Stardate 2260.171
Dagny's eyes sprang open following the strange dream about Voris. The awkward, erotic images from several months ago had been replaced by something more mundane and only slightly less weird. During the last month, she'd had dreams featuring bland domesticity. She'd just woken up from a dream where Voris had been sitting around her family's cramped dinner table aboard the Albret.
She peeked her head up over the quilt. The room was dark and cool but she had to fight the impulse to leap from the bed. A month of bedrest had been more difficult than she could have ever imagined, but as of that morning, it was over. Voris had wanted to keep her in bed for another week, but Dr. Govorski had assured them that so long as there had been no more bleeding, the baby continued to grow, and Dagny remained healthy, there was no reason to keep her cooped up any longer. As far as anyone could tell, the subchorionic hemorrhage she'd had last month was a one-time event.
Because some of the fetus' copper-based blood from the placenta had leaked into her uterus, Dr. Govorski had recommended immunotherapy to remove any antibodies her body had made against the fetal cells, but Voris had already done that immediately after she'd had the hemorrhage. He was an extremely competent and experienced doctor but for whatever reason, he often doubted himself where Dagny's pregnancy was concerned.
All throughout her bedrest, he'd contacted Dr. Govorski with questions and concerns, but as far as Dagny could see, there wasn't much point. Anything the specialist obstetrician recommended, Voris had either already done or already planned to do. He was almost like he was… nervous. She knew it wasn't logical, but she didn't know how else to describe it.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 0438 hours, but after thirty days of living in a bed, she was wide awake and ready to seize the day. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and grunted. She stood on the balls of her feet, stretching her back and calf muscles. Part of what had made her bedrest so maddening had been the fact that many of her early pregnancy symptoms had faded. She was no longer sick or fatigued. After a month of lying in bed, only getting up to use the toilet and take an occasional shower, she almost felt the urge to do cartwheels, but the experience had taken a toll on her body as well as her mind.
Yet what she had lost in muscle tone, she'd gained in her belly. She still wouldn't say she had a distinctive bump—she looked more bloated than pregnant—but at the rate she was going, she wouldn't be fitting into her trousers for much longer. She ran her hands along her abdomen, enjoying the tickle on her skin and wondering when she would feel the baby move.
Dagny frowned, resisting the urge to grab the tricorder from the bedside table and listen for the baby's heartbeat. She'd checked it so frequently during her stint on bedrest that mixed among the dreams of a domestic life with Voris had been rapid swooshing sounds of the baby's heart. During the last month, it had been the first thing she listened to when she woke up and the last thing she'd heard before going to sleep for the night. She wanted to listen to it now, but she also didn't want to wake Voris.
He'd been working longer hours in the clinic without Dagny's help and was probably getting even less sleep than before. Aisla had been pitching in more around the clinic in her absence but that didn't make Dagny feel any better. The fact that he'd worked so hard while she'd been lying in bed all day had been a source of enormous discomfort. What little free time he did find, he'd devoted to taking care of her and keeping her company.
She'd spent most of her time alone during the day either sleeping or studying medical texts and journals. In the evenings after the clinic had closed, Voris would make dinner and sit with her, discussing all the cases he'd had during the day and giving Dagny more lessons in the medical sciences.
She'd had some visitors. Aisla visited nearly every day and the Svendsen family had stopped by once. Ann and her oldest son Nicolas were away on the Oglethorpe, but her husband Jon and their three younger children, Britta, Frøya, and Jørn had come by with well-wishes and a casserole. Jon had known her since she was little and it had been a very awkward visit. A handful of other colonists had delivered casseroles and pies but for the last month, Voris had been her primary link to the outside world and respite from boredom.
Dagny took a deep breath and tip-toed to the dresser, and through a series of slow, deliberate movements, extracted a set of clothes. She was about to get dressed, but the moment she started to pull the nightshirt over her head, she caught a whiff of her body. She didn't exactly smell bad, but she didn't feel clean. It had been six days since her last shower and even though she hated the water based shower, she hated being grimy even more.
She slinked to the tiny bathroom in the corner and shut herself in. It smelled damp and earthy and no matter how much either of them tried to clean it, it was determined to maintain the grungy film on every surface. It was also ridiculously cramped. There was just enough room for a toilet and shower and getting undressed required careful contortionism. The shower ceiling was so low that she could reach up and touch it with her fingertips and she wondered how Voris, who was at least forty centimeters taller than she was, managed it. She figured he must have to crouch to get inside it comfortably, or maybe he showered on his knees.
She covered her mouth to stifle a giggle at the thought and held her nose as she turned on the water. It came out ice cold, nearly making her scream but after it warmed up, she turned and leaned her head backward, allowing it to soak her hair. As weird as water showers were, there was something relaxing about them. She grabbed her bar of soap from the upper dish and turned to the business of getting clean.
Getting dressed afterward was an awkward chore in the confined bathroom, but it was better than changing in the room where Voris might see. They'd gotten a little more comfortable with each other during the last month, but not that comfortable. As she'd predicted, she couldn't close the top button of her trousers, which was frustrating. She tried to wring her hair out as best she could—it had grown halfway to her shoulders now—but it still dripped from the ends and soaked into her sweater.
