Part II: Tragedy
"Tragedy is a tool for the living to gain wisdom, not a guide by which to live."
― Robert Kennedy, from a campaign speech at Kansas State University, March 18th, 1968
Stardate 2260.50
Dagny looked up from her weekly report at the sound of the loud clanging. Erik Larsen was tapping the metal casing of the door control panel with a small wrench.
"Somehow, I don't think beating on it will make it work better," she sighed.
He huffed and turned around to reveal a wide, playful grin. "If you want this intercom fixed, leave it to the experts."
"My four-year-old brother has that level of expertise," she retorted, returning his smile.
"Yes, but I'm cuter," he winked. Something about his self-deprecating humor never failed to lighten her mood.
The dynamics of their relationship had changed a lot during the past two years. They'd grown closer, stealing kisses and exploring one another in rare moments of privacy, but she'd fought to keep him at a distance, choosing to prioritize her work and studying for medical school entrance exams. But he didn't make it easy.
She hesitated to call Erik her partner, but on a ship where everyone knew everyone, such distinctions were usually an afterthought. Erik was good-looking, and funny, and charming, and always knew just the right thing to say to cheer her up when she was down. He was also smart and good at fixing things, not that many things needed fixing after the Andorians overhauled the ship two years ago following the destruction of Vulcan.
Dagny glanced around her clinic. Even after so much time, she never stopped marveling at the incredible technology at her disposal. She had four operational biobeds, four new tricorders, and a decompression chamber. Karl Larsen and Kristian Brekke owed their lives to that decompression chamber after they've been trapped in one of the forward cargo bays last year following a small hull breach.
She also had equipment she wasn't formally trained to operate, but it hadn't stopped her from spending many hours trying to learn by reading technical manuals. It had taken months to figure out how the chemical synthesizer worked and she still wasn't confident enough in her abilities to make anything more complex than aspirin—she didn't have any formal biochemistry education, after all—but she hadn't given up trying to figure it out. The more she learned, the better position she would be in to save lives and maybe one day make it to medical school.
A loud sigh escaped Erik's lips, followed by a mild expletive. "So… would you like the good news or the bad news?"
"Surprise me," she replied, not bothering to look up from her weekly inventory.
"Well, I didn't get the intercom fixed."
"What's the good news?"
"That was the good news," he sighed. "The bad news is I've fried the positronic circuit and now the door controls don't work."
"You got us locked in the clinic?" Dagny gasped, shooting him a dirty look.
"Give me a few minutes and I'll have it working again."
"That's what you said about the intercom, and now not only is the intercom still broken, but so is the door!"
"Do you have somewhere important you have to be?"
Her fierce look turned uglier. "This is the ship's clinic. If there's an emergency, people need to be able to come and go!"
"They can still get in through the outside panel," he argued. "We just can't get out through the inside panel."
"Why didn't you say that, then? I'll just send a message to Ingrid and have her come let us out."
"Don't call anyone just yet," he grumbled. "I can reroute the circuits in just a few minutes."
"What's a 'few' minutes? Two? Ten? A thousand?"
"It would go faster if you'd come over here and hold the light for me while I work."
She rolled her eyes and joined him at the panel by the door. "You have five minutes."
"You're hard to please," he teased. "Do you have somewhere else you have to be?"
"Yes," she scowled. "It's my birthday and my mother's making fyrstekake."
"Oh, that's right. I did seem to remember something about that." He handed her the tiny pen light in his hand and reached into his back pocket, extracting a small purple cloth bag. "Happy birthday, Dagny."
"What is this?" She gazed down at the small cloth bag, feeling her cheeks growing hot.
"Most people would guess it's a birthday present."
Dagny pulled at the drawstrings of the cloth pouch and poured a small silver chain with a light blue pendant into her hand. She twirled the jewelry around her finger, realizing it was a necklace. "You're giving this to me?"
"That was kind of the idea," he laughed nervously. "It was my mother's. The stone is aquamarine. I thought it would look nice with your eyes."
She stared at the necklace in stunned silence. She'd never worn jewelry, not because she didn't like it, but simply because she didn't own any.
"This is… this is one of the nicest things anyone's done for me in a long time," Dagny breathed. "But if it was your mother's- are you sure you want to give it to me?"
"She's been gone for four years, Dagny," he muttered. "She left this to my sister, but she left it behind when she stayed on Andoria. I asked my father and he agrees: it's beautiful and deserves to be worn by a beautiful woman."
Dagny's face flushed hotter as she gently fingered the delicate chain. "It feels like too much."
