Author note: Characters, events, and other elements of this story which are found in the "Star Trek" continuum are the property of the writers of the television/motion picture episodes and commercially published novels, or of the company that owns them; as concerns additional characters and planets and non-human races: while they are my own creation. I am taking no profit, monetary or otherwise, from their association with established Star Trek elements. This is purely for fun.
Chapter 7: What One Can Learn
a. All you had to do to get into Zephyr's on a weekend evening was to show up reasonably sober. On school nights, access was checked on a terminal by the ubiquitous Stosh Petrow, who blocked the doorway with his Rottweiler. If a student had classes scheduled before 0900 hours the next day, he or she was given a two-hour pass; Stosh's terminal would alert him when anyone's two hours ran out and that would be that. Back to the dorm. There were complaints right and left, but Stosh knew his system worked. No hung-over students would be nodding off in class if he had anything to do with it! He had been on Akadem long enough to have become An Institution. New students were dragged to Zephyr's and taught the rules; the next time, they would not have to be dragged. Those who did not learn the rules were left to find their entertainment elsewhere. Furthermore, the faculty knew they could trust Stosh not to be the kind of barkeep who pushed people to drink, and so his establishment was not only tolerated but patronized by them as well.
Zephyr's was filling up as survivors of the day's classes emerged from the monocars hardly in a mood for seriousness, quite ready to sample the good brew and the convivial company. The loft that hung precariously from anti-gravs above the main room was quickly taken over by members of the Upper Division's TSIL's (Thank the Stars I'm Leaving), those last-Quarter students who enjoyed the traditional best seats. Among them, a tall boy was doing a very true-to-life standup impression of the Dean of Seniors.
Saavik had gone along halfheartedly, only agreeing to accompany Carinne and Jaime after much cajoling. She was vague about what exactly it meant to "cop a brew" but assumed that she would find out. The three of them got off the monocar between Social Sciences and Science I complexes and rode the mover to this... this garishly-lit outbuilding, squatting like an afterthought next to the Agrarian Research Station. Saavik watched the stream of students congregating at the door.
"This is a bar." Saavik sounded severe. "I do not consume recreational drugs. Perhaps I will return to the quad."
"Time to observe, Saavik," Carinne reminded her sotto voce. "They have plenty of other things to drink that don't alter your consciousness! And they have food synthesizers for anything you'd care to eat."
Her roommate was right, of course. Whether human behavior when intoxicated was any more pleasant than Romulan behavior, say, or Denebian, remained to be seen. Certainly there was no arguing that one could learn much by observing them in this state.
Carinne and Jaime flanked her as they pushed their way in, grabbing their passes from Stosh as they passed muster. For all the crowd already there, there seemed to be plenty of room.
"Ramsey! Hey! Here!" Someone was yelling from a table by the wall opposite the entrance. Apparently a large number of Carinne's abundant stable of friends had made an appearance at Zephyr's tonight. The trio pushed through the crowd to the table; another bench was pulled up, and Carinne introduced Saavik around. Jaime already knew everyone; Saavik knew nobody. Apart from a nod to acknowledge each one's name as introductions were made. She did not make any overtures of conversation. Saavik saw that Jaime and Carinne ordered Kentaur beer but that at least one of the others, a human boy named Kenny Deal, was consuming a fizzed beverage labeled Golden Sparks. She ordered one, too. It had a spicy tang, non-alcoholic but definitely interesting.
The music was of the Pentak kind favored by Luine, but mercifully not too loud. One of the Andorians, the male named Shavrai, leaned over and asked politely, "Do you zap on Mood Savage?"
By the time she had deciphered this odd question, the Andorian female at Shavrai's side had hissed, "You thickhead, you know Mood Savage drives Vulcans gurky," and given her people's equivalent of a laugh. Saavik shook her head.
"I do not know this... music." The Andorians shrugged their enigmatic reaction. They had been introduced as siblings. Now the human Kenny began to tease the female, and Saavik's interest turned – not too obviously – to a very small human girl with deep black skin and sharp facial features, who was at Jaime's right and who, unlike the others, was trying to make a serious point about something she had heard in a lecture the day before.