Though the bathroom was humid, it was also warm, and she was reluctant to open the door to the cold room beyond. When she finally did, the first thing she heard was a thump, followed by the sound of breaking glass. "Voris?"
"Dagny."
She nudged the door all the way open to find the floor was covered in the shards of a broken mirror. "Oh no! What happened?"
"I believe rapidly opening the door caused the mirror to fall from its perch," he replied, glancing at the thin ledge on the wall behind the bathroom door.
"Since when is there a mirror there?"
As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she noticed Voris was holding a pair of scissors in his left hand and had a towel draped around his shoulders, which was covered in a fine layer of black hair clippings. It slowly dawned on her that he'd set the mirror on the ledge to be able to see the back of his head to trim his hair.
"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I'll clean this up."
"You are not wearing shoes," he replied. "Remain where you are."
Her instinct was to argue but she'd learned there wasn't much point in sparring with Voris over trivial things. And he was right: he had on shoes and she didn't. She got on her hands and knees and picked up some of the larger pieces, but when Voris came back with the compact cleaning android trailing along behind him, she tossed them back on the ground and let the little bot work its magic.
"I'm sorry," she muttered.
"You have already apologized," he reminded her. "And there was no need to apologize the first time. You could not have predicted I would be tending to my own personal hygiene."
"I could have been more careful. This is such a tight space."
Voris gave a slight nod of his head. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine. Good. Better than good, really. I feel great. It'll be nice to get back to work."
"I would prefer you remain on light duty in the clinic for the time being."
Dagny clenched her jaw, unsure which version of Voris she wanted to address her frustration to: Dr. Voris, her coworker and pseudo-supervisor, Dr. Voris, her medical practitioner, or Voris, the father of her child. She understood his concern and in some ways agreed with it, but she also didn't like the idea of being handled with kid gloves. But the last thing she wanted was to start bickering with him in the predawn hours. "I'll take it easy, I promise."
"I would also like to collect a blood sample and ensure that your hormones levels are within an acceptable range."
She was about to point out that he'd tested her blood just yesterday afternoon and she'd been especially diligent with her medications, but decided it wasn't worth arguing about. "Sure. Ok."
The bot finished sweeping up the remains of the mirror and returned to its base, allowing Dagny to step over the threshold of the humid bathroom. Voris remained frozen by the sink, staring at the pair of scissors in his hand.
"I'll uh- I'll give you some space so you can finish cutting your hair."
"I cannot see what I am doing without the mirror."
Dagny bit her lip. "I don't think we have another mirror. Or even anything particularly reflective."
"That has occurred to me."
She took a step toward him, horrified to see he'd been almost literally halfway done with cutting his hair when she'd interrupted him. A clean line stopped almost right in the middle of the back of his head, giving it a very avant-garde, but not particularly Vulcan, appearance.
"I could cut it," she offered. "I used to cut my siblings' hair all the time."
He gave her a strange look. "I have cut my own hair since adolescence."
Dagny tried to keep her face neutral. She'd wondered how Vulcans managed to have such perfectly trimmed and groomed hair. "You've never let anyone else cut it?"
"There has never been any need to."
"It seems like you need it now."
He blinked several times. "Perhaps I could locate something with sufficient reflective properties in the clinic."
She rolled her eyes and grabbed her dirty nightdress from the bathroom. "Suit yourself."
Dagny was slicing some fruit and bread for breakfast when Voris returned ten minutes later, holding the scissors between his left thumb and forefingers and still wearing a very lopsided haircut. "Perhaps you could assist me in tidying my hair until I can procure a new mirror."
She gave him a warm smile and rinsed the gespar juice from her hands. "I'd be happy to."
He started to walk back to the tiny sink and mirror tucked into the nook by the bathroom, but Dagny called after him, "It would probably be easier if you sit. You're very tall."
He bobbed his head and pulled one of the chairs from the kitchen table. She stepped behind him, but the moment the scissors touched her hand, she started to have doubts. His hair was thick and straight and usually so immaculate that she would have believed him if he'd told her he used a guided laser to achieve such neat lines and edges. Any wobble in her hands while she was cutting and it would show in the resulting haircut. She'd never much cared if Sigurd or Sigrid's hair had come out a little crooked: that was what they got for the price of a free haircut and for fidgeting when she told them not to. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and was about to get started when the image of cutting a huge chunk out of his hair flashed through her mind and made her shudder.
"Are you certain you are capable of this task?"
"Of course," she lied.
To keep the momentum of her false confidence going, she raised her hands and made a small first cut. Twenty nerve-wracking minutes later and she stepped back to observe her work. It looked straight, but maybe he was sitting crooked or maybe she was afraid her mind was playing tricks on her.
"Are you nearly finished?" he asked.
"Yeah, all done." She gulped and swept the back of his neck with her palm. When he went to examine the result in the small mirror mounted over the sink, she held her breath, waiting for him to find some flaw in her work.
