Chapter 11
"Captain, I have returned."
"Obviously, Spock. Do you have the cure?"
"Not at present, captain, however there should be no issue in attaining it." This was true, as Spock did not believe the ocelots would withhold the cure, only that they may not wish to reveal themselves.
"Ah. What is that?" Jim was eyeing the High Princess with curiosity.
"A feline, captain, one of the native residents of Vulcan."
"Does he bite?" Pavel asked anxiously. He had a slight pain phobia.
"She is quite safe, Ensign."
"Well, I think she's adorable." Nyota stated firmly. "Here, girl." She opened her arms invitingly, and the High Princess of the ocelots walked in, rubbing against her, purring. Jim reached over, and stroked the feline's head, a small grin playing over his face. Upon seeing the cats friendliness Pavel hesitantly scratched her behind the ears. Opal seemed quite pleased with the attention, and spoke, in ocelot of course, so the humans couldn't understand.
"Very well. Ignorant though they may be, I accept them. I can feel their goodness. They are so much more open that you killers!" Spock gave the Vulcan equivalent of a chuckle at that, but only because none of the humans were watching.
"So I may inform them, then?"
"Yes, you may." The cat walked away from the humans, and began licking her fur. Brown slowly began to come off, revealing the white fur beneath.
"Captain, Lieutenant, Ensign, may I introduce you to The High Princess of the ocelots. She is the ruler of the race I have told you of. You may call her Your Majesty."
"Vat?" Pavel exclaimed. "Vut she is a cat!"
"And yet she is also a sentient being."
"I have a cat at home. HIs name is Zparky. Iz he a…"
"I very highly doubt it." Spock reassured the Russian. He then made a series of growling noises that no one but the cat understood.
"You can… speak to that… cat?" Jim asked in shock.
"Yes." Spock said succinctly. He listed to the purrings of the now mostly white feline, listening to the language only he among all humanoids could understand. "We shall be leaving now. As much of the ocelot empire is underground, we can simply head there. Come."
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
The travelers reached the underground labyrinth of caves quickly, the entrance was hidden, of course, but not as well as the one as the one Spock had first encountered; this was, after all, extremely far from the Vulcan footprint. The voyagers were transfixed by the intricate architecture, Spock included. "You had nothing like this when I was here last." He stated in Federation standard, which all present understood.
"Yes." The Princess agreed. "Your hand gloves were most beneficial, also we have grown in our allegiance with The Changers. We are far more powerful and productive as a team." Spock inwardly smiled at the new name for the sehlats. For so long they had been 'The Conspirators', now they were The Changers, because they had first accepted Spock's change. It was better. To the sehlats, the ocelots were 'The Reformed' as a joke, but they were still called 'The Cunning', as they were still great strategists. It also appeared his 'hand gloves' had become quite useful. Soon before he left, as a sort of going away gift, he had invented a sort of glove to cover the feet of both sehlats and ocelots, with projections on them such as fingers. He'd also given them a replicator of sorts, so they could make more at will.
"Sir, when are they going to retrieve the cure?" Nyota had been wondering this for a long time, and was only now giving voice to the question.
"You may ask the Princess directly." Spock said amusedly. "She understands Standard quite fluently. And there are ocelots already on the way to retrieve it. In the meantime, I have acquaintances I would wish to speak with. With your permission, captain?"
"That's fine, Mr Spock. But how are we going to understand what they're saying?"
"A machine like the universal translator will be brought. You may use that." Spock walked off, and the others were left wondering what sort of place this was.
WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW
"Fleetfoot, it is good to see you again." Spock greeted, and the still young sehlat turned joyously.
"Maka! You have returned!"
"Indeed. With others."
"Others! You move quickly." The sehlat flicked his glance to the floor, largely reminiscent of then he had been so shy around the young Vulcan hybrid. But he had overcome that. Why would he be so now? And then Spock realized something.
"You did not notice my approach." The gold tinted sehlat pawed uncomfortably at the ground.
"I was caught in some of the radiation from the takers new machines. My senses have not been the same after."
"Fleetfoot, I am sorry. Have you retained your position?" Spock was genuinely worried about his friends wellbeing.
"Yes. I am well enough that I can usually hear the takers methods of travel; they make much noise. Also, I am still among the swiftest of The Hidden." (that is what sehlats call themselves) "Also, many of my missions consist of running to the cunnings far reaches. There is not so much danger in the Places Away from the takers."
"I see." Spock said, saddened. "I apologize for the crimes of my species."
"You have left your species." The gentle sehlat reminded him. "To join Humans especially. Shall we condemn you for not stopping the unstoppable? Shall we blame you for not halting the 'advancements' of an entire race which hears you not? Think you that we are so hateful or twisted with anger that we would do such a thing?"
"Fleetfoot, Lilypad must be glad you are head messenger, you would do well with her position also, as her job necessitates interaction with other species, something at which seem to excel."
"Ah, but being a messenger also requires much talk, and I have both the legs and the speech for the job."
"That is true, Young One. You are both wise and talented for your years. How fares the council?"
"All well, with the exception of myself and Fireflight. He was killed a few years ago." Spock did not inquire further into his death. It was enough to know he had died, and, judging by Fleetfoot's silence, it had been caused by Vulcans. Spock gave an almost imperceptible sigh.
"Who is his replacement?"
"A sehlat named Cloudbreaker." Spock nodded. That was all he needed to know for now.
"May I request I be brought before the council? There are the matters of the Humans who travel with me to discuss."
"Of course." Fleetfoot looked as though he'd like to hear more now, but he had always been the patient sort, and was able to wait. "Do you wish to go before the Hidden council, The Cunning one, or the High Council?"
