A Trick of Eros: Chapter 9
June 2248 - Day 41; 0930 VST, Planet Vulcan, VSA
Spock set the letter down, and raised his hands in a steeple before his face, fingertips gently touching. For a long moment he was silent, thinking. He did not like that Jim was unwell and he was not there to offer assistance. However, he was pleased to hear that Jim's neighbors were coming to her aid. As her sa-kugalsu he should be there to take care of her. But he could not do that if he did not have the proper training and education to support her in the manner she deserved. Still…
"Spock," came a voice from behind him.
He turned, looking up at the female Caitian who had approached him. She was perhaps the closest thing to a friend, in the human sense, that he had on Vulcan. They had worked on two separate projects together, though they did not socialize outside of the educational hours. She was friendly, and after seven years on Vulcan, she knew enough about Vulcan culture to respect physical privacy. She always stopped two feet away and waited for him to incline his head before she took two steps closer. She always made sure to make eye contact, and spoke in a clear tone, her voice never raised. He was intrigued by her, by how well she adapted to life on Vulcan, how she could ignore the insults from the other students, how she could act so logical, but show her emotions in her eyes and the twitches of her lips. He was of the opinion that she held some affection for him, though perhaps not as much as she had for T'Brinn. As a child Spock had held what the humans called a crush on T'Brinn. She was as beautiful physically as T'Pring, as easily intelligent as T'Pring, but far kinder. Unfortunately for Spock, his grandmother T'Pau had not considered her to be a good match. T'Brinn, it had turned out, was the granddaughter of his great aunt.
"L'Rurr," Spock replied, his head inclining towards the empty seat beside him.
She smiled a small smile, barely a lifting of her lips and a twitch of her tail. Her hand came to rest gently on the back of the chair, drawing it out from under the table so that she could lower herself quietly into the seat. She resembled an Earth tiger, or at least the golden color variation of a tiger. Her skin was a soft golden yellow with darker orange-brown stripes, her hair was a darker strawberry blond that fell to below her shoulder blades, and her eyes were larger than a human's, and a much brighter shade of green than he had ever seen before. She was lovely in a wholly exotic way.
"Scuttlebutt around campus is that you turned down an acceptance to the VSA."
Spock arched an eyebrow at her, but otherwise made no comment. It seemed not to matter to her though. Her senses being stronger than even a Vulcans, strong enough that upon their races first meeting, Vulcans had assumed that Caitian's were empathic, possibly even telepathic, she likely already had an idea of what he was thinking. Or at the very least an idea of what emotions he was currently controlling.
She rolled her eyes. "Not answering is also an answer."
"Is it?" inquired Spock.
"In most species it is seen as confirmation of the inquiry. Even if the true answer isn't a confirmation, but a negative."
Spock's brows furrow slightly. "I shall keep that in mind for future dealings with non-Vulcan races."
"Then I assumed correctly? You did turn them down?" She waited, obviously expecting an answer, but all the more amused by him withholding it. "It is the best choice you could have made, Spock. As much as the VSA could nourish your education, they cannot truly give a full education. They are too set in their isolationist ways to realize that they are hampering their students by not encouraging them to seek out knowledge from other cultures. Humans and Caitians, for example, are too emotional by far for many Vulcan's to tolerate. But that desire to shame our species for not being Vulcan does discredit to Surak and the IDIC philosophy, just as much as it does to all the people of those species. Has your education been stunted by your learning from my father?"
"No. Your father is a most intelligent man, and his theories on artificial intelligence are unparalleled."
"I thank you for saying so." She smiled again and leaned slightly closer to him, but still outside his personal space. "You are my father's favorite pupil, and one of the smartest people I have ever known. Spock." She paused, her ears twitching towards the door. "You are unhappy here. Your knowledge and achievements are scoffed at because the other are scared of you. You are half human and smarter than them. They have been raised to believe in IDIC when it proves them smart, more evolved, and just generally better than the other races. Your mother is one of the brightest women in the Federation, her achievements with the Universal Translator are a revolution, and yet here she is merely the human woman Sarek is unfortunately bonded to. Go to Starfleet, Spock. See what the universe has to offer you. Try to see life through new eyes. You will find it opens up a new universe of possibilities."
Spock looked down at his hands, which had at some point grabbed onto Jim's letter, crushing it between his fingers at the mention of his mother. He said nothing, just took a deep breath and relaxed his hold on the delicate paper, smoothing it out on the table before him.
"I'll let you think it over," L'Rurr stood, calmly smoothing down the front of her tunic. "For what it is worth, Spock…I think the Council does you and your family a great disservice. Any scientific organization would be lucky to have you." She smiled again, a little sadly, and turned to walk away.
The door swished closed behind her, leaving Spock sitting in the student study hall alone. He sat there at his desk, Jim's wrinkled letter warm under his palm, and stared into nothingness for nearly thirty minutes. Despite his doubts, he knew he could not back down from what he had said in the council chamber, and he would not. His mother and Jim proved to him that humans were more than unfortunately emotional beings.
Folding Jim's letter in half and then slipping it into the envelope it had been delivered in, Spock finished packing up his things. He was setting the last PADD into the box he had picked up from the office when the door slid open again. This time Instructors Soval and M'Rarw entered. Spock nodded in their direction in acknowledgment of their arrival, but continued to close up his box.
"Spock."
"Instructors."
M'Rarw stepped closer, his thin lips stretched wide, flashing elongated canines. "I am very proud of you, my boy."
"Sir?" Spock inquired.
"The council is an august body, but they are not the most flexible of minds. Progress cannot be made if everyone conforms to the same standards. Walk the edges, Spock. Find your own path in life and never let someone else tell you what it should be. You are going to be a great scientist one day."
"I thank you for your generous opinion, Instructor M'Rarw."
The Caitian gave a hearty laugh, slapping Spock on the shoulder and shaking his head before stepping back. Soval, who had been Spock's academic advisor for the last three years, stepped forward in his colleague's place. In his hand was a red colored wooden box, its smooth lid inlaid with pale white wood carved in delicate Vulcan calligraphy. Without hesitation he stretched his hands out, holding the box out for Spock to take. With great care Spock took the box from him. Tracing the words with a single finger, Spock felt his heart stutter in his chest.