"I am unable to assess the back, but the lines around the sides look correct," he said, rubbing his hands over the back of his scalp.
She exhaled a sigh of relief. "I'm sure it's not as good as you could do, but I think it's ok? I feel like it'll pass until we can get you a new mirror."
"It is adequate. Thank you."
"Do you mind if I ask… why do all Vulcans wear their hair that way?" Once free of her mouth, the question sounded embarrassingly personal.
"Not all Vulcans wear their hair in this fashion, but the reason many of them do is to honor Surak."
"Like Surak from The Teachings of Surak?"
"Yes."
"But you said not all Vulcans wear their hair that way though."
"That is correct."
"What about our baby, when he or she gets older?"
His expression changed. "Specify."
Her cheeks started to burn. She had inherited her mother's superstitious streak and discussing how they were going to raise their child seemed to be tempting fate when she was still so far away from giving birth. But it had nagged at her ever since she found out she was pregnant.
"How are we going to raise this baby? We're very different people and I'm sure we have some pretty different ideas on the subject."
He didn't answer right away, which made Dagny regret saying anything at all. She eventually added, "Maybe it's not a good time to talk about this."
"Our child will not be the first to be born between two cultures rather than within one," he replied, turning to look at her. "I believe it would be appropriate to allow the child to decide for itself when it reaches an age where it is capable of understanding."
"You want our child to decide which of its parents it wants to be like?"
"It is the most logical way."
"But why does it have to decide? Can't we just love it and teach it what it means to be both human and Vulcan?"
"That would be exceedingly difficult. To be Vulcan means to dismiss emotion: to be human means to embrace it."
Dagny started to feel sick to her stomach. Voris had already said their child would end up looking Vulcan; what if it decided it wanted to be Vulcan? She had been so afraid of losing the baby all throughout her pregnancy, but it suddenly occurred to her that there were other ways she could lose her child. What if it grew up and decided it wanted to reject its human half and by extension, its human mother?
The question of how they would raise their baby had been in the back of her mind since day one, but she'd always assumed they would figure it out as they went along. Or maybe deep down she'd been operating under the assumption the baby wouldn't make it to full term. But if it did, then what?
They wouldn't be the first interspecies parents—Voris' cousin was half human, after all—so surely there was a way to make it work. But when she thought of Ambassador Spock, all she could picture in her mind was a stoic, logical Vulcan. What had his human mother been like? Hadn't she made some impression on her son?
Voris was watching her closely, which made her feel embarrassed and irritated. She spun on her heel and numbly walked back to the kitchen counter to finish preparing breakfast.
"You are upset."
Her hands shook as she picked up the knife to resume slicing the gespar. "What if our baby grows up and wants nothing to do with me?"
"You are being irrational."
"And you're being mean!"
"Yet it is irrational to speculate about the future decisions of a child who is not yet born. No matter what choices it makes, you will always be its mother."
She suddenly felt bad for yelling at him, but not enough to apologize. The floor creaked under his feet and several seconds later, she sensed him standing behind her right shoulder. "I know when you first informed me of your pregnancy that you were convinced you did not require my assistance in raising the child. I asked your permission to be involved in its upbringing and you agreed."
"I remember," she snapped, whipping around to face him. "I was there. I didn't know I was agreeing to… to…"
He glanced down at the paring knife dripping with gespar juice in her hand and cocked his head. She sighed and set it on the cutting board, leaning over the counter as her mind tried to make sense of her feelings. How had this conversation escalated so quickly? "This baby isn't even born, but it's the only real family I have."
"Are you not related to the Svendsen family?
"Ann was my dad's second cousin. I grew up around the Svendsens, but they're more like close family friends. We didn't keep in touch after they left the ship two years ago. They're a link to the life I lost, but they're not a replacement for it." Dagny sniffed away the beginnings of tears, wondering if there would ever be a day she didn't feel like crying when discussing her family.
"This child will be the only close relation I will have as well."
"What are you talking about? You have your father, your uncle, your cousin…"
"As you are aware, my father has disowned me, but even before that, we were never on good terms. And though I am on good terms with both my uncle and cousin, I have not been acquainted with them for most of my life."
Dagny frowned. She'd had her disagreements with her parents and siblings over the years, but she couldn't imagine being completely estranged from them. She also technically had biological relatives—her Uncle Knut, for example—but she did not really consider them family. It had never occurred to her that for all intents and purposes, Voris was just as alone as she was.
"I don't want our baby to have to choose between being human and being Vulcan," she sighed, turning around to face him and crossing her arms.
"Biologically, it will not have a choice."
"You know what I mean," she moaned. "If it decides it wants to be like you and be logical, I won't know how to relate to my own child. I don't know how to teach a child to be Vulcan. I can't speak your language. You were right: my tongue is too stupid to form Vulcan words. T'Mir tried teaching me some and it all sounds like gibberish to me."
"There is nothing preventing you from learning if you wish to learn."
"You're missing the point, Voris. I'm afraid I won't be able to interact with or understand a significant side of my child."
