2 Pon Farr
Jonah deprogrammed the last of the cleaning robots. It had taken close to a month, but the last of the mud that had contaminated the Enterprise had been cleared away. Knowing his luck, now that the ship was finally clean it'd probably get blown up or crash in a planet or something. It hadn't helped being also responsible for the issuing of the new style combadges to all of the crew. That had taken almost a week. Cochrane wondered why Starfleet couldn't just pick a design of insignia and uniform they liked and then stick to it. Every time they changed it was a major job for the quartermasters to distribute the new equipment. At least tomorrow he'd be able to get back to his routine work.
He approached his quarters with some trepidation. T'Pris had been very withdrawn recently – nothing had been said but the atmosphere around her seemed tense. She'd frequently sit all evening in her room without coming out, and snap at him if he asked her anything, or ignore him completely. If she hadn't been Vulcan Jonah would have described her as "moody".
Once in the quarters that he shared with T'Pris he selected plomeek soup with a wholemeal roll from the replicator and carried it towards the table. At that moment T'Pris entered the shared area from her bedroom. Ignoring Jonah she headed towards the door.
"Hi, T'Pris" Jonah called to her "want some soup? I just replicated it."
T'Pris was short and slender for a Vulcan, but as with all members of her species, she was very strong - and fast. Before he realised what was happening he had been thrown across the room, the soup splattered all over him and the walls. His chest ached where her fist had struck him and he lay on the floor struggling for breath.
"Damned interfering qomi moron" T'Pris screamed at him. The door slid open and she was gone.
Dr. Crusher examined Jonah's chest as he sat on the edge of one of the biobeds in the sickbay.
"There's some bruising around the ribs, which would account for the painful breathing." She said. "I'll just repair the damaged tissue with a dermal regenerator." The doctor moved the instrument over Jonah's chest. His breathing became easier. "How did this happen? It looks like someone has hit you."
"Errrm," Jonah shifted uncomfortably. "I'd rather not say, doctor. It was probably my fault anyway."
"Was it Ensign T'Pris? On your records it says you share quarters with her. I've been hearing reports that she's been behaving very erratically recently. Do you know what the problem is?"
"No, doctor, I don't." Jonah stood up
"You shouldn't conceal anything." Crusher looked closely at Jonah's face, trying to read his expression, seeing if he was hiding anything. He avoided looking her in the eyes. "It won't go any further. But we need to know if there's anything wrong so that we can help her."
Jonah looked at her. Crusher saw the confusion and concern in his eyes. "Believe me, Doctor. I don't know. If I did I'd tell you. I'm really worried. I've never seen her like this before."
Deanna Troi entered Ten-Forward and saw Beverly at a table close to an observation window. She sat down opposite her and ordered a chocolate sundae from the waiter that came to serve her. Even without her empathic ability, the look of concern on Beverly's face would have alerted her.
"What is it, Beverly? You seem very concerned about something."
Beverly prodded thoughtfully at her jumja sorbet, then answered. "It's Ensign T'Pris. You know she attacked her partner this evening."
"Jonah Cochrane? No, they're not partners. They just share quarters. They are very close friends, but not more. Vulcans very rarely bond outside of their species. Most other species find the lack of emotion very difficult to come to terms with." Deanna broke off as the waiter approached. She took a mouthful of chocolate sundae, and, when the waiter had left, resumed. "He's been coming to see me recently to discuss it. He doesn't know why she's acting the way she is, but wants to help. He cares a great deal about her."
"Could that be it, tension between them? After all, if he loves her, but she's incapable of feeling anything for him ..."
"Perhaps. But surely she would react logically to a situation like that. She is not displaying behaviour that is at all possible for a Vulcan. At least as far as I understand them. I feel a great deal of tension and anger and even … " Deanna paused "sexual frustration from her. And it's increasing quite dramatically." Deanna dabbed at her sundae again. "Did you know that T'Pris has asked for an encoded message to be sent to the Vulcan High Council? And they replied to her – also encoded. I feel there must be something seriously wrong."
"Perhaps I should order her to come to sickbay for a check-up."
"And look in the medical records. Perhaps there's something on file about Vulcan physiology that could explain this."
Jonah couldn't sleep. Even though T'Pris slept in the other room across the shared area of their quarters, he could always sense her when she was close, which was in itself very comforting. She was still out, however, and he could feel her absence. He was also very worried about her. In the mood she was in when she left she could have done anything.
Jonah decided to do find her, to at least see if she was OK. He could always visit the doctor if she decided to bruise his ribs again. According to the computer she was in the arboretum.
The decks were all in semi-darkness, partially simulating night to keep the crew's circadian rhythms functioning. Up on deck 17 the arboretum was much darker. Many of the crew liked to meet in the arboretum at night, taking advantage of the darkness for their trysts. Cochrane felt embarrassed to be there on his own, although he realised most of the people there were too preoccupied to notice him. The whispered conversations and – he guessed – furtive couplings that surrounded him accentuated his own sense of isolation. He was also worried that as he searched through the bushes and trees for T'Pris that someone might mistake him for a peeping tom.
He found T'Pris sitting on a bench, staring out through an observation window. He often saw others looking though the windows in that manner. He had once been talking to Guinan in Ten-Forward and she'd told him they were looking for the star they called home. Cochrane had been born and brought up in space and had been twelve before he'd first set foot on a planet, so couldn't really do the same, but he could identify with the desire to be home, even though he had none. He guessed that T'Pris was looking out at the stars looking for Vulcan.
He approached her cautiously, not through fear of her anger, but in case he was invading her privacy.
"T'Pris?" he whispered.
She looked round at him. He saw tears in her eyes and reached for her. She collapsed into his arms, her head pressed against his chest, and began sobbing uncontrollably.
Rumours spread quickly on a starship. Within a day the entire crew had heard of the Romulan scout ship that had rendezvoused with the Enterprise and that the bridge crew had been in conference for several hours with the three people that had been aboard. There was speculation about what this could mean, often the crew might never find out, if it was a secret diplomatic mission or involved a select away team then the events would not touch them, and the general log may only have the vaguest reference to the activities. On the other hand, with Romulans involved, the likelihood of running into a Warbird was high, and if the Enterprise came under attack then everyone would know it.
