Part III: Adapting
"Loneliness is the ultimate poverty."
― Pauline Phillips
Stardate 2260.73
Dagny followed Voris down the shuttle ramp and into the brightly lit terminal. It was quite warm and the gravity was intense, and Dagny took several deep breaths to try and acclimate herself. People, mostly Vulcans, were moving in quick, orderly fashion. It was far more organized than any other terminal she'd ever seen; Dagny figured it was a consequence of Vulcan logic and efficiency.
It was awkward shuffling through the methodical crowd with her two small bags, but Dr. Voris didn't attempt to hurry her along or insist on carrying them for her. He'd already offered, she'd declined, and that was that. He slowed his stride and patiently walked beside her, even though they seemed to be hindering others from moving as quickly as they wanted to.
She soon encountered a phenomenon she hadn't anticipated—every so often, someone would glance in her direction and hold their gaze just long enough to be considered staring before they would suddenly look away. She wasn't the only human in the terminal—she'd already seen nearly a dozen others—but she was the only one getting the bizarre looks. Did she really look as out of place as she felt?
They boarded a lift to take them to a lower level and Dagny saw a woman's head snap around to get a glimpse of her out of the corner of her eye. As the door closed, she asked, "Am I doing something wrong?"
"Not that I am aware of."
"Then why is everyone staring at me?"
"Perhaps it is because they recognize you from the Albret."
The thought hadn't even occurred to her. That tragedy had been more than two years ago and she could barely remember any of the Vulcans she'd met that day. She would never forget Tolik or Dr. Sevek, but the thousands of others had been little more than a chaotic blur of suffering and numbness.
"I'm surprised they remember," she murmured. The lift door drifted open and they stepped off on the ground level.
"It would be surprising if they ever forget," he replied. "There are many on this planet who owe their lives to the actions of the crew of the Albret. There are also many on New Vulcan who grieve with you for its loss."
A niggling feeling of sadness crept into her stomach. The Albret's destruction wasn't nearly as raw as it had been three weeks earlier, but when she dwelled on it for long, tears inevitably followed. How could her life have changed this much in less than a month?
She followed him to a customs line where they waited in silence for several minutes until an older Vulcan man called her forward. She looked to Dr. Voris for guidance but he was already being directed to another queue. She'd been through customs many times before at various ports, but this felt different.
The man pressed a button at the edge of the counter and asked in an echoing voice, "Do you require the assistance of a universal translator?"
"No, I speak Standard."
He pressed the button again and his voice returned to normal. "Do you have any significant cognitive or sensory differences that may prevent you from answering basic spoken questions?"
"No?"
"Please place your hand on the scanner and then be seated," the Vulcan man in the dark blue uniform said, motioning toward a chair.
Dagny set her bags on the floor and complied. After her handprint had been scanned, she sat, folded her hands in her lap, and tried remembering the kinds of questions customs officials asked—they usually asked about the intended length and purpose of her visit and what she had in her bags and pockets. Often on non-Federation planets, there would be unusual questions about religion, political affiliation, and so on.
A screen below the man's desk illuminated and displayed text in both the loopy Vulcan script and Federation Standard below symbols of various things. Some were easy to decipher, others, less so. Below the universal symbol for radioactive material was something that looked like it might be a tribble. Or an explosion. She wasn't sure.
The man finished reading the results of her hand scan and her information appeared on the screen before her. A photograph that had been taken during her stay at Deneva Colony four years earlier appeared, making her feel wistful. She had been so young.
Name: Dagny Skjeggestad
Species: Human
Gender(s): Female
Home World: Earth
Age: 20.06 Federation Standard Years
"Is this information correct?"
It had always seemed strange to declare Earth as her home planet when she'd never actually been there, but for the purposes of Federation citizenship, she had to have some stretch of rock to call home. "Yes."
"Do you consent to a scan of your person and belongings?"
"Yes?" she answered, her voice barely rising above a squeak.
"Before I proceed to the bioscan, do you have any of the following in your possession that you wish to declare—alien plants, seeds, animals, minerals, weapons, radioactive substances, known disease-causing agents, pharmacological chemicals…"
The list droned on and Dagny was too polite—and too nervous—to stop him and explain that all she had were two small bags of clothes and a data device. A beam of light came from overhead and scanned the chair she was sitting in and her bags, and when the man seemed satisfied with the results, he asked, "How long do you intend to stay on New Vulcan?"
