Chapter One: Pay The Price.
Shran's P.O.V
The first sign something wasn't quite right aboard the Kumari had been the energy fluctuations. The ships shield generator had been the first to become unstable, quickly followed by their warp drive containment field and, finally, trailed by their primary systems misaligning. Though the volatility in such valuable systems was worrying to Commander Thy'lek Shran, the variations in power had been so negligible it had not caused great concern. Assigning some engineers to the task of finding and fixing the problem, in the beginning, had seemed an appropriate fit for such a dilemma.
If only the problem had limited itself to being so insignificant.
Soon, the engineers allocated to fixing the problem had begun to report back sightings of, what they called, crackles in the air. Bursts of light, one had said, like the floating glaciers of the frozen sea of Laiken had crashed, causing ice blinks to light up the sky. Another had described it as coronas of pale, ghostly light, a flash here, a flash gone.
The last, Shur'keth, an Imperial Guard who had spent his fair share of time in prison on Tellar Prime for the allegation of spying and subterfuge, had said it reminded him of the sandstorms he had seen from his cell, where the sky lit up with bolts of lightning, he called it, only smaller. Shran had never seen this 'lightning', Andoria suffered from no such natural phenomenon, but given that even Shran could add bright light, depletion in energy, and instability together, he knew the combination would not likely equate to something good.
Still, Shran and his crew could not find the root cause of this, and three hours after the first report of sighting this small 'lightning' on his ship came to his own ears, the big one came. He was on his Command deck at the time, discussing the matter with his head engineer when, from the left of the Command deck, flashes of white light began to crack and zap out, swirling out from an invisible point in the air. A few of his crew were quick to draw their phasers, others backed away, and one or two went to try and shut down power in the surrounding systems, but all were too slow to act.
The loud crack of air splitting nearly made Shran's ears ring and antennae spin as the Command deck sickeningly flashed to white, followed by a thud and what sounded like a female scream. By the time his senses began to work again, he barely had enough time to see what looked like a ripple in the air, like Denobulan silk, translucent and glowing, flapping around an arch of lightning, a veil perhaps, before it was gone. However, in its wake, it had left… Something.
A woman.
She had stood from her sprawled position on the floor, long limbed, dressed so strangely, skin an odd shade of… Pink. Yes, pink. And hair the colour of precious Vulcan Ruby, shiny and bright and curly, with no antennae. She had looked right at him, wide eyed, with a gaze greener than anything Shran had ever imagined. Of course, in the presence of what was obviously an alien, aboard his ship which was meant to be in covert operations, he had pulled out his own phaser and aimed it right at her head.
"What are you doing aboard my ship?"
He had demanded. Her gaze flickered between the point of his phaser, his own eyes, and he saw the threat slowly register on her face before fury set those green, green eyes on fire. Without delay, she had pulled out a thin, spindly stick of some sort, pointed it right at him and his world, again, had flashed to colour.
Oh, their Lily had been glorious even then…
It was the flash and spark of a live, detached conduit line dangling from the mangled ceiling of his Command deck that shook Thy'lek Shran from his unconscious stupor, her name still cresting on his tongue. Rolling his neck, he groaned as he felt a pounding strike up in his temple, something moist and sticky dribbling down, over the curve of his cheek, and dripping off his chin.
Blood.
Reaching down, Shran heaved off the plate of metal pinning his legs to the floor, trilling in relief when neither of his legs refused to move. At least he wasn't bleeding and broken. Give sacrifice to the spirits for small gifts. Scrambling for the nearest console, thankfully that which was at his back, Shran smashed in the keys for Comm, leaning heavily against the edge.
"Bridge to engineering."
Nothing. Shran heard nothing but the whirring of the Computer siren declaring critical condition. He hit the keys for Engineering again, his voice heavy and slick.
"Engineering, respond!"
Glancing around, Shran spotted the central communications station just a few feet away, through the absolute wreckage that was once his Command deck. Sliding and ducking, Shran winced as he was forced to lift a dead crewman, Ethobaahr, from he's slumped stretch over the screen. Mentally, he promised to return the tactical officers ushaan-tor back to his clan, so it may be given to his children.
In the cold light of such devastation, for the honour and loyalty Ethobaahr had given in his duty to the Imperial Guard, it was the least Shran could do. Nevertheless, he had no time to mourn yet, no time to plan funeral rites or Clan meetings, and instead, left Ethobaahr against the station, dead and drooping, as he tapped away once more.