"To me it doesn't feel like enough," he replied. "Do you want me to put it on you?"
She gave him the chain and turned, lifting her hair for him to secure it around her neck. Her fingers played at the beautiful blue stone; she couldn't believe she was its owner.
"Thank you so much, Erik," she stammered, wondering if the blush in her cheeks would ever go away.
"I love you, Dagny."
She couldn't help the awkward laugh that emerged from deep within her belly; as much as she wanted to look at his face and see if he was serious, the tone of his voice didn't suggest he was joking. He'd never spoken such words before.
"Oh, come on," he continued. "I've loved you since we were kids."
"What are you talking about?" she laughed, still unable to look him in the face. "You used to chase me all around the ship, threatening to put spit in my ear."
"Yeah, I was nine. I was an idiot. But even then, you were the prettiest girl on the ship."
She shot him a pointed look. "Apparently you've never seen Julie Karlsen or my sister Frida."
"No," he shrugged. "I was always too busy looking at you."
Dagny leaned forward and kissed him, and the longer they stayed locked together, the more frantic they became. His hands grabbed her hips and then moved up to her ribs and eventually settled on her breasts. A smidgen of sense returned the moment he grabbed at the hem of her shirt and started pulling it over her head.
"What are you doing?" she gasped, using her arms to cover her brassiere.
"I thought it was obvious."
"We can't- you know- not here," she said, waving her arms around at the clinic.
"I'd kind of thought you'd figured out by now there's no such thing as privacy on this ship," he said, cupping her cheeks and kissing her again.
She tried to protest but her heart wasn't really in arguing. He was handsome and she was curious, not to mention feeling desperately beholden to some deep, internal longing she'd been fighting to keep at bay for months any time they were alone together.
Dagny had never given much thought to what her first time would be like, but she hadn't imagined it would include scrabbling around on one of the biobeds, terrified someone would walk in at any moment. It was quick and awkward, mildly uncomfortable and extremely thrilling. When they were done, she pushed him away and began laughing hysterically. A look of terror and confusion spread across his face as he pulled his trousers up from around his ankles. "I didn't think it was funny…"
"It's not," she gasped, fumbling with the clasp on her bra. "I just- I can't believe we just did that. That's the wildest thing I've ever done."
"Oh yeah?" he challenged.
"You've done something more impulsive than this?" she hissed, ripping her shirt back over her head.
"I'm about to," he grinned, chewing on his bottom lip. "Marry me."
"Have you been drinking?" She put her hands on her hips and stared at him, making an earnest effort not to grin like a fool.
"That wasn't exactly the answer I was hoping for," he mumbled, scratching the back of his head.
"Wait, I didn't say 'no,' I just- I never know if you're being serious or not," she replied, her voice shrill and stilted.
"Of course I'm serious, Dagny." His hazel eyes almost looked afraid.
"Well, I- I guess."
"You guess?"
"Yes."
"Yeah?"
"Yes." She slapped her hand over her mouth to keep the terrified laugh from escaping her lips.
He pulled her into a tight and prolonged hug, giving her the opportunity to come to grips with what was happening.
"There's an open room in my family's quarters," he finally said. "You could move in tonight, if you want. I have a double shift tomorrow, but we could get married the day after."
She pulled away from the embrace, suddenly feeling like the weight of the ship was bearing down on her. Weddings on the Albret were fairly informal and spontaneous affairs, usually consisting of the captain, her father, presiding over a short ceremony, followed by a small gathering in one of the cargo holds.
"You don't think this is all moving a little fast?" she protested.
"If you want to take a few days to put things together and tell people, I understand."
"I mean, didn't you want to wait a while and get to know one another first?"
"I've known you your whole life," he laughed. "I know everything there is to know about you."
"What if I don't want to move into your family's quarters?" Dagny argued, thinking of Erik's rambunctious older brothers. "Besides, my mother still needs help with the little ones, and-"
"I'll be head of maintenance when Tor gives it up. We can have our own quarters then."
"Tor Jørgensen would have to die before he gave up being maintenance chief," Dagny sighed. "And he's only forty."
"So, we might be waiting a while," Erik shrugged, offering an apologetic grin.
Another sobering thought crushed Dagny. The population of the Albret wasn't completely stagnant—people did come and go. After the events at Vulcan, the Svendsens had given up salvaging and left to try life on the Cestus III colony, and their replacements were all single human men on short-term contracts trying to scrape together a living. It wasn't that the ship hadn't tried to recruit families, but it was a hard life for people not accustomed to it, and the Albret hadn't had any new permanent families in more than nine years. The family life of the ship was crumbling away but Dagny had never imagined it would last forever.
