pausing before adding, "And potentially to protect you from yourself."

"You're not making any sense!" she groaned, rubbing her temples.

"I will return in two hours."

"What is wrong with you people?" she yelled as the door closed behind him.

She sunk into the empty chair beside Velek's bed and hung her head in her hands. She wanted to cry. None of this made any sense. Vulcans were supposed to be logical, uptight bores.

She peeked at the plain, skinny, fastidious creature sprawled unconscious on the bunk, fighting back incredible guilt. She hadn't been the one throwing the punches, but she had a sinking feeling none of this would have happened if she'd just stayed in Nebor's End. Who could have imagined homesickness for a swampy cesspool of poverty would be a side effect of a vicious attack?

She slid out of the chair and onto the floor, adopting a kneeling position and reaching her hand over the mattress to rest it atop Velek's lifeless forearm. His hand was bruised and smeared with dried blood just like hers, but it was warm. The unexpected connection that resulted from this random act of tenderness was the catalyst for the tears that would start sliding down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, very gently squeezing his wrist. "I'm so sorry this happened to you."

She cried, petted his arm, and rambled apologies and explanations until she began to drift into a light sleep, which lasted until a loud thud rippled through the room.

"She is my mate!" screamed a man. "She is mine!"

There was a loud scuffle, then silence.