"This is the warship Kumari calling Imperial Command. We've been attacked by a Tellarite vessel. Primary systems have failed. Request immediate-"
An explosion burst from above his head, another set of conduit lines blowing from overload, just as the ship lurched heavily to the right. Shran scarcely managed to stay standing, grappling for the communication station with tight hands and bleeding knuckles. From over what remained of the systems, Kumari's voice, even and plain, rang out in the dead silence of Shran's ship.
"Warning. Warp containment breach in two minutes."
Shran's antennae bent forward, tip to tip, pointed as he punched at the station and roared.
"Tellarite swine! They'll pay for this…"
Shran had lost so much already, and hurt, bleeding, in the bitter dead silence of his ship, as he blinked, he saw red hair, green eyes, and a pink hand splayed over a pink stomach just shy of becoming round. It was joined by a blue hand, and another, and another…
He shook the thought away as soon as it came. Later. He may have lost them, and now, he may be losing his ship, but he would not loose the remainder of his crew. Squaring his shoulders, choking down his pride, Shran tapped the symbol for ship wide alert.
"This is Shran. All crew to the escape pods…"
Shran's antennae folded down, sagging like wilted challorn flower stems, as he gave the one order no Commander or Captain ever wanted to give.
"Abandon ship."
Shran's P.O.V
The med bay on the human star ship Enterprise was a confusing amalgamation of all things pink skin. The beds were separated, small and lonely looking, with curtains hanging from bars to offer what, Shran had heard a human call, privacy. An almost offensive notion to any Andorian worth their honour. There was no music or communal buffets to be seen, staples in any Andorian healing quarter. And, by the spirits, there was not a single cushion to hand. Everything was minimalistic, streamlined and incredibly solitary and unsympathetic. Basically, everything not so very Andorian.
"This would go a lot easier if you'd take a few steps back."
The doctor, a Denobulan called Phlox, brightly said and it took a, embarrassingly, long moment for Shran to understand the doctor's complaint. Right, yes. Personal space. Captain Archer was always reminding him, in their few run-ins, of that very foreign concept. These aliens need for space, nearly at all times in contradictory ways to his own people, was one of the sole reasons Shran believed an Andorian could never fully integrate in this sort of environment.
Andorians thrived in collective settings, physical contact was a must, and this thought of 'personal space' was a very real repugnant notion to them. It was akin to asking a Vulcan to cut their ears off, and, well, Shran had asked one or two to do so, and had seen first-hand the reply that little insult got from the green-bloods. Andorians slept together, bathed together, ate together, healed together, and this unsociable way of life these humans presented almost turned his stomach. Evidently, this Denobulan doctor had spent too much time around the humans to remember that. Nevertheless, Shran may have been wrong. Lily had always rambled on about this 'personal space' too, and she had adapted well enough-
Shran took a step back, but that was all he was willing to give. Talas was perched on the bed the doctor was currently hovering over, leaning back on her elbows, ready to leap into action should the need call for it, and Shran was not about to abandon one of his Bondmates for anything, especially for carelessness on his part, not again, even if he ended up disturbing the pink skins ideas of propriety.
Still, he couldn't help but let a slither of frustration nibble away at his secondary heart. This would be so much easier if they had bigger beds, one for him to lay beside Talas with, and the others too, all together, so they could heal each other as was their way rather than having one doctor bounce to and from station to station. Yet, he let it go. Archer had answered his, and most importantly, his crews distress call after all, and if playing pink skin for a few standard hours was what it took to repay that, paint Shran peach.
"I hope you've studied Andorian physiology."
The or else was implied. Talas cocked her head at Shran, a sign of anger in an Andorian, not confusion or curiosity as with a human, a fact that had caused many… Incidents between the two races in their early relationship, but he could see the amused curl of her antennae.
Before the Denobulan could answer, or perhaps Talas could quip back, the doors to the med bay swooshed open and the Captain himself, Archer, came strolling in. It was a shame he was followed by his Vulcan officer too. Nevertheless, Shran was upon him in seconds.
"How many of my crew did you rescue?"
Archer was silent for a while, watching him, but, as Shran had come to respect about this particular pink skin, as with their Lily-… Archer didn't mince his words. He spoke simply and clearly. Although, he did lower his voice an octave.
