7 — Vulcan Traditions

I stood in the shelter of the shuttleport, waiting for the crew of the Intrepid to disembark. Sutak had been right; I'd thoroughly enjoyed myself the last couple months, and had even made good friends for the first time in my life. Although they weren't close friends the way I'd seen human friendships, they offered me a quiet undemanding companionship with good food and good conversation.

And with Sutak's absence there had also been the absence of that strange tension I'd been feeling around him. Some of it was my own tension of course — I was in love with him, but was hoping it was just puppy love — but the tension coming from him just before he'd left had been undeniable. Saying all that, though; I had missed him, even though he'd awakened feelings in me I'd never thought myself capable of.

The hatchway to the Intrepid slid open and part of it converted to a ramp — much like the one on the T'Plana-Hath had done all those weeks ago. The junior officers disembarked first, followed by the senior officers, then by Sutak.

My breath caught in my throat — I'd forgotten how handsome the guy was. He raised his hood in deference to the blazing sun of 40 Eridani A and looked around, then his piercing black eyes focused on me. He came over to me, and my breath caught once again — whatever tension he'd been feeling before he left hadn't dissipated with time.

"Charlotte," he said in his rich baritone.

"Sutak," I replied. "Your trip went well, I presume?"

"It did," he informed me. "We have reached an agreement over the disputed planet — it will be controlled by the Andorians for fifty years, then by the Vulcans for the following fifty years, and so on."

"Sounds like you got the bad end of the deal," I commented. "Can you trust them not to strip the place of all its resources?"

An eyebrow went upward. "We have had our troubles with the Andorians, but they have always acted honorably," he said.

I accepted the rebuke without remark — I'd had it coming, seeing as I'd never even met an Andorian — and smiled slightly. "Come," I said, "I've arranged passage on a transport to Gol."

He raised the eyebrow. "You have settled in well," he said.

"I have," I agreed. "I'm picking up Vulcan faster than I thought I would — it helps that your people are patient and tolerant. They're willing to skip over my many mistakes."

He shook his head. "I have detected no errors in your speech so far, Charlotte," he said. "You have even become colloquial — although I detect a certain northern intonation in some of your phrases."

I chuckled. "That'll be T'Mir," I said. "She's the one who's been teaching me the most, so I'll have picked up her inflections."

"T'Mir is a skilled teacher," Sutak said. "I am sure you will learn much under her tutelage."

We boarded the transport — or nearly. Going up the steps, I tripped on my long robes and would have fallen but for Sutak's strong hand grasping my arm. I could've sworn I felt electricity from the brush of his hand against my bare arm, but he removed his hand too quickly for me to be able to tell. "Sorry," I mumbled, thoroughly unsettled. "Clumsy of me."

Sutak ignored the incident — big surprise, there — and we settled down in adjoining seats near the cockpit. It was funny, I mused as the shuttle took off smoothly. Four months ago, I'd been eking out a meager existence in Montana with no idea there was intelligent life 'out there'. Now, I was living on another planet, and had even gotten to the stage where I was taking it for granted. For the first time in my life, I felt like I had a home, and I didn't want that feeling to end.

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Vulcans didn't go in for mealtime chatter the way humans did, so our first meal together in two months was spent in silence. But that silence was not uncomfortable. He'd put on a recording of an up and coming Vulcan musician, and the soft strings of the lyrette (a kind of harp) echoed in a very mellow fashion.

I pushed aside my empty plate, and took a sip of Vulcan tea. T'Mir had introduced me to it several weeks ago, and the subtle blend of flavors had been delightful. I sighed and wriggled my shoulders. "Now, this is living!" I commented. I sighed again. "I wish I could play my favorite composer for you, but I didn't think I was going to be leaving Earth."

"You are fond of classical music, Charlotte?" Sutak asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I don't like the heavy stuff, like Wagner, but … Bach is my favorite." He raised an eyebrow at me. "I think the Vulcans would like him, too. He seemed to understand the necessity of restraining emotions, pouring them into his music instead."

"Johann Sebastian Bach?" His Vulcan accent made the German name sound odd. "We have encountered his music."

"You have?" I looked up at him, surprised. "When?"

"When we were observing your world several decades ago," he replied. "We perused many of your world's libraries, discovering works by Bach, Shakespeare, Milton, Lord Byron. And many others."

I chuckled slightly. "Well, I doubt Byron would have been your taste. He was quite mad."

"Mad?" Sutak peered at me. "As in angry, or as in …?"