Live long and prosper, treasured student
May a part of Vulcan be forever with you
Lifting the lid Spock took in the blue velvet lining and its rare and precious treasure carefully set inside. There in the center of the box, resting securely in the perfectly shaped indentation, was a triangular shaped piece of opalized wood from one of Vulcan's ancient forests. A treasure so precious that even a piece as small as a child's thumbnail was worth hundreds in gold-pressed latinum. And here was a piece the size of his palm. The warm red gold wood was swirled through with bright twists of luminous blue, green, and purple.
Spock looked up at his two instructors, dark eyes wide. "This is unnecessary."
"Indeed. However, it is well deserved," countered Soval.
Spock looked down at the treasure in his hands. He had no words to counter them. Jim would tell him not to. To just accept that someone wanted to give him a gift, and bow gracefully to the rare kindness of another. Gently closing the lid, Spock bowed deeply towards the two men.
"I have no words to express the honor you do me with this gift."
M'Rarw snorted amusedly at Spock, his lion-like tail swaying behind him, brushing occasionally against Soval's thighs.
"Then you shall prove yourself worthy of this gift. Go to Starfleet and prove to the Vulcan Council that you, and the humans, deserve better recognition from them."
Setting the wooden box carefully in with his other belongings, Spock raised his hand in the ta'al, dipping his head slightly towards his instructors. "Live long and prosper."
"Peace and long life," they responded in unison.
Although he would not be attending the Vulcan Science Academy and was sure the Starfleet Academy was the correct path for himself, he was aware that he would be turning down the opportunity to work with these two brilliant scientists, both of whom had never scorned Spock for his Mother's blood, both of whom had encouraged him academically and personally.
Lifting the box into his arms, Spock turned on his heel and exited the rooms, the door making a soft swish as it closed behind him. He dared not remain lest they view the dampness gathering in his eyes.
"I see the council made the correct decision to decline you admission to the Vulcan Science Academy," came a cold voice from a short distance down the hall.
Spock turned to face Stonn, who was walking towards him, watching Spock with the same haughty expression he had since they first met as children. T'Pring walked at his side, her face as devoid of emotion as ever. She was a perfect representation of the Vulcan people, cold and emotionless as every other species in the universe believed. Spock had grown to disliked her but he did not hate her. While she would choose to be bonded to the man who had made it his life's goal to prove Spock a lesser being, T'Pring had never once said anything against him. She had never tried to emotionally provoke him as their classmates had, but neither had she defended him. She had been content to simply stand to the side and watch, waiting to see what would happen next.
"You are incorrect. The council accepted me into the Vulcan Science Academy."
Stonn raised one eyebrow and came as close to sneering as a Vulcan would allow themselves. "Yet you are here removing your belongings from the Academy."
"It would be illogical to leave the items here when I will be needing them elsewhere."
"Yet you stated you are attending the Vulcan Science Academy," Stonn said.
"I did not." Spock arched an eyebrow at Stonn. "I stated that I was accepted, not that I accepted."
"You declined to attend?" For the first time since they had met, Spock caught the flicker of emotion in his ko-kugalsu's voice.
"It is true." Spock turned to face T'Pring, ignoring Stonn. "I declined the Council's acceptance. It has been proven beyond question that Starfleet can offer the better future for me than the Vulcan Science Academy can."
"Indeed," the word was soft rather than the crisp sound that T'Pring normally spoke in. Spock was unsure what could have caused the change in tone, but he did not dislike the change. "I would speak with you."
"That would be acceptable."
"It is not." Stonn grabbed T'Pring's arm, pulling her behind him.
"She is not your ko-kugalsu, Stonn."
"Neither is she yours," Stonn said in a tone of voice that was as close to a growl as he had ever heard the other Vulcan utter.
Spock's eyebrow rose. "Despite your emotional desire to possess her, T'Pring is not yours. I cannot say she is mine for that would be a claim of possession and an honorable person would not own or posses another." With that said, Spock turned back to T'Pring, glancing to where Stonn's arm still gripped her own in an almost violent manner.
"Spock is correct," T'Pring shook her arm lightly from Stonn's grasp, her gaze sharp and piercing. "I am not your ko-kugalsu. I may speak with Spock at my choosing. When I have finished I may seek you out if I so choose." T'Pring nodded towards the hall leading out to the central courtyard before turning away from them both with a graceful swishing of her dress. She walked away from the two men, knowing Spock would follow her and that Stonn would remain behind as she had requested.
The two remained in the hallway watching her leave before turning to face each other again.
"If you leave I shall not allow you to keep her. I will claim her as my own," Stonn boldly stated with the assurance of the young and headstrong.
"If she would have you then I shall not stop you," Spock replied calmly. Even not knowing what his conversation with T'Pring would bring, he was certain that from this moment forward he would not have to deal with Stonn.
"Do you have no interest in her, tekerik?"
"You should watch yourself, Stonn. You would not want others to see your emotional need to prove yourself superior to me in an illogical quest to increase your self respect." With that said Spock turned to follow T'Pring's path to the courtyard. He did not look back to where Stonn remained, his hands clenched in olive colored fists at his side.
The courtyard at the center of the student labs of the VSA building was more of a small lap-bah-ker than a true courtyard. There were red stone paths weaving through the rare, lush desert grass that grew only due to the small aquifer feeding the garden. In between the paths were flowering plants and herbs for healing along with small succulent trees like the tir-nuk. It was a peaceful spot, ideal for meditation in between classes. T'Pring stood by a stone bench beneath one of the larger tir-nuk trees, its pale yellow blossoms drifting down into her hair.
As he approached he mused on the esthetic beauty of his once ko-kugalsu. She was as beautiful as any woman of any species he had ever seen, but in his eyes she could not equal his k'diwa's beauty. Jim's soul radiated its beauty past her physical features, filling the world around her in warmth and light.