Jonah checked on the general log every hour or so, to see if any mention had been made of what was happening, but nothing appeared. It must be highly secret if the crew were not being informed at all. He was very surprised, therefore, when his combadge signalled and he received an order from the Captain to go to the Observation Lounge. Usually only senior officers were involved in these high-level briefings and Cochrane had never been involved in a situation that was so secretive.
Cochrane entered the Observation Lounge. What first struck him were the large observation windows displaying an impressive view of the starfield surrounding them. The Enterprise was stationary at the moment, so no star streaming was apparent. Cochrane switched his attention to the two men in the room. One man standing in front of him was the captain. Sitting at the table was a middle-aged Vulcan. Cochrane realised with a shock that he recognised the man. It was Ambassador Spock. Cochrane was overwhelmed. This man was probably the most famous living person in the Federation, particularly because of his exploits around a century earlier on the first two U.S.S. Enterprises. Cochrane wondered what the Ambassador could possibly want with him.
"Crewman Cochrane," the Captain spoke to him. "I'd like you to meet Ambassador Spock." The only time Cochrane had met the Captain before, Picard had been about to undergo replication, and was very uncomfortable with the idea. Cochrane had seen a side of him that he'd been surprised to see, but pleasantly so. Picard had been unsure of himself, even vulnerable. Not at all as Cochrane had expected the Captain to be like. Now, though, he was confidant and very much in command, even in front of such a powerful and important person as the Ambassador.
Cochrane raised his right hand in the ta'al gesture of greeting. "Mene sakkhet ur-seveh, Ambassador," he managed to say, his ability to pronounce the Vulcan faltering under the circumstances.
"Live long and prosper" the Ambassador replied. He motioned for the Captain and Jonah to be seated.
"I requested your presence because circumstances require that Ensign T'Pris accompany me on my journey to Vulcan. She is required to take part in a ritual at her home and is entitled to request that a close friend accompany her. She has requested you. Before you agree to the journey I must be sure that you are ready to undertake that which is required of you and that you keep what you see on Vulcan to yourself."
"I am ready, sir."
"Don't reply too quickly, Crewman, before you know what will be expected of you." Cochrane felt the presence of the man dominating the room. He met the Ambassador's eyes and felt them look deep within him. "I understand that you have spent some time on Vulcan," the Ambassador asked.
"Yes, sir."
"And do you know of the ritual known as koon-ut-kal-if-fee?"
"No, sir
"Then you are not prepared for what may await you."
"With respect, sir, if T'Pris wants me to go with her, then that's all I need to know. Whatever it takes I'll be there for her."
Spock looked briefly at Picard and nodded. "We shall see."
Jonah and T'Pris entered the shuttlecraft bay. They had received their disembarkation orders and were to travel on the U.S.S. Tycho Brahe, leaving on stardate 48121.4. The Tycho Brahe was a Danube-class runabout and could accommodate the people who would be travelling to Vulcan quite comfortably for the eight days it would take. On this flight there would be seven people – in addition to Jonah and T'Pris there would be Ambassador Spock, two Romulans, the pilot - a young Andorian ensign named Anthas - and, in command of the mission, Lieutenant Worf.
Worf looked over the final two people as they came on board. Crewman Cochrane he did not know, Ensign T'Pris would normally have been more of a measurable quantity. He had accompanied her on the away mission to Legara IV and she had handled herself well. However, Doctor Crusher had informed him that she may behave quite erratically during the next few weeks. The Doctor had found in the files a veiled reference to a condition called pon farr, which Vulcans underwent occasionally. The reason for this was not clear, but T'Pris seemed to be exhibiting all of the symptoms. He was not looking forward to the mission anyway, and this latest information was not welcome. He already had to supervise two Romulans - who claimed to be diplomatic envoys concerned with the reunification of Vulcan and Romulus, but, knowing Romulans lack of trustworthiness, probably weren't – and these in the company of Ambassador Spock. Not that he was anticipating trouble from Spock, but if anything were to happen to him, the political ramifications would be immeasurable. He glanced across at Anthas as she ran through the pre-flight check one last time. At least here was a reliable quantity. Although only just out of the Academy the young Andorian was one of the best small-ship pilots on the Enterprise, at least according to Commander Riker. Anthas ran her hand through her short-cropped white hair, then along her right antenna, a gesture of impatience. Andorians were supposed to be a warrior race, aggressive and passionate. Worf felt he stood a chance of understanding her. Not like Betazoids. Perhaps this mission was for the best. Eight days away from Deanna would be preferable at this moment, since her announcement that she wanted to call off the relationship. 'It didn't feel right', was all she'd say on the matter. Worf guessed her continued friendship with Will Riker was something to do with it.
Anthas had clearance from the bridge. The shuttlebay doors opened revealing a starfield of a thousand points of light. The Tycho Brahe lifted gently from the floor of the shuttlebay and passed through the bay doors. The sudden change from enclosed space to limitless expanse could be momentarily disorientating, but Anthas seemed unmoved. She tapped a sequence into her control panel and the Tycho Brahe went to warp. The Enterprise disappeared instantaneously behind them. The journey had begun.
T'Pris's behaviour confused Jonah. She'd requested that he accompany her on her trip to Vulcan, yet she practically ignored him for most of the time, withdrawing into a corner and brooding silently. Occasionally he'd find her in deep and earnest conversation with Ambassador Spock, but the conversations ceased when he got within earshot. Commander Worf was preoccupied with observing the Romulans whom, Cochrane discovered were named Katrin and Rohan. Besides, Cochrane felt uncomfortable around the Klingon. He struck up a few conversations with Anthas. Never having met an Andorian before he was curious about their culture and their planet. Each time he did so, however, T'Pris would interrupt and draw his attention away, then soon withdraw and become silent again. Although not an empath, Jonah was aware that the Vulcan was torn between various pressures, though what they were he couldn't determine. The runabout had accommodation for six people, Anthas and Worf alternated their occupation of their shared bunk, sleeping there while the other was on duty. The quarters were cramped however, and Jonah soon found the inability to escape from the atmosphere created by T'Pris's behaviour very trying. Then on the second night, while he lay awake, the confusions of the previous day running through his head, he felt someone slip quietly into his bed. It was T'Pris. She held him tightly, he put his arms around her, unsure of what she wanted from him. She began to sob quietly. Jonah caressed her hair and she soon fell asleep. Jonah, however, lay awake all night.
