Deep Space Four, Stardate 2292.147

After completing the application for special travel permission to Vulcan with the help of Dr. Naik, Losha had little time to think about it. No sooner had the doctor left his bedside to submit the application, then the voice of what sounded like a young woman introduced herself as Ensign Santos, a nurse. She explained that the food synthesizers on the station were capable of creating dishes from Vulcan, Senes, or just about any planet in the galaxy and asked whether there was anything he preferred to eat.

"Can it make korsel? It's a Hakaran soup."

"I'm sure it can. I'll go see. Do you want any crackers with that? Or bread, or rice? Or anything else?"

"No, I'm not really hungry. I don't think I can eat it."

"Alright. Let me check to see if it can make korsel, right?"

"Yes." He heard her walking across the room.

"One bowl of korsel soup," he heard her say.

"It's working!" He heard some slight banging and then her footsteps approached him. "I'm going extend a tray across your lap, OK?"

"Yes." He could hear her hit a button and felt movement across his lap.

"Do you want me to feed it to you or do you think you can do it yourself?" Losha hadn't even thought about that fact that it might not be easy to eat soup he couldn't see. Bread may have been a better choice. But soup did not need to be cut so it was probably a better choice than other things. How did one cut one's food without seeing it?

"I will try to eat it myself."

"OK. I'll be right here in case you need any help."

Losha felt the tray for the bowl and spoon. If he bent his head low enough to the bowl, he thought, he could avoid making any mess. After a few spoonfuls he found that it was not that difficult, though because his head was bent at angle over the bowl, some of it was dripping down his chin. He knew the ensign was probably watching him and felt embarrassed. He felt on the tray for a napkin, found one, and wiped his chin. He finished as much as he could with the spoon. Sure enough, the ensign was at his side instantly to pick up the bowl, spoon, and napkin.

"Do you want anything else?"

"No, thank you."

"A drink, maybe?"

"No, I just had all that liquid."

"Oh, yeah," he heard her laugh.

"Do you need to use the toilet?"

"No, not now."

"I can send Crewman Janda, the medic, in. He's a man."

"No, maybe in a little bit."

"OK. If you feel on the left side of your bed, there's a button. Yes, that one. Just hit that if you need anything and either myself or Crewman Janda will be right in."

"Alright. Thank you."

"Oh, do you feel up to having visitors? A lot of people want to see you. Dr. Naik said it's fine for them to say hello for a minute or two as long as it's fine with you. Your nephew's welcome to stay as long as he likes but the captain of your ship and some of the other crew members would like to see you also."

"That's fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." If he kept himself occupied talking, his mind wouldn't dwell on the application.

That afternoon he received what seemed like an endless stream of visitors. First it was Captain Jemel and Tashan, the first officer, followed by Lazor, the medic, then the rest of the crew members, including those Losha did not know well. Even Ambassador Tala dropped by sick bay briefly to wish him well. Per Naik's orders, none stayed long, just a few minutes each.

Some time after finishing the soup, he found he did have to use the toilet. He requested the medic's assistance. Although he realized Ensign Santos was a nurse and was probably used to dealing with such issues, he found it too awkward to have a presumably young woman assist him with something so personal. Perhaps if she had sounded old, he might feel differently, but he imagined her as being young and pretty, with dark hair. For all he knew she could be an old, white-haired woman with a young-sounding voice but that was not how he saw her in his mind. For now it would have to be

Naalem returned some time after the last of the visitors, just as he was eating lunch. This time Losha had asked for bread. He knew eventually they would want him to eat vegetables, some of which might need to be cut. He disliked the idea of having someone feed him - being dependent on others in any way made him uncomfortable. Naalem was on his PADD, playing some kind of game, the beeps of which seemed to alternate with the beeps of the biobed. He found that when there was nothing to look at to distract one's attention, the beeping of the game was even more annoying than usual. He was about to tell Naalem to turn the volume off when he heard the doors of sickbay opening once again.

"Hello, Amanda," he heard Naalem say and the beeping of the game stopped.

"Good afternoon, Naalem."

"Hello, Losha, I'm Amanda, Ambassador Sarek's wife." Her footsteps approached his bed. "I didn't mean to disturb your lunch. I can come back later."

"No, it's alright. I'm done. I was just going to have the nurse take this away anyway."

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you from your nephew."

"Thank you for keeping him company."

"Well, he's good company." There was a smile in her voice. "I'm so glad you're awake and doing better."

"Thank you."

"I wanted to let you know that Sarek has passed your application for travel to Vulcan on to the immigration authorities there. He put in his personal recommendation that you be approved."

"I really appreciate it. He's done a lot for me already."

"He's happy to help. He won't say that, of course, he'll just say it's only logical, but I know he's glad to help all the same."

"Yes, I don't often hear Vulcans and happy in the same sentence." Losha smiled and Amanda laughed.

"They're perfectly capable of being happy, they just won't ever admit it."

"Perhaps. Naalem tells me you have lived on Vulcan for many years."

"Yes, it's been sixty years now."

"And yet it does not seem to me that you follow the Vulcan belief in the suppression of emotions?" Losha was intensely curious about this human woman who had been living for so long among a people who did not display their emotions. How did she manage when his own parents, who were natives of the planet, could not?

"Oh, no. I understand the Vulcan way, why they feel it's necessary, I really do, but it isn't my way. I'll always be human."

"They don't mind that you live on their planet and yet do not follow their way of life?"

"No, but they don't expect me to. They understand that I'm human. I'm sure you've heard of IDIC - infinite diversity in infinite combinations. They expect diversity. There are a number of aliens living on Vulcan."

"Perhaps they accept diversity among aliens but they aren't so accepting of it among their own people. I am sure Naalem has told you that my parents were exiled from Vulcan because they did not believe that the suppression of emotions is healthy."

"They aren't perfect," Amanda sighed. "And sometimes I don't follow their logic."

"I shouldn't have said anything. You have no control over this matter." Losha realized he had perhaps spoken too quickly in anger and did not want to upset this old woman who had been kind to Naalem and whose husband had saved his life.

"I understand. It must be strange to you that I have been living as an alien on a planet that your parents left."

"It's interesting to me, at any rate. It's not difficult for you?" Though he had lived on Senes long enough that it was now "home," Losha knew the strangeness of living on an alien planet among alien people. For him, however, having no home and no people, being an alien was simply a part of his existence. This woman, however, had chosen to live this way. He couldn't compare it to his parents leaving Vulcan because it hadn't been a choice for them.

"No, not anymore. I'm used to it now. But soon you can see for yourself what it's like."

"Yes. I can't really imagine."

"Did you ever wonder?"

"Yes," he said. "When I was a child."