"And there is much I do not understand about the human experience. Speculation is illogical, but did you consider the possibility that the child could reject Vulcan teachings in favor of human ones?"
The sudden thought of the child choosing her over Voris was surprisingly just as painful. "Surely there has to be some way for us to raise our child together without making it take sides."
He glanced at the fruit on the cutting board. "The clinic is scheduled to open in less than an hour and I need to replenish the pharmacy cabinet stocks."
And just like that, their conversation was over, but Dagny's new brand of worry was just beginning. They ate a quick breakfast in relative silence, speaking only in relation to their meal and cleaning up the dishes. When they were done, they headed downstairs to the clinic and Dagny's grim mood instantly felt lighter. She cruised down the steps, skipping the last two and landing on the floor below with gusto, ready to enjoy her first day of work in more than a month.
"You should take greater care," Voris chided, following closely behind her.
Dagny glanced over her shoulder, suddenly struck by a weird twinge of anxiety that rapidly dissipated. She shrugged. "I'm just happy to be out of bed."
"But consider the reason you were confined to bed."
She didn't want to be annoyed at his comment—he did have a point—but it was something in the way he said it that set her nerves on edge. She bit down on her tongue and replied, "Why don't we get the clinic ready?"
"I would prefer to take a sample of your blood first."
Her irritation grew, but she rolled up the left sleeve of her sweater without complaint as he drew a small sample from her arm and placed the vial in the standard tricorder. His eyes skimmed the results, but he said nothing.
"And?" Dagny sighed, pulling her sleeve back down. "How does it look?"
"Complete blood counts, sugars, lipids, and hormones are all within acceptable parameters."
"I told you I feel fine."
He nodded and busied himself at the chemical synthesizer as Dagny reacquainted herself with the clinic. Several colonists had helped Voris make some improvements, including a permanent workbench by the surgical suite and semi-permanent aluminum dividers between the biobeds in the rear of the room.
There were also plans to expand the clinic to include a convalescent ward directly underneath their quarters. The family that had lived there had relocated and before the quarters could be reassigned, Voris had asked Samantha Bergeron if the clinic could absorb the space. They obviously lacked the staff to operate a proper full-time hospital, but having a dedicated space for people to recover was better than letting them go home and then running all over the colony trying to check up on them later.
"Will you pack a medical bag for out-of-clinic rounds?" Voris asked.
"Is that today?" she asked, moving toward the cabinet to begin assembling basic equipment.
"It is. I have nineteen patients to visit."
"That's a lot. How many have you scheduled for me?"
"None. I intend to see all the follow-up patients myself."
"Why? I used to do most of the rounds."
"Earlier you agreed to remain in the clinic on light duty."
"No, earlier I agreed that I would take it easy," she huffed. "I don't remember saying anything about staying in the clinic. Besides, how hard could it be to pop down the tunnel and take a few sets of vitals?"
"I am the logical choice to perform this work," he insisted. "I am more familiar with these patients and more efficient at tending to their needs."
"Are you calling me lazy?" she blurted.
"No, I simply refer to the fact that you often tend to speak at length with patients on topics irrelevant to their health."
"It's called being friendly and gaining people's trust."
"It is also inefficient."
"Not everything's about efficiency," she said, her voice little more than a low growl.
"You are becoming irrational once again."
"I've been cooped upstairs for a month!"
"And now you are not."
"It's almost just as bad being stuck in the clinic. Voris, I need to get out. I need to see people."
"And you will see people—while on light duty in the clinic."
She took a slow breath to stop herself from saying something excessively hateful. "You can't stop me from going out."
His eyes narrowed. "You are correct, but need I remind you I am ultimately responsible for the clinic and the management of medical operations on this colony?"
She scoffed in disbelief. "Are you ordering me to stay in the clinic?"
"I am urging you to see reason."
Dagny was suddenly conscious of the fact that she was shaking. What had made him suddenly decide to start acting like a patronizing jailer? She felt a wild urge to storm out into the tunnel just to prove a point, but even through her anger, she couldn't bring herself to be that childish and defiant.
Voris picked up a PADD and turned to the pharmacy cabinet. "The clinic will open and I need to replenish the clinic's supply of dexalin and formazine," Voris said suddenly, looking from a PADD to the pharmacy cabinet. "Will you assist me?"
Ordinarily she jumped at the chance to get guided experience with the different equipment in the clinic but she didn't even want to look at him right now, let alone have him stand over her shoulder and watch as she prepared medications. "I have to pack your bag, remember?"
They worked without speaking a word until 0630 hours when the clinic opened. Patients trickled in with minor ailments and complaints, and she and Voris managed to work around each other without interacting much. Traffic tapered off around 0830, and when the last of their early patients left after receiving a hypospray for arthritis relief, Voris collected the bag she'd packed and donned his cloak and a pair of rain boots.
"I anticipate returning by 1830 hours. I will take one of the communicators, should you need to contact me."
Dagny looked up from inputting patient notes into the computer. "I'm guessing if you're putting on rain boots, you're going up to the surface?"
"Yes."