"Nineteen."
Shran's antennae reared back separated, nearly flat against his skull in a heady mix of grief and anger. Immediately, his gaze snapped to Talas. Perhaps he was looking for comfort, or denial, something to ease the blow, but Shran found he couldn't keep the contact, afraid she would see his shame. Nineteen… Nineteen.
Once again, he was back to thinking of beds, those clan beds back in Andoria, home, one less Andorian to warm the sheets and cushions, one less for the younglings to use as pillows, one less… So many. Unwittingly, his eyes trailed to the beds filled by injured Andorians around him and that pit of frustration turned to anguish.
"Our complement was eighty-six."
Archer came up to his side from his back, but his Vulcan officer, T'Pol, stayed close to the door. Good. There was only so much stimulation Shran could take with his frayed nerves as they were, and the rancid smell of a Vulcan was not a note he wanted to add to the foetid perfume of blood, sick and death clinging in this med bay.
"Your distress call says you were attacked?"
Shran swivelled around at Archer's question.
"Tellarites. We were escorting our ambassador to the trade conference when they dropped out of warp. The ambassador's ship was destroyed in seconds. The Tellarites crippled us with their next shot."
Shran could still see the blue blaze of the Andorian ambassadors ship exploding on his view screen back on the Kumari. Blue. The Tellarites had a clean shot at his warp drive, the only explanation for the explosion leaning towards the blue hue and not the traditional white of a breached hull, the containment field would have gone down in seconds. Yet, his antennae furled together in perplexity.
"I've never seen one of their vessels manoeuvre like this one."
Leveling Archer with a heated stare, Shran had to flex his fingers to stop from balling his hand into a fist. No. He would save his anger for the appropriate recipient.
"While those Tellarites have been talking peace, they've obviously been improving their warships."
T'Pol pulled away from the door, face blank, tone ringing bored and exasperated to Shran's senses, hands primly clasped behind her back.
"Why would the Tellarites agree to let Earth mediate your dispute if they were planning this strike?"
Of course, the Vulcan wouldn't understand. The Tellarites did what they wished, when they wished, how they wished, beyond the scope of her logical understanding. The Andorians had been dealing with the Tellarites for centuries. Shran, himself, had been on the end of their attacks for most of his career in the Imperial Guard. The last time he and his ship had been attacked by Tellarites, there had been no incitement, no reasoning behind it, and Lily had-
"Perhaps you should ask them."
Shran barked and quickly turned back to Archer. No doubt the Vulcan was doubting his recollection of events, they often sided with the Tellarites before the humans had come onto the astropolitical scene, and, prospectively, she was edging towards a conclusion that would dismiss anything and everything the Andorians had to say on the matter. Not this time. Shran wouldn't allow this to be dismissed. Not the death of sixty-seven of his own men. The Tellarites had gotten away with too much for too long on the Vulcan notion of peace and treaties. What good were accords when, within a cycle, the Tellarites broke them and were back to pushing at their boarders and attacking Andorian colonies?
"I suggest you scan for our data recorder. It'll contain the censor logs of the attack."
The Vulcan would have a harder time disputing the Kumari's censor logs than just his word, and if the log was what it cost to have the pink skins finally see that the Andorians weren't merely paranoid and volatile, as the Vulcans often viewed them, then it was a fair trade. Either way, the censor log had been stripped of most… Sensitive data before their mission to escort the Andorian ambassador, and so, the Imperial Guard's more covert missions that the Kumari had acted on was kept well and truly safe. Shran watched as Archer turned to T'Pol, nodding. The Vulcan remained staring at him for a while before she, too, nodded and left the med bay, off to find the censor log in the Kumari's wreckage.
"We seem to keep running into each other, Captain. It's fortunate Enterprise was close by."
Shran saw the lump in Archer's throat bob at his question. Idly, Shran wondered what it signified in this human. Lily's had only ever bobbed when she was holding back a moan in bed, when Thrass, himself or Talas were-… His eyes closed. Not here. Obviously, Archer was not under the throes of sexual excitement, so, what had the Captain on edge? Unfortunately, Archer gave him the answer.
"It's not a coincidence… We're carrying the Tellarite delegation."
Shran's head cocked to the side, his antennae straight and proud on his head. Rage, undiluted, came crashing down upon him like an avalanche, frigid, thick and hefty.
"They're aboard this ship?"