"Aw, 'Zaba, come on – Timor's going to take that idea all to pieces in the Quarter Day seminars! You've heard him do a number on Del's musical-notation theories yourself!" Jaime looked bored and focused on a spot on the wall.
"Jaime, Del knows his musical epistemology! He started with the physics aspect of music, but I think he means to go a lot deeper than that..." Kazaba DeMille's voice became more animated than ever. "Harmonics are one aspect – and then there's bitonality – and there's the pure soul feel of it."
Carinne joined in. "From what you all have said, I guess that Timor's way more traditionalist than Del," she said reasonably. "That's the problem, there are so many top dog professors and a lot of them are really way too opinionated to let students get all sides and make their own minds up."
Rather regretfully, 'Zaba agreed. "But I know about the soul in art, the historic soul of a people which is transmitted completely through music." She took a long drink, rattled her kemhorn bracelets. "Damn it, the Peirians pass their culture on that way. I've seen it myself – or heard it, anyway – and I've danced it."
In spite of her usual reserve, Saavik was interested. This human knew the Peirians! She spoke up to her own surprise. "Do the Peirians truly communicate their musical tones psionically?" Of course, Saavik could have consulted the databank later on the computer, but she wanted to know firsthand.
'Zaba cocked her head as if listening for the precise words to answer with. "One in a thousand can do that – those are the Windmasters. And they fly, too. A lot of people think all Peirians fly and have ESP, but they don't. The Windmasters have both gifts. Everyone else gets around on their legs – but they do all sing. They use their throats, their feathers, and even their body position to create tones. The air currents get stirred up by their dancing and that's actually what makes the music. And the music is cumulative. Each one produces certain note sequences. And their music has a lot of functions – a really important one is passing on their history and genealogy." She saw the Vulcan girl's interest and smiled apologetically. "But they're right – Timor thinks these are stories for children, because he has not seen, he has only read in scientific papers. So, let us talk of something else."
Jaime consoled her. "'Zaba, take your degree and get out of here, and go back to Psi Deneva and YOU write the paper!"
"Oh, I will, I will," she promised. "I'll be the first offworlder to become a Windmaster." They all toasted her on this promise. So she was not herself a Denevan, but "just" another well-traveled human, Saavik realized.
Shavrai proposed that they replenish the food tray, and everyone shouted out their preferences as the Andorian waved for an attendant. While others ordered delicacies from their homeworlds, Saavik remembered that she must in all things be a Vulcan, stopped herself from asking for something with meat in it, and settled for a fruit and yogurt dish. While they were waiting for one of Stosh's harried student-waiters to bring back the platter, the grayish creature that had sat folded up in its chair at the opposite end of the table from Saavik stirred and snaked out a simian-appearing appendage to snag the last fistful of fizzcorn. "What I want to know," the silky tenor voice demanded, "is, has anyone seen Kogan or Tesat lately?"
"Not lately," Kenny Deal grinned, "but give me the choice, I'll take Tesat."
"Give you a choice, you'll take any being that doesn't insult you as it walks by. And if there is any taking, I'll bet it's Tesat that takes you. By the arm. And the leg. And kicks the crap out of you," Carinne retorted.
"That's right. She would. And you should've known her when she first came here. Her idea of a practical joke was to get one of those Kelpan spider-things from the xeno-bio lab and shut it inside one of Komack's terminals..." The gray student was positively shaking with the memory... which Saavik could interpret as either merriment or terror. "And then, ZaBani, remember, that Deltan Last-Quarter? - well, she of course tried to do her programming assignment like a good girl, and the comp station went into shutdown like Tesat had set it to do... and Komack got steamed at ZaBani's incompetence when she couldn't get the back panel off herself..."
"Komack hates attractive females of any species," Carinne explained to Saavik. "It's something to do with poor self-image."
" - and so she rips off the panel to show how it's really done – and this thing as big as a Rupelian jamjar comes out fighting." Even the Andorians were laughing now. Saavik was merely shocked at the idea of finding humor in such a life-threatening situation. Full-grown Kelpan arachnoids could kill by saliva contact alone. But she had known people who favored jokes like that.
"So Komack swipes at it with the panel and finally corners it, and pops a printout crate over it," the narrator crowed, "and then you should have heard her mouth when the xeno guys came to take it away... and they were worried for the spider....but it totally wrecked Komack for the rest of the day."
"I remember," said Jaime, "and poor ZaBani just gathered up her printouts and left right in the middle of it. Komack kept blaming her for the damage, but ZaBani didn't have too hard a time explaining things to the review and discipline committees."
"Komack should've figured a Romulan was behind it, dontcha think? One thing you can say about Komack is: she's Star Fleet all the way. All her simulation tactics exercises are Neutral Zone maneuvers and Romulan base takeovers. I'm surprised she didn't blame Tesat straight away. I'm surprised Tesat's even been allowed to take any of her classes!"
"Shaji, you know that Caryamandis has more pull with Kyllie than Komack does! Caryamandis stuck up for Tesat to come here at all, and talked Kyllie and all the Faculty-Student Relations Board around, too." The gray creature – apparently called Shaji in the absence of a more pronounceable name – admitted that this was so.
So – Romulans were not welcomed with open arms on Akadem; in fact, the others had talked as if this Tesat was the only Romulan here. And while they had enjoyed relating the story of the prank, Saavik had perceived a distinct impression of disdain for Tesat. But the story itself did not surprise her. If anything, this was a mild Romulan joke.
"And what about Kogan? Speaking of enemies of the Federation..." Kenny, for all his show of sobriety, seemed to be rather open and uninhibited about his personal dislikes.
The Andorian girl, who seemed to be called Samdas, waved over the student waiter who was finally heaving the loaded snack tray in their direction. She and her brother passed small bowls and dishes around. "Ganav has seen the Klingon," she remarked, "but only briefly. He is in our residence hall, like last Quarter." She hissed in regret.
"Last Quarter he was nearly sent home three times." This from Shavrai.
"That is ancient history, brother," Samdas protested. "Think – if the school sent him back, we would never see him again. No one would. Perhaps even the Klingon does not deserve that."
"Oh, come on," 'Zaba scoffed, "you're saying they'd kill him?"
"Why not? Indeed, why not?" Samdas' face turned a darker blue. "He said so. He told the Review. I – well, I was helping the office catch up on reports and found the tape of his session. He just said it, almost like a dare to the Review to send him home. Like he expected to be killed for shaming the whole Klingon people."
Carinne was reflective. "That's another one where you have to take environment into account with behavior. Just like with Tesat. I mean, how was poor old Kogan taught to think of himself? As a hostage for his family? Who knows what kind of a political hornet's nest it was back home, on that secondary world, Dallith, I think? – and when his parents were allowed to send him here it probably was an experiment, with everyone in authority watching him to see if he screwed up... so -when he does screw up, his family gets the blame for the whole Klingon Empire losing face. And you can plug in the ending from your favorite anti-Klingon horror-propaganda vid. So you figure Kyllie's people will give Kogan all the chances they can."
Carinne should be a diplomat. Saavik felt less and less inclined to ad anything to the conversation, but she was fascinated by Carinne's neat and mature defense of the Klingon student. For a while there was a lull as they all ate ravenously, but then the second and third rounds of Kentaurs – and a few Slow Kievs and Deltan ales – arrived at their table and conversations bloomed again. Saavik wanted to leave, having had enough to eat and enough human and humanoid company for one evening. Most of all, she wanted to avoid getting into a conversation about Vulcan – at least one of these sophisticated children must have been there , and she was in no mood to dodge questions for which she had no answers.
Then she heard, "Hi, Saavik! It's good to see you." At her side stood Tor Srimandan, accompanied by two handsome Vulcans in identical green tunics and gray trousers. She greeted them, as did most of her companions. Tor introduced his friends. "T'Lemmi and Stiel. We've been at a late seminar, and they've come along to watch me drink my Kentaurs." The Vulcans nodded at them all again before taking their places at an adjacent table with Tor. Saavik now remembered that Tor had spoken of T'Lemmi in the gym, and recognized her as the student who had brought Sunek the healer a stack of communications at the conclusion of her first Triad a few weeks before. Stiel's resemblance to her was so striking that Saavik knew he was T'Lemmi's brother, possibly even her twin. They sat not as relaxed as Tor but with a lack of self-consciousness, even as their human friend consumed his beer and made small talk.