She turned to watch him approach, her eyes sharp but not with the scorn and censure he had expected. Instead they seemed surprisingly calm, almost pleased. "You have taken another as your consort."
"You have made it known that you would have Stonn. It was only logical to find another who would make a more suitable mate."
T'Pring arched a delicate brow. "I have never stated I wished to be bonded to Stonn. In recent months it has been made clear he wished to be bonded to me in your place. However, the whims of a single man are hardly swaying."
"Are they not?" inquired Spock.
"They are not. His desires are not a reflection of my own."
"You do not want him?" Spock asked trying to hide his own confusion.
T'Pring carefully swept the fabric of her silver and blue dress out from behind her legs as she moved to sit on the bench, ignoring the way the flower petal occasionally flittered around her. "I do not want him the way he wants me. For a long while I thought it was so, but I have meditated on the matter over the past weeks and have come to understand that I wanted to be his wife no more and no less than I wanted to be yours."
Spock bristled like an irritated shelat. "Why have you chosen to come to me with this?"
T'Pring turned to look him in the eye, ignoring how he stood above her, shoulders drawn tight, defensive against a perceived insult. "You have chosen another as your future bondmate. You chose someone to be your equal. Would you have me do any less?" T'Pring watched Spock's shoulders relax. "I shall inform my parents that our bond will be dissolved before you leave Vulcan."
"If they should inquire about the turn of events, you would confirm my position?" Spock quirked an eyebrow at T'Pring, curious if she would take the bait and reveal more.
"They shall see the logic in our bond being dissolved. It is the logical choice." Her eyes softened. "I am not a good choice of wife for you, and you are not a good choice of husband for me."
"I see no logic in preferring to settle for Stonn over me." Spock wanted to wince. T'Pring had already made clear she did not want the dissolution of their bond to choose Stonn over him. She had merely stated they were not a good match for each other. He had slipped and let her see what he spent so much effort to hide.
"You have become much known among our people Spock, almost a legend. The first hybrid to successfully survive. You have also received the highest scores on the VSA entrance exam of any potential candidate from the last one hundred and fifty-three years." T'Pring gazed up at him, watching his expression carefully as she spoke. "I do not ask to break our bond so that I may bond with Stonn. I would ask that we break our bond because I felt the bond that you formed while away on Earth. I knew that it would only make you a true legend in the memory of our people. I thought of that bond and what the years ahead would be and as the days went by, I came to know that I did not want to be your consort in name only. I want to be a true consort, an equal. That I cannot be as long as you are t'hy'la to another. I would not ask you to give up such a bond for me. It has been nearly three hundred years since there was a t'hy'la bond last recognized."
"T'hy'la," Spock whispered in surprise, his legs giving out so that he dropped inelegantly onto the bench beside her.
T'Pring tilted her head a bit, before nodding to herself. "You were unaware of the depth of the bond you formed."
Spock stepped closer, opening his mouth to speak, but closing it again when he could not find the words he wished for.
"I hold no grudge against thee, S'chn T'gai Spock. I have spoken with the matron of your house and it has been agreed that if my hypothesis of your bond is correct, then we shall be allowed to go through p'pil'lay."
Spock looked away from T'Pring, up into the red sky and the branches of the tir-nuk covered in its dainty yellow blossoms. "Thank you."
Day 41; 4:45 PM, Daisy's Diner, Riverside, Iowa
Jim sighed and rubbed at his lower back with one hand. His back and hips were aching almost all the time. Carrying heavy plates of food around all day would get to anyone. As much as he was on his feet taking orders and carrying plates, he could be hurting a lot more. He was a hardy kind of guy though. He ran a farm practically on his own after all. Being a waiter wasn't nearly as hard as chasing Betsy back to the farm after one of the neighbor's bulls had lured her away. Another plus was the fact that the owners were willing to be flexible with his schedule so he could still attend to the farm and see his doctor. The customers had all been surprisingly kind as well. If he had known waitresses made this amount of money in tips, he would have gotten a job much sooner. Though he sometimes thought he was getting extra from the customers because everyone knew Frank was gone now just like his mother. He tried to ignore those thoughts and focus on the positive of having the extra money on hand to fix up the house.
He hadn't put on much weight yet, but he was also barely past a month pregnant. He had been spending more time on his feet since he got the job at the diner, so it wasn't like he wasn't getting any exercise. Plus there was the fact that he could barely keep food down these days. Dr. Phlox and Dr. O'Neill had been forcing him to take nutrient hypos twice a day, just to keep him healthy, and according to the two of them, if his morning sickness didn't end in the next three weeks, they were going to have to look at further shots because he had already lost four pounds despite the small bump that was appearing as the baby grew. Jim was almost to the point where he didn't care how many hypos they gave him as long as he could just stop throwing up.
Jim walked over to his last table of the day, chatting softly with the customers as he ran their credit chip through. They were an older couple that lived in town in a small house about three blocks away from the library. They had always been kind to Jim and he actually enjoyed serving them since they left a generous tip behind each time they came. It also didn't hurt that they were some of the few people in town who loved paper books as much as Jim did. You'd think, since Riverside had one of the largest libraries of pre-Eugenics War era paper books, that more people in town would like to read. But Riverside was a farming community, and even with all of the modern era's technology to make farming easier, a lot of people still spent most of their days working on their farms. Jim guessed they just didn't have either the time or energy left at the end of the day to go into town to borrow a book from the library. That always made Jim a little sad. He loved those books so much, and he wanted others to understand that as well. But most people didn't care because they could download the same book from the library's digital archive, which was free to all residents of Riverside.
Even after running through Mr. and Mrs. Rosenstein's tab, Jim was content to pull up a free chair to sit and chat with them for awhile. The diner would still be open for another four hours to cater to the late shift coming out of the Starfleet ship yard, but Jim was now officially done for the night. He knew no one minded if he stayed and chatted a bit with the patrons. If one of the other waiters was late then they still had Jim around to cover until the other person got there, which had happened once already. In the meantime he got to eat something he didn't cook, and he got to talk with other people.
"So, I've been reading this book," started Jim.