"Uh- I- uh," she mumbled. She started to look around for Dr. Voris and then noticed he was approaching. "A while."
"Specify." The man behind the counter stared at her with a disinterested, neutral expression.
"I don't know."
"If you intend to stay longer than thirty standard days, you are required to apply for a visa."
"Ok?" She tugged at the collar of her shirt, wondering if the building had environmental controls. It was so hot.
"May I be of assistance?" the man asked, glancing away from Dagny to Dr. Voris, who had come to a stop next to her chair.
"I intend to sponsor an temporary visa for Miss Skjeggestad," he replied.
The man raised an eyebrow and directed them to another line where another Vulcan man asked even more questions about the purpose of Dagny's relocation to New Vulcan. Dr. Voris managed to answer without expressly explaining Dagny's condition, but it was still incredibly awkward and she couldn't shake the sense that the Vulcan man disapproved of her.
An hour later, she received an electronic visa that was good for forty-nine days. It seemed like an oddly specific number and as they left the customs area, she asked him about it.
"New Vulcan is set to hold elections in nineteen days," he explained. "Should certain individuals come to power, customs and immigration will likely become far more challenging."
"So… what? I would have to leave?"
"I do not know," he admitted. "I cannot say what the Ba'taklar party will do if they achieve a majority vote. It is unlikely that they will, but it is a possibility."
Dagny knew nothing about Vulcan politics. She was used to dealing with a fair amount of uncertainty, but she already felt like she was drowning in it. The idea that she could be forced to move again in a month and a half wasn't comforting.
"So if that happens and I can't stay, then-"
"We shall seek accommodations elsewhere," he finished, glancing sidelong at her.
She heard a chirping sound emanate from his breast pocket and he touched a finger to his chest to silence the sound. His PADD, probably.
She wasn't sure what time it was where they were on New Vulcan, but she could see radiant light streaming in through long, glass walls ahead in the distance. It grew warmer as they neared the exit doors and when the automatic sensor noted their approach and the glass doors slid open, Dagny gulped in surprise. The gravity was bad enough, but the heat was a sucker punch to the senses. It was like opening a plasma vent moments after the warp core had been taken offline.
"Dagny?" Dr. Voris asked, turning to her.
"You live here?" she choked, gazing around at the bright, reddish landscape.
When she looked back at him, there was a serious expression in his eyes. "Come."
He took the bags from her shoulders without even asking, but she didn't complain. They weren't heavy but the gravity and heat were fast becoming more than she could tolerate.
She followed him down the covered sidewalk and out into the overpowering sunlight. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead and her pale skin started to feel exceptionally warm.
"So are we- are we going to your house?" she asked, swallowing the thickening saliva at the back of her throat.
"Yes," he replied, slowing to match her pace.
After about a hundred meters, she started to feel dizzy. She was stunned by her lack of fitness, but reasoned she was still recovering from the radiation sickness, not to mention she hadn't eaten since the night before on Aldebaran and had never experienced a climate quite like this one. She didn't want to complain, but she wasn't sure how much further she could go.
She started to wonder if she was going to faint when Dr. Voris stepped under an awning on the broad sidewalk. She tried to catch her breath, but she felt like she was breathing in plasma fumes.
"Are you well?" he asked, looking at her carefully.
"It's very hot," she admitted, tugging at the collar of her shirt again and noticing it was soaked with sweat.
"The train should be here momentarily," he said, standing to the side to reveal a bench. "Please, sit."
Moments after she sunk down onto the bench, a shuttle train glided to a stop in front of them. She stood on shaking legs and followed him aboard. There were a dozen people sitting on long benches against the walls of the passenger car. Dr. Voris sat down near the front and she took a seat next to him, trying to maintain her composure as best she could.
It was cooler on the train than it was outside, but not enough to make any difference. A distant ringing began in her ears and she was struck by a wave of nausea. She was grateful there was nothing in her stomach to throw up.
"We are approximately ten minutes from our destination and it is a short walk from there to my home," Dr. Voris said, turning to her. "Can you endure the climate until then?"
Dagny wasn't sure, but she didn't see that she had any other choice. "I think so."
"I can administer a trioxirane compound when we arrive which should help you acclimatize," he said. "I ought to have considered it prior to our departure from Aldebaran."
