Fertility Rites
Chapter Two
Sayon Genetics Research Institute, Vulcan
September 27, 2156
"So, exactly what is this place?" Trip kept his voice pitched low. There were dozens of Vulcans in the hall, most of the giving him the occasional surreptitious glace. Humans were as much a rarity on Vulcan as Vulcans were on Earth. And Vulcans had at least as much idle curiosity as their round-eared neighbors.
"The Sayon Genetics Research Institute," T'Pol said matter-of-factly. She turned to look at Trip.
"I know that," Trip said. "But it looks like some sort of medieval castle," he added, pointing at the stone walls and narrow windows.
T'Pol nodded in understanding. "The building appears to be several thousand years old. At one time it may have been a fortress."
"You're kidding me," Trip said.
"She is not," said a voice behind them.
Trip turned to find the oldest Vulcan he'd ever seen. Her hair was a shock of white and her skin was weathered and wrinkled. Trip did a mental comparison and decided she must be at least 200 years old.
"I am V'Lor, director of this facility. You are Commander T'Pol and her husband, Captain Charles Tucker, III?"
T'Pol stepped forward, raising her hand in the traditional Vulcan greeting. "We are, Academician. I greet you."
V'Lor raised her own hand. "Peace and long life, T'Pol."
Belatedly Trip raised his hand in the same greeting. "Uh, hello," he said somewhat awkwardly.
V'Lor stepped toward Trip, hand outstretched in a gesture any human would recognize. Taken aback, Trip shook her hand. "Welcome to Vulcan, Captain Tucker."
"Thank you," Trip said. "Thanks for agreeing to help us."
V'Lor nodded her head in acknowledgement. "We can offer assistance. Whether or not it will be sufficient is for you to decide," she said somewhat cryptically. "Please follow me."
Entering her office, Trip looked around. There was a small conference table, lab shelves and work tables, a few odd-looking computer terminals along one, even an examination table for patients. Whatever else she did, V'Lor apparently did a lot of the hands-on work herself. Trip liked her already.
V'Lor pointed to the conference table. "Be seated. Would you like refreshment?" She watched as Trip pulled out a chair for T'Pol before sitting himself, filing the information away as one more idiosyncrasy of human behavior.
"Water," T'Pol said.
"Yes, please," Trip added.
V'Lor tapped the intercom and spoke a few words of Vulcan. After a few moments a young Vulcan man entered carrying two glasses of water on a tray.
"Does the lack of humidity adversely affect your mucus membranes?" V'Lor asked Trip.
"It's pretty dry, yeah," Trip answered. "I need to drink more water than usual."
"Do your mucus membranes dry to the extent that they crack and bleed?" she asked.
"Not so far," Trip said, a little alarmed at the possibility.
"It is not idle curiosity, Captain," V'Lor assured him. "One of our tasks here is to understand how species adapt to new environments and what genetic mutations occur to accommodate those changes."
"Yes, ma'am," Trip answered, still wondering that had to do with nose bleeds.
"Soon after our marriage, I asked the Vulcan Science Academy to conduct a medical assessment concerning Vulcan – human interbreeding," T'Pol told the elderly Vulcan. "They informed us that it was not possible."
"The Science Academy consists of some of the finest minds on Vulcan. I dare say they are probably correct," V'Lor said.
Trip threw up his hands. "Then why did you have us come all this way?"
V'Lor leaned forward and put her hands together. When she spoke it was as if she was sharing a deep, dark secret. "Because the Science Academy is also staid, dogmatic and often unwilling to 'think outside the box', I believe is the human phrase."
"And you can. Think outside the box, that is," Trip said suspiciously.
V'Lor leaned back in her chair. "Perhaps it is better to say we think inside a significantly larger box."
"Explain," T'Pol said.
"Commander, Captain, no one on Vulcan or Earth can combine Vulcan and human genetic sequences. But that does not prevent us from re-sequencing Vulcan genes to mimic human characteristics."
T'Pol's eyes widened in understanding. Trip looked from his wife to V'Lor and back again. "Would someone like to put that in terms I can understand?"
"Captain, Vulcan and human genomes are well mapped," V'Lor said. "Let us consider what is an obvious example in this case: the ear. We know precisely what genetic sequences result in a tapered pinna..."
"A tapered what?" Trip interrupted.
"The sound collecting exterior part of the ear," T'Pol told him.
"Thank you, Commander. We know what sequences will result in larger, more sharply tapered pinna and which will result in smaller, more delicately tapered ones, such as your wife's."
"Ok," Trip said, starting to get the picture.
"And while it does not occur naturally, we can, if needed, extrapolate a Vulcan genetic sequence that will result in a smoothly rounded pinna, Captain Tucker."
"You could give a Vulcan human ears," Trip said.
"More specifically, we could give a Vulcan child your ears, Captain. We could produce a Vulcan genome which would result in a child with your ears, hair, facial structure, almost any characteristic you and your wife wish. In combination with T'Pol's genome, of course. Dominance characteristics could be determined or left to chance."
V'Lor raised a finger. "Do not misunderstand me, Captain. Genetically and physiologically, this child would be entirely Vulcan. We will not alter the basic anatomy, biochemistry or neurology."
"I understand." Trip looked over at T'Pol. "What do you think?" he asked.
"I am unsure. I will need more time to consider the ramifications," she said. T'Pol seemed distracted by something.
"Yeah," Trip said, nodding. "We're going to have to talk about this, Academician."