Archer shook his head, eyes closing before slowly opening back up and staring right at him.
"These aren't the people who attacked you."
No, perhaps not. But they could have very easily been the ones to attack all those years ago. Despite the Imperial Guards best efforts, Shran's included, over the years, they had never been able to find those unhonourable pigs, and it had felt like they had simply faded back into space, as swift as they had come. Just like how Lily had been taken from them. There one blink and gone the next.
"Get bellow deck! Head to the escape pods! We will meet you there!"
Shran said, and Lieutenant Thrass was already leading Lily towards the lift, much in sync with Shran on the matter, but she was taking none of it. She escaped out from his straining grasp and headed straight for Shran, shouting over the blare of the alert siren.
"I'm not leaving any of you! We either go together or none of us go!"
The ship lurched. Talas's voice bellowed out from his side, over by the tactical station.
"Commander, the Tellarites have locked their targeting systems on our warp drive!"
Everything was happening at once, and through it all, the chaos, all Shran could see, through Lily's bridge uniform, was the swell of her stomach.
"Evasive manoeuvres!"
The Kumari turned, flanking onto its side, and it was the worst choice Shran had ever made. Careless. The shot from the Tellarite vessel missed their warp drive but struck into the Bridge hull. The Kumari rolled, lights flickered, and Shran barely succeeded in catching Lily before she went sailing over the deck. His hand settled over her stomach, fingers splayed, feeling the stretch of skin and warmth, humans were so warm, blooming out from his palm.
"Go! Please. For the child."
It would be the last thing he ever said to her. Lily nodded, went to leave, it was going to be alright… And then Talas's station sparked. Shran couldn't grab Lily quick enough as she dashed for their other Bondmate, wrestling with her shoulders, pushing Talas away with a sharp shove from the side.
Shran wasn't quick enough to reach Lily, the ship was hit again as he went to run, and he went careening onto his front, Thrass tripping over him as he too rushed for their Bondmate.
Shran wasn't quick enough to do more than lift his head and watch as the station blew, fire and light swallowing Lily's form as she glanced back with eyes he would never forget.
When the light settled, the fire hot but low, she was gone. Vaporized. Nothing but a black scorch mark of feet on ground. Even her sack, the one they had all packed together for her trip to Andoria, which had been strapped to her back, was gone, not a thread to be found.
Shran would never forget the way Talas threw herself where Lily had been, cries of no, no, no, no tumbling from her lips, the still, shocked face of Thrass, or the burn of his own throat as he gave a shout of agony just as the Tellarite Vessel ceased their attack and jumped back into warp.
Shran snapped back and he could taste ash on his tongue. Hopefully, soon, it would be Tellarite blood.
"They may know who did."
Shran argued as he stalked past Archer, to go and find that Tellarite karskat kav, and he had almost made it to the door before Archer caught up to him, snatched up his arm, and tried to tug him back.
"Shran! You're aboard my ship."
Shran wrenched his arm free and was about to carry on with his hunt when he heard the distinct sound of boots hitting the floor. Talas was up from her med bed, hand pressed into her side from her still healing injury, but ready and waiting. If Shran went to track down the Tellarites and exact justice, as was his due, Talas would follow, he knew. The justice was equally rightfully hers to take. And, as Shran saw her free hand lift to her neck, fiddling with the cord around her throat, little flower charm on the end, a gift from what felt like a lifetime ago, he poignantly knew she too was thinking of green eyes and round stomachs. It was Talas's bondmate and child that had been lost too, after all.
Talas had followed him in everything, good and bad, since that dreadful day seventeen years ago. Yet, if she were to follow him in the state she was currently in, her injuries would likely become worse. Moreover, Archer was right. The Enterprise was his ship, and the humans had come to their aid with no obligation or requirement in place. That was a debt Shran now owed.
Shran swept the med bay with a keen eye. His men were looking to him. One had even, despite the broken leg, haggled themselves up to a sitting position, hand resting on the hilt of their phaser, ready to follow too. So many Andorian lives lost, this day and many days previously, and the weight of those spirits were pressing down on him in that moment. On the back of his eyelids, he saw those green eyes again.
No.
No more lives lost. Not today, at least. Still, pressing in close to Archer, voice as dangerous as a snowbank snake, Shran gave the only ultimatum he could with the ghost of such grief and anger haunting him, both with old wounds that had never healed and only festered in rage, a kelthreh in tatters, and new ones with the weight of sixty-seven spirits.