"I'll be ok," she lied, feeling rivers of sweat stream down her back.
Three stops and an eternity later, they disembarked at a station on the outskirts of a maze of seemingly deserted multistory buildings. Every step took incredible effort and they were only about fifty paces into their expedition to his house when her knees suddenly buckled. Her caught her under her armpits and supported her weight. She was incredibly embarrassed and felt her face growing even hotter than it already was.
"I'm fine," she croaked. "I just need to get inside and lie down, I think."
"I believe it would be wise to call for an emergency transport to the hospital," he replied, shifting her weight to extract his PADD from his inner breast pocket.
"How much further?" she panted.
"There," he said, glancing to the second story of a building about twenty meters ahead on the right. So close and yet so far.
"I can make it," she insisted.
Dr. Voris raised an eyebrow but helped her along until they reached the stairs. Dagny managed to make it about a third of the way up before the urge to sit down became too overpowering. Her head throbbed and her muscles were cramping. How could she be this weak?
Dr. Voris' response was both kind and humiliating. He slid one arm under her arms and the other under her knees and carried her to his apartment. The moment he stepped inside, he announced, "Adjust environmental controls to twenty degrees Celsius."
He carried her past a front sitting room and down a long hallway to a back bedroom where he deposited her on a large, firm bed covered in a soft, gray blanket. Then he disappeared. Dagny rolled over onto her side and listened to the pounding of blood in her head and the hum of the air ducts. Then she started to retch.
She tried to lean over the bed but didn't make it in time. She vomited watery spittle down the side of the blanket in waves, then continued to heave even after there was nothing to bring up. Dr. Voris returned with a medkit and delivered several injections into her neck. The first one stung and the second one brought with it a flood of euphoria.
"I'm sorry," she hiccupped, looking at the wet mess that was running down the edge of the bed onto the floor.
"It is illogical to apologize for that which is not in your power to control," he replied, offering her a towel to wipe her mouth.
Her sluggish hands fumbled at the simple activity, but she was glad he let her do it. It was bad enough he'd had to carry her to bed like a sleepy toddler. She started to blot the blanket with the towel, insisting she could clean it up.
"Do not trouble yourself," he replied, checking her vitals with a tricorder. "Rest."
He set up a small intravenous unit, turned her left arm over, and set the sensor in the crook of her arm to find a vein. She felt a small prick and then a cool rush of liquid flowing into her veins. "What are you giving me?"
"A standard buffered crystalloid solution."
She wanted to ask more questions, but decided it would probably be rude. He'd already proven he was a competent doctor, having brought her back from the edge of death once before, so it seemed reasonable that he could handle a little heat exhaustion and dehydration.
She bit her lower lip and turned her head to face the wall. Her headache was slowly fading and she was feeling sleepy once again. Her stomach grumbled but she was too worn out to want to eat. She mumbled a word of thanks and he left the room, shutting the lights off as he went. She quickly got lost in the forest of her own troubled thoughts.
Ever since she'd agreed to come with him to New Vulcan, she'd wondered how she could possibly make a life in a place where the only person she knew was still practically a stranger, but now she was wondering how she could ever literally live there. She quietly cried herself to sleep, certain she'd made the second worst mistake of her life in moving to New Vulcan, right behind allowing everyone she'd ever cared about to die on the Albret.
Voris heard his PADD buzz on the kitchen counter and glanced up from his research on New Vulcan's immigration policies. It was almost certainly another transmission from his father. He'd received seven transmission requests since his return to New Vulcan six hours ago. He would acknowledge his father eventually, but it was time to check on Miss Skjeggestad again.
After she'd fallen asleep, he'd placed thermal regulator pads on her head and abdomen to quickly and safely stabilize her body temperature to thirty-seven degrees Celsius. He'd given her another dose of the lentrazole shortly thereafter and monitored her vitals periodically ever since. He'd taken her off the intravenous fluid replacement and she was doing much better, but he had made a careless oversight in allowing her to travel to a planet with gravity twice that of what she was accustomed to and an average daytime temperature of forty-seven degrees Celsius without administering a trioxirane compound.
He should have taken his medical kit to Aldebaran but he had left in a hurry. He hadn't planned for her arrival, but he had left New Vulcan to retrieve her on such short notice and he couldn't have known at the time that she would agree to come. Now that she was here, there was much to do to accommodate her.