"Lad," Mr. Rosenstein interrupted. "You have been reading books since before you could walk. Nothing new about that."
Jim let out a small laugh and only just held himself back from playfully slapping the elderly man's arm. "Yeah, but I haven't read this one yet."
"Go on then, Jim. Tell us about it," Mrs. Rosenstein said with a gentle smile.
"It's called 'The Clan of the Cave Bear.' It's all about this ancient early human being raised among Neanderthals."
"Ah," replied Mr. Rosenstein with a pleased hum.
"I read that when I was a young girl. You'll love it, and its sequels, Jim." She smiled and patted his hand, which was resting on the table next to his vanilla milkshake. "There was a movie made of the book as well. You might like it, though it isn't exact to the book."
"Cool," Jim said in a distracted tone of voice as he thought about what the sequels and the movie Mrs. Rosenstein mentioned might be like.
"Jim," called out Lissan, breaking the relaxed atmosphere. "Paul is here to pick you up."
Jim looked up and over to the front counter of the diner, where Mr. Freedman was sitting on a stool. The older man given him a jaunty little wave. "Don't rush yourself, Jim. You can finish eating first."
Jim gave him a grateful smile and looked down at the few remaining fries in the basket between him and the Rosensteins. There really wasn't much left and he wasn't sure he wanted them anymore. His stomach was rolling just a tad already. "Thank you for letting me sit with you both."
"It's no problem dearie." Mrs. Rosenstein gave him a warm, grandmotherly smile and another pat to his hand. "It's nice to talk with one of you youngsters about books. So many kids now don't seem interested in them anymore."
"It is nice," commented Mr. Rosenstein. "Our own grandson would rather play some of those new video games from Orion that came out in the last year than he would reading any book we suggested."
"His loss then." Jim squeezed her hand. "You guys always recommend the best books. So much better than any video game. Except maybe that last VR one that came out, but that was created by Starfleet as a way to introduce people to alien cultures." Jim trailed off, blushing as he realized he had started what could have become a rant on the only video game he had ever enjoyed. He really didn't care for them in general. Most seemed to be violent, or too fluffy for his tastes. This one was actually unique. You started by arriving in San Francisco and having to make your way through the city without getting into any fights with humans or aliens along the way. Then you had to locate a dive bar, merchant office, an alien consulate, or the Starfleet campus. Depending on which route you took, and how you interacted with the NPCs, would effect what races you could play and if you could play as a Starfleet character, an ambassador, merchant, or smuggler. And from there the game branched out in an almost endless amount of possibilities. If you went through Starfleet, your character had to graduate from the academy, which could be achieved through online tests disguised as games, before you could join a ship and explore space.
Jim had liked it because it took everything you had been asked to fill in to register with the game and combined it with how you acted at the beginning stages to determine what gender, species, or hybrid species you were. And often times you wouldn't know until you "graduated" to the second stage of the game. Jim actually had three different characters going currently that were all different genders, races, and jobs, though two of them had ended up as Starfleet and one as a smuggler.
"I think that is the game our grandson is playing."
Jim chuckled. "Well, it's probably similar. This one was made by a group of Starfleet cadets from what I've heard. Some kind of sociology experiment or something."
"Hm," Mr. Rosenstein muttered. "We might have to get the name of that one. Might be better for him then than the one he's playing now. Too much violence in it, I think."
"Yeah, the old twentieth century games are getting popular again despite how violent a lot of them are." Jim pushed the basket of fries away and moved to get up. "You let me know if you want to know anything more about the game I have. I can show it to you if you'd like to see it for yourselves. It has potential violence in some of the higher levels when your character might battle Klingons or try to escape from Starfleet. But the game seems to try and encourage the players to find a non-violent path out of any given situation. Plus you don't pick your own race, so you could end up as any Federation species, and even some of the non federation species that we have more cultural details on."
Jim pushed his chair back into placed at the little table between the booth and the main counter. "One of my characters right now is a Caitian scientist. It's been interesting. So far it's taught me a bit of science, Starfleet codes of conduct, and Caitian cultural practices and languages."
"It sounds like a lovely game, Jim," Mrs. Rosenstein replied.
"Yeah," Jim said. "Thanks again for letting me join you."
Jim gave a little wave, grabbed his plates, and darted into the back of the restaurant before he could be sucked further into conversation. If he let himself be dragged into conversation further, which was easy to do with the Rosensteins, then he would be late for his appointment with Dr. Phlox and Dr. O'Neill. He hated visiting doctors, but Dr. Phlox was something special. The man was coming all the way from San Francisco to make sure that Jim and the baby were doing all right. There was no one else in the Federation with the first hand knowledge on male pregnancy in a species that was not meant for that to occur naturally than Dr. Phlox. Plus whenever he came over he told Jim all kinds of stories about different places he'd been to and the adventures that he had while serving onboard the Enterprise.
"Ready to go?" asked Paul.
Jim smiled and pulled on his bulky jacket. "Yup."
Mr. Freedman smiled, waved goodbye to Lissan and the Rosensteins, then followed behind Jim as they made their way out of the diner. Once they were outside Jim moved to the side of the walkway and waited for Mr. Freedman to indicate which direction to go. He could locate the man's truck on his own, but Jim didn't really like people at his back. Even people he trusted.
"I'm right over here." Mr. Freedman didn't comment on Jim pausing for him to lead the way. He just took it in stride as he seemed to do everything else. There were only a few other cars in the lot, mostly belonging to employees. A family of four waved at Mr. Freedman and Jim, the father giving them a nod and a smile as he locked up their car.
"What's good tonight, Jim?" the man asked.
Jim smiled at him. Although he recognized him, he couldn't place his name. Jim was fairly certain the family was a new arrival to Riverside. If he remembered correctly, the father had mentioned that he was one of the chief engineers working on the Enterprise over at the ship yard. "Well, they came up with a vegan chili chocolate tart for dessert tonight that is really good. Bit spicey though. The kids might like the banana fritters Lissan made this evening."
"That's only desserts," the man called back.
Jim chuckled and winked at the giggling kids. "What more do you need?"