"Insane," I finished for him. "The guy was a total nut-job," I added in English. Some expressions just did not translate into Vulcan.

"I see you have not lost your facility for colorful expressions," Sutak commented, deadpan.

That drew another small chuckle from me, and I was relieved the tension that had been between us seemed to have dissipated.

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"Charlotte; there is a subspace message for you," Sutak said later that evening.

"Cool; my first," I said, pattering over to the comm and activating it.

T'Pau appeared, looking as elegant as ever. She held up her hand in the traditional Vulcan salute. "Greetings, Charlotte Logan, I trust this message finds you in good health." I didn't answer; this was just a recording. "I have sent a message to Zefram Cochrane on Earth, advising him of your situation." She frowned slightly. "His words were … peculiar, but I believe he is content for you to remain on Vulcan, should you wish." She leaned into the screen. "However, your return to Earth will be delayed further — the Seleya has received new orders and will be leaving the Beta Quadrant shortly. We will not return for at least twelve of your months. I am sorry for your loss, Charlotte. Live long … and prosper."

And with that, she was gone.

"Peace and long life," I mumbled. Now what was I going to do? If it hadn't been for my damnable feelings for Sutak, I could have quite happily stayed on Vulcan for a year … two years … whatever. But I knew my feelings were only going to deepen as I spent more time with him.

"I grieve with thee," Sutak said in formal Vulcan.

"It's only a year," I made myself say lightly. "It'll pass quickly enough — look how quickly the last two months zipped by."

He dipped his head in acknowledgment of my words. "Yet this troubles you," he said. "I do not understand the cause."

"I'm not sure myself," I lied. "I've had the time of my life the last couple of months. It might sound illogical, but I've never been happier except when I've been with you and your people. Something just … feels right about me being here. But I'm not Vulcan."

"By birth, you are not," Sutak agreed. "But perhaps you believe you belong here."

I nodded my head, surprised at this instant understanding. "There was a poet centuries ago on Earth who said 'If a man is born in a stable, does that make him a horse?'. Maybe that's what this is."

Sutak quirked an eyebrow. "I am not sure I understand the reference, but the meaning is clear. You believe a person is defined by more than where he was born."

"Yeah," I said. "I know it isn't logical, but I never claimed to be very logical. I tend to rely on gut instinct, even when it leads me wrong." I moved away from the comm unit and headed over to the corner of the living area.

I closed the curtains, then dropped down cross-legged in front of Sutak's meditation candles. T'Mir had taught me some simple Vulcan meditations, and I found they helped me a lot in my search for peace. The candles lit, I stared deeply into the flames, trying to ignore Sutak's presence.

That was made more difficult when he sat down opposite me and closed his eyes. His meditations were a lot more complex than mine, but he'd been brought up doing this.

The silence stretched as we both concentrated, then I ceased to be aware of Sutak … of the room … of Vulcan.

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I watched as two elderly humans — male and female — walked along a beach, watching a little girl dash in and out of the sea, shrieking with laughter. "Charlotte; don't go too far!" the man called out.

This was me? Fascinated, I watched the usually solemn little girl as she danced around, allowing herself to get thoroughly dirty. She rushed up to the elderly couple. "Can I have an ice cream, gran'pa?" she said, tugging at the old man's sleeve.

The old man — my grandfather? — smiled down at the little girl, and tugged a credit wafer from his pocket. "Just one, though — I don't want you making yourself sick," he warned.

"Grandfather?" I murmured. The old man looked up, then he smiled directly at me …

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I drifted back to reality, unsettled by what had just happened to me. Had that been a memory or had it been some sort of hallucination? I got up quickly, wincing as my leg muscles protested, and wondered how long I'd been out of it. Sutak had left at some point, and I heard him puttering about in the kitchen.

I wandered into the kitchen and saw him busy at the stove. Although he had a full retinue of serving staff, he enjoyed cooking, although 'enjoyed' was probably the wrong word for a Vulcan. 'Appreciated' maybe. "Hey," I said.

"Charlotte," he replied solemnly. "You are rested?"

"Oh, yeah," I said. "Sutak; you know more about Vulcan meditations than I do. Is it possible for me to retrieve buried memories during meditation?"

His eyebrow went up. "It is, but it does not normally happen during the meditation you practice. It requires years of practice and extreme discipline to achieve the state."

"Maybe it's because I'm human and we tend to block things less than Vulcans," I said pensively.

"Was your memory … disturbing?" Sutak asked, his deep voice sounding concerned. "You have, after all, indicated you did not have a happy childhood."