"Don't know what good a communicator will be then." The rock lining the tunnels was packed with gallicite that interfered with sensors and communication. They could talk via communicators well enough within their own tunnel and had limited signal in nearby tunnels and portions of the loop, but reaching someone on the surface was only possible through the hardwired radios.
"I only have two patients to see on the surface and I intend to visit them last," he replied, pulling the bag's strap over his shoulder. "I shall contact you just before going out of range."
She shrugged and turned back to her patient files, barely noticing when he ducked out the door. For the first time since arriving at Bergeron colony, it was a slow day in the clinic, which unfortunately gave her plenty of time to dwell on her conversation with Voris.
They'd had disagreements before but she wouldn't classify any of those instances as legitimate fights. She replayed their interactions in her mind over and over again, which only amplified her irritation as the day went on. Who was he to tell her what to do? Who was he to act like she was being reckless with her health for wanting to walk less than half a kilometer down the tunnel to check a few pulses and take a few blood samples? She'd been so careful for the last month and even Dr. Govorski had said a full month of bedrest had probably been unnecessary. It wasn't like the baby was just going to fall out of her from some light walking.
From between 1015 and 1330 hours, Dagny didn't have a single patient walk through the door and she was just starting to feel like she might as well be back upstairs in bed when she heard the door open.
"It is good to see you, Dagny."
She looked up from reviewing the clinic's records from the previous month to see Khel standing in the threshold, cradling a baby in her arms.
"Khel! Oh! Let me see him!" Dagny exclaimed, jumping to her feet. Khel stepped forward and peeled back the dark blue blanket to reveal the face of her tiny son.
"Voris tells me you were ill."
"I'm doing better."
"And your child?" Khel asked, glancing at Dagny's belly.
"Doing good as far as anyone can tell."
"I am relieved."
"And what about you? What about this little one? What have you named him?"
"He does not yet have a name," Khel replied. "Romulans do not name their children until after the sitting in period has ended and the baby has survived the night trial."
"What does that mean?"
"By our custom, after giving birth, mother and child remain secluded from society for a period of thirty days while the mother nourishes and prepares the infant for the night trial."
"The night trial?"
"Yes, Romulans cull their weaker newborns by leaving them exposed and alone to the elements from dusk until dawn. It is the first of seven tests of a Romulan's life for the child and the sixth test for the parents."
Dagny couldn't help the look of horror that must have washed over her face. "You can't be serious?"
Khel's face darkened. "There is a reason I left Romulus."
"So… please tell me you're not going to leave him outside to freeze?" Dagny stammered.
"He's far too dear for that," Khel replied, smiling at the infant in her arms. "I went through too much to bring him into this life. But I still could not bring myself to name him until he survived the month. It would distort the fates."
Dagny wasn't exactly sure what she meant by "distorting the fates," but she got the distinct impression that Khel was more superstitious than she was. She had a lot in common with this woman, and after her fight with Voris that morning, she found herself desperate for advice but unsure how to ask for it. "So, what can I do for you, Khel?"
"Jake and I plan to have his naming ceremony this evening at dusk and I wanted to make sure it is safe for him to be outdoors for a short time while we light the fire and make the necessary offerings. Dr. Voris came by and saw him last week and said he's growing as he should, but he cries a lot."
"Babies will do that," Dagny replied, giving her a reassuring smile. "But I can give him a quick look over to put your mind at ease."
The moment she took the baby from Khel, she found herself smitten by the tiny boy with the pointed ears and crop of feathery black hair. She'd always liked babies well enough—she certainly had plenty of practice with them with eleven younger siblings—but this one was different. He was half-Romulan, but he looked so much like what she imagined her baby would look like that she almost felt like he was hers.
She grabbed her data PADD and put him on the end of a biobed to measure his weight and height. Voris had begun keeping medical records for all the colonists and so Dagny was able to pull up Khel's baby's file, which was currently listed as Diels: Infant Male.
"So, you said his naming ceremony is tonight… what do you plan to name him?" Dagny asked as she began running through the checklist of infant reflexes and recording the results on the PADD.
"I do not know. In Romulan society, fathers name their children, but they do not discuss it with the mother beforehand."
"But your husband isn't Romulan."
"No, he is not."
"Do you mind if I ask you a kind of personal question?" Dagny murmured, lightly stroking the baby's palms to check for a grasping reflect.
Khel gave her a quizzical look. "You may, though I may choose not to answer."
"Fair enough," Dagny muttered. "Humans and Romulans are so different. How are you and your husband planning to raise your son together?"
"I sense your question is not one of simple curiosity but rather one of personal importance."
"Something like that," Dagny replied, looking down at the baby and feeling both relieved and mortified that she'd dared broach this subject. "Do you find yourself wanting to raise your son as a Romulan? And how does Jake feel about that?"
Khel considered her questions for nearly a full minute before saying, "There are many things that could be improved about the Romulan way. My people are never going to change, so I left. But I did not stop being Romulan and my husband did not stop being human. I do not know what awaits us in the future. I do not care, so long as we are all together."
