After her talk with Chrissie, T'lia went back on duty for a few hours. There were several patients she wanted to check on, including Chrissie's husband. Physically, the Klingon was making a good recovery, especially considering the severity of his injuries. Mentally however, no matter how much the proud warrior might deny it, Krang was struggling. He was not coping well with his enforced stay in hospital and the attempt to piece together what had happened to him and unlock his memories was taking its toll. He was not just a patient to T'lia, the two had known each other for a very long time and were friends of a sort, even if they did not socialise off-duty – and that was something T'lia found she very much regretted, just as she regretted not having taken the time to get to know his wife. That, she decided, was something she would make an effort to remedy.
About to enter Krang's room, she stopped in the doorway as she saw his eldest son sitting by his side. They were engaged in conversation and both appeared very serious. Those two had been at odds for years and if they were talking civilly, she would not disturb them. Quietly she retreated, shutting the door behind her and making her way to her office. She would speak with Krang later, once his son had left. Meanwhile, there was plenty of paperwork to keep her busy.
The following day T'lia was kept busy in surgery. As chief medical officer of Starbase 24, far too much of her time was spent on administrative and organisational duties, but as a senior consultant surgeon, some patients required her direct intervention. She had been in the middle of her rounds when an announcement came over the medical tannoy system. "Medical Emergency. Doctor T'lia to reception room 1, please. Calling Doctor T'lia…"
Reporting as requested, T'lia discovered an unconscious civilian male lying on the floor, an obviously upset young woman at his side. T'lia did not recognise the young woman, which was hardly surprising considering the sizeable population of the starbase, but although she was dressed in civilian clothing, she was wearing a combadge. So, she was Starfleet then, probably an ensign judging by her youth. "Can you tell me what happened?"
With surprising calm, the young woman gave the medical facts without cluttering it up with too many details of how it had happened. Apparently, they had been horse riding down on Frontera and something had startled the horse, causing it to throw its rider who had landed on a rocky surface and was now unconscious with no pulse or respiration.
As T'lia spoke with the young woman, the trauma team were already doing their jobs, surrounding the injured man and lifting him onto a bio-bed. The diagnostic arch came up and immediately, readings began to appear on the screens above him. Satisfied that she had all the necessary information T'lia turned her attention to her patient. Swiftly scanning the bio-readouts, she administered a hypospray. "No effect. Cortical stimulator!"
Anticipating the instruction, the senior paramedic was already applying the device. She nodded in satisfaction; her team were well trained and knew their jobs. The patient's body jerked. "No effect. Again." As she gave the order, T'lia noted that the young woman had started to cry, an emotional response that was understandable even if it did nothing to help. She'd done well to stay as calm as she had but obviously Starfleet training only went so far. It was doing her no good, the healer decided, to be here witnessing the attempt to save her companion. That at least was easily fixed - never taking her eyes off her patient, T'lia snapped an instruction to the junior nurse. "Umani, get her out of here!"
Even as the nurse obeyed, gently but firmly removing the young woman from the scene, T'lia felt the patient jerk again. The flat line on the monitor stuttered to life and the paramedic announced, with some relief, that he had a pulse.
Umani was already returning and T'lia quickly issued another instruction. "Call Dr Carmichael. We're going to lose him again if we don't get him into surgery right away." She herself was a skilled trauma surgeon but her colleague was a specialist in heart surgery. It was going to take both of them to keep this young man alive.
Coming out of surgery almost twelve hours later, T'lia cleaned up and headed towards her office to write her report before going off duty for the night. She was mentally and physically exhausted and very much in need of meditation and then sleep.
Opening her computer, she found several pieces of correspondence waiting for her. Much of it was work related but two were marked personal. Those two she downloaded to her padd to read immediately. None of the business correspondence was urgent so she scheduled those to read the following day.
The first message was from Kroll, informing her that he'd gone to Khitomer on Imperial Intelligence business and hoped to return to the starbase in a few days. He'd signed off with his usual irreverent humour, 'Your fearless, targ-hunting par'Mach'kai… Kroll.'
Oh that… man! He was just insufferable. Why would be not take no for an answer? She was not his par'Mach'kai… and she ruthlessly ignored the little voice that whispered 'no, not yet. But you want to be!'
If the first letter had left her in urgent need of meditation, the second one, which turned out to be from her mother, blew any possibility of her doing so out of the nearest airlock and halfway to the next galaxy. It began, as expected, with the usual polite greetings. T'lia almost sighed. Let it never be said that her ko-mekh did not observe the required formalities. The next part of the letter was equally predictable. Once again, her mother was nagging her – and there was no other word for it – to come home and take a new bondmate. It cited with flawless logic all the reasons T'lia should obey, including the good of the clan and the excessive length of time she had been widowed – as if T'lia did not know down to the last, painful second just how long that had been.
The letter went on to remind her that Solkar was unbonded, something that T'lia's mother did not approve of in the slightest.
I must also discuss with you the matter of Solkar. As a healer, my daughter, you must be well aware that it is particularly dangerous for a male to be unbonded and it cannot be denied that Solkar is of an age where this is of immediate concern. Your continued refusal to face these difficult issues and act in the best interests of your son is illogical and irresponsible and I have therefore taken steps to ensure the continued wellbeing of my grandson.
I must inform you that our clan matriarch has a candidate in mind for Solkar. T'karis is of good family and eminently suitable in every way and I expect to receive your immediate approval for the betrothal to go ahead.
Therefore, you will both take immediate leave from your positions and return to Vulcan. Tickets have been arranged for you to take passage on the next transport vessel, departing Starbase 24 on…
At that point, T'lia stopped reading. It would be very satisfying, she thought wryly, to react in Klingon fashion to the letter, to let out a screech of anger and throw the padd across the room. But she was not Klingon and so, very carefully and deliberately, she deactivated the padd and placed it on her desk.
The letter, while not completely unexpected, was unwelcome. T'lia's home was here on Starbase 24 and she did not wish to return to Vulcan. She had come to appreciate the more relaxed way of life, where nobody noticed or cared if her emotional control slipped slightly.
She was of use here; she had an important role to play and she valued her friends and colleagues. And if she did not obey? If she refused the summons, what would happen? Would the clan go as far as to declare her kre'nath? Strangely, the thought of being cast out of the clan did not concern her as much as it should. She had, after all, been halfway there for years.
As for her only son, an arranged marriage with a stranger was not what T'lia wanted for him. In spite of the disapproval of her deeply traditional family, she and Soketh had made a deliberate choice to not bond Solkar at the age of seven as was traditional, preferring to allow him to select his own bondmate in his own time.
Whoever this T'karis was, T'lia had no doubt that she was every bit as suitable for the clan as her mother claimed. The girl would be intelligent, healthy, and aesthetically pleasing, everything T'lia could hope for in a daughter-in-law. Except for one small but vital thing: Her son had not freely chosen her.
T'lia had been bonded at that age by her parents to a suitable boy of good family. It had been a bad choice; no matter how hard they tried, they just did not get on and both of them had been miserable. The two youngsters were simply not compatible and the only thing they agreed on was their mutual rejection of the future their parents had set out for them.