The man laughed and shook his head, waving again before he turned back to his family, herding them inside the diner and out of the cold night air. Jim jumped a little as he felt Mr. Freedman's large hand on the small of his back, pushing Jim to start moving towards his truck again.
"Come on, Jim. It's a bit too cold out here for you to be in such a worn out coat, even if it is a winter coat. Let's get you back into the truck before the night air sucks out of the heat from the cab."
"Sorry," Jim responded and looked down at his shoes.
"No reason to be sorry, Jim. I'm glad to see you having friendly conversations with people. It's just that it is cold out and I would rather you not get sick. I can't imagine being pregnant is easy on your system, and adding a cold on top of that wouldn't be good for you."
"Oh." Jim licked his lips and sped up as they passed the last few feet to where the truck was waiting.
In the cold night air Jim could see steam from the hot engine, rising up from the hood of the truck, showing it had still been running recently. Mr. Freedman smiled and offered Jim his arm as support to get into the high cab, but Jim waved it off. He wasn't so fat yet that he couldn't get into the vehicle on his own. Jim actually dreaded that moment and hoped it never came. He looked odd enough with the slightly feminine features he still had, and he was not so secretly hoping he didn't end up with big breasts from this. Not that breasts were bad, but he really didn't want to be stuck with them. Then he would have to decide if he let people think he was a transsexual halfway through the transition, or he would have to come clean about what actually happened. Which might actually be the more embarrassing explanation.
"Is Dr. Phlox already here?" asked Jim.
"He is. I picked him up from the Starfleet ship yard about two hours ago. Dr. O'Neill is already at the house with him going over the blood work you had done by the doctor's office a while back."
"What?" Jim turned to look at Mr. Freedman in surprise. "But that asshole said he didn't believe me!"
Mr. Freedman scowled but finished buckling his seatbelt before starting up the engine. "Dr. O'Neill had words with him. Don't you worry. The nurse however had already put in the request for the bloodwork. It got stopped by Dr. Buechi after your appointment, but the nurse never got rid of the blood sample so when word got to Dr. O'Neill, she made sure the blood work got checked for basically everything she could think of."
"Wow." Jim grinned and looked out the window at the lights of the city as they made their way through town and out towards the farm. "Doc is pretty badass."
"I'll be sure to tell her you said so."
"Don't you dare!" Jim spun about in his seat. "Her ego is big enough."
Mr. Freedman smiled widely, the flash of his white teeth shockingly bright in the dark cab of the truck. "She's not that bad, Jim. I can think of at least one other person I know who might just have a bigger ego on occasion." Mr. Freedman glanced at Jim briefly, his smile turning into a knowing smirk.
Jim scowled at him, folding his arms across his chest, and tried not to wince at the slight ache the movement caused as his shirt rubbed across his chest. He would not acknowledge that his chest was "tender" in any fashion. He may have been trying to convince himself he could live as a woman after it appeared he wasn't going to change back, but he didn't have to do that anymore. He had his dick back, even if his testicles were still internal, he didn't have breasts. So yeah, he still had a vagina and his face was still a little feminine, but he was a guy. Guys didn't get tender nipples.
Oh, who was he kidding!
Jim glanced down at his chest, lowering his arms carefully. He had a vagina and he was pregnant. Even if he had a dick he was still more girl than guy right now. He just hopped after the baby was born he would change all the way back like the others had. His life was complicated enough without tossing gender confusion issues into the matter.
The rest of the ride back to the farm was quiet as Jim mused over his circumstances and what future he might be able to create for himself now that he was, for all intents and purposes, a single parent. Mr. Freedman had seemed to catch the change in Jim's mood, and like a man who had already lived through one pregnant woman, he kept his mouth shut. Unlike his wife, Jim's mood swings had hit earlier and were a bit more chaotic. Jim hadn't been meant to be pregnant and the riot of hormones was certainly making logical thought harder for him. It made him even more grateful that Mr. Freedman seemed to know when he was on the knife's edge of a panic attack. The older man seemed to understand when it was okay to talk about Spock, the baby, Jim's temporary status as intersex, and when it would be better to talk about mundane things like the renovations on the farmhouse, or what kind of weather they might get this winter.
This obviously a "let's talk about weather'"moment.
Jim continued to stare out the window as Mr. Freedman talked about everything he would have to do to make sure the house and the barn could withstand the snow they were expected to get. He was only listening with one ear, which irritated most adults, but then Jim had started to notice that Mr. Freedman wasn't like most adults he knew. Mr. Freedman was willing to treat Jim like an adult despite the fact he was still a teenager. Maybe it was because he had raised Scott, who was also above average intelligence (though not at Jim's level)? Or maybe it was because had known Jim forever and had seen Jim practically running the farm on his own since Winona left for Starfleet again? Well, whatever the reason, Jim was thankful for it.
He should probably say something to that effect, but honestly...Jim didn't know how to express his gratitude. This wasn't like Mrs. Winston giving him her left-over casserole from Sunday diner. This was something special.
"Thanks," Jim mumbled, too embarrassed to look up at Mr. Freedman.
Mr. Freedman said nothing, but when Jim risked glancing at him from the corner of his eye he saw the pleased smile on the other man's face and relaxed.
Smiling himself, Jim looked back out the window, one hand coming up to rest against his expanding belly. It wasn't very big yet, but Jim could tell it was different. Maybe it was because he was originally a man and not built to carry a child, or maybe it was because it was a part of Spock still with him? He wasn't sure, but despite how scary the whole thing was, it was also kind of nice. There was a piece of Spock with him, a little someone who would love Jim unconditionally for years. He had never felt like he had anyone who loved him unconditionally before. Even Spock, as much as Jim had come to care for him, probably didn't love him unconditionally. Not that Jim doubted Spock loved him, or at least felt what affection a Vulcan could for him. But it wasn't the same as the love you got from a child, and Jim was looking forward to experiencing that kind of love directed at him.
The rumble of the engine cutting off jerked Jim out of his thoughts, and he looked up, blinking at the sight of his home. He must have been lost in thought for longer than he had anticipated if they had made it to the farm so fast. Either that or Mr. Freedman had been speeding, which was highly unlikely.