He'd put her in his bed because it was the only bed he had. His apartment home had two bedrooms, but the spare bedroom was empty aside from some emergency medical supplies and extra linens that Harold often turned into his private nest. He would need to purchase suitable furniture for her, and eventually for the child, provided her pregnancy proceeded normally.
He had already arranged for Dr. Govorski to meet with Dagny tomorrow, but he was due to return to work at the hospital the day after that. Her visa would expire in forty-nine days and after that, he wasn't certain she would be able to remain on New Vulcan. He knew little of the politics of immigration and nothing of immigration regulations. He was attempting to educate himself, but it was a highly complex issue.
His PADD chirped, alerting him to a message, but he silenced the device and proceeded to the bedroom, where he found Dagny snoring lightly. Her temperature, pulse, blood pressure, and other vital signs were all within normal range, but he would need to wake her soon so she could eat.
He left to prepare the day's end meal, wondering what she preferred to eat. He rarely kept food in the preservation unit—he ate most of his meals at the hospital—but when he did dine at home, he ate from the replicator. He laid out two place settings at the small round table and deliberated whether he should wake Dagny or contact his father.
He checked his PADD was prepared to initiate a link when he experienced a tingle of fear and heard a shriek from the next room a split second later. He bolted down the hall and found her standing to the side of the bed, staring at a small common sand lizard clinging to the wall above the headboard. The lizards were a pervasive nuisance on New Vulcan, though to be fair, perhaps the lizards viewed their new Vulcan neighbors in a similar light.
"Is it poisonous?" she asked, glaring at it with wild eyes.
"They are not," he replied.
"Why is it inside? I woke up and it was right by my face."
"Despite my best efforts to keep them out of doors, they manage to find their way in."
Dagny peered at it but her shadow on the wall startled it and sent it scurrying down behind the bed. She jumped and took several steps back.
"They are harmless," he insisted, wondering why she should continue to fear them after she'd been told there was no reason to.
"I'm sorry, I'm not used to being in a place where reptiles climb on the walls," she muttered, wringing her hands.
"I see. How are you feeling?"
She took a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder. "A lot better. I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't realize the heat would get to me like that. I don't think the gravity here helps either."
Why did she continue to apologize when he had told her it was unnecessary? It was a problem he'd experienced with humans before, but never on this scale.
"No apology is necessary. I administered a trioxirane compound, which will help you adjust. I also delivered another dose of lentrazole while you slept."
"Thanks."
"You are welcome."
Her gastric juices gurgled, but she didn't flinch.
"It is the customary time for end meal, or dinner, I believe you call it," he declared.
"Ok," she replied, turning to face him.
"I do not have fresh food available, but I have access to a replicator."
A small smile broke across her lips. "I've eaten out of replicators for most of my life."
She followed him through the multipurpose front room that served as both a sitting room and a dining room and joined him in the kitchen. She stared at the Vuhlkansu script and chewed on the inside of her cheek. He made several programming adjustments to switch it to Standard but she continued to stare at the screen with a considerable amount of hesitation.
"What do you recommend?" she asked.
Her trepidation suddenly became obvious. Nearly all of the items programmed into this model were classic Vulcan dishes and the Standard translation likely did little to help clarify what they were.
"What varieties of foods are you accustomed to eating?"
She gave him a questioning yet polite look. "Regular things? Soups, stews, casseroles, sausage, meat cakes?"
"I do not consume meat and I do not believe any meat-based dishes have been programmed into the replicator, but there are many vegetable soups and stews to choose from."
"You don't eat meat?"
"The standard Vulcan diet has been plant-based since the Reformation of Surak. It is illogical to commit violence against an animal if it is unnecessary for survival."
"I agree?" she replied, looking nervously back at the replicator. "But it's not like we had fish and chickens and pigs aboard the Albret though. That's the point of a replicator, isn't it? To reassemble matter from one form to another? It's food that's based on animals, but it isn't actually made from them."
"I am aware. While it is true that meat produced in a replicator does not originate from animal flesh, it still holds no appeal for me."
Dagny swallowed and nodded. "I didn't mean to offend you."
"You have given no offense. We simply share different philosophies."
Her stomach growled again. She looked back at him and asked, "So what are you having?"
"I intended to have barkaya marak. It is a thick soup made from protein-rich beans."
"That sounds fine," she replied quickly.