On the third day the Tycho Brahe was hailed. Anthas called Worf.
"Sir, there's a ship. They're asking to speak to Ambassador Spock."
"Ask them to identify themselves."
"They claim to be a delegation from Vulcan. On board the T'Lar."
"Are they on our sensors?"
"On screen, sir."
Anthas tapped her control panel. A Vulcan shuttle appeared on the screen before them.
"Put them through" Worf ordered.
An elderly Vulcan appeared on the screen. Spock spoke from behind Anthas and Worf.
"Greetings, Savrik."
"Greetings, Spock. You have the two Romulan delegates with you?"
"They are here."
"And their wish to discuss extended contact between our two planets is genuine?"
"I believe so."
"Ah, unfortunate."
"Savrik?" Spock's reaction could have been read as surprise, if surprise were not an emotion.
"No matter. And the young woman who wished to return to Vulcan, is she there too?"
"T'Pris. Yes she is here. Her time is nearly upon her."
"Thank you for providing a pretext for her journey to Vulcan. It was fortuitous that your journey took you to the Federation starship on which she was serving. We must work quickly if we are to conceal such aberrations from these tviokh that surround us." Savrik beckoned to someone off-screen. A younger male Vulcan appeared. "This is her adun, Selik."
"Greetings. Can I assume that this is the purpose of your interception of us? To facilitate the early meeting of these two."
"You may assume that, yes. However," the Vulcan made a hand gesture to someone off-screen. "You would be in error to do so."
An alarm sounded that almost drowned out his last words. Anthas's control console lit up with a series of warning lights.
"What is it?" Worf sprang to the pilot's side as she frantically tapped sequences n the panel.
"I'm not sure, the warp engine suddenly went off-line. The plasma flow is interrupted. We're facing a warp-core breach in ten seconds."
"Jettison the warp-core."
Anthas did so. The runabout juddered as it recoiled from the ejection. Several of the warning lights winked out.
"And raise the shields."
"I'm trying, sir. They don't respond."
"T'ruk-D'h" Worf swore. "Prepare to fire."
"Oh, I would not do that, Klingon," Savrik warned. "Without shields you are extremely vulnerable. For instance, unshielded there is nothing you can do to prevent us transporting another of these" he held up a large metal cylinder "into your ship. Except next time" Savrik paused for effect, "our transporter will target a life form rather than a ship's system. A Klingon perhaps, or maybe an Andorian. A rather unpleasant experience I should imagine, having a block of dentarium transported into your body."
"What do you want?" Worf demanded.
"To talk, nothing else. Do not worry, you will not be harmed. As long as you do as we say."
Worf was livid. He had been unprepared. He had trusted the Vulcans because he had relied on the Ambassador's judgment, but Vulcans were notoriously gullible. Or perhaps simply trusting. After all, it had been the man who now faced him who had first begun the negotiations between the Federation and the Empire that led to the Khitomer accords. He had been one of the few to trust Klingons at that time.
Now Worf had to decide what to do to limit the damage that had been done. The T'Lar was towing them towards a nearby planet, but so far there was no indication that they would be harmed. The Tycho Brahe had impulse power, but no warp drive. The T'Lar was also blocking their subspace signal. Worf had looked over the shield generators. They were irreparable. A solid block of dentarium protruded from the generators' casing.
"How did they manage to transport those cylinders into our warp drive through their shields?" Anthas asked.
"They didn't," Worf answered. "They'd probably programmed a remote to do it." Worf considered his options. "We could probably hit it with our phasers, but they may have many of them. We couldn't hit all of them at once, and it would only take one and …." It was a coldly logical method of waging war – no physical contact, no mass destruction, just small blocks of metal transported purposefully into the bodies of their opponents.
"Could we break free of the tractor beam?" Anthas asked.
"We could, but they could easily catch us up again. And where could we go?" Worf cursed under his breath. "Without a warp drive it would take us years to reach the nearest inhabited planet."
"So we surrender?"
"No!" Worf refused to accept that as an alternative. "We wait – and seize the opportunity when it presents itself."
Six hours later the T'Lar with the Tycho Brahe in tow entered the atmosphere of a class-M planet that was not recorded on any of the charts held in the runabout's database. Worf chose this moment to make a move against the Vulcans.
"We can't let them choose our landing place, who knows what reinforcements they may have on the ground." He spoke to Anthas. "Use the gravity of the planet to assist – use a deep angle of descent then pull away."
Anthas placed her hands on the console and rapidly began tapping a sequence of instructions. The runabout tipped forward and shot past the Vulcan shuttle in front of them. An alarm sounded again.
"Impulse engines off-line. We're falling."
The atmosphere of the planet began buffeting the runabout. Worf strapped himself in. He hoped his passengers had done the same in their quarters. The Tycho Brahe had too great an angle of descent. Anthas began trying to pull up the nose of the runabout, attempting to establish a glide trajectory. The hull temperature began to rise dangerously high. The ship shook, as if it were about to fall apart, then the motion ceased.
"They've locked onto us again. They're bringing us in."
The T'Lar reappeared on the viewscreen. Clouds passed by them, then the ground appeared. The surface was red and dusty. There appeared to be no vegetation, no signs of life of any sort. The ships' descent slowed further as they neared the ground. Before them a small compound appeared on the otherwise utterly bare plain. It was a circle of prefabricated huts surrounded by a simple metal fence. The T'Lar passed slowly above the compound, holding the Tycho Brahe below it. The tractor beam was turned off and the runabout fell the ten metres to the ground with a jolt. The impact produce a large cloud of dust and sand that filled the compound then slowly settled.
In a cabin at the back of the runabout Jonah let out his breath. His neck ached from whiplash he'd received as the runabout had hit. T'Pris had been squeezing his hand. He slowly uncurled her fingers from it. "I'm just going outside" he told her.
Outside the runabout Worf was checking the compound, his phaser held out before him. Anthas was looking at the impulse engines. Solid blocks of dentarium were embedded in the engine casings, where the T'Lar had transported them. That explained why they had suddenly gone off-line. The warp nacelles were similarly damaged.
"Hi, Anthas," Jonah spoke to her. She looked up at him briefly, then went back to checking over them. "Any chance of fixing them?" he asked her. She shrugged.