"Understandable. It is a significant decision and must be made with care," V'Lor said reasonably.
"Why?" T'Pol asked suddenly.
"Can you be more specific?" V'Lor responded.
"Why are you prepared to do this? It is not directly related to your research. Neither will it improve your reputation with the Science Academy. In fact, given their prejudices, it may damage it." T'Pol stared intently at V'Lor.
"T'Pol, that's not very...," Trip started to say, surprised at his wife's question.
"No, Captain," V'Lor interrupted him. She seemed more amused than offended by the question. "T'Pol's question is an appropriate one in this circumstance. She is not wrong when she says this may damage my reputation with the Academy."
V'Lor retrieved a small sculpture from one of the lab shelves, setting it on the table. "This is a nu rhit'an. A remembrance icon." It was a small stone carving of a Vulcan man, about six inches high and incredibly detailed. If it was hand carved it must have taken hundreds of hours of work.
"It represents a family member who has died in circumstances that preclude returning the remains to the family," T'Pol told Trip.
"An admittedly old-fashioned and arguably morbid tradition, but my family is somewhat both," V'Lor said. "My grandson, Starn, was the senior navigator on the Seleya." She touched the statue affectionately.
"Pa tu no'fil nomit," T'Pol said. I grieve with thee.
"I'm sorry," Trip told her. "I wish..." His voice tapered off. There really wasn't much he could say.
"I understand that the effects of prolonged trillium-d contamination are irreversible." V'Lor said. It was more a statement than a question.
"Yeah," Trip said. T'Pol nodded without speaking.
"Then you were instrumental in releasing my grandson from a state which, I believe, was worse than death. You each have my gratitude."
V'Lor returned the statue to its shelf and sat down at the conference table. "That is why I wish to help you in this matter," she said brightly. "And I will be retiring within the year, so there is very little the Science Academy can do to express its displeasure."
Trip had to smile at the image of this spry old woman sticking it to the Vulcan Science Academy. T'Pol, whose own opinion of Academy politics had fallen since she left it, nodded in admiration.
"If we elect to do this, what will you need from us?" T'Pol asked.
"We will need to collect several ova from you, Commander T'Pol." V'Lor told her.
"And pictures of my ears," Trip said, half jokingly.
"No, Captain. We will be much more precise than that. We will need samples of your genome as well. We will translate the appropriate sequences and imprint their Vulcan equivalents directly onto blank templates," V'Lor reassured him.
"So you're going to need blood samples," Trip said. He hated being poked and prodded by doctors, but in this case he'd happily give them all the blood they wanted.
"If necessary, but it will be more efficient if we use cells that already contain haploid genetic samples."
"Haploid?" Trip asked.
"They will need spermatozoa," T'Pol told him
"Sperma...oh, Lord," Trip said as understanding dawned. He would swear that behind that serenely neutral expression T'Pol was laughing at him.
"Your wife may assist you if you wish," V'Lor told him.
V'Lor had never seen a human blush reaction before. "Fascinating."
T'Les Residence, Vulcan
September 27, 2156
Trip and T'Pol were in the mediation garden, enjoying the relatively cool night air.
"So, what do you think?" Trip asked.
"I have not come to any conclusions," T'Pol said.
Trip stepped up behind T'Pol, kissed the tip of her ear and started massaging her shoulders. He could feel the tension in them. "That's not what I asked you," he whispered into her ear. "I asked what you thought."
T'Pol leaned back against him. "This is not precisely what we wanted," she said.
"No, it's not. But I don't see what difference it makes," Trip said soothingly. He wrapped his arms around her.
T'Pol spun in his embrace, facing him. "But the child would not carry your genes. Would you be satisfied with that?" He could see the worry in her eyes.
Trip smiled. "Who says it wouldn't be my genes?" he asked.
"Academician V'Lor, among others," T'Pol said, taking him literally.
"C'mere." Trip took T'Pol by the hand and led her over to one of the stone benches. Sitting down, he pulled her onto his lap.
"Right now, on the bookshelf in our study there's a book entitled The Teachings of Surak."
"There is," T'Pol agreed. "It was my mother's wedding gift to you."
"Yeah. Don't ever say that woman doesn't have a sense of humor. In any case, it's a book of Surak's writings, right?"
"And commentary and annotations," T'Pol added.
"What language is it written in?" Trip asked her.
"It is a translation into modern English," T'Pol said. She knew where he was going with this but elected to let him finish.
"But Surak didn't speak English, did he?"
"No, he did not," T'Pol said, more than a little impressed with her husband's logic.
"So, are those Surak's words or not?"
"Most would agree that they were." T'Pol kissed her husband. "You have formulated an impressively logical metaphorical argument."
"I love it when you talk dirty."
"We can discuss that later tonight." T'Pol brushed her fingers over her husband's lips, smiling despite herself. "In the meantime, perhaps we should inform Academician V'Lor of our decision."
In the main hall T'Pol keyed V'Lor's call-code into the console.
"Good evening, Commander," V'Lor's image said. "Have you and your husband come to a decision?"
"We have, Academician. We will return tomorrow morning so that you can collect the necessary samples," T'Pol told her.
"I am gratified that I will be able to help you. We can discuss what physical characteristics you wish your child to have at that time," V'Lor said.
"Academician V'Lor," T'Pol said as the elderly doctor started to break the connection.
"Yes, Commander?"
"The child's eyes..." T'Pol looked at Trip standing in the open doorway.
"Yes, Commander?" prompted V'Lor.
"I wish them to be blue."
TBC