He saw her searching for the barkaya marak option from the current display. He reached over her shoulder, toggled forward several pages, and selected the dish. Ten seconds later, a bowl of the warm, golden brown soup appeared at the dispenser tray.
"Please," he said, gesturing to the bowl. "Take it and be seated."
He made himself another bowl of the barkaya marak and a plate of krei'la and joined her. He set the dry krei'la biscuits between them so they could share and took his seat. He unfolded the cloth napkin and placed it in his lap, collected his spoon, and added a heap of the small krei'la biscuits to his soup. He was on his second bite when he realized Dagny was watching him carefully.
"Is something the matter?" he asked.
She pursed her lips and shook her head. In a clumsy series of motions, she repeated each of the steps he had just taken to prepare herself to eat. It wasn't until she drew the first spoonful to her mouth that he realized he was watching her just as intently as she had been watching him.
"Is it to your liking?"
She gave a small bob of her head and swallowed the bite. He sensed she wasn't being entirely truthful.
"I am willing to assist you in making another selection, if you would prefer something else."
She furrowed her eyebrows. "This is good. I don't want to waste the food."
"It is no waste. It would simply go back into the reclaimator and be recycled."
"It's a waste of the energy," she replied, taking another bite.
Voris considered her response for a moment. While it was literally true that returning her food to the reclaimator and replicating something else would pose an energy cost, it was negligible. He recalled his first examination of her aboard the Sekla. She had been thin and slightly undernourished. Not starving, but she'd certainly not been consuming an optimal amount of nutrition aboard the Albret. He had not known whether that was a result of a metabolic disorder, personal discipline, or hardship, but as he watched her attempt to scrape every last drop of liquid from the bottom of her bowl, he sensed he had his answer.
Like virtually all living creatures, he'd experienced hunger numerous times throughout his life, but he had never been hungry for any length of time. Whenever he had required sustenance, it had been available in variety and abundance. He had never thought about what a transient existence aboard a vessel would be like, but it seemed logical to conclude that intermittent food insecurity had been a reality for Dagny at various points in her life.
"What's supposed to happen tomorrow?" she asked, setting her spoon in her empty bowl.
"I shall take you to meet with Dr. Govorski at the Kanunsh'es district hospital."
"Is it very far?"
"Approximately a thirty minute journey by train."
Dagny frowned, pulled the napkin from her lap, and attempted to refold it to its previous conformation.
"I intend to give you another trioxirane injection before we depart to make it more manageable for you."
A pink flush spread across her cheeks. His experience with human physiology suggested she was either becoming overheated, deprived of oxygen, or suffering from an unpleasant emotion such as anger or embarrassment. "Are you feeling well?"
"Yeah, uh, I'm fine. What should I do with my dishes? Does everything go back in the reclaimator or… how do you do things?"
"I retain the utensils but the dish can go in the reclaimator."
He looked down at his bowl of soup. Approximately a quarter of the liquid remained in the bottom of the bowl and though he'd eaten his fill, he sensed it would be indecorous to dispose of it. He was contemplating the logic of altering his behavior in her presence when she asked, "Are you going to eat these… what it they called? Kray-lah?"
Her tongue had completely fumbled the word, but it was easy to deduce from context that she referred to the half-consumed plate of krei'la. While it was considered customary for females to wait on their mates during meals, it was also customary for hosts to wait on their guests during end meal. His relationship with Dagny was so complicated and poorly defined that he wasn't sure which protocol more adequately applied.
He had not broached the subject of formally bonding with her. He had been surprised she'd agreed to come with him to New Vulcan at all and he sensed it would be unwise to press the issue at this juncture. Many species raised offspring together without being formally bonded or married, humans included. It was becoming slightly more common on New Vulcan due to marked societal changes following the loss of much of their population, but it was still considered highly irregular.
Yet even without being formally bonded in a temple, the telepathic mating bond he'd forged with her in his quarters on Aldebaran evidently persisted. He'd experienced her fear when she'd encountered the sand lizard and he often vaguely sensed her shyness and embarrassment. He didn't really know what to make of it.
Their bond was much weaker than the one he'd shared with T'Sala—whether due to her humanity or their incompatibility, he could not say—and they probably could have severed it if they'd maintained their distance, but now they would be living together, he didn't know what would happen between them. Irrespective of his speculation, Dagny was carrying his child, but she had not agreed to be his mate.