"There might be enough salvageable from two of them to put together one single one." She ran her finger over the dentarium block where it had fused with the impulse engine. She looked up at the sky. The sun was nearing the horizon. "Anyway, whatever we do it'll have to wait until tomorrow."
Jonah wandered round to the front of the Tycho Brahe. He looked at the nose section, which had been burnt to a burnished gold colour by the heat of re-entry, which Jonah thought was appropriate. He looked back at the runabout exit hatch. The two Romulans were disembarking.
"So what are the Vulcans up to now?" Katrin asked, to no-one in particular. Jonah followed her line of sight, and saw Spock talking to two figures at the far side of the compound.
"I have no idea," Jonah replied. "Let's find out." The three of them, Jonah and the two Romulans, walked across the compound, dust kicked up round them as they walked. As they neared the figures it was obvious that they were actually holograms standing within the circle of a holo-emitter platform. Of course, their captors would not want to enter the compound, that would put themselves at risk.
"… food and water provided by replicators", the one who was not Savrik was saying. "You are free to wander as you wish. However, there is no where for you to go. The planet is entirely uninhabited."
"All that we ask is that you listen to us" Savrik continued. "We want to persuade you of the foolishness in dealing with the tviokh as you are doing. Three days, that is all we ask. Then you will all be free to go."
"What about the two who are undergoing pon farr? What provision has been made for them?" Spock asked.
"Selik is receiving the attention he needs. His aduna is your responsibility" Savrik replied.
Worf had joined them. He eyed the two Romulans suspiciously, then turned on the Vulcans.
"I am Lieutenant Worf of the Starship Enterprise. I demand the release of my …" Worf broke off. The Vulcans had disappeared. Worf gave a snarl of anger. "Arrogant pahtks," he yelled into the air. Jonah, Spock and the two Romulans stepped back from him, unsure of what the Klingon would do. He swept the four with a furious look, then stalked off back to the runabout. Jonah breathed out shakily. This would be an extremely long three days.
"Who are they?" Worf demanded of Spock.
"The highest probability is that they are Vulcan Isolationists," Spock replied. "Savrik is well-known as a reactionary within the Vulcan High Council. They are opposed to the Reunification movement. Perhaps they plan to try and persuade me to end my diplomatic attempts with the Romulans." Spock thought for a few moments. "I don't think they will harm us."
Worf grunted his disbelief. He had checked the perimeter of the camp earlier that morning. There had been nothing stopping him leaving the compound, but beyond lay nothing but desert. Savrik had been right. There was nowhere for them to go. All of their communications were being jammed too. Not only could they not use the subspace radio on the Tycho Brahe, they couldn't talk to each other on their combadges either.
Worf and Spock were sitting in the largest of the prefabricated domes, the one that had been designated the evening before as the meeting-place. The others had become quarters for the seven prisoners. Each dome had replicators and places to sleep, but nothing else. "Ensign Anthas and I will attempt to repair the runabout. You talk to Savrik and the others. Persuade them to let us go. "
"If you request it, Lieutenant. However, if I know Savrik, nothing will make him change his mind."
Spock's passivity angered Worf. The man seemed prepared to simply wait out the captivity. Worf needed action. He left the main dome and walked across the centre of the compound to the runabout. Ensign Anthas and Crewman Cochrane were dismantling the impulse engines with tools Anthas had replicated. Damaged sections had been discarded in a pile to one side, the rest were laid out carefully.
"Where is Ensign T'Pris?" Worf asked them.
"I'm not sure." Cochrane answered.
"And the Romulans?"
The other two shook their heads. Worf swore to himself. Romulans were notoriously untrustworthy, and he was the only member of Starfleet here with experience of them. Ensigns Anthas and T'Pris were competent enough, but too naïve to be relied upon. He left the runabout and began trying to find the Romulans.
Cochrane and Anthas turned their attention back to the runabout. They were making good progress and had developed an easy working relationship, Anthas taking the lead in the work, Cochrane helping where he could. It was Cochrane's first experience of an Andorian, and despite having become accustomed to the unemotional nature of T'Pris over the previous months, he had quickly found Anthas's outbursts of venom as she swore at an unyielding item endearing rather than intimidating.
The heat of the desert had taken its toll on both of them. Anthas had removed her jacket and the singlet she wore left her neck and shoulders exposed to the sun. Both of them were unused to ultraviolet rays – a result of living the majority of their lives on board a starship - and the sun had burnt her pale blue skin a raw purple colour. Jonah had found a dermal regenerator and had repaired the damage, and was rubbing a sunblock cream over Anthas's skin when T'Pris appeared.
"So," T'Pris confronted them. "Instead of working on the runabout you waste your time engaged in sexual dalliance. Is Lieutenant Worf aware of this?"
Jonah surprised himself by feeling guilty, even though he had not been doing anything of a sexual nature, and even if he had, his relationship with T'Pris was only a platonic one. Even so he began responding apologetically "T'Pris - it's not what you …" Jonah got no further. Anthas had pulled away from him and was standing only a few centimetres from T'Pris, yelling into her face.
"Damn Vulcan prig, who the hell do you think you are you…?" after which Jonah only heard a string of Andorian invective which his Universal Translator could not, or would not, render into his own language.
T'Pris stood there unmoved, then responded with a look of sheer contempt and walked away. Anthas clenched and unclenched her hands, trying to control her temper.
"I'd better see if she's OK." Jonah said.
"Tell that pahtk to stay out of my way." Anthas snarled.
"She's not normally like this – she's not been herself" Jonah thought better of continuing his feeble attempt to placate the Andorian and hurried after his friend.
Meanwhile Worf had tracked down the two Romulans. They were outside the compound surveying the desert that surrounding the small encampment. Worf confronted them.
"In future you will inform me if you leave the compound."
Rohan glanced at the Klingon then returned to gazing out into the distance. "I don't think so. I'm not answerable to you, or any Klingon fvai."
Worf's response was instant. He struck the Romulan with the back of his hand. Rohan fell to the ground. He sat there sitting dazedly touching his lip where a thin trickle of green had appeared. He looked up at Worf, standing there tensed, waiting for an attack, and prepared to kill if there was one, and stayed where he was.
In the dome that had become their quarters Jonah was consoling T'Pris. He had found her on her bunk, staring at the ceiling.
