Stardate 2260.55
Voris gazed straight ahead. Recounting the events from Dagny's rescue to the present had been extremely uncomfortable, but his elderly cousin had listened patiently without any indication of reproach.
"She wishes to forget the incident?" Ambassador Spock asked.
"She instructed me to 'blame it on a bad situation and get on with our lives.' She seems to believe she is as guilty as I am," Voris explained. "I tried to help her understand, but she would not listen to reason."
"Perhaps she is more logical than you give her credit for."
"She would not have come here if I had not bonded with her," Voris argued, trying to subdue his irritation at having to explain this concept again. "I am the one who is guilty. Without my thoughtless actions, none of this would have happened."
"I understand the facts as you have presented them to me and they are unfortunate, but if she wants to forget about what transpired last night, I urge you to honor her wishes."
"How can there be logic in pretending as though this never happened?"
"This is an illogical situation," the ambassador remarked. "Yet she is correct. She would have perished had you not treated her aboard the Sekla, you did not bond with her intentionally, and I believe the likelihood you will reoffend in the future is extremely low."
Voris said nothing. The scent of T'Sala's candle lingered in the air. He observed the geometric patterns of the rug in the center of the room and attempted to organize a better argument. He felt annoyed the lingering pon farr hormones in his body continued to interfere his logical faculties. It would take days of intensive meditation to correct the problem but he needed a solution now, and he would prefer one that included some form of punishment for what he'd done.
Ambassador Spock seemed to sense his thoughts, because he added, "What do you believe will happen if you relinquish yourself to the Aldebaran police?"
Voris took a slow breath. He understood the point Ambassador Spock was attempting to make. Voris was not a lawyer, but the logistics of turning himself in were complicated. If he turned himself into the Aldebaran police, they would question him. He would be forced to explain how and why he established a mating bond with Dagny without her consent. He would be forced to explain the function of a mating bond.
His face grew warm and made a conscious effort to subdue his embarrassment. It was distasteful enough to speak about pon farr with a Vulcan audience—the Aldebaran authorities likely wouldn't understand, just as Dagny had not understood. Perhaps Aldebaran didn't even have statutes concerning non-consensual telepathic contact. Many planets didn't.
He briefly considered the possibility of turning himself into the authorities on New Vulcan. The police on his home world would have a far better understanding of his crime, but the result would remain the same. If Dagny didn't wish to press charges against him, there was nothing the New Vulcan police could do.
"I do not believe I have adequately explained the situation to Miss Skjeggestad. If she could be made to understand—if I could help her understand the gravity of what I have done…"
"She is human and does not follow logic, therefore she will never truly appreciate the burden it imposes. But you are Vulcan and I do not believe you will ever appreciate the burden of a lifetime of constant emotion quite as she does."
"I do not understand what you intend to imply," Voris responded.
"You seem to believe if you could explain your perspective in a certain manner, that she would share your opinion and agree that you have committed a crime and deserve punishment for what you have done."
"I have committed a crime."
"By Vulcan law, yes, but she does not perceive it that way. You would have her perceive the situation as you would, as a Vulcan would, but she is not Vulcan. Perhaps you should consider how a human would judge the situation."
"I- I do not know. I cannot say. I am not human."
"My mother was human and I have spent much of my life in the company of humans. I would expect the human response to a situation such as this to be highly variable. Miss Skjeggestad's reaction is not surprising. Many humans would prefer to deny an unpleasant event rather than confront it, and given the tremendous loss she has recently suffered, perhaps it is how she chooses to cope. Whatever your sentiments are, you must respect her right to perceive the situation how she chooses to."
Voris thought back to his five-year fellowship on Earth. Ambassador Spock was correct: the human response to psychological trauma was highly unpredictable. During his first month at Sarah April Memorial Hospital, Dr. Kelley had made him inform a patient's family that their loved one had died on the operating table. It hadn't gone well.
The patient had been a fifteen-year-old human female who had been badly injured in a shuttle crash. He remembered the mother screaming and the father repeatedly muttering slightly varied versions of, "No, this can't be happening." The girl's elder sister had said and done nothing at all, opting to stare at the wall.
Vulcans understood the necessity of grieving, but there was still order to Vulcan grief. Human emotional pain was chaotic and often changed with time. It could even change minute to minute. A person might be in denial initially, but could later become angry or sad or even violent.