I smiled faintly. "This memory was a good one; I can't understand why I would've blocked it and not the bad ones."

"A method of protecting yourself, perhaps," Sutak suggested. "You did not wish to remember the good times, as those memories would only remind you of what you no longer had."

I considered that theory, was about to reject it, then I shrugged. "You could be right," I admitted. "You know, Sutak, for a guy who claims to have suppressed all his emotions, you're damn good at understanding them."

His eyebrow shot up again. "It is only by identifying and understanding emotions that one is able to control them," he said. He turned back to the stove. "Would you care for some tea?"

"I would, thanks," I said. I went to the cupboard and got two cups out, then watched as he poured the fragranced brew into each of them. "Lovely," I added. "You people really know how to live."

"Is that your strange humor you call sarcasm?" he asked.

I spluttered with the laugh and nearly sent tea through my nose. "No, Sutak," I chuckled, dabbing at my face with a handy napkin. "I was being sincere. You're peaceful, intelligent and considerate. Plus, you make great tea and plomeek soup. What's not to like?"

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I nearly fell out of bed as thunder roared overhead — I'd never been good with sudden loud noises. "Great Bird; what was that?" I yelped, invoking a phrase used by some of the children I'd met.

The Great Bird of the Galaxy was a mythical creature that supposedly existed in the voids between the galaxies, and no adult on Vulcan would believe in such a creature. However, references had made their way into the folklore of most of the populated planets in this part of space.

I laughed as I saw the lightning flash and smacked my forehead in chagrin. "Well, duh," I muttered. Knowing I wasn't going to get any sleep until the storm was over, I padded quietly to the kitchen and fixed myself a cup of mint tea — it wasn't the same as Earth's mint tea, but it was very soothing.

I sipped at the tea and watched the thunderstorm swirl around the mountains; there was no rain, as Vulcan was mostly a desert planet. I'd always hated dry storms, being paranoid about fire, but the mint tea was having a soporific effect on me.

Just as I was debating the merits of another cup, the door whispered open and Sutak came in. "Charlotte," he said solemnly, evincing no surprise at my early morning meandering.

"Hi," I said. "Would you like some mint tea?"

"That will be most refreshing, thank you," he replied.

"Weird. It acts as a tranquilizer for me," I said, putting the heating unit on once more. "Just another example of the differences between our people."

"Indeed," he replied, but he didn't seem quite focused. That was odd, for I'd never seen a Vulcan act distracted before.

The water came to a boil and lifted the unit carefully — another peal of thunder rattled the rafters and I started at the noise, sending scalding water onto my arm. I cried out in pain and let go of the heating unit.

Sutak moved quickly over to me, grasped my arm and led me over to the faucet. Thank God someone had some presence of mind! "Are you all right?" he asked, as the blessedly cool water ran over my arm.

"Just dandy," I gasped, cursing as tears leaked out of my eyes. "Never been better."

"Keep your arm under the water — I will get some ointment," he said, making his way out of the kitchen. He returned what seemed like hours later, and applied the salve, which was deliciously cold on my tortured skin. "These are not serious burns; they are merely skin wounds," he said. "I do not believe you will even have a scar."

"That's how I know it isn't serious," I said. "If it didn't hurt like hell, then the nerves would be dead, and I'd be in deep trouble." Even through the pain of the scald, I was extremely conscious of his warm body so near to mine, and his gentle hand applying the ointment. I jerked backward from him. "It's okay," I gabbled, grabbing the tube, "I can do this myself."

"As you wish," Sutak said calmly, although the prolonged contact had shown me that he wasn't completely unaffected by me. "I would advise you to return to bed," he added. "You have had a shock and will feel the effects shortly."

He was right; I was trembling uncontrollably and my legs didn't even feel like they belonged to me anymore. "Good idea," I said. "I'm sorry about making a mess," I added.

"Do not concern yourself; I will clean it up," he said. "Go to bed, t'hy'la."

I spun around at that word and regretted it immediately as the world spun also. T'hy'la was a Vulcan term used to define a lover, but I didn't have the courage to confront Sutak about it. "Night," I mumbled. My thoughts whirling in time with the room, I left the kitchen and headed back to my bedroom. Did Sutak have … feelings for me? Was it possible?

Back in my bedroom, my arm having subsided to a dull throb, I stood in front of the mirror and surveyed my reflection. I'd never really paid any attention to my looks before, but now I considered them. Small and skinny, with long dark hair and pale skin; I couldn't say whether or not I was attractive. Zee had made a half-assed pass at me shortly after I'd moved to Montana, but I'd not thought anything about it at the time.