One of the Andorians was saying something about a Science Complex "team" in some unidentified sport, saying how woefully inadequate it would be against the Social Science Complex's lineup. Saavik was not interested, and looked back at Tor's table. T'Lemmi's polite, cool Vulcan eyes were right on the back of her neck, ands Saavik had the sense of being sized up.
...First T'Lili, the Vulcan at the library... then Sunek in the Triad meeting... now these two self-possessed young aristocrats. Saavik wanted to believe that other Vulcans, not only Spock, would consider her one of themselves. Her sympathies right now were with that Romulan girl, Tesat, who could permit herself to give way to honest rage and plots of revenge because that was the way her people were presumed to react.
Carinne had sensed something was disturbing her, and turned slightly. "Our time is up, gang," she lied, waving her ID pass. "It's been good..." Jaime gave her a dissatisfied and sulky look.
"But we've only been here -"
"Early class tomorrow, tavarich Rojon y Kresnovich! Coming, Saavik?"
Saavik made a stiff but acceptable farewell to her table companions and, taking care to look straight at Tor, to those at the neighboring table as well. Jaime said he was staying until Stosh threw him out, so the girls left without their escort.
Without admitting to Carinne that she had needed rescuing, Saavik wanted to thank her roommate somehow, but did not know how without revealing just how uncomfortable she had become. Carinne said little as they walked to the monocar stop. Dusklight was still glowing – this was the season when faint light persisted up to five hours after actual sunset. Finally Carinne asked, "Did you learn anything new about humans?"
"I observed and heard things which confirmed impressions I had formed from reading. I observed the willingness to claim friendship with other species... limited to those species present in the room. Had the Klingon or the Romulan students been there, the conversation would have been different. Or am I mistaken?"
"Yes and no. You'll find an ordinary crowd at Zephyr's. Those students that have really strong race feelings against others don't go very far here. But there are fears a lot of us have grown up with, the traditional prejudices of our families and of whole planets. Samdas's and Shavrai's oldest sister Gava was the first Andorian ever to come here, and she had trouble getting a roommate. Now, blue is just another skin color.
"Some of the people – faculty, too – weren't sure about Shaji at first – its name is really Shajaimajz Raxmi, by the way," and Carinne's voice rattled and snarled as she carefully spoke the name, to Saavik's ears, "because, well because it isn't identifiable as to gender, and because it's nocturnal. Shaji's a Drinot from the Mu Sarai system," she explained, "and their biology is totally freaked out by direct sunlight. So they were worried it would disrupt Akadem schedules to have it attending here."
Saavik was interested in Carinne's detailed knowledge. "How was the problem solved?"
"Easily enough. You can see that Shaji wears white from top to toe, and always stays the farthest away from any window. Artificial light in the quads and classrooms doesn't hurt it so much. The inner hormonal switch to take it from night to day activity was figured out by the xeno-bio people, and so it takes just a short medical treatment before coming here, and a reverse treatment before going home for vacations. So you see this place learns from each new species that shows up here! On the whole, the students won't deliberately offend each other."
...Except for the handsome, advantaged T'Lemmi and Stiel, and all the others who knew their paternal and maternal lines and knew the pride of origin on Vulcan, who had the firm childhood grounding in the disciplines of Surak... their offense was deliberate, but not so that a non-Vulcan would know it for what it was. Even Carinne had only seen Saavik's discomfort because of her still-imperfect self-discipline. Carinne had not seen the two young Vulcans' stares. She had not felt the significant passing of judgment. Saavik decided that their stony demeanor was, after all, the ideal. She, too, must maintain such a face on this planet. The worst thing would be to allow another Vulcan to see her react.