He recalled Dagny's anguished wailing when he'd told her of the Albret's fate. In between bouts of tears and sleep, she had taken to dispassionately staring at the wall or flipping through the pages of The Teachings of Surak, a book she had admitted she could not read. Her human response to grief was predictable in that it was unpredictable, but her response to what he'd done to her was baffling. She was dismissive, but perhaps that would change.
"It is possible she may change her mind after she has more fully considered the situation," Voris finally said.
"That is a possibility," Ambassador Spock agreed. "But for now, she evidently prefers privacy and discretion and you would be wise to acknowledge that going to the police and inviting questions would likely only increase her psychological distress."
"It is not logical that I should do nothing."
"No, but this unusual situation requires you to consider the wishes of an illogical individual and given the circumstances, I believe her wishes supersede yours. Should she change her mind in the future, I have no doubt you will accept responsibility for what has happened. I myself feel partially responsible."
"Why should you be responsible?"
"I believe you attempted to explain the gravity of your personal situation several times while aboard the Sekla and I dismissed your concerns. You were the only trained physician available to treat her, but I see now it was illogical to leave you alone with her. I should have assigned someone to supervise you."
Voris felt his face grow hot once again and worked to stifle his embarrassment. "It is illogical to dwell on what should have been."
"Agreed," replied the ambassador. "I should leave you now. I have matters to attend to and I am sure you require your privacy."
"Yes, thank you."
They stood and Voris walked him to the door, but before he opened it, Spock turned and said, "I did not specify, but our conversation was in strict confidence. I do not intend to share anything we discussed with anyone else."
Voris nodded, thinking of his father and uncle. "I am grateful for your discretion. And your advice."
"I am willing to listen, should you ever find yourself in need of advice again. We are not well acquainted, but we are family."
"Thank you," Voris replied, forming his hand in the ta'al. "Live long and prosper, cousin."
"You also, cousin," Spock responded.
He left without another word and Voris resumed his seat on the sofa, attempting to consider the broader situation. Unless Dagny changed her mind and wanted to involve the police, there was no need to inform his father or anyone else. Except T'Rya. She deserved to know.
He closed his eyes and tried to think of the woman he'd promised to marry, but all he could think of was his mate.
"I was at the police station, Dagny," Laura said flatly. "Do you have any idea how terrified I was?"
Dagny was shaking and on the verge of tears. She hadn't realized Laura cared so much. "I'm really sorry."
"You look like you've been crying."
Dagny wiped the residual tears from her face and shrugged. "I had really hard night."
"What happened to you? The man at the police station said you were with the Vulcan ambassador?"
"Not exactly," Dagny sniffed. "I mean, I was, at the time, but last night I felt lonely-"
"Then why didn't you call me? I told you it's no good being cooped up in this room by yourself."
Dagny took a deep breath and tried to redirect the conversation. "I didn't want to bother you. I just wanted to tell Dr. Voris—the Vulcan doctor from the Sekla—that I was thankful he saved my life. I went to his room, we talked, and I fell asleep."
"If he's a doctor, surely he understands how serious your condition is. I want to talk to him. Honestly, letting you wander the halls of the hotel in your immunocompromised state-"
"It's not that serious. He kept a pretty close watch on me the entire night." Dagny bit her lip. It wasn't technically untrue.
"Did you take your medication?"
"Yes," Dagny answered. She hadn't taken it on time, but she had taken it.
Laura clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth and pulled a tricorder from her bag. She scanned it over Dagny's chest and practically growled. "You have a temperature."
"Is that an observation or an accusation?"
"Dagny, your white blood cell count is still in the toilet. An infection could kill you."
"I know. I'm a paramedic. I knew that before you told me and you've told me at least five times every time you've seen me."
"I want you back in the hospital."
"How high is my temperature?" Dagny asked, taking a step forward to see the reading on the tricorder. "37.5°C? That hardly qualifies as a fever."
"It's still three-tenths of a degree higher than any previous reading, and an infection at this stage in your recovery can easily get out of control."
"Dr. Voris gave me antimicrobials. I'll be fine."
"What did he give you? Did he even run a microbial scan?"
Dagny gritted her teeth and tried to remain calm. "Why do you care so much? You don't even know me."
Laura made a face. "Because I know what it's like to not care. I'm caring for you until you can start to care for yourself again."
Her words hit like a punch. She'd never thought about it before, but she'd done the same thing for her mother after Aksel and Benjamin had died.