If only I wasn't who I was! I had no idea how to pursue a man, never mind a Vulcan! I'd never had a crush on, or been attracted to, anyone in all my twenty three years. I was what you would call a late bloomer, and had no idea what to do with all these feelings.

I stuck my tongue out at my reflection and got into bed, being careful not to lean on my damaged arm. I closed my eyes against the raging storm and, against all odds, fell asleep almost immediately.

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Many hours later, I awoke after a series of unsettling dreams, most of them centering around Sutak. I got up quickly and yelped as I banged my arm against the bedstead. I looked down at my arm and saw the angry welts. "Ohhhhhh," I said, recalling my early morning accident.

Remembering the accident also brought to mind the endearment that Sutak had bestowed upon me — t'hy'la. I reached out with my developing empathic senses and knew he was still in the house … somewhere. But his mind was in great turmoil, and I shrank back at the idea of confronting him right now.

I yelped again as there was a knocking on my door. "Charlotte; are you awake?" came Sutak's low baritone.

"I am," I said. "Come in." As the door opened, I realized I was still in my night gown. "Uh, give me a second; I'm not decent," I said. The door closed once more and I tugged a robe over my night gown. I padded over to the door and opened it. "Good morning, Sutak," I said, trying to block the tension emanating from him.

His eyebrow quirked. "Actually, it is past midday," he said.

"Oh." Geez; I'd slept the entire morning away! "In that case, good afternoon," I substituted.

"I trust you are sufficiently rested," he inquired.

Was this the Vulcan version of small talk? If so, he sucked at it. "Yeah, thanks," I said, while wondering why he'd come to my room.

"That is good," he said.

I followed him into the living room and curled up on one of the beanbag-like items. "Did you want to talk, Sutak?" I said, uncomfortable with the ominous silence that had descended.

The eyebrow quirked upward once again. "Your abilities have grown," he said.

"I've had no reason to hide them here, or to be afraid of them," I said, allowing the change of topic. But not for long. His tension nibbled at my flimsy barriers — I was nowhere near as good as a Vulcan at blocking out emotions — until I was forced to say, "I didn't know Vulcans prevaricated. What's the matter?"

He settled himself at the table bearing a game known as Kal'to — a logic game. T'Mir had tried to teach me the basics, but I'd sucked at it. "You are very perceptive, Charlotte," he said. "Vulcans do not prevaricate, but I have … been unsure how to broach this subject with you. Before returning to Gol, I sought guidance with the clerics at the temple."

"Sutak …," I growled.

Evidently he saw that my patience was hanging by a thread, for he continued. "How much do you know about Vulcan bonding rituals?"

"A little," I said. "I know you're telepathically linked to another Vulcan at the age of seven. Then you tend to go your separate ways until you're adults; at which point you get married, produce lots of little Vulcans and live logically ever after."

"Without the sarcasm, that is essentially correct," he said almost snappishly. "However, my parents chose not to bond me to anyone; they had a somewhat radical view of Vulcan mores and were considered mavericks. As a result, I am unmated."

"But what's this got to do with me?" I asked blankly, unsure why he was telling me this.

"I wish for you to have a better understanding of the Vulcan heart," he said.

My patience snapped. "Heart? To you people, it's an organ that pumps that green stuff you call blood around the body, isn't it? You've spent a lifetime suppressing your emotions to the extent that you wouldn't recognize one if it slapped you in the face!"

"Charlotte," Sutak said, and a steely note entered his usually pleasant voice, "do not presume to judge me or my people. We recognize emotion, we have emotion; we merely control it."

"Uh-huh." I crossed over to the table and put my hand on his. "Feel that emotion, Sutak," I said. "There's something between us; I felt it this morning when you were fixing up my hand." Suddenly ashamed of myself, I dropped my hand. "Oh God, I'm sorry," I groaned. "I had no right to put you on the spot like that." I edged away from the table, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. "I think I'd better leave; I can't stay here any longer."

"And where will you go?"

"Maybe T'Mir will let me crash with her until I can get a transport back to Earth," I said. "She's been itching to teach me Kal'to and I haven't been a very good student so far."

"Charlotte." His firm tone stopped my babbling and I looked at him. I gasped, unprepared for the onslaught of emotion. "There is another Vulcan tradition; most Vulcans do not speak of it. It is called the pon farr."

"Pon farr?"