He saw her shuffle her feet and turned his attention to her. She was studying the krei'la biscuits and gnawing on her lower lip.
"Are you still hungry?" he asked.
He felt a small wave of nervousness emanate from her. "I was just trying to clear the table. Make myself useful, you know."
He rose to his feet and collected his bowl and the plate of dry biscuits. It didn't seem correct for either of them to wait upon the other, so perhaps it was more logical that they should complete the task of clearing the table together. She collected the utensils and set to work removing the debris in the sonic recycler while he disposed of the dishes and food particulate in the reclaimator.
When he was done, he joined her in the kitchen. "Is there anything I can provide you with to make you more comfortable?"
She initially seemed perplexed by his question but offered a crooked smile. "Could you show me where the lavatory is? I would like to wash. I'm all sweaty from earlier."
"Certainly." He directed her to the singular lavatory at the end of the hall.
As they passed the empty second bedroom on the left, she asked, "Am I sleeping in your bed?"
"I had lived alone before your arrival. I intend to procure additional furnishings for you, but at present, my bed is all I have to offer."
"Dr. Voris, I can't take your bed," she stammered. "Where are you going to sleep?"
"I had planned to sleep on the front couch."
"The black sofa in the front room? You're too tall for it. Please, I'll sleep on the sofa. I don't mind."
In terms of their relative sizes compared to the furniture, her suggestion was logical. Yet he had also never cohabitated with a female other than his mother, sisters, or former mate. She deserved the privacy of a bedroom. "The couch will be adequate for me for the time being."
"I don't want you to have to go out of your way," she insisted. "I promise you, I can sleep just about anywhere. I used to share a tiny bottom bunk with Ingrid before Aksel and Benjamin passed."
He presumed she referred to members of her family, but decided he should avoid asking who Ingrid, Aksel, and Benjamin were. He insisted on his initial plan and she eventually relented and made her way to the lavatory to shower.
Voris returned to his studies on New Vulcan's immigration policies. She was in the lavatory for a long time before he heard the sonic shower engage and shortly thereafter, he heard her retire to his bedroom. He was in the midst of exploring options to allow Dagny to stay on New Vulcan without formally marrying her when his PADD began vibrating once again. It was illogical to continue to postpone the inevitable. He slid his finger across the glass to accept his father's transmission.
"Voris." His father's face appeared on the PADD's screen.
"Live long and prosper, Silek."
Rather than return the greeting, his father got straight to the matter at hand. "Why have you broken your arrangement with T'Rya?"
"Because she requested it."
"You would do well to remember what is at stake."
"She has made her decision and I accept it."
"I have spoken with Velik and he has persuaded her to reconsider. They invited us to dine with them at their home this evening, an invitation I was forced to refuse because I could not contact you."
"I see."
"I attempted to reach you at the Va'ashiv hospital, and I was informed you had taken an emergency leave of absence."
"That is correct."
His father's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps you could explain your actions."
"I have no intention of bonding with T'Rya."
"You would risk my candidacy, as well as that of your uncle, to satisfy some illogical need to defy me? I accepted your decision to follow medicine, but your selfish desires in this instance carry wider repercussions."
Voris knew little of politics and cared for politics even less, but he understood his family's position. To help guarantee a majority over the ultra-conservative Ba'taklar party, the moderate Storilayar party to which his family belonged and progressive Vinem-lar party to which T'Rya and her brother belonged needed to be united. Voris and T'Rya's bonding was supposed to have been an official and public declaration of that partnership, but Voris could not see why the duty of merging two political parties had befallen him and T'Rya, two people who had no interest in politics.
"I believe both you and Sarek both remain unbonded. If your candidacies are truly so important, I do not see what is preventing either of you from taking T'Rya as a mate."
"You remain unbonded as well," Silek replied. "You will require a mate in the future and T'Rya is quite suitable."
Rather than tell his father of T'Rya's private situation—she had told him of her pregnancy in strict confidence—Voris decided he could no longer withhold his own private matter from Silek.
"I have informally taken a human mate and she is expecting my child."
Silek's face remained stony and unmoving and for several seconds, he did not speak. Voris attempted to center himself as he waited for a response. He did not know exactly what Silek would say, but it was easy to deduce from past experience how he would react. So he attempted to prepare himself for his father's reaction, but when Silek finally spoke, it still took considerable discipline to keep his emotions in check.