"You're a good person, Nurse Frost."
Laura sighed and hugged her. "Now pack your things: we're going to the hospital."
Dagny's blood ran cold. "I told you, I don't want to go to the hospital."
"I don't care," Laura replied. "I didn't think it was a good idea releasing you in the first place, but Dr. Iverson said we needed to free up resources. Now look what's happened."
Going back to the hospital meant dressing in hospital issue thermal undergarments and gowns. It meant more people prodding into her life. Dagny thought of the dark marks on her waist, hips, and thighs. Voris had left bruises on her waist in the shape of large handprints—there would be no lying or deflecting her way out of explaining that, and she didn't feel like explaining what had happened. She couldn't even explain what had happened to herself.
"I'm not going back to the hospital. You can't force me to seek medical treatment against my will."
Laura puffed her chest. "I'm not leaving you here alone."
Dagny wanted to tell Laura she had no damn right to invite herself into her life, but the woman had been so kind to her. Dagny's frustrated confidence started to falter. Laura had brought her meals, checked up on her, and had even given her the clothes she was currently wearing.
"I just can't go back to the hospital," Dagny muttered, feeling hot tears welling in her eyes. "Please. Anywhere but there."
Laura sighed. "I talked to Paul last night. My husband. Would you be interested in coming to stay with us for a short time, at least until you find more permanent arrangements? We have a spare room."
Dagny gawked at her. Her kindness was truly overwhelming. They argued for another fifteen minutes, but an hour later, Dagny slumped onto the small, firm bed in Laura's spare bedroom. She was so tired.
A week went by, and then another, but she never stopped being tired or lonely, despite sleeping most of the day and despite her hosts' incredibly hospitality. Laura's husband Paul was a chef and prepared all their meals from raw ingredients, which was a novel experience for Dagny.
The Albret had had a galley and her family's quarters had been equipped with a kitchen, but most of her meals had come from a replicator. Preserving quantities of food capable of feeding hundreds of people wasn't practical on deep space missions. They would occasionally pick up fresh food from ports or trade with other vessels for supplies, but by and large, most cooking on the Albret had revolved around programming replicators. Paul had been kind enough to attempt to make some of Dagny's favorite dishes—his Kjøttkakesaus was decent enough—but that only reminded her of the home and family she'd lost.
As the days wore on, Dagny began to feel more and more restless. She couldn't keep imposing on Paul and Laura forever and Beatrice from Health and Social Services kept urging her to explore options for her future. She'd mentioned medical schools back on Earth and Dagny had skimmed through several digital brochures, but the thought of going to medical school was painful.
How many times aboard the Albret had she wished she had a different life? How many times had she wished she didn't come from a giant family of salvagers? How many times had she wished her parents hadn't had so many kids? She'd spent so much time resenting her life and now she would give anything to have even a small piece of it back.
She cried a lot and she slept a lot and though her health slowly improved, she never got any less lonely, nor could she find a way to get the Vulcan doctor out of her mind.
Stardate 2260.71
Hesitation was illogical, but he estimated his pace was approximately ten percent slower than was typical. This would not be a pleasant errand, with or without the serenity of logic.
Voris was once again in control of his emotions. Mostly. There was some residual guilt that refused to go away.
It had taken many hours of meditation during the past sixteen days to purge the remaining effects of pon farr from his mind and body. Regaining his logical faculties had been difficult, but severing his bond from Dagny Skjeggestad was proving far more challenging.
He had not seen her since her hasty departure from his quarters following their coupling, but she'd invaded his subconscious. She lurked in his dreams and wandered into his thoughts when he allowed his mind to idle. It was nearly impossible to avoid thinking about her for any substantial length of time.
He had returned to New Vulcan with Ambassador Spock and the rest of his staff the evening before. The ambassador's discussions with Blue Horizon had gone well and now all that remained was to hope for a positive outcome to the election.
The election was in twenty-one days and that was officially why he was here, standing outside of Velik and T'Rya's home. He had been back on New Vulcan for less than an hour when his father had contacted him and urged him to formalize his agreement with T'Rya. Their marriage would go a long way toward uniting the Storilayar and Vinem-lar parties against the more conservative Ba'taklar, and unity was desperately needed at this juncture.
The looming election was the primary reason he'd agreed to marry the sister of his uncle's political ally. His secondary reason was no longer relevant and he did not look forward to confessing what had happened aboard the Sekla and later in his hotel room on Aldebaran.