"It comes to every Vulcan from the age of thirty years and resurfaces every seven years. I am thirty five years old, and am experiencing a delayed pon farr, due to the fact that I am unbonded. I am currently in the early stages, and can control the urges with meditation."

"Urges?" I said stupidly, then blushed as I realized what he meant. "It's … a mating drive?"

Even for a child of maverick Vulcans, he seemed extremely uncomfortable discussing this — especially with an offworlder — and I carefully put a block on my own discomfort. "Can you find someone to … you know … bond with? You know; before the second stage?"

"The plak-tow — blood fever," he said not quite steadily. "That will occur in approximately three point two months. At that point, I must mate or I will die."

"But you don't have a mate," I said. "Then again, you're a charming, good-looking guy. Can't you find someone to bond with?"

"I have already selected my mate," he said.

"Oh," I said, dismayed. "Well, congratulations. I really should move out in that case. I certainly don't want to put a crimp in the works …".

"T'hy'la." The word came out sounding ragged, and I stopped in my tracks. He got up from the table and put his hand toward mine, the fore and middle fingers extended.

To say I was startled would have been the understatement of the century! Nevertheless, I was glad that my feelings were returned. Hesitantly, I let his fingers touch mine. "But, Sutak, I'm not a Vulcan," I objected. I stopped mid-protest and smiled slightly. "That's why you needed to talk to the clerics at Gol, isn't it?" I deduced.

"It is," he said. "There have been very few instances of Vulcans marrying offworlders, but in this case, it is believed that your empathic abilities will allow us to bond."

As our fingers touched, his feelings — powerful emotions — rushed through me; deep love, strong respect and a great deal of passion. If anyone ever said Vulcans had no emotion, I sure could have proven them wrong right now. I took a deep breath, then curled my hand around his. "Too much," I protested. "Can I do anything for you?"

Although I wasn't telepathic, I could communicate with someone whose telepathy was so strong. I sent one of my few happy memories to him; the day I'd spent with my grandparents at the beach before the war. Then I sent a more recent memory; my first walk with Sutak in the Montana woodlands. We'd spent the day in near silence, content simply to be in each other's company. It had been a day of peace and harmony, and the memory was one I would cherish forever.

Anyway, it seemed to do the trick. His breathing slowed and became steady once more, and the crushing weight of his passion subsided. "You have indeed become skilled, Charlotte," he said, letting go of my hand. "I had no idea you had learned to communicate telepathically."

His mind under his control once more, he added, "If you are agreeable, I have made an appointment for us to speak with the High Priestess. She wishes to ensure you are ready for what you have agreed to do."

"Well, I'll need to get dressed first," I said, feeling numb, and striving for some normalcy. This had all happened so fast, and I didn't know if I was ready. Although I was in love with him, I'd never gotten any further in my thoughts, for it had never occurred to me he'd even return my feelings, let alone propose!

"Charlotte," Sutak said gravely, "if you wish to wait until you are ready, I am agreeable. I realize there is much about this situation that will make you uncomfortable."

"I'll get over it," I said immediately. "What happens if you go into plak-tow and I'm off having the colly-wobbles someplace? You'll die. Besides" — my voice became muffled as I stuck my head in the closet for a towel — "I love you. And I know you'll never say it back, but I don't need you to. I can feel it." I was surprised I wasn't blushing again as I made this bold statement, but decided I was picking up some of the Vulcan self-control.

Sutak dipped his head to me. "Thank you," he said solemnly.

"You're welcome." I emerged from the closet. "Now, I need to take a shower, so buzz off for a while."

"Your use of humor is not appropriate in this situation," he commented.

I sighed. "I know; I tend to use it to deflect serious situations," I said.

"Also as a defense mechanism," he replied; hell, the guy could have made an excellent shrink! "It is all right for you to admit your discomfort with this turn of events. In return, I will admit to a similar trepidation."

"I'll try to get serious," I said, reaching out to touch his face, then thinking better of it and twirling a lock of hair around my finger. "But I've acted like this as long as I can remember; it's become almost instinct."

"Your self-preservation instincts are no longer necessary," Sutak said. "I have no desire to hurt you."

"But you will," I said. "And I'll hurt you, even if you won't admit it. I've never been in a close relationship, but I used to see it all the time." I smiled, then touched his face. "All we can do is work to ensure that the good times outweigh the bad."

To my surprise, his hand closed briefly around mine, and his dry heat warmed me. "Your logic," he said dryly, "is impeccable."

"Thank you," I replied.