Dagny swallowed hard and nodded. As much as she and Khel had in common, there were some significant differences. Khel actually loved her son's father: she wasn't simply living with him because it seemed like the right thing to do.
She finished checking over Khel's baby and pronounced him in perfect health. When she attempted to submit the record, she received an error message stating that she had not checked for a telan reflex, but she had never heard of that. She frowned and swiped her finger over the screen to override the message and told Khel she was free to go.
As Khel was leaving, she gently touched Dagny's arm. "I would like to invite you to my son's naming this evening. And Dr. Voris, since he helped deliver him."
Dagny would have loved to go, not only because she liked Khel, but also because she was curious about what a Romulan naming ceremony was like. But she doubted Voris would be receptive to the idea of her walking all the way to the surface just to watch a baby get named. "I might be busy in the clinic, but I'll try."
Khel smiled and turned to leave, but once she reached the door, she looked over her shoulder and said, "Not every happiness is chosen, you know, but you will find a way."
Voris reached the bottom of the stairs and shook the snowdrops from his hair. Winter had ignored the calendar and come early to Bergeron colony. It was much warmer underground than it was on the surface but it was still colder than he was accustomed to.
He turned the corner and nodded at Zernon as he passed the produce stand, but paused at the stall just beyond it. There were racks of clothes and rows of shoes and boots in styles from all over the Federation. He stared down at his waterproof overshoes and cloak. He would need to acquire sturdier footwear and a heavier overcoat if he was going to be making house calls above ground in the coming months.
He looked around for the attendant and quickly identified her, not by sight, but by the sound of a deep, rattling cough coming from the other side of a rack of shirts.
"Excuse me?" he asked.
"Yes? How can I-" Her reply was interrupted by another coughing fit.
"I am seeking clothing more suitable for the winter weather," he replied after the coughing had quieted down.
"Let me have a look at you then." She stood, but she was so short of stature that only her head was visible over the rack of shirts.
Voris recalled seeing her the day he'd arrived, but this closer viewpoint gave him a picture of a woman who was far more ill than he'd first supposed. Her face was a maze of wrinkles and age spots and partially hidden behind a shroud of white hair. Everything about her posture indicated she was in pain.
"How long have you had this cough?"
"What's it to you?"
"I am a physician."
"Don't need no doctor. Just need to be left in peace, unless you're here to trade." She took a series of slow breaths, suggesting that she was about to succumb to another bout of coughing, but she managed to keep it at bay.
"I recall seeing you the day of my arrival," he replied. "You were coughing then."
"And I haven't died yet, have I?"
"It does not mean you are not ill or that your condition is not serious."
"Everyone dies, doctor."
"That is true, but most people would prefer to postpone it, if given the choice."
She threw her head back and howled in laughter. "You remind me of Velara, always poking around and asking how I'm doing. And now she's dead and I'm still here."
"Did it occur to you that you might be contagious and making other people sick?"
"Ain't no one's been sick. It's the way this goes. My ma died of the coughing fits and she made it to seventy-three. I'm already seventy-six, so I figure I'm going good enough."
Voris raised an eyebrow. He would have approximated her age at closer to a hundred, given what he understood of the human life cycle and aging process. "When was the last time you saw a doctor?"
She shrugged and licked her lips. "As a child on Cygnia Minor."
"Will you permit me to ask why you have refused to see a doctor for so long?"
"No. Now do you want a warmer coat or not?"
He was about to argue but he thought of Dagny's earlier statement about gaining the colonists' trust and friendship. He had done a lot of thinking about Dagny that day. He also respected the woman's right to refuse medical care, though there was no logic in it.
"If you will not trade my medical services for clothing, I do not see what I can offer you," he replied. The colonists accrued Federation credits through their mining efforts, but had no internal system of money. Everything was done by bartering for goods, services, and favors.
"From where I'm standing, you have plenty to offer. That cloak you're wearing looks like pure Vulcan flax. Vulcans do know their textiles."
He glanced down at his overgarment. He had acquired it just after his arrival on New Vulcan. It was well tailored and very comfortable but it would not be nearly warm enough to see him through the winter. "What can you offer me for it?"
He walked away from the encounter with an Andorian fleece coat, a pair of heavy Klingon insulated boots, and a small pocket mirror to replace the one Dagny had broken. The navy blue coat had some worn patches in the elbows and a few loose fibers, but it was well made and extremely warm. The boots had not been his first choice but they were sturdy and fit well enough.
As he approached the door to the clinic, his thoughts turned to Dagny. She had been quite irritable that morning and he could not understand why. She had been eager to be done with bedrest for so long, but now that she was, she remained unhappy.
He suspected some of it had to do with the levels of her hormones. Human pregnancy hormones had the effect of creating emotional disturbances, so perhaps she was not truly at fault for her behavior that morning. But she was also only seventeen weeks pregnant and Voris understood it would get much worse before it got better.