He wasn't sure how long he stood in front of her door, waiting to engage the buzzer. In the end, she spared him the trouble by opening the door without a prompt. "Hello, Dr. Voris. Live long and prosper."
He lifted his hand and returned her greeting.
"Will you come in?"
He stepped across the threshold and asked, "Is Velik at home?"
"He is not."
"I see. I must speak with you."
"Will you permit me to speak first?" she asked.
He gave a slight nod.
"I cannot bond with you," she announced.
Voris blinked. "Explain."
"I believe you would make an adequate mate and your offer to accept my child as your own is commendable, but I cannot bond with you. I am willing to assist you in seeking an alternative mate. I have several friends and acquaintances who are searching for suitable partners, and I would be willing to speak with them on your behalf."
"That is not necessary."
"Is it not? When last we spoke-"
"I must make a confession," he interrupted. "As I'm sure you are aware, during my journey to Aldebaran, my vessel was caught in a neutronic storm. My condition was accelerated and I was forced to seek an alternative means of resolution."
T'Rya pursed her lips and nodded. "I understand."
"Will you permit me to inquire why you have withdrawn your acceptance?" Voris asked. "Our match was largely intended to be political in nature and those circumstances have not changed."
"My brother will not approve of my decision, but it is not his decision to make."
"No," Voris agreed. "Yet your decision also affects my family."
"I must apologize for any hardship it causes you and your relations," she said. "My decision is… personal in nature."
Voris glanced at her belly. Her eyes followed his and added, "When you asked if I would not prefer to make a match with my child's father, I told you that was not possible. It is possible, but it is not preferable, at least not to my brother."
"Will you permit me another query?"
She looked away and responded, "You require a more detailed explanation?"
"I do not require anything; I merely wish to understand."
"You deserve an explanation, but it is a private matter."
"I shall protect your privacy," he replied. "I shall find a way to communicate your decision to my family without divulging the details, should you choose to take me into your confidence."
She bobbed her head slowly. "My child's father unintentionally created a bond between us that has proven extremely difficult to sever."
"Did he bond with you without your consent?"
A raw emotion flashed through T'Rya's dark eyes but she quickly tamped it.
"I apologize. I am aware my query is very indelicate, but I have experienced a similar situation. I simply wish to understand."
Another emotion, a softer one, rippled across her pointed features and disappeared. "The loss of our home world has had many unique consequences. He is not a mate I would have selected for myself, but he has become my mate nonetheless. He is to be my child's father. It would be illogical to bear him ill will."
"Indeed."
"I sense you seek to understand a female perception of a male who would forcibly enter her mind."
"Yes."
"He was not in control of himself and his unintentional bonding eventually led to me losing control of my own faculties. I cannot hold him responsible for something that was beyond his power to control, because I would ultimately have to hold myself responsible as well."
Voris folded his hands behind his back and nodded.
"I sense you are not satisfied with my explanation," she mused.
"You have been very gracious to answer my questions. I am grateful."
And he was grateful, but her answer was very Vulcan. Dagny was not Vulcan.
"Allow me to express my regret for the inconvenience my decision will cause you," she said.
"I respect your decision," he replied. "Have you informed Velik?"
"No. I wished to speak with you first."
"I will inform my father and uncle this evening," he said.
"Then I shall speak to my brother this evening as well."
His PADD chirped in his breast pocket. He nodded and took a step back. "I should leave."
"Yes," she agreed, walking with him to the door. As he stepped outside she said, "May you live long and prosper, Dr. Voris."
He raised his hand in the ta'al and replied, "Peace and long life, T'Rya. For you, your intended mate, and your child."
As he walked back toward the street, he extracted his PADD, anticipating a message from either his father or the hospital. Instead it was from the Federation Information Office via the Terran Embassy to Aldebaran.
He read Dagny's message three times. The language was cryptic but there was only one logical deduction. He exited the messaging program and immediately searched for transportation back to Aldebaran.
Dagny tucked her hair behind her ears and scanned the brochure. She'd already read it a dozen times, but she was convinced the Federation's Occupational Experience in the Health Professions Program was probably her best chance at medical school.