"What's the matter, T'Pris?" he asked her. "Are you OK? You've been acting … differently."
She was silent for so long Jonah wondered if she'd heard him, or if he'd offended her and she was ignoring him. Eventually she spoke.
"It's … it's to do with biology."
"What? Vulcan biology? You mean, the biology of Vulcans?"
"Well of course. What else?" T'Pris looked at him, a puzzled expression on her face.
"It's just, you seem so … emotional at times."
"It happens periodically. Every seven years. Male Vulcans go through an emotional cycle. It's called pon farr." T'Pris dropped her voice. "It's unusual for Vulcan females to experience it. Savrik called me an aberration. That's why they want to cover up my real reason for going home. They wouldn't admit to anything so illogical, or even emotional, but I think Savrik and Spock are actually ashamed of pon farr, and of a female experiencing it especially." T'Pris looked up at Jonah. "It's a sort of inheritance of our past," she explained. "We get an urge to return to our home planet. And instead of returning home," she reflected, "I'm trapped here."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Jonah asked.
"Just stay with me. Talk to me. Help me get through it."
Jonah nodded. Maybe the three days wouldn't seem so long after all.
The sun was nearing the horizon again. The seven prisoners were ending the first full day of their confinement. Two figures appeared within the circle of the holo-emitters. Spock approached them. It was Savrik and the other Vulcan from the previous night, whom Savrik had introduced as Toroth.
"Live long and prosper, Spock." Savrik raised his hand in the ta'al gesture. Spock did not respond.
"You disapprove of our actions, then?"
"You confine us against our will, trap us on this inhospitable planet and deny us the chance to contact either the Enterprise or Vulcan. Of course I disapprove."
"But, Spock, consider instead the opportunity we have presented you. The opportunity to observe at close hand the behaviour of those species with whom you would expect us to consort. For example, the Andorian female. Labouring for hours to reconstruct a vehicle which logically can never fly again. Or the human male, attracted to both of the Starfleet ensigns, yet incapable of acting on his desires, and with no awareness of how futile such feelings are. Or the Romulans and the Klingons, driven to conflict, unable to suppress their base angers, their hostility revealing the racism they cannot escape. And you expect us to treat these people as equals?"
"Yes. Yes I expect you to treat them as equals. Remember the teachings of Turovh? That collaboration between peoples is an exchange of what the other lacks, for mutual benefit? Where would the advantage be in collaborating with those who are identical to ourselves? Yes, Worf, Rohan and Katrin have feelings of hostility to each other, but there is much strength and honour there too. The human, Cochrane, may lack awareness of his own emotions and be conflicted in his actions, but his feelings for T'Pris and Anthas lead him to perform many acts of kindness and generosity towards them. And who knows, despite what logic may suggest, Ensign Anthas may yet repair the runabout."
Toroth and Savrik exchanged glances, then Toroth spoke.
"We will leave you, Spock. Perhaps another day here will help you to see things in a different light." The figures dissolved leaving Spock alone in the desert evening.
T'Pris and Jonah lay next to each other in the narrow bunk. Neither of them could sleep. As Jonah had gone to his own bunk, T'Pris had climbed in next to him and held him close to her. Jonah had hoped that this was an invitation for a sexual advance, an opportunity for him to demonstrate that his feelings for her were more than platonic, but when he had begun to kiss her, she had pulled away from him. Of course, he had admonished himself, she's a Vulcan, they don't do that sort of thing. He had apologised and instead just held her, providing her with whatever comfort she needed during this "emotional" period. Suddenly T'Pris sat up.
"What's the matter?" Jonah asked her.
"It's no good." She climbed out of their bed. "I need help resolving the pon farr." She began dressing.
"Where are you going?"
"The ambassador."
"Who? Spock?" Jonah asked, but she was gone.
Sleep still evaded Jonah. He wondered what Spock could provide that he couldn't. Probably some Vulcan meditation technique or something. He rubbed his neck where it ached from the whiplash. With no medic on board, no-one had been able to treat it effectively. He lay in his bed awake staring into the darkness, trying to ignore the pain.
The next morning Jonah found T'Pris asleep in her bed. He fixed her breakfast from the replicator and she seemed to have regained much of her equanimity. They had started helping Anthas put together one of the impulse engines, until T'Pris had started lecturing Anthas on the correct alignment of magnetic impulsion coils. Anthas had turned to Jonah and, very quietly, had explained to him that if he didn't get that patronising Vulcan bitch out of her face she would kill her. His Universal Translator hadn't had a problem with that.
Jonah could see that T'Pris was starting to slip back into the malaise of the previous few days and had tried to distract her with one of his own favourite meditation techniques. He had begun creating eseekas in the sand, allowing the gradually evolving shape of the sand pattern to take over his conscious mind. T'Pris had patiently observed for a while, then begun to emulate the human, and form an eseeka of her own. The tension she felt as a result of the continuing pressure of her plak tow was beginning to dissipate when a motion on the other side of the compound distracted her. Two figures had appeared in the circular holo-emitter. T'Pris recognised one of them. It was her adun, Selik. The other figure was female.
T'Pris walked over to the holo-emitter and greeted the two Vulcans.
"T'Pris. How are you?" Selik replied. "We are concerned about you, isolated here during your pon farr. Have you managed to overcome the plak tow?"
"I have managed to deal with it in some measure. As have you I see." T'Pris had noticed the body language between the two Vulcans. They had obviously bonded recently. Seeing her adun still in the throes of the plak tow, and with a mate other than herself was unsettling. She attempted to clear her mind of emotion. However, t'an s'at would not come easily. "And if you were so concerned you would not detain us here."
"I am in agreement with Savrik and the others, and I find no fault in their actions. We must protect ourselves from corruption. Ambassador Spock must be made to see that he is in error for attempting to form an alliance with outworlders." Selik looked with disdain at Jonah who was now standing beside T'Pris.
"You've changed, Selik. I would not bond with you even if I could. I no longer want you."
"But, T'Pris," Selik stepped to the edge of the circle of the holo-emitter. His image stood only a few centimetres from her. "What you want and what you need are two different things."
The woman with Selik took his hand and pulled him out of the circle. Their images disappeared as they left the holo-emitter. T'Pris stood motionless, Jonah turned to her.
"What was that about?"