"The Hidden's. Now would be best."
"As you wish." Fleetfoot walked out into the hallway and barked something to an ocelot who was standing nearby. The ocelot dashed off to carry the message to the other members of the sehlat council, and Fleetfoot and Spock walked to the council chambers themselves. Cloudbreaker was already there, and imposing, large, dark grey sehlat, with dark eyes and especially large fangs. He walked over to Spock, observing the young Vulcan curiously. He had probably seen Spock before, nearly every sehlat and ocelot had, so he would probably recognize him as well.
"Great One. You have returned."
"Yes. You are he called Cloudbreaker?"
"That is so. I presume Fleetfoot described me to you?"
"That is so. When shall the others arrive?"
"Shortly. They are not far away." As a testament to his statement, Lilypad walked in. She looked happy, as though things had been easier for her lately, or that she was able to more easily relax. They exchanged greetings, but then Clawsworth walked in, and almost grinned."
"So, Stubborn One, you have returned. It is about time." He was giving a sehalt grin, ribbing Spock much as McCoy so often did.
"I was almost kept away at the thought of returning to you, however seeing Whiplash again was enough motivation to come." Clawsworth spluttered indignantly, at the mere thought of such an attraction. Whiplash was an incredibly annoying (though pretty) silver furred female sehlat who was known for being obsessively whiny and spoiled. It was actually a running joke how annoying the little sehlat could be.
The council assembled; Spock began. He presented his case, told of how he had brought Humans here, and how they knew of the ocelots, but not sehlats. This was why the High Princess had requested that all sehlats be removed from the underground passageways Spock had calculated that the visitors would pass through. He explained they had promised they would not reveal anything of the ocelots, and did they want to also reveal themselves to the Humans? There would be no telling of tales, they could rest assured. Spock awaited the response. Lilypad spoke first.
"I can see the advantages of this. If you vouch for them… Spock, then I believe them to be trustworthy. If they are, it is always better to have five allies than one. If you were to die or become otherwise completely incapacitated, then we would have no contacts with the outside world, so to speak. It is better to have a wider variety. I am in favor of further revelation."
"I am not." Clawsworth growled. "Just because he turned out alright, doesn't mean others will. I, for one, am not in favor of a prospective war against us. We don't have the power, even with The Cunning, to fight off anything like that. We could get stuck in laboratories, we could have another slaughtering! They know about The Cunning, fine. They probably won't betray us. I think they'll respect our decision to stay out of this. So if they get slaughtered, there's nothing we can do about it. And anyway, call me a pessimist if you want, but this can't work. I mean, really. Who here really thinks that everything is getting solved in this generation? The point is, even if these humans are trustworthy, for them to be able to do anything long term, they'd have to tell someone else. I'm betting that generation can't fix everything either. So it'll go down the line, and inevitably, there will be a weak link in the chain! We will be betrayed! Destroyed! Is that what you want? There is no possible good outcome to this." Clawsworth settled back, content with his speech, as his words rang in the chamber. It was now Fleetfoot's turn to take the stand.
"I agree with Maka. Yes, there is the chance for error, but otherwise, how will things get better? Yes, we may be betrayed, but what is the alternative? After this generation, do we sit around for another 3,000 years for another Spock? What progress we have made will be erased by then, and we will probably have been discovered besides. We cannot hide forever. Soon enough, Vulcans will come to the mountains and under, we cannot keep our secret forever. If we wait we condemn ourselves to death, yet if we act then we may yet be saved! How long can we hide, how long can we sit passively prolonging our destruction, but solving nothing? This may be the only chance we ever have, if we do not take it now, we will be destroyed. It will be the scenario that we all, like Clawsworth, all fear. I understand your point of view, Clawsworth, but I do not think we can accept it."
So far, everything had gone as Spock had predicted, Lilypad and Fleetfoot on his side, Clawsworth against. The one unknown variable was Cloudbreaker. Spock didn't know him well enough to know what he would do, who he would side with. He waited, tensely. From what he understood of sehlat names, Cloudbreaker would imply that he cast away doubt and/or fear and other negative emotions. And/or hostile forces. Either way, it implied wisdom and strength, and it would prove most favorable if he carried the former.
"Are there any other sides to be presented?" The large sehlat questioned. There was only silence. The sehlat stood, and began to pace. The fate of all sehlats was in his hands. "I… will come back to you in 15 minutes." He left, and the occupants of the room were left with each other.
"So, Spock, you look well." Lilypad gave a small hesitant smile, past her prime but not old yet, maybe about the Human equivalent of 40, she was feeling her job, though there was the release of stress from the ocelot nation, there was the added studies she was required to make into their culture, and that was always taxing. Not to mention the discovery of some new insect species that were nothing as advanced as either sehlats or ocelots, but required study all the same. She was very highly taxed. Her golden eyes were gentle though, as she eyed her long gone friend. "How has Starfleet been treating you?"
"Well enough." Spock answered. "I have found it to be most favorable. Yourself?"
"I cannot complain." Of course not. She never did. "There has been added stress to my job as of late, but it is nothing I cannot handle." Clawsworth, apparently, did not think so much of such small talk.
"How can you sit there and exchange pleasantries when the fate of our species is in the balance?"
"It does no good to lose control over what is out of our control." Fleetfoot stated quietly. Clawsworth merely growled at that, and got up to pace agitatedly.
"Why can you not see? We have no chance if we side with the Humans, we can only hope to prolong our existence. This is what we have done for thousands of years! There is nothing we can do!"
"You may think that." Fleetfoot said, eyes on the ground. "But I do not." The four waited in silence from then on, awaiting the return of the leader of the council.