Unbuckling himself, Jim popped the door open and hopped out. It was cold outside and Jim shivered, his breath ghosting in front of him. Rubbing at his arms he quickly moved to follow the older man up the drive and into the house.
Inside the house was lit and full of warmth. Glancing into the library Jim caught sight of a fire blazing in the fireplace already, and he could hear the clunk-clunk of the heater as it worked to heat up the rest of the house. Shrugging his slightly tattered coat off, Jim quickly put it away into the closet by the door, and walked towards the back of the house where Mr. Freedman had disappeared. He was in the kitchen, leaning against the counter talking with Dr. Phlox and Dr. O'Neil when Jim walked in. Dr. Phlox spotted Jim hovering in the doorway and greeted him warmly, his face stretched wide when he smiled. Jim couldn't help but smile in return.
"Well," Dr. O'Neil stated, spinning Jim about as she looked him over. She grimaced slightly as she looked at him before starring him down. "Are you still throwing up?"
Jim sighed. "Yes."
"Hmm. That's to be expected from the hormone fluctuation, but I'd rather see you being able to hold more down."
"I'd enjoy that too," Jim complained. "It's not like I enjoy throwing up all morning long."
She smiled slightly as if she was struggling not to laugh. "I can understand that. Why don't we check you over and then see what we can do to help you with this?"
"Yeah, fine." Jim snagged the cup of hot cocoa that she had been holding, gulping the dark liquid down with a contented sigh. He hated the restriction they had put him on in regards to caffeine, but at least they still let him have this. It wasn't the same as a big cup of coffee or tea, but it was better than nothing, and Jim was not exactly picky about his food.
Jim set the now empty cup down on the table and strode off towards the guest bedroom, which had defaulted into the exam room after Dr. Phlox's second visit. He didn't know why he hadn't just led them up to his room, but a part of him recognized that it might have something to do with not trusting adults in his personal space. Not that he wasn't coming to trust these three adults, but trust was something that had to be earned with Jim. He wasn't willing to just hand it over, at least not to another human. Sarek, and by default Mrs. Amanda, had gotten his trust because Vulcans weren't the type of people to kill others without reason, or to starve children and hoard food for themselves. They weren't likely to get drunk and beat him up, or verbally abuse him. No, Vulcans were probably one of the few races that he knew he could trust right off the bat. Not that he would give them the opportunity to hurt him like a human adult would, but he was willing to extend his hand out for them without as much hesitation.
He was starting to feel more and more like he could do the same for Mr. Freedman, and the two doctors following behind Jim like ducklings. Little by little they were helping him to feel like he could trust people again. And it wasn't just them doing it. It was so many people now. It was Mr. Donnofrio from school, it was other students who previously avoided him, it was Lissan and the staff at the diner, it was people in the farmers market, and it was the staff at Mr. Freedman's vet clinic. All these people Jim had known since he was a child suddenly seemed to see him and put themselves in his path so that they could come to know each other. At first he hadn't understood why this was all happening, but...it couldn't be a coincidence that it was all happening after Frank took off for parts unknown.
Jim tugged his shirt off, dropping it on the chair by the window, and quickly followed it up by pulling off the rest of his clothes. It was horribly uncomfortable being naked in front of two fully dressed people, but they were going to ask him to remove his clothes for the physical exam soon enough anyway. And honestly, he was starting to get used to them, at least, seeing his strange naked body.
"Would you like to start with the physical exam first, Jim? Or do the scans first?" asked Dr. O'Neil.
"Can we get the physical out of the way first?" he asked softly.
She smiled at him, a gentle warmth in her eyes. "Sure."
She waved Dr. Phlox forward, as Jim was more comfortable having the Denobulan do the physical exam. She wait patiently, noting down all the remarks Dr. Phlox was making about Jim's height, weight gain, and other minor changes. When he finally asked Jim to lay back on the bed so he could take a closer look at Jim's not quite human genitals, Dr. O'Neil stepped out of the room, knowing her presence made Jim nervous. She walked down the short hall to where Paul was sitting in the library. The veterinarian was leaning back in the wingback chair that Jim seemed to favor, a cold bottle of beer in hand.
"How's it look so far?"
"He's put on some weight, which is good. But I am worried a little that his stomach has grown as large as it has already," she said as she moved to sit on the couch nearby.
"You think there's a problem?"
"I think," she said glancing back towards the hall. "That Jim's baby has more Vulcan genes than we've been planning for. I have to wait until the scan's been done, but my guess is either he's got two growing in there, or the baby is growing at a Vulcan pace and not the human pace."
"Which means what?" Paul asked worried.
"That Jim's going to be carrying a human sized baby for longer than a human woman would. The average Vulcan fetus grows twice as fast as a human fetus, but the pregnancy is longer because of the development process of the Vulcan telepathy."
"And since Jim is…mostly male…"
"He isn't built to properly carry a child to full term."
The two sat in an uncomfortable silence for several minutes as the full ramification of what lay ahead of Jim sank in. The pregnancy was going to be dangerous for Jim. They could only hope that enough of Jim's biology had stayed female, that the pregnancy wouldn't turn out to be lethal.
The soft click of a door opening and closing in the other room caused them both to turn to face the doorway. A moment later Dr. Phlox walked into the room.
"We will need to alter Jim's diet to include more iron rich foods. According to the scans the fetus is primarily Vulcan."
Paul cursed. "That makes this dangerous for Jim."
"It will, yes. Though the pregnancy is already high risk." Dr. Phlox sat down next to Dr. O'Neil. "Jim's body is adapting better than I expected. The chemicals that caused the change appear to still be in his system."
Dr. O'Neil's brow furrowed. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. I took some blood to test further, but from what I am seeing in the scans and through the physicals, it seems to be partially re-writing Jim's genetic code."
"To what?" asked Paul.
"I'm not sure. I will need to study his blood work first."
"Will it help him carry the baby safely?" Paul asked, hands clenched together in around his beer.