Within the next month, the placenta would begin producing certain hormones vital to Vulcan fetal development. They were not nearly as toxic to human physiology as yam'tan, the hormone secreted in Vulcan females following conception, but they still had the effect of producing powerful emotional responses in pregnant females. Aside from hormones, there was the more peculiar issue of innate telepathy in the developing fetal central nervous system. During the last months of gestation, the fetus' brain would be sufficiently developed to begin experiencing crude emotions.
It was impossible to know what an unborn fetus who spent much of its time in different stages of sleep and had no memories of an existence beyond its mother's womb thought about, but it was easy enough to discern what they felt. It was a well-documented phenomenon that whatever brain activity was present in a fetus would also be experienced by the mother, which often led to maternal emotional outbursts.
Vulcan females tended to view controlling fetal emotions to be a personal test of character, much as Vulcan males viewed controlling their behavior during pon farr. As their pregnancies progressed, they would spend more time at home, deep in meditation, but as far as he was aware, Dagny had never even attempted to meditate.
He understood that males often ended up assisting their mates in maintaining their emotional balance by bonding with them in the final stages of pregnancy. It wasn't that he wasn't willing to assist Dagny in any way he could, but he wasn't certain she would want that kind of support, given it had been his forced mental contact with her that had led to their current situation.
Voris stopped outside the clinic door but paused before entering. It was 1827 hours and he'd been absent from the clinic for most of the day. Perhaps he could have allowed her to visit the four follow-up patients who lived in their tunnel, but he knew her well enough to know that she wouldn't "take it easy," to use her euphemism. She was a poor judge of recognizing how hard she worked and he'd feared she would overexert herself.
He found Dagny cleaning out a deep laceration to a Klingon patient's leg and two human patients waiting on the long bench by the entry. They were due to go on their mining shift in half an hour, so Voris quickly treated one of them for an eye infection and the other for a toothache and released them both. When the Klingon man left, Voris locked the clinic door behind them.
"Thanks," Dagny muttered, entering data into her PADD for the colonists' records.
"You do not need to thank me for performing my duties."
"No, I guess not." She looked up from her work to give him a neutral expression, but once she caught sight of him, her eyes narrowed. "That's not the coat you left here wearing."
"No. I exchanged my cloak for more appropriate winter attire. It began snowing on the surface late this afternoon."
Her jaw dropped. "There's snow outside?"
"Yes."
Her face lit up and she looked as though she were about to speak when suddenly her expression fell and she turned away.
"Is something the matter?" he asked.
"I want to see it."
"For what purpose?"
"I grew up on a cargo ship. Snow is something… I don't know. It's almost mythical and mysterious."
"I spent my formative years on a planet that never experienced snow but I would hardly call a natural phenomenon mythical or mysterious."
"But you're Vulcan."
Voris considered their argument that morning, when she'd expressed her deep desire to leave the clinic. "If you wish to see the snow, I shall accompany you to the surface."
She scoffed, "Are you sure?"
"I would not have offered if I were not, but I insist you don warmer clothing."
He doubted she heard the last part, because she was already tearing up the stairs to their quarters. He suppressed a feeling of anxiety as he watched her disappear from view. Why did she insist on running up and down the stairs when she could so easily fall?
She returned several minutes later wearing a pair of tall snow boots and a thick pleated pink coat. "Oh, I just remembered. Khel invited us to her baby's naming ceremony. It's supposed to be at dusk, which I think is about any time now."
She wanted to hurry up to the surface, but she was quickly limited by her lack of fitness. Severe radiation poisoning, followed by pregnancy, followed by a month of bedrest had taken a toll on her body and they were only a third of the way up the stairs when he noticed she was breathing harder. Voris suggested they return to the clinic, but she refused, so he followed her slow pace as she ascended the stairs, positioning himself directly behind her in the event that she became light-headed.
But she neither stopped nor complained and by the time they reached the surface, the gray sky had begun to transform into brilliant hues of purple and pink. It had stopped snowing, but it was cold enough to see their breath when they exhaled. Voris pulled the collar of his new coat higher around his neck and followed Dagny up the walk to the ground level. They found Mr. and Mrs. Diels, along with a group of people standing near a small fire at the edge of the central road leading to the tunnel complexes.
They fell into the back of the small crowd, but their presence did not go unnoticed. Khel smiled and waved at them and Dagny returned her gesture. They conversed with several members of the ship's crew until a natural silence fell over the gathering. It was nearly twilight and the flames cast odd moving shadows across the faces of the others.
Khel held out her baby to Jacob and said, "He is yours to do with as you will."
The father took his son, staring nervously at the fire and glancing back at his wife. "I accept him, and I name him Christopher."
Voris noticed unusual expressions streak across the Romulans' faces, but no one spoke. Christopher was a human name, but the child was half human. He was reminded of his earlier argument with Dagny about their child's upbringing. Vulcans did not share the Romulan custom of fathers naming their children. Perhaps she would insist on a human name.
Khel brandished a knife and he sensed Dagny stiffen next to him. Voris was also intrigued by the weapon's presence, but said nothing. Khel waved it through the flames and then made a small cut in her husband's arm, dipped her finger in the blood, and dabbed three circles onto Christopher's forehead. She looked to the crowd and declared, "He is made of our blood. He is Christopher."