"Not now, Jonah," T'Pris almost snarled the words. She turned away and began walking purposefully towards the Ambassador's quarters.
"Where are you going now?" Jonah asked but T'Pris ignored him.
Anthas was reassembling the starboard impulse engine of the Tycho Brahe. Jonah decided to offer to help her. With all the difficulties he was having talking to T'Pris, working with Anthas was the only thing keeping him sane.
"How's it going?" he asked.
"OK." Anthas ducked out from under the engine cowling, the light blue of her face was grimed with sand and dust. "But even with this repulsor field it's difficult reassembling and keeping the engine free of sand."
"No problem, I'll replicate something to blow the sand away." Jonah entered the runabout and returned with a small air jet. They worked for a while in silence. The heat started to get to him.
"Are you going to work here all day?" he asked.
"I've nearly finished. We should be able to fly this thing tomorrow some time. I just need to calibrate the thrusters – once I've finished the reassembly."
"But why – where can we go?"
"The Vulcans are only fifty or so kilometres away. We can fly that far, take their shuttle from them and get back to the Enterprise in that. It's unlikely to be that easy – but it's our best chance."
"You managed to work out where they were?"
"The Romulans did – they got our sensors back on-line. Worf found them messing around in the Tycho and threw them out. He hasn't let them out his sight since. I thing there's going to be a big bust-up before too long. That's why I want to get out of here. Even if the Vulcans are going to let us go, I'd rather we got out sooner rather than later."
You don't think they will let us go?"
"Who knows? Who can figure Vulcans?"
"I thought I did .. but then .."
"Oh yes, your girlfriend. Thanks for keeping her out of my way. She really gets on my antennae."
"She's just a friend - nothing more. And she's not usually like this. She's going through a bad time – pon farr it's called. It makes her a bit emotional, apparently."
"So why does she spend so much time with the Ambassador? You don't think they're … " Anthas left it unsaid, but Jonah guessed what she meant.
"No, of course not. Any other species I would think that they were both lovers, but T'Pris isn't like that – everything she's ever said about relationships, and sex, has been disparaging. God knows how they do reproduce, but knowing them it would be something … logical."
Anthas and Jonah worked for most of the afternoon. Once the outer casing was back in place, Anthas began sealing the casing with her phaser while Jonah returned to the dome he shared with T'Pris.
He found her there, she was removing a small metal circlet from her upper arm.
"What's that?" Jonah asked – his heart in his mouth.
She let it drop onto the plain metal table that stood in the middle of their dome.
"It's a conception inhibitor" she answered in a manner that indicated that it should be obvious what it was.
Cochrane felt cold. "What … what for ..?"
T'Pris looked at him with incredulity. "So that I don't get pregnant, what else would it be for?"
"You mean … you've been having sex? With him? With the Ambassador?"
"Of course." T'Pris was almost irritated. "I did tell you. I remember quite clearly informing you that I was with the Ambassador."
"You said to resolve the pon farr. I thought that was some meditation technique or something." Jonah was aware he was being unreasonable, that she wasn't his partner. He had no cause to feel jealous. But it seemed so wrong. All he could think of was 'but he's so old'. How old was Spock? 130? 140? Why him? The question screamed inside his head.
"Why him?" he managed to keep his voice level.
"You mean, why him and not you?" Jonah nodded mutely. He didn't want to be the kind of person who would have this kind of conversation but he felt impelled down its path.
"You and I are friends. We are very close. I value that friendship." T'Pris said, almost dismissively. She obviously felt the discussion was beneath her. "I have observed humans and have learnt that when they mate there are many emotions and expectations that are concomitant with the act. I did not wish those associations to accrue around our relationship."
"But you could have chosen me. We've been so close, meant so much. Could you really desire him more than me?" He's so old. You know me so much more. You leave me in the middle of the night when I'm there for you and go to him. You had seemed so disparaging of physical relationships, how could you then behave so completely sexually? So much was running through Jonah's head. But all that came out was "Why not me?"
"The Ambassador understands. He accepts the situations that occur around pon farr. He would not be emotional."
"You could have explained to me what you wanted. I could have been unemotional if that's what you needed."
"As you are being unemotional now? I do not think you are capable of it."
She was right. He was too human. Choosing Spock as her lover was the logical decision. But why did it always have to be logic? But of course. Even in the throes of emotion, she was still Vulcan. She could not feel for him what he felt for her. He sat on to his bunk, bewildered by his conflicting feelings.
By his reaction T'Pris could see she'd made her point. Jonah's reaction had disappointed her. Why were humans so complicated? The placidity, the simplicity, of the Ambassador had been a welcome relief from the complexities and demands of relating to Jonah. Perhaps the Isolationists were right. Perhaps Vulcans shouldn't sully themselves with contact with other species.
"T'Pris …" Jonah began.
"I do not wish to discuss the matter further. Please leave."
Jonah hesitated a moment, then also decided it was the best thing for him to do. He left the dome and entered the heat of the desert afternoon.
He walked towards the runabout, still feeling numb, imagining Spock's hands on T'Pris, his elderly body together with hers. The jealousy hit him with a sudden nausea.
Anthas saw him from the runabout and came over to him.
"Are you all right?"
"Ah yes," he managed a smile. "I will be."
"You've found out about Spock and T'Pris, yes?" Anthas asked him.
Jonah was surprised. "How did you know?"
"It was pretty obvious. I did try to tell you. Remember?" Anthas took his hand. "Come inside, I'll get you a drink."
The runabout was cool and dark compared to outside, Anthas ordered two drinks from the replicator, running her hand through her close-cropped white hair, then along her right antenna. Jonah felt a profound gratitude to the young Andorian. He had really been about to lose it before she'd rescued him.
She handed the drink to him.
"What is it?"
"Barley water. A Terran drink. Very refreshing. Haven't you heard of it? I thought you were Terran."
Jonah shook his head. "Two of my father's parents were, but I've never been there." He took a sip. He felt the tears start to well. "Sorry. This is ridiculous," he apologised. Anthas shrugged.
T'Pris entered the runabout. "Lieutenant Worf has asked one of us to assist him in keeping watch over the Romulans," she informed them. "I thought one of you would be better suited to the task as I will need to check over the impulse engine calibrations."