Because she had training and experience as a paramedic, there were a number of Terran universities that would allow her to work as a paramedic while and attending school. It meant three years of prerequisite science classes, four years of actual medical school, and then another three to eight years of residency. Best case, she would be thirty years old by the time she was done, but she would turn thirty no matter what she did, so did she want to be a thirty year-old doctor or a thirty year-old paramedic?
She was due to meet with Beatrice that afternoon and was relieved she'd finally be able to tell her she'd made up her mind. She'd be able to tell Laura and Paul that they could have their house to themselves again. It was what she wanted, wasn't it? She wasn't really sure, but she felt like she had to do something.
She stretched her neck and sighed as her hair fell back into her face. The cellular regeneration therapy had kick started its growth, but the growth had slowed quite a bit. It was still only about fifteen centimeters long and despite her hopes, it continued to grow in reddish blonde rather than the rich rust hue she'd been born with.
"Dagny, are you ready?" Nurse Beckley asked.
She looked up from her PADD to see the older nurse waiting for her. It had been three full weeks since the storm—sometimes it felt like a lifetime and sometimes it felt like only yesterday.
She'd come to the hospital with Laura that morning for a weekly checkup to monitor her progress. Her course of medication had been finished a week ago and her vitals were mostly back to normal; Laura checked them several times a day. She checked them in the morning and at random if Dagny even so much as sneezed, and each time the tricorder returned typical results. Her body seemed to be on the mend, but her soul still had a long way to go.
She hadn't stopped being tired. Dagny was sure it was depression but Laura remained convinced she was anemic and in need of another course of therapy to improve her red blood cell count.
"How have you been since I saw you last?" asked Nurse Beckley.
"About the same," Dagny admitted, hopping onto the edge of the biobed and rolling back her sleeve to allow her to take a blood sample.
"Beautiful weather we're having," Nurse Beckley mentioned. "Have you gotten to get out and enjoy the sunshine?"
"Uh, no," Dagny mumbled.
She'd spent her entire life aboard a starship. On the Albret, there was no such thing as "enjoying the sunshine." It rained a lot on Aldebaran and Dagny was certain she'd never get used to the idea of water randomly falling from overhead.
"You should get out more. It would be good for you. Enjoy the warm weather while it lasts."
Dagny had never admitted it to anyone, but she found the wide-open spaces of Aldebaran disconcerting. Her lodgings on Andoria had been underground and during her six-month stay on Deneva Station, she'd never ventured up to the planet's surface for leisure activities.
"Laura says you're thinking about going to medical school," Nurse Beckley said, plunging a small needle into her forearm to collect a sample of blood.
"Yes," she replied, rubbing the area where the needle had penetrated. "Laura's been so nice but I can't stay with her and Paul forever."
"I understand," Nurse Beckley murmured, placing the blood sample into the side of a tricorder for analysis. "We'll miss you around here. Maybe you could come back for a visit someday. This hospital could always use good doctors."
Dagny grimaced. She was going to miss them too. She'd hated being in the hospital, but Laura and the rest of the staff had been so supportive after everything that had happened.
"Well everything looks- huh. That's weird." Nurse Beckley was staring at the tricorder screen.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm getting some really strange readings. Let me go get another tricorder. This one's probably due for calibration."
She came back with a different device and took another blood sample, but rather than laugh about the previous tricorder's mistake and declare everything was as it should be, her face darkened. The hairs on the back of Dagny's neck stood up. "What is it?"
"I'm going to go get Dr. Iverson. Sit tight."
"What is it?" Dagny repeated more loudly.
"I'm sure it's nothing," she said, patting Dagny's arm.
After five agonizing minutes, Nurse Beckley returned with Dr. Iverson who took a third blood sample and plugged it into a third tricorder. The moment the tricorder beeped, his face registered utter confusion.
"Is someone going to tell me what's going on?" she snapped.
"Dagny, is there a chance you could be pregnant?" Dr. Iverson asked.
Her mouth fell open. "What? No? I mean…" Whatever words were going to come out of her mouth remained trapped in her throat. She'd had sex with Erik right before the Albret's destruction, but surely the radiation… "I uh, I mean maybe? I didn't- I mean, weren't you the one who told me that the radiation had damaged my reproductive organs and I might not ever be able to conceive naturally?"
"Yes," Dr. Iverson stammered. "It is possible there's something else going on. These hormones... sometimes tumors or other medical problems can produce them. I'm going to go consult with the resident obstetrician. I'll be right back."