"You better keep them away from us. Or there will be bloodshed."
Shran P.O.V
Four standard hours later, after most of his own wounds had been healed by the doctor Phlox, Commander Shran found himself being summoned to Captain Archer's private quarters with the tempting offer of sharing a bottle of Andorian Ale. Being the Thaan he was, how could he refuse?
Of course, Shran knew Archer was probably bartering for more information under the guise of a drink, but, then again, Shran had nothing to hide. In fact, he partly hoped this little impromptu get together with the human would, in effect, give himself some of the answers he was searching for.
Shran knew, from personal experience, that humans had difficulty holding their Andorian ale, and, unfortunately for them, their tongue often got loose when they indulged too much. Captain Archer's offer of sharing a drink seemed to slide more into Shran's favour than Archer's own. Especially if, as Shran suspected, this was a ploy to get him talking.
Unfortunate that Archer did not know that, unlike humans, the more inebriated an Andorian was from alcohol, the more blind they became, their speech unhindered. Perhaps it would be a lesson Archer would one day learn, if they kept running into each other like this.
So, there Shran found himself, sitting opposite Captain Archer at his quarter's table, glass of Andorian ale clasped tightly in his fist, raising it up and over to the Captain.
"To the Kumari."
A human custom Shran had learned from Lil-… He had learned to keep it short, this custom, precise, clear. It was a bit like Andorian poetry, really, this 'toast'. Brief but with so much meaning behind it. To the Kumari seemed a fitting brother to that tradition. In truth, it was only a ship. Yet, it was so much more. Shran had been in command of that ship for nearly two decades. He had spent all of his adult life on that ship. He had met Talas, Thrass, and Lil-… He had created a Kelthreh in those very walls.
He had also lost so much in that ship. So much so, that with it gone, wreckage in space and in the Enterprise cargo bay, no longer at his side, he felt that loss achingly. Shran downed his ale in one foul sweep, watching as Archer took a long sip of his own.
"From what I saw-…"
Archer winced heavily as he tried valiantly to swallow the burning ale, choking halfway through his sentance. For the first time all day, Shran's antennae wiggled in amusement.
"She was a fine ship with a good crew."
A fine ship with a good crew, Archer said. Shran almost wished that was all the Kumari was to him. If it was, it would make all this so much easier. No. The Kumari had been his last tie to Lily. The one thing he had left of her, that she had touched, breathed, slept in… And it was gone, with it, what little he had. What little Talas and Thrass had too. All they had was memories now. Memories and ghosts.
Shran rolled the glass around his hand, eyeing it. His fingerprints left marks on the glass, smudged snowflakes, and he thought back to when he was a child himself, back when his own Thaan used to take him ice painting in the tunnels of the Northern Waste on Andoria. He would spend hours down there, with one of his fathers, etching away until, there, right before him, stood a wall of snowflakes. By the time the week cycle would pass, the ice would freeze back in, smother his work, and he would start all over again, laser etcher in hand, proud Thaan by his side.
Shran had planned to take his youngling to those very walls and teach them how to ice paint as he had... Before that youngling was stolen from him by members of those aboard this very ship. He stretched over the table, snatched up the bottle of ale and poured himself another shot.
"I was in command of the Kumari for nineteen years. The first ship of her class. Most of the crew I'd served with even longer. They were more than colleagues. I knew their spouses, their… Children."
How many other Thaans, Chans, Shens or Zhens aboard his ship had planned on taking their children ice painting? How many more could not do so now? And that was why he was talking. Shran needed Archer to understand.
The Tellarites were not bloodless in this feud, as much as they liked to pretend they were, and now, if you only counted now, this day, sixty-seven were gone. Sixty-seven mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, children, parents, snap, gone. Nothing… Nothing was more important to an Andorian than their clan. Such loss would not be taken lightly. It could not be taken lightly.
Andorians did not breed as easily as the other races around them. It took four Andorians to produce one child and, even then, fertility was an issue, and procreation was a complex dance. In most quads, it took decades to beget a youngling. As a human would know it, their genders weren't binary. Oh, they could be described in the binary terms of female and male, Thaan and Chan being that of male and Shen and Zhen of female, but it was extremely more complicated than that.