"I'll go." Jonah replied dully. He felt Anthas stiffen with irritation at T'Pris's officious manner. He didn't need more stress, he thought, and so hurriedly left the Tycho. He looked around for Worf and the two Romulans, but couldn't see them. Spock, however, was by the holo-emitter talking to Savrik and Toroth. Jonah felt ill at the thought of talking to the Ambassador, but needed to enquire where Worf was.
The three Vulcans looked at him briefly then returned to their conversation.
"… and as you can see, the diverse species can learn to work and live together," Spock was saying. He touched a mark on his cheek. A bite mark. Jonah saw the gesture, and saw the mark. An image of T'Pris, in the heat of passion, with this man, flooded his vision. The next thing he knew he had flung himself at the Vulcan.
Spock felt the fist hit before he saw the young human move. It caught his upper lip and nose. In a reflex action he administered the totsu'k'hy to the man's neck and Jonah collapsed. Spock dabbed at the blood from his nose. As he looked at the green liquid on his fingers he heard a crash. The fence surrounding the compound collapsed as Katrin fell through. She was followed by Worf, Rohan hanging onto his back. Worf twisted and threw Rohan to the ground, but as he did so Katrin regained her feet and leaped at the Klingon, arms flailing. Spock groaned inwardly. He had hoped to persuade Savrik of the value of interspecies collaboration but now .. he heard another noise. A female scream of rage. T'Pris and Anthas appeared at the door of the runabout. Anthas slapped the Vulcan across the face and T'Pris fell to the ground. Anthas jumped onto her. T'Pris wriggled from under the Andorian. 'At least T'Pris knows how to show control,' Spock thought, but to his dismay T'Pris straddled the Andorian, gripped her antennae and began banging her head against the desert floor. At his feet Jonah stirred. The nerve pinch combined with the poorly treated whiplash combined to create a vicious stabbing pain in his neck. He felt extremely ill. Spock looked around at Klingon fighting Romulan, Andorian against Vulcan, aware that Savrik and Toroth could see the same and would believe this confirmed their every prejudice. He touched the blood-green stain on his robe and only at the exact point that the thought occurred to him that this must be the very nadir of his belief in the essential integrity of the Federation did Jonah vomit over his feet.
Worf ran the medi-scanner over Jonah. He seemed to be all right, but Worf couldn't be sure. They should have brought a medic along with them. But no-one thought this would be anything other than a routine trip to Vulcan.
Even though Worf had been raised amongst humans, they still surprised him sometimes. They seemed to combine the worst, and the best, of all the other species he knew. They could be as logical as Vulcans, as greedy as Ferengi, as coldly callous as Cardassians, as treacherous as Romulans, or, as in the case of this man here, as passionately violent as Klingons. And if there was one feature that was unique to humans it was their adaptability, perhaps they were so adaptable because they were already so many things. Where Klingons would stand firm, solid, until they broke, humans flowed, and adapted and endured.
Jonah started to sit up, then moaned and held his neck. Another thing Worf had noticed about humans, Worf noted as he watched Jonah recover. They seemed to find ways to relate to most other species. Perhaps because they were so diverse they could always find something in common with most of them. Jonah Cochrane had been at the core of this group, not doing much, but keeping the others going, finding something to smooth the way. Things had fallen apart, but without the human they probably would have done so much more quickly. More important even than a medic on an away mission, humans. He'd always choose to have one along. They seemed to be the gel that held the Federation together.
Worf's own fight with the Romulans had been very brief. The three had soon realised the stupidity of their actions and stopped. The two ensigns had not been so easily calmed. Worf had had to physically pull them apart, which had required a lot of strength. When he had been sure that they could be trusted not to renew their fight Worf had looked for Jonah and had found him still curled at the feet of the Ambassador. Worf had carried him to his bunk where he had hardly moved since.
Worf administered a hypo to take away the pain. Jonah muttered his thanks, glanced at the Lieutenant, then groaned and put his head in his hands.
"Sorry, sir," he said "I let the side down."
"No." Worf answered. "The man had taken your par'machkai. You behaved as any Klingon would. You behaved with honour."
"But she's not my par'machkai. I had no reason to hit the Ambassador. And he's the Ambassador! I attacked Ambassador Spock."
"Then he stood in the way of her becoming your par'machkai. You fought for your woman. I could not say that you did the wrong thing. There will be no reprimand from me." Jonah nodded his thanks. "However," Worf continued. "It pains me to say this but …" he paused "to live amongst others, those who expect more – control – it is not acceptable to behave in this way." An image from his past filled Worf's mind – a young boy falling, his neck broken. "I have learnt that much self-discipline is required. You should do the same." Jonah nodded.
"Perhaps I should go and apologise to the Ambassador."
"He is meditating and does not want to be disturbed." Jonah was relieved. He didn't want to see him. It still made his skin crawl to think of Spock and T'Pris together.
Worf left Jonah. Night had fallen and he had decided to spend the night sleeping in the runabout in case the Romulans decided to hijack it, although Anthas claimed it was still not flightworthy. Jonah waited for T'Pris to arrive – he wanted to explain himself to her. But she did not appear, it seemed she had chosen to sleep somewhere else that night. Jonah wondered where.
Sleep would not come. He needed to move. He left the dome and entered the compound.
The desert sky was full of stars. Jonah found them comforting, like being in space. He had spent enough time on planets to feel comfortable on them, but he missed being able to look out at the stars whenever he wished, seeing them surround him. Jonah felt an urge to remove himself from everyone, to be completely alone. He walked through the hole in the fence made by Katrin earlier that day, and walked out into the desert.
He made sure that he kept the compound in view – he didn't want to get lost out in the night – but he walked as far as he could without losing sight of it. He wandered for an hour or so, then sat exhausted by both the effort of walking on the sand and the repeated cycle of thoughts running through his mind. He sat on the top of a dune, looking up at the sky. Imagining he was back in space – travelling between the stars. Towards where he didn't know. Everything was perfectly still, he might be the only person in the Universe. He was alone, just himself and infinity stretching out in all directions. And complete silence. The silence seemed to absorb all of the internal noise, leaving him empty and at peace. He lay back, the chill of the desert night was refreshing after the heat of the day, and he slept.