"He is Christopher," the Romulans among the group echoed in reply.
And with that, the ceremony was over. Someone put out the fire and the group headed back to the tunnels to get out of the cold, but Dagny didn't appear to be in any hurry. She stooped down and picked up a clump of snow, rolling it over in her hands to form it into a ball.
"Why are you doing that?" he asked.
"I'm making a snowball," she grinned, tossing it up and catching it.
"Yes, but why?"
"Why not?"
Voris didn't reply. He tucked his hands behind his back, flexing his cold fingers to increase circulation to them and watching her turn around in circles as she examined the scenery in the fast fading light. It was childlike and innocent, and Voris was struck by just how young Dagny really was.
"My family comes from a place where it snows," she finally said, studying the tracks she had made. "Several generations ago, I guess."
Voris wasn't sure how to reply, so he remained silent. Dagny turned the clump of snow over in her hands. "Is there even a Vulcan word for a snowball?"
"In Vuhlkansu, snow is 'izh' and ball is 'dukal,' so to say snowball, one might say duka'izh, but it is an unusual term."
"T'Mir was trying to teach me some Vuhlkansu when I was staying with your Uncle Sarek."
"Vuhlkansu," he corrected, stressing the second syllable and shortening the s sound.
"Vuhlkan-sue? Vuhlkan-soo?" she repeated slowly, trying to mimic his pronunciation but failing. "Well, I guess you can imagine how well the lessons went."
"It is difficult for a human tongue to master."
"It's not just my pronunciation—I've already forgotten what you said snowball was."
"Duka'izh."
She dropped her snowball on the ground with an unceremonious wave of her hand and practiced rolling the words off her tongue. After five unsuccessful attempts she turned and said, "Teach me to say something else."
"What do you wish to know?"
"Anything."
"What do you already know how to say?"
"Nothing meaningful," she laughed. "I can fumble my way around words relating to cooking, housework, and basic pleasantries." She placed her index finger on her chin and thought to herself. "Let me think… ni'droi'ik nartau?"
Voris cast a sidelong glance at her. Her tongue was heavy in her mouth and without any context for what she was trying to say, it was difficult to interpret what she meant. Surely she hadn't intended to ask that?
"You're looking at me weird," she muttered, offering him an anxious smile.
He turned on the heel of his boot and began to take slow steps back in the direction of the tunnels. "It was an odd request."
"Request? What did I just say?" she asked, trotting to catch up to him.
"What did you intend to say?"
"It doesn't matter. What did I say?"
"I cannot be certain, but I believe you asked if I would accept your embrace."
She buried her face in her hands and groaned. "Well that was embarrassing. I meant to say I'm sorry."
He nodded. "There are fourteen distinct ways to offer an apology and they vary according to the offense. I believe you meant to say ni'droi'ik nar-tor, but that is an expression reserved for apologizing for a very grave mistake."
"Oh."
"For what do you apologize?"
"For being so moody this morning. I know it's probably not easy for you, living with an illogical human."
"I sense you also have difficulty cohabitating with me."
"That's a fair statement," she muttered. "But I still shouldn't yell at you."
"I am aware that human pregnancy hormones often cause unpredictable emotional fluctuations. These disturbances will only increase as your pregnancy progresses."
"Which is why I'm also sorry in advance."
"And your apology is still illogical. You are not Vulcan. You lack the lifelong training to adequately master your emotions."
"I know, but the fact that I'm not Vulcan and might not be able to relate to our child is what scares me most. But it occurs to me after watching Khel's son's naming ceremony that I don't really have much in the way of a culture, not like you probably do. My people come from Norway originally and I guess some things have stuck with my family during the last six generations we've been living in space, but for the most part, we just did as we liked without worrying too much about tradition."
"Just because your traditions are not formalized does not mean you lack them."
"No, but I'm starting to realize that I should try to be open to exploring new traditions. It's why I want to learn more about you—your culture and philosophy and language. I guess I don't have to be fluent in Vuhlkansu, but I'd at least like to know a little."
Voris nodded. He admired her willingness to learn about his people for the sake of their child but he also detected within her a deep feeling of alienation and loneliness. He didn't want their child to be estranged from either one of them, but he could not see a perfect compromise: it was not possible to be both logical and emotional. But he also knew that just because there was no perfect compromise did not mean no compromise was possible. They reached the valley floor and proceeded to the entrance to their tunnel.
"Ashau nash-veh du," Voris said.
"Huh?"
"You had asked me to teach you a Vulcan phrase."
"Oh," she chuckled. "What does that mean?"
"It means I love you."
It was too dark to see her face, but he sensed her immediate and immense discomfort, prompting him to clarify, "I had thought you might want to say it to our child. It would be a way of expressing human sentiment in a Vulcan manner."
"Oh, right. Ashau nash-veh du," she whispered to herself several times as they began their descent down the steep narrow stairs into their tunnel.
Her pronunciation was still mangled, but he did not believe it mattered. It was effort that counted, and he was grateful she had reminded him of this.