A lot of the younger people talked about building lives beyond the confines of the Albret, and though some of them got by with only dreaming, some of them actually made good on their plans. Ingrid was nearly eighteen and had hopes of attending acting school in some place called Australia after her friend Julie Karlsen had left the ship the year before to study there. Her brother Daniel had been accepted to Starfleet Academy a few months ago and would be leaving in less than three weeks, a fact that had reduced her mother to tears every night since.
Dagny had assumed Erik didn't plan to spend the rest of his days scrapping metals and minerals from the far reaches of the quadrant. He'd been so determined to leave for Starfleet two years ago, but that had never come to pass, and Dagny had never bothered to ask why. Perhaps now was the time to inquire.
"What happened to joining Starfleet?" Dagny prodded.
"That was a wild fantasy," he laughed. "Besides, you told me not to, so I didn't."
"You really changed your mind because of what I said?"
"That wasn't the only reason why," he shrugged. "But I guess it was part of it. Why are you asking this now?"
"Because…" She gently closed her mouth and stared at the floor. "Because you make it seem like you want to stay on the Albret."
"You make it sound like you don't want to."
"This is my home and it's where my family is, but I don't want to spend the rest of my life here."
His face darkened and she wondered if she'd said something hurtful. She'd never actually admitted her ambitions to anyone besides her father, but now that she'd spoken the words, she felt guilty.
"And where do you want to go?" he asked, his voice barely rising above a whisper.
"Well, I thought I'd go to medical school," she said, balling her sweaty hands into loose fists. "I- I've always wanted to study medicine…"
"And you went to paramedic school," he finished.
"I want to do more," she explained, trying to offer a reassuring smile.
"How would you ever pay for it?"
"Medical school, all school, is actually free on a lot of Federation planets, if you can get accepted."
"No one gives away anything for free and besides, you're the only medical person we have on the ship."
"I'm not the only one in the quadrant," she retorted. "People come and go. I'm not irreplaceable."
"Sure, we could find someone else," he shrugged. "Maybe someone who doesn't think they're too good for us."
"What are you talking about?" she mumbled, wondering if she'd heard him correctly.
"Admit it," he snapped. "You want to be better than everyone here."
"I never said that," she shot back. The pace of her heart quickened.
"You didn't have to." He stormed over to the control panel, stuck his hand in the wall, and began fumbling with the damaged circuits.
"Erik? I don't understand-"
"They didn't accept me, ok?" he seethed, refusing to turn and look at her. "I didn't do well enough on the entrance exam."
"What?"
"Starfleet. My scores were too low."
"But why not study and try again?"
"I don't have time to study," he sighed. "I work sixteen hour days most days."
"I could help you," she offered, trying to be positive. "We could study together if-"
"No offense, Dagny, but what do you know about warp theory?"
"Nothing, but I'm willing to learn."
"Forget it. I used to want to leave the ship, but that's over now. I'm happy with what I have: why can't you be?"
She wasn't sure if she was angry, hurt, or embarrassed. Before she could think of something to say, her jumbled thoughts were interrupted by the cry of an alarm. The ship was at high alert.
The tip of his tail flicked back and forth like a metronome. Voris gently scratched the soft patch of fur between Harold's ears with his index finger, contemplating his pending meeting with Velik and T'Rya. Harold's low purrs grew louder and more persistent as he repositioned his head to allow Voris to scratch it in a manner he deemed more appropriate.
He hadn't intended to keep Mrs. DePaulo's irritable cat, but he'd been unable to give the animal to anyone who would guarantee his safety and comfort in the days following the devastation to the North American coast by Romulan attackers. After two years together, Voris and Harold had settled into a symbiotic relationship of tolerance—Voris provided Harold with shelter and an occasional drink of water and Harold kept the indoor lizard population to an appropriate minimum. There were many lizard species on New Vulcan, far more than had existed on its predecessor.
Though the planet selected for their resettlement was similar to his former home world in many ways, it bore notable differences. There was slightly more extrasolar radiation from a nearby nebula that humans had illogically dubbed "the Briar Patch" during the previous century. Though it wasn't the most remote Federation colony, it was located on the fringes of Federation space near the Klingon border and within striking distance of the Gorn Hegemony, a fact that had been a logical source of apprehension for many of the planet's new residents.
The planet was larger, had only eighty-five percent of Vulcan's gravity, and was five degrees cooler on average. It even had a rainy season, albeit a short one, during the current winter months, though winter was relative. The citizens of New Vulcan had completely abandoned the traditional Vulcan four season almanac for the Federation Standard calendar, as the planet's rotational period around its local star was 97.44 days longer than Vulcan's had been.