Zhen's, the carriers of the younglings, the only gender that had a womb, had sparse fertile periods where, upon the bonded quadruple, they would emit certain pheromones that stimulated the necessary gametes of the Thaan, Chan and Shen. The Shen produced the egg needed for fertilisation, but could only do so when the Zhen omitted those pheromones. The Thaan and Chan would then fertilize the egg both with a quarter of the DNA needed, the last two quarters coming from the Shen's egg, and when that egg, partially fertilized, was lastly implanted into the Zhen's womb by the Shen, where, upon gaining the last gametes it needed, it would latch and become an embryo.
It took four parents, four sets of genetic code, to create one Andorian. In so, children were prized above all else. In Shran's own quad, he was a Thaan, Thrass a Chan, Talas a Shen, and Lily… Well, it had turned out humans were a lot less complex in the gender arena and their pheromones just as... Potent. Their females having both parts of the Shen and Zhen, and, against all odds, human women, at least, could comfortably fill the Zhen role, their eggs unsuited for Andorian DNA but their womb more than compatible, and, additionally, their fertile periods were monthly. Monthly!
No wonder there were so many humans flooding into space.
So, when Shran said they had lost their child, he really did mean theirs. The youngling had been equally his, Thrass's, Talas's and Lily's. Having lived through the pain of losing something so rare, so precious, a child, not just his Bondmate, but their child, he knew all to well the pain many Andorian parents felt when news came to their clan that their child had been slain in another Tellarite battle. And he knew the thirst for justice that would come, the need for answers, the desire to see those who would harm and take something so treasured and prized from them, come to meet the same fate those Tellarite swine had gifted their children. It was any Andorian parents right.
If Archer was going to be a part of this conference, if he was going to inject himself between the Tellarites and the Andorians, this one truth needed to be understood. A death of a child, no matter how old, would not be taken without it being repaid in kind by the death of those who killed them. And Tellarites had a foul habit of attacking nurseries first on their strikes on Andorian colonies, knowing exactly what they were doing, despite the lies they had recently exclaimed to the Vulcans that they thought the nurseries had been secret bases. So, no. Andoria could not take this lightly. Shran could not take this lightly.
"I'm grateful Talas survived. If I lost her…"
In the light of the spirits, Shran did not rightly know what he would do if he lost another of his Kelthreh to a run in with the Tellarites. Archer cocked a brow.
"I didn't realize there was something going on between the two of you."
This was the part in the conversation where Shran had a choice. He could divert the topic, brush over his own losses and wounds, and leave the pink skin as blind to the Tellarites as the Vulcan's wished them to be, or as blind as the Vulcans were if they truly believed the front the Tellarites projected. Or, he could speak of the one thing he dared not, not to anyone outside his own quad, pick and pluck at a wound that had not stopped bleeding for seventeen years, and in so, in sharing his pain, prep Captain Archer for the severity of the situation, and therefore, perhaps, explain why the Andorians distrusted the Tellarites so.
Shran chose the latter.
"We've been bonded for eighteen years. Before, I would have never considered a relationship with someone under my command."
Archer sipped some more at his ale.
"What changed?"
Andorians loathed lying, it was despicable. However, Shran knew he couldn't very well tell Archer the full extent of his own story. Not only were they classed as Imperial security risks, Shran doubted, even with how open-minded Archer appeared to be, that he would believe Shran when he told of a human, capable of atomic manipulation, that had appeared aboard his ship seventeen years ago, lightyears away from earth, in Andorian space one day.
He doubted even more that Archer would believe this human had, finding themselves trapped there, slowly fallen in love with not one, but three other Andorians, bonded to them willingly, against the odds became pregnant, only to die before all this was ever brought before any other humans eyes.
No. The pink skins believed first contact had happened on P'Jem, with Archer and himself, only a few years ago, not between a woman called Lily nearly two decades ago. It was best to keep that belief alive. Still, Shran refused to lie, and so chose to give as much as he could in context which might be taken in by Archer.
"Me and Talas fell in love with the same mate who had… Come aboard my ship six months prior. Neither of us knew the other was interested in her. Talas, of course, upon finding out I was trying to court the same mate, fought me for the right to her bed. She nearly cut my arm off in combat. Lil-… Our mate discovered what was happening, found us in time, and nearly put us both in the med bay for our behaviour. I think that only consolidated both our choices in her."
Shran's antennae wiggled.
"I found myself getting to know Talas over the following months after our fight, and her already bonded mate, Thrass, Kumari's science officer, who too had been trying to court our fourth mate, it all… Fell into place. Thrass had been to soft in his approach, Talas to obscure, I so blunt she thought I was joking."
At this, Archer chuckled. Shran could find humour in it now too, though he did not originally. In that time, he had only found it beyond frustrating.
"It was natural. It was a bit of a shock to our fourth mate, she wasn't used to such… Customs, and we had to outrightly declare what it was we were trying to do, more than once... But we loved each other. Deeply. One month after declaring shelthreth, the intent to bond, we were."
Archer nodded.
"That's right, Andorians marry in quads, don't they?"
Marry. What an utterly human word. Andorians did not marry. Andorians bonded. Atom to atom, clan to clan, spirit to spirit. Lily had understood that. But she was gone and their Kelthreh was shattered.
Talas stayed by his side constantly, for love, he knew, but also because in her own grief, she needed someone who understood, who felt her pain, to shoulder that burden by her side in duty. Thrass was on a science vessel now. Although he visited as often as he could to see his other Bondmates, his visits were habitually short, and though he said nothing, the longer he stayed, the more sorrow Shran could see settling in his dark eyes when he rolled over in their bed and found the empty space, or he accidentally set four platters of food instead of three, and he would need to go, run from it. Something Shran did not, could not, blame him for.
He loved Talas and Thrass, he truly did, bone deep and ice clear, he loved them as they loved him, and they had loved lily, and there was nothing Shran could do to ease this pain. That's what hurt the most, he thought. He could not fix this, fix them, bring Lily back, their child back, and it was his biggest failure. Shran could not verbalize any of this, not one word, his tongue felt fatty, useless, glued to the roof of his mouth. All he could do was revert to human expressions, the tiniest of nods.
"Well, at least they are waiting for you back on Andoria."
Shran poured himself another shot, downed it, repeated.
"Thrass is, yes."
Archer frowned.
"And the other?"
Shran locked eyes with Archer from over the table, blue clashing with hazel, and now was his chance to tell Archer just how dangerous the Tellarites were.
"Killed seventeen years ago. She was carrying our child."
Archer's reaction was immediate, an intake of sharp breath through flared nostrils, a clench of jaw and a tightness to his face.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
Shran cut him off.
"She became pregnant quickly after our bonding, a rarity and unexpected, especially given our circumstances, but beyond welcomed. Of course, a warship is no place for a pregnancy, much less one doing the covert missions we were, and so we planned to return her and Thrass to Andoria, finish our mission, and then I and Talas would join them in our new clan home."
Shran's hand slipped to the edge of the table, tightening, grounding himself to something real.
"We were by the boarders of Vulcan and Andorian space, refilling a mining colony with supplies, when we started to leave to go back home. That's when the Tellarite vessel appeared. They opened fire without provocation, warning or regret. We called for aid. The Vulcans ignored us. I later found out the Vulcans had a listening post not a lightyear away. They heard our call for help and they turned a blind eye."
His voice was raising now, Shran knew, but he could not stop it.
"The Tellarites got a surprise shot at our shield generator. Their next hit nearly cleaved my bridge in two. Primary systems began to fail and the auxiliary system overheated. There was an explosion. Our mate, our pregnant mate, pushed Talas out the way. She did not have time to remove herself from the blast radius. There were no bodies to take back to Andoria and entomb in the great ice wall of our clansmen. Not even a lock of hair. She was simply… Gone. Our child too."
Shran leant forward, pushing into Archer's space.
"We had been in a peace accord for five standard years when the Tellarites attacked. A peace accord Andoria had stuck to! They showed no sign of wanting to renegotiate the treaty, no communications were received prior, nothing. We were at peace, and then we weren't. They declared war behind our back, lied to us as they built their militia, using the smoke screen of treaties to hide their activities, mounted up an assault, and attacked twenty-three of our vessels, some merely transport pods containing unarmed civilians. Many lives were lost that day, my bondmate and child's included."
Humans had the odd habit of changing colours like the sky. Too much sun and some turned darker. Others gained spots, little taupe flecks. Shran's own Lily, when angered, or in high passions, blistered to a bright red, like a Thy'mlen fish who flashed when hunting. In the dull lighting of his personal quarters, sitting opposite Shran, glass firmly held in his hand, Archer seemed to almost bleach himself to a weary white.
"You have my deepest sympathies."
What good were sympathies? They regained nothing, changed nothing, created nothing. They were empty words and, as any true Andorian, Shran abhorred hollow words. Yes, he wanted something profounder, truer, from Archer. Comprehension. For all their sakes, he hoped the human would get it.
"I do not need your sympathies, Captain. I need your understanding. Do you see? The Tellarites, as agreeable as they may appear to be, are callous, deceptive and vicious. Tread carefully when you deal with them, or pay the price as I did."
Archer's mouth cracked open, reply bubbling forward, but Shran shifted. He had said all he needed to say, all he could say on the matter, and now that Archer knew, Shran felt no need to dig further into memories best left alone.
"I regret that you're drawn into another one of our conflicts, Captain."
Archer, as intuitive as Shran had come to respect and admire about him, picked up the unspoken declaration that Shran would not speak any further on the matter. Archer leant back into his chair, taking the diversion in conversation effortlessly with practiced ease, even edging to lighten the mood with a touch of humour.
"I seem to have a knack for it."
Shran's fingers tapped away on the metal table between them, striking up the tune of an old Andorian lullaby. One he never got to hum to his youngling.
"I doubt war can be avoided this time. When that sensor data is seen by Imperial Command…"
Archer's gaze drifted off to the wall at Shran's back, face screwing up as if he was chewing tough hide. Another bizarre feature about humans, their faces could do so much, change so much, in a matter of seconds. It was almost amazing they could recognize each other upon sight.
"It doesn't make sense. Why agree to a conference and then attack your ambassador?"
Obviously Shran's antennae, which were drawn back, virtually flush against his skull, wasn't getting the message across. Neither had his sordid, sorrowful past if Archer was still questioning why a Tellarite would do anything, if only because they could.
"Tellarites don't think like you or I do. They've been provoking us for centuries. For months they've been encroaching upon our space. We've already lost six freighters along our boarders within the last cycle. We know they're responsible."
Captain Archer was quick to retort.
"The Tellarites claim they've lost ships of their own."
Certainly, they had. A good portion of them might have been vessels Shran himself had sent down. Shran, and no other Andorian, would dispute that. However, violence enacted in the daunting response of defence was wholly different to violence without reason or incitement. Archer, having faced the threat of the Xindi, a threat Shran and the Andorians had stood shoulder to shoulder with the humans, should know that already. Furthermore, having done such, Shran expected a little more respect from the man opposite him.
"You'd take their word over ours?"
Archer fumbled, too slow to answer, and as Shran really started to lose his temper, the spirits seemed to be, indeed, on the humans side this day. The Comm system bleeped, a smooth voice mired by the slight crackle of the computer.
"T'Pol to captain Archer."
Archer broke their staring contest to glance behind him, up to the control panel above his head. Stretching up, he slapped at the switch.
"Go ahead."
"There is a ship on an intercept course. It is Andorian."
Andorian? Had Imperial Command received the Kumari's distress call? What had taken them so long? At Archer's questioning look, Shran simply stood and it seemed to be answer enough for the Captain. After telling T'Pol the two were on their way, the pair headed towards the bridge, leaving an open, half empty bottle of Andorian ale on the table. As the door swooshed shut behind them, the crackle of energy flickering in the air zipped, as little sparks of lightning, white and hot, began to arc around an invisible point in the air.
DICTIONARY
Karskat- Misbegotten; Badly conceived, contemptable.
Kav- Liar.
Kelthreh- Smaller family unit from a clan consisting of Bondmates and children.
Shelthreth- The name of the ritual in which four Andorians are bonded.
Thaan- One half of what would be considered 'male' gender in Andorian physiology.
Chan- The second half of what would be considered 'male' gender in Andorian physiology.
Shen- First half of what would be considered 'female' gender in Andorian physiology. Carries the eggs for fertilization but has no womb. Transfers the partially fertilized egg, or unfertilized egg, to the Zhen.
Zhen- Second half of what would be considered 'female' gender in Andorian physiology. Has no ovaries and produces no eggs, but does biologically have a womb which is used for the embryo upon collection of all gametes needed for conception.
NEXT CHAPTER: Tellarite and Andorian tensions rise, disruptions in energy readings plague the crew, a case of Déjà vu for our two Andorians, Talas and Shran, and Enterprise gets an uninvited guest…
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