Jonah woke – momentarily disorientated – and tried to stand on the collapsing sand. He slipped, falling down the side of the dune. He lay for a few moments, then climbed back up to the top of the dune – and could not see the compound. He had climbed up the wrong dune. He tried to retrace his steps, but still could not see the lights of the settlement. He was lost. Trying to stay calm he decided to wait until morning. Perhaps then he'd be able to see his way back.
Anthas shielded her eyes from the light of the sun, trying to see some signs of life amongst the surrounding dunes. She and T'Pris had been searching for several hours, ever since Anthas had discovered that Jonah had gone missing late that morning. T'Pris had spent the night in her dome and they'd spent most of the night talking. The anger that she felt towards T'Pris, that had arisen out of her feelings of protectiveness towards Jonah had gone. She felt she understood the Vulcan now, and felt very drawn to her calmness and quiet intensity. Anthas also accepted that T'Pris did care for Jonah too, in her own particular way. In fact, when they had woken up, several hours after dawn, it had been T'Pris who had requested her to see if Jonah was all right.
The Andorian had knocked on the door to Jonah's dome, then on no reply had entered. She had begun to become more worried as she'd checked the compound and found no sign of him. She knew he'd been feeling depressed the day before, and she was beginning to fear the worst. She had returned to T'Pris, who shared her concern about what Jonah may have done and the two of them had alerted Worf.
Worf had shared their concerns. The long walk into the desert of the dishonoured male was a common theme in Klingon folklore, and for him it had seemed the natural thing for Jonah to seek a resolution to the events by choosing that course of action. Even though it was an honourable death, Worf had decided that, if he could, he would prevent the crewman from taking it. He had not lost someone under his command for five years and did not want to lose another one ever again. Worf directed the others, therefore, to begin a search of the desert surrounding the compound. Worf and Spock had taken one direction, Anthas and T'Pris another, Rohan and Katrin a third.
Anthas looked back at the compound to make sure she still had her bearings, then looked over at T'Pris. The Vulcan seemed to have unfailing energy. Even taking into account her species' adaptation to desert life, and the protection her dark skin gave her against the sun, she was pushing herself too hard. If they didn't find him soon then …
A sound interrupted her line of thought. The runabout! Anthas looked back at the compound and saw it rise above the domes, dip uncertainly, then fly slowly towards the east. The Romulans must have been able to get the engine on-line. The runabout listed heavily to one side, with only one engine working its lift was unevenly balanced. Anthas watched the Tycho disappear into the distance, her anger at the theft mixed with pride that she had at least got the runabout working.
Jonah thought he might die on the sand. The heat had become intense, the sun had climbed almost overhead. It was becoming difficult to see, the glare from the light difficult to endure. He thought it was fitting. All his life he'd been blind to how stupid he was, how pathetic his dreams. Of being a trader like his parents, of graduating from the Academy, of completing the kohlinahr training, of finding happiness with a woman like T'Pris. Perhaps he deserved to die in the desert, from something as pointless as getting lost. He stumbled and fell, the sand hot against his hands. He didn't know if he'd get up again.
Then he heard a noise, the sound of impulse engines. In the sky to the left he saw a dark shape, it was the Tycho Brahe, listing badly to one side. He followed the direction of its flight and judged the direction it must have flown from. Stumbling to his feet he began the slow trudge back to the compound.
Worf' could barely contain his anger as he waited by the holo-emitter for a message from the Vulcans. He had lost one of his team to the desert and now the Romulans had stolen the runabout. The mission itself had fallen apart with infighting and bickering. For Worf leadership was about action, and an enemy to fight, not this delicate balancing of personalities and diplomatic solutions. He above all resented the fact that it had been the Romulans that had acted, by stealing the runabout, leaving him looking weak and passive. With nothing else to do but to wait for a message to find out what had happened.
Luckily for his blood pressure he did not have to wait long to hear from the Vulcans. Toroth appeared. Alone this time. His arm was badly burnt and held in a sling. He looked round at Spock, T'Pris, Anthas and Worf, like an animal at bay.
"So Spock. Do you stand with us, or against us? Do you defend your Vulcan heritage, or aid its destruction?"
"Preserving the Vulcan inheritance has always been of great importance to me," Spock answered.
Toroth straightened slightly, strengthened by this statement, which he perceived to mean that he had succeeded in changing the Ambassador's mind.
"Vulcan's inheritance is the entire galaxy. It is our privilege to share it with a variety of races, a complete spectrum of cultures. Everything that belongs to them is ours to share. I would not want to deny our race the smallest part of that inheritance."
"What? The masses who alternately copulate and destroy, giving in to their emotions?" Savrik demanded, unaware of the irony of himself displaying the emotional behaviour he was condemning others for using. "Is that what you want for us?" He indicated his arm. "Look what those Romulans inflicted on us."
Spock raised an eyebrow quizzically.
"They attacked us, firing at us from the air. We ran, and they stole our shuttle. Savrik and Selik are both missing. They may have been killed by the runabout's phasers. Two more of us require urgent medical attention. We have had to contact the Enterprise. It will be here in 2.3 hours."
"So between us, we did manage to overcome you," T'Pris observed.
"Hardly," Toroth responded again, some of his arrogance returning. "The Romulans stole your runabout, after you repaired it. That is not collaboration."
Worf laughed. "But we're not the ones who require 'urgent medical attention'. You are the ones who have been defeated – admit it."
But as if to refute Worf's statement, at that moment, the most completely defeated of those there, Crewman Jonah Cochrane, stumbled into the circle of the compound, and collapsed.
Jonah lay on his bed in his quarters on the Enterprise. It had been a bad day. He had been discharged from sickbay earlier that day, after several hours of rehydration and dermal regeneration. Anthas had remained by his bedside, apart from time when Riker had debriefed him. Neither Worf nor Spock had placed any discommendation on his report, but his behaviour had not impressed the Commander.
Jonah had returned to his quarters to discover that T'Pris had moved out. She had left him a note explaining that she didn't think it would be a good idea for them to continue to share. Anthas had dropped by to see how he was, and he had been surprised when she had told him that T'Pris had moved in with her.
As a parting gift, T'Pris had left for him the Legaran pot that he had so admired. He also found on his bed the ceremonial robe he had given her on the day she had moved in with him and which she had used as a bed covering. He could still smell the scent of her on the robe. Jonah held it close as he lay awake, staring at the ceiling, trying to remember the silence of the desert.