Dr. Iverson scurried out of the room but she barely noticed. She couldn't catch her breath. She was dizzy. How could this be happening? After everything that had happened, it had never even occurred to her that her reckless tryst with Erik in the clinic could have led to this.
"Dagny, are you ok?" Nurse Beckley asked, rubbing her back.
She was starting to hyperventilate. "What am I going to do?"
"Calm down. We'll get this figured out."
"He's dead," she gasped, feeling the first tears trickle down her cheeks. She hugged the nurse and started to sob. "Erik's dead. This can't be happening."
"It's going to be ok," Nurse Beckley insisted. "Let's not jump to any conclusions yet."
Dr. Iverson returned with an elderly human woman who identified herself as Dr. Knox. She took a fourth blood sample, inserted it into her own tricorder, and compared it against Dr. Iverson's results.
"Miss Skjeggestad, I'd like to run a few scans on you," Dr. Knox said.
"Am I really pregnant?"
"I'm not sure. Your hormone readings are very strange. You said it was a possibility, right? Do you have any idea when you might have conceived?"
"My birthday," she mumbled. "The day the Albret was destroyed."
Dr. Knox gave her a solemn nod. "I see. Well, we're going to get to the bottom of this, ok? Do you want to come with me?"
She followed Dr. Knox down a short hallway into another room and was directed onto a table and told to lie still. She closed her eyes as the doctor entered information into a computer on the wall.
She didn't even know how to process this kind of news. Maybe this had happened for a reason. She'd thought she'd lost everything from the Albret, but maybe a tiny piece of her former life was living on inside of her. She felt thankful, blindsided, and terrified. But the radiation… if she really was pregnant, would the baby be ok?
She trembled as Dr. Knox took a set of scans with a large imaging device mounted to the wall. "What does it show?"
Dr. Knox pursed her lips and glanced at Dagny. "There's definitely an embryo. You are pregnant."
"Is everything going to be ok with the baby?" she asked, holding her breath for the answer.
"It's too early to tell," Dr. Knox admitted. "Your hormone readings are... strange. The father… is he human?"
Dagny swallowed hard. "Uh, um, yes. The Albret had an entirely human crew."
"I see. Ok." Dr. Knox turned back to the computer and started flipping through a database.
"Why do you ask if he was human?" Dagny breathed, terrified of the answer.
"You're producing detectable levels of beta-hCG hormone, but you also have low levels of another hormone called yam'tan. It's a pregnancy hormone associated with Vulcanoid species."
Dagny couldn't breathe. She was somehow both freezing cold and burning up. She felt on the verge of fainting.
"Miss Skjeggestad?"
Nurse Beckley reappeared and after about five minutes, Dagny had calmed down enough to start forming coherent sentences.
"So, is it possible that the father is Vulcan?" Dr. Knox asked. "Or maybe Rigelian?"
"I don't see how, but… yes," she choked. "I didn't think humans and Vulcans could- I mean, the physiology… it's so different."
"It's extremely rare, but there are a few reported cases in the medical literature of natural conception between humans and Vulcans."
"But between that and the radiation poisoning, it never even crossed my mind."
"But you're saying it is possible?" Dr. Knox asked.
Dagny nodded and squeezed silent tears from her eyes.
"The ship that brought you in was Vulcan," Nurse Beckley said. "I know this is uncomfortable, but did something happen to you? Something you don't want to talk about?"
Dagny shuddered. "No. Not like… not like that. I wasn't- he didn't- no."
"You can talk to us, you know," the nurse encouraged.
"I was in a very bad emotional place, and he was very kind, and it's very… complicated," Dagny mumbled. "I'm sure you must be thinking all kinds of things, but he didn't rape me, if that's what you're saying."
"No one's saying anything," Dr. Knox explained. "We're not here to judge you, we're not here to make you uncomfortable, we're just here to make sure you're healthy."
"What am I going to do?"
"You have options," Dr. Knox said, wheeling her small stool toward the biobed.
"I can't even think straight right now," Dagny muttered.
"I know that this must be very overwhelming, but you have some serious decisions to make and you don't have a lot of time to make them," Dr. Knox said, gently touching her arm.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you were right about the very different physiology," Dr. Knox explained. "The levels of yam'tan necessary to sustain a Vulcan pregnancy beyond the first few weeks are toxic to humans. Then there's your immune system to contend with and temperature regulation. If you decide you want to carry this baby to term, you're going to need a lot of medical intervention and the sooner the better."