They rode the monocar back to the Science I Complex as Carinne continued some explanations she had started earlier, about the history of Akadem and the kinds of intellectual opportunities to be found here. Especially interesting to Saavik were the upcoming Quarter Day symposia, at which all students had a whole day to choose events and lectures in any field they liked, lectures that would be given by some of the galaxy's greatest scholars in arts, sciences, humanities, communications, and commerce. As Carinne expounded on the offerings to be sampled at the "knowledge festival", as she called it, Saavik felt quite relaxed. There was no denying her roommate's friendly attitude. So far, she had experienced none of the tension between them that Neill and Luine obviously had. Carinne was very matter-of-fact, rarely asked an unnecessary question, and kept her temper very well.
From the monocar stop at Science I to their House was only a short walk and the girls decided to use the regular and not the moving walkway. Saavik and Carinne with their similar tall, slim figures and fluid gait elicited a number of appreciative stares from other students headed in the opposite direction. The older girl waved to and greeted her acquaintances, calling out teasing remarks, while the younger merely marveled at this. As for herself, Saavik found any personal attention rather discomforting. When she had first met a human she had believed the stares to be due to her ears, her coloring, her slanted brows. She was starting to suspect that there were other biological reasons why males in particular gave her those looks.
Carinne was sharp enough to notice that Saavik averted her eyes from the frankly interested male passersby. "By the way," she asked idly, "you aren't being bothered by Jaime, are you? Or Kenny?" She sounded a little concerned. "They're just... they love to make comments to girls... good-looking girls... any girls!"
Saavik shook her head. She had received some wistful, promising appeals to her femininity from male students, but a look and a prolonged moment of silence had generally let them know how things stood. Jaime had not "made any moves", as Luine might say, not after that first evening over the supper table, and Saavik had not had to discourage anyone with anything more vigorous than words.
"No one has bothered me, I assure you. I am quite unaffected by the sexual innuendoes of the male students, either in their talk or in their body language." She saw Carinne's relief. After all, she was a Vulcan, wasn't she?
: It's just that they're a pretty good bunch and don't mind trying if you don't mind ignoring them or telling them to shut up. There is some kind of universal appeal about a Vulcan female's appearance, it seems."
"That is something over which I have no control," Saavik said a trifle stiffly. She would have to think about that, though. To change the subject, and settle something about which she was curious, she asked, "If you do not mind telling me, Carinne – why is it that you know so many students and call them friends, while Neill, who has been here as many years as you have, never speaks of friends or is seen with people?"
"And you wish you understood humans better! If you took any two Vulcans, would you find less difference between them in the way they socialize?"
"Precisely. My remarks probably appear quite ignorant to you. I am here to prepare for a career in an environment where the great majority of my associates will be human. If it does not seem incorrect to do so, I would like to ask you some things from time to time."
They had walked almost back to Jenner House before Carinne answered her. "Saavik, it is quite 'correct'. Look, I'm only sixteen, just a few years older than you, but I do feel confident in what I've learned about other peoples. And there's the fact that literally since birth I've been among people who weren't human. My parents are a diplomatic team who were on Earth just long enough to bear me, then took off for Malkos IV, then to Andor, to Alpha Centauri 7, to Castillus, and all points between. I used to believe there weren't very many Earth-humans at all, because so much time was spent playing with other children and going to schools where I was the one Earthie among aliens." She paused. This was the longest utterance about herself that Saavik had heard Carinne make so far. "You learn about people, growing up like that. I couldn't have survived as a diplomats' brat if I hadn't."
"Will you be a diplomat as well as a historian?"
"I don't know. I think I'd like to find a home planet, somewhere."
"Being human, then, does not make you want to return to Earth?"
Carinne looked bemused. "Earth has very little to do with me. For my parents' generation, it has probably still the strongest pull. I know that my father wants to build a museum somewhere on the South American continent, where his ancestors once owned land. My mother talks of going 'back to the farm', wherever that is! I am as likely to be happy on Andor or Rigel Six, or even a place like Akadem, if I got the chance to come back here to teach or do research." She looked at Saavik. "anyway – the point is, we're all different. If you could set Neill down and convince her to talk personal matters, you'd find a way to understand her. The problem is - she doesn't seem to want to be understood...yet."
Saavik realized that Carinne had been incredible open with her. Humbly she said, "Thank you," and almost enjoyed Carinne's gratified expression. They entered their quad in silence and spoke no more that evening about these matters.