"I believe it might." Phlox gave the man a reassuring smile. "The uterus and ovaries that Jim has look human at first glance but after studying the scans we've been taking, I believe that there are some fundamental differences. I won't know for sure until I can compare the blood work, and likely until after the child has been born, but it appears to function more like an animal's."
"What?" Paul nearly shrieked.
"Based on what I am reading in the scans, it appears Jim will not have a normal human female monthly cycle. He might go into estrus every other month, or he could go into estrus every other year. I will need months of study before I can be sure. At this time the best I can do is state that it appears likely his will be a stimulated ovulation, like a lioness. He will have a heat cycle, but if he doesn't mate, he won't ovulate."
"I suppose that is something." Paul took a long drink of his beer, glancing back towards the best room where Jim was likely getting dressed.
Day 45; 0930 VST, Planet Vulcan, Ancestral House of Surak
Much like their initial bonding, the ritual of P'pil'lay took place at the ancestral home of Spock's clan. The matron of his house, his grandmother T'Pau, would officiate. They would hold the official ceremony as tradition demanded, despite Spock wishing otherwise. However, T'Pring had agreed to dissolve their fledgling bond and he would respect her request to do so in the traditional manner. He had bathed, dressed in his black ceremonial robes with the silver trim, and tied the violet silk sash around his waist. His mother and father would be waiting, along with T'Pring's parents, the head of their clan, and several important members of each clan. As tradition demanded, there had to be a set number of witnesses.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep steadying breath. Letting it out slowly, he stepped out of his preparation room and took the seven steps to the room where T'Pring was getting dressed. He stopped a few feet away from the door, and clasped his hands behind his back. He did not have to wait long for her door to open and T'Pring to step out.
He inclined his head towards her, accepting her hand. She was dressed in an expensive, form fitting black gown with a delicately embroidered silver scarf wrapped over her head and shoulders, hiding her shinning black hair.
Her hand was cool in his own, softer than Jim's ever had been. She held none of the calluses on her hand that Jim had earned from hours of farm work. He could feel the edges of her mind in the palm of his hand, just as he was sure she could feel his. For once it was not painful or humiliating. For once it was peaceful.
Together they walked down the long hall leading to the clan meeting hall. The massive, intricately carved wooden doors were already open to the hall beyond. As they approached, Spock could make out the imposing figures of his grandmother and T'Pring's great-aunt. The two matrons sat side-by-side in the center of the raised dais. Spock's parents stood on the left, which put them on his grandmother's right. T'Pring's parents stood on the opposite side, the two matrons between them and Spock's parents. Save for his mother, all the faces watching them held the same stern, collected expression.
As the two of them stepped through the doors into the great hall, two of their clan members moved behind them to close the great wooden doors. Once closed the two men remained standing beside the doors, directly behind Spock and T'Pring. The room felt echoingly large with so few people in it. It had been designed to hold three hundred, but there were only twenty people in the room not including the two of them. Spock calmly waited for the matrons to address them, taking stock of the room. Like many other older buildings, the hall had an intricately framed wooden ceiling with several small windows high up to let in light .They appeared hazy due to the smoke from the incense burning in the metal thuribles strung up from the decorative posts. The room itself was a long oval with raised seating on either side, stretching from the dias at the end of the hall, and circling back to the doors. There were seven people on either side of the hall bearing witness. All of whom belonged either to Spock's clan or T'Pring's clan.
Finally Spock's father nodded towards T'Pau and took three measured steps to where the large gong was set up behind the two matrons. He picked up the baton and rang the gong once...twice...thrice. On the third ringing chime, Spock and T'Pring walked forward together, still hand in hand. They came to a stop at the foot of the dias and bowed to the heads of their clans, two of the most important women on all of Vulcan.
"Spock, son of Sarek of the house of Surak," T'Pau stated in her smooth voice.
"T'Pring, daughter of T'Proe of the House of T'Reen," stated T'Pring's great-aunt.
"You have come before the matrons of your clan for what reason?" T'Pau asked, her voice projecting to be heard throughout the massive hall.
"We have come before you to request the dissolution of our bond," Spock stated.
"For what reason do you request a P'pil'lay?" asked T'Pau.
"I have formed a spontaneous bond with another," Spock replied.
"You confirm this, great-niece?" asked T'Pili.
T'Pring inclined her head gracefully. "I felt the bond form."
T'Pili arched one delicately sculpted eyebrow at her great-niece. "This new bond can be severed."
T'Pring shook her head. "It is my estimation that the bond that formed between my sa-kugalsu and this other is a T'hy'la bond."
T'Pili's second eyebrow arched up to meet the first, and Spock was aware of a near silent rush of voices from the people in the stands. "What evidence do you have that this spontaneous bond is a T'hy'la bond?"
"The strength of the connection is far greater than my bond to Spock, and has nearly severed the bond I hold with him."
Again the crowd murmured quietly around them.
"That does not indicate it is a T'hy'la bond," stated T'Pili.
"It does not," T'Pring agreed. "I request that a matron tests the bond."
"Very well," T'Pau stated before T'Pili could object. "Spock, son of my son, step forward."
Spock released T'Pring's hand and walked up the steps to the dias, kneeling before his grandmother. She reached out, gently placing her fingers in the proper positions.
"My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts..."
T'Pring and the rest of those gathered watched as T'Pau tested the new bond Spock had formed with an as of yet unnamed individual. T'Pili glared down at her great-niece, her black eyes radiating her disapproval of the whole matter. T'Pring did not care. She would not be a second wife to Spock simply because the matron of her clan desired a closer connection to the House of Surak. T'Pring had made up her own mind. She would take a spouse to whom she would be an equal. No other would be acceptable.
She glanced at her parents who were watching the interaction between their daughter and the matron of their clan. They seemed far more calm about the whole matter, perhaps because T'Pring had already explained the entirety of the situation to them. Perhaps, also, because they cared not if their house was more tightly aligned with the House of Surak. Her parents had always been more focused on their research than with the political alignment of their House. It was an issue that her great-aunt continually debated with her parents.
After several long minutes, T'Pau blinked open her eyes and released her grip on Spock. The elderly woman leaned back in her seat, a contemplative look on her face. "After viewing the bond I must confirm that Spock C'ha Sarek does have a T'hy'la bond with another who is not his ko-kugalsu."
T'Pili's lips twitched down slightly. She looked prepared to ask for Spock's mind to test herself, though that was not a part of the P'pil'lay ceremony. Finally she relaxed her fingers, her expression smoothing out.
"Step forward T'Pring C'ha T'Proe," demanded T'Pili in a cool tone.
T'Pring moved forward, copying Spock, and kneeing before her matron.
T'Pili placed her fingers against T'Pring's psi-points. Her fingers pressed in, sending a small arc through the muscles of T'Pring's face. She did not flinch. She would not lower herself to exposing pain in front of her great-aunt.
T'Pili's mind slid into her own like wet sandpaper, scratching at the edges. She grit her teeth and accepted the intrusion into the deepest part of her mind, where her bond to Spock resided. T'Pili reached into T'Pring's mind, tugging at the pale yellow thread that formed the bond between T'Pring and Spock. T'Pring hissed back at her great-aunt as she tugged and twisted the bond, testing it, and try to travel through it to Spock. As T'Pring realized what the old woman was trying to do, she thrust a mental hand out, pushing her back.
T'Pring drew herself up, drawing her shoulders out, and giving her great-aunt a stern gaze. T'Pili scowled but said nothing.
"If there is no rebuttal then it is agreed that the bond between Spock C'ha Sarek and T'Pring C'ha T'Proe, shall be dissolved," T'Pau stated to the crowd. "Step forward."
Together they stepped forward until they stood once again, side-by-side.
"You are sure this is the course you need to take?" T'Pau asked one final time.
"It is," they said together.
"Very well." T'Pau reached out setting her right hand over Spock's psi points, then setting her left over T'Pring's psi points. "Let us begin."
July 2248 - Day 55; 0930 VST, Cedar Rapids, Iowa
Frank slammed the door to his brother's renovated twentieth century brownstone. The bright blue door bounced in its frame from the force of its closing. He couldn't believe this! Rick was his brother! Didn't that rat bastard have any sense of family loyalty? He came to his brother for a place to stay and what does his brother do? He kicks Frank to the curb after a mere 40, maybe 50, days under his roof! Who did the blasted man think he was? Frank was the older sibling. He had protected his bratty little brother all through school. He had toughened him up, made sure he knew how to fight and to take a beating. And the little prick gives him ultimatums?
Frank tossed his two duffle bags in the back end of his beat-up Ford truck, slamming the flat-top down over the back end. Cursing, not so quietly, Frank climbed into his truck and started the engine, cursing even more at the loud pops and whines of the engine as it started up. Without the perverted little brat to tinker on it the engine was falling apart. All of this was that fucking kid's fault. If it hadn't been for Jim, Winona would still be there. If it hadn't been for Jim, he still would have a good job at the mill. If it hadn't been for Jim, he wouldn't be broke. If it hadn't been for Jim, he'd still have a house to call his own. If it hadn't been for Jim, his brother wouldn't have betrayed him.
Frank slammed his fist down on the steering wheel, and spun out into traffic. A few of the hovercars in the road had to jerk out of the way as he sped off, their own horns screeching at him. He ignored them and sped down the street past blocks of old twentieth century brick house and storefronts. He wasn't going to stay in Cedar Rapids if he was going to be treated like a fourth class citizen and a child abuser.
No, he'd leave as his brother demanded.
For the next couple hours Frank drove aimlessly around the city, scowling and cursing at everything and everyone. It had been getting close to dusk when he left his brother's house, and now it was completely dark. There were still shops, restaurants, and bars open, with little clusters of people here and there. The sight of them only angered him more. Who were they to deserve to be free to casually stroll around the city without a worry? He bet they were rich fuckers.
Frank pulled over, watching a group of young drunks pass by. There were three young men, all in their twenties, crowding around one pretty little lady. The sight of them made his stomach rumble with an aching need for drink. He had run out of credit chips a few days ago and his brother was too much of an asshole to lend him more, so Frank had been forced to find whatever he could in his brother's house to drink. He didn't understand why his brother couldn't have spotted him a measly $50 chip. It wasn't like the bastard wasn't loaded. He could have spared a couple thousand without hurting his bank account!
Frank glared at the nearly empty bottle of whisky he had stolen from his brother's house before leaving. He wanted to drink it all right now, but he couldn't afford to waste the last half of the fifth.
Snarling he looked away from the bottle and back towards the group of drunkards. His eyes alighted on the figure of a tall, lean young blond man stumbling at the back of the group. He seemed slightly more intoxicated than the others, and none of them noticed as the lad stumbled over his own feet and crashed into the side of a building. His body slumped towards the sidewalk, head rolling against the brick wall behind him until the light of the nearby streetlamp caught it. In the near darkness of the street, the lad's pale cream skin and short golden hair seemed to glow in the weak light of the nearby streetlamp. Frank's breath caught in his throat as he looked at the boy.
It was Jim! That fucking little cunt!
A sudden wave of blood lust flooded Frank's senses as he glared at his drunken stepson. The anger, humiliation, and rage that had been swirling around inside him for days, years even, roared to life igniting it in a towering inferno of hate. Without paying much attention to the street around him, Frank yanked open the driver's side door and left the cab of his truck. His feet hit the sidewalk with a heavy thump. The drunk rolled his head in an eerily loose manner until he could blink up at Frank. He wasn't sure if the punk could really see him or not, given the low light, and the glazed look in the blue eyes.
In all truth, Frank didn't care. It was probably better if the little asshole couldn't see him, then he wouldn't be able to defend himself.
A vengeful smirk tugged at the corners of Frank's mouth. If anyone had been left on the street to see him, they would have started screaming for one of the robotic patrol bots that circled the city at night.
Unfortunately for the blue-eyed boy, there was no one left close enough to see Frank punch him over and over again. Or to see Frank open the back hatch of his truck and shove the boys unresponsive body inside before closing it again.