"I need to think," she gasped, bending forward at the waist and trying to catch her breath.
"I understand," Dr. Knox replied. "But time is of the essence. Will you allow me to at least administer a medication that will stop the yam'tan synthesis?"
"What will happen to the baby if you do that?"
"Nothing. Yam'tan does for Vulcans what hCG does for humans—it's produced by the placenta and stimulates the ovaries to make more progesterone, which helps build up blood vessels in the uterus to sustain a pregnancy."
"But if the baby is half-Vulcan, won't it need that?"
"There's a big difference between human and Vulcan ovaries—the yam'tan isn't going to do anything but make you violently sick and slowly kill you. Your human hormones will be enough to sustain the pregnancy for now."
"For now?"
"Like I said, the further this pregnancy progresses, the more medical support you're going to need to keep from experiencing life-threatening complications or miscarrying."
"I don't know what to do," she mumbled, sensing fresh tears were brewing.
"I know you need some time to think this over and let it sink in. Maybe you'll want to reach out to the father, I don't know. But will you at least allow me to provide immediate supportive interventions while you're thinking about it?"
Dagny numbly nodded. Reach out to the father? Of course he deserved to know, but what would he say?
Dr. Knox gave her an injection and asked her to come back tomorrow to check her hormone levels again. Dagny wandered out of the hospital, wondering what the hell she was supposed to do. What would Dr. Voris want to do? What would Laura and Paul say? What would her mother have said? What would her father have said?
She waited on the sidewalk for twenty minutes, trying to figure out what to do, both generally and literally. She'd ridden to the hospital with Laura in her private vehicle and had no idea how the public transportation system worked. There were fast moving trains on rails overhead and shuttles flying every which way. It was chaos and she felt on the verge of panic.
She needed to tell Dr. Voris but she had no idea how to go about finding him. Of course, away from the familiarity of the Albret, she had no idea how to find much of anything. She doubted her ability to get back to Laura's house from where she was. She eventually sat down on a bench, pulled out her PADD, and located the contact information for Peter Jamieson from the Terran embassy.
She initiated a communications link and within seconds his face appeared on her screen. "Dagny! I haven't heard from you in weeks! How are you?"
She brushed her hair back behind her ears and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry to bother you, but you said I could contact you if I needed anything."
"Certainly, how can I help?"
"I need to get in contact with someone on New Vulcan and I don't know where to start." Her voice shook, but she managed to keep it together.
"Yes, that's easy enough. Who do you want to get in touch with?"
"His name is Voris."
"I don't know much about Vulcan, but that seems like it might be a common name. Do you have any other information?"
"Well, he was the doctor on the Sekla, the ship that rescued me."
"That should be easy enough to track down," Peter admitted. "What message would you like to pass along?"
"Pass along? I was hoping I could get his contact information so I could message him myself."
"Every planet has different rules about the release of citizens' information, but I can already tell you the New Vulcan government isn't going to hand out his private information without a Federation warrant. But I can forward your message and your contact information so he can get back to you."
"That's the only way?"
"Afraid so, but it's pretty routine. The embassy processes dozens of these every day."
"It's a private message though," she replied, blushing.
"They usually are. Best to keep to the basic facts and wait until he contacts you back to discuss the details."
"Oh."
"So, what did you want to say?"
"Tell him… tell him there's been a development. Tell him I'm going to need to make a decision very soon because of what happened on Aldebaran and it's the kind of decision that I thought he might want to be involved in. Please tell him I'm so sorry and to please respond."
Peter's face fell, but he nodded solemnly. "Consider it sent. Hopefully he gets back to you soon."
"Thank you, Mr. Jamieson."
"Please, it's Peter, and that's what I'm here for. I hope things are looking up for you."
She ended the transmission and sat on the bench, cringing at the sensory overload of thousands of speeding vehicles and lights and sounds and people moving in every direction. How did people live this way?
She was starting to wonder if she should go back into the hospital and find a waiting room and wait for Laura to finish her shift. Laura had told her to come find her when she was done with her checkup. She stood to go back inside but her PADD dinged. She had a message from an unidentified sender. She opened it to read:
"Miss Skjeggestad, this is Dr. Voris. I believe I understand your message. Please do whatever is necessary for your health, safety, and well-being. I can be on Aldebaran within 19.4 hours. Will you agree to meet with me?"