Voris didn't spend much time acknowledging the calendar. It had been 759 Standard days since he'd lost everything, and in that time, he'd been living from one inadvertent milestone to the next, never bothering to plan for his future. He worked on-call shifts at the Va'ashiv district hospital and served as the interim diplomatic ministry's chief physician, often traveling abroad with Ambassador Spock, but for the past two months, the whole of his existence had centered on the upcoming elections.
In forty-two days, New Vulcan would hold its first formal elections. The last of the Federation relief agencies would officially leave, the transition charter would expire, and the emergency High Council that had been hastily assembled two years earlier would disband in favor of newly elected officials, leaving the planet to govern and sustain itself autonomously for the first time since Vulcan's destruction.
His Uncle Sarek was campaigning for the office of First Minister and his father Silek for Minister of State. Had elections taken place immediately after the colony had been established, both men would have handily won, but much had changed in two years.
The planet's destruction initially unified the Vulcans to a degree never before seen in the history of his people, forging them together in a spirit of collective pain, loss, and purpose. Nearly all citizens living off world joined the survivors in settling the new planet, bringing the initial population total—which was regrettably small enough to be exact and not an estimate—to 33,145 Vulcanoid citizens.
The early months revolved around building infrastructure—first came dwellings, administrative buildings, roads, communications networks, and water and sewer distribution systems, followed by schools, two hospitals, a library, four temples, and a central civic center. It was an enormous undertaking, but they had considerable assistance.
More than 20,000 Federation civil engineers, architects, environmental scientists, logisticians, laborers, biologists, geologists, physicians, and general bureaucrats had aided in expediting the development of three small communities nestled in a semi-arid desert between two small mountain ranges. The last citizens moved out of the temporary lodgings and into permanent homes three months ago, leading the Federation High Council to declare resettlement of the Vulcan people a success. The buildings were finished, but the reconstruction of society was only just beginning.
At first, most embraced logic to an almost unyielding degree, an understandable effect of coping with the extraordinary circumstances. The senior surviving Vulcan officials assumed authority of the fledgling colony and most welcomed their leadership experience, but as the days turned into weeks, small schisms emerged.
Though all of Vulcan's most vital texts existed in a number of Federation databases, the original Teachings of Surak no longer existed, nor did his katra, nor did any of the sacred relics or temples or monuments. The loss of so much tangible culture and history required them to revise four millennia of tradition. If katras could no longer be stored at Mount Seleya, where should they be stored? Were certain rituals like the kalifee and kahs-wan still acceptable cultural practices, given the limited population? Finding resolutions to these questions proved difficult.
A strong conservative base rapidly evolved, seeking to adopt the strictest interpretation of Surak's teachings to "adequately honor and preserve the memory of Vulcan," despite the fact that very few had lived by these orthodox tenets on their former home world. As the weeks wore on, their demands only grew more exacting.
They soon began advocating for a return to Traditional Golic Vulcan, the language of Surak, even though few modern Vulcans were fluent in the ancient tongue. They declared every tenth day to be a day of silence and solemn reflection as Surak had instructed, an action which had been prudent immediately following the loss of Vulcan, but was becoming less necessary as more and more Vulcans managed to suppress their emotions of that fateful event.
Eventually they became known as the Ba'taklar and would go on to champion restrictions on immigration, emigration, interspecies marriage, and performing business on Gad-Lekuh, the tenth day. They praised the expansion of families and those who sought the way of Kolinahr while endorsing strict punishments for blasphemy, excessive public emotional outbursts, and extra-familial mind melding in nearly all circumstances.
As the Ba'taklar grew more fanatical, opposition soon arose which urged a more reformist approach to restoring normalcy to the survivors. The progressive Storilayar preferred to allow individuals to seek personal interpretations of Surak's teachings and observe them as they saw fit within the bounds of an egalitarian legal code. Unlike the Ba'taklar, who favored isolationism, the Storilayar preferred to strengthen New Vulcan's partnership with the Federation, not only due to their precarious frontier location, but also as a sign of gratitude for the Federation's assistance in rebuilding efforts.
As the colony began to evolve, the need for a more organized system of governance became evident. The post-reform Vulcan charter that established the bureaucracy was no longer practical for such a diminished population, and when a convention met to amend the document for the new settlement, the growing social schism rapidly fractured into several political factions.
Though the Storilayar held a large majority over the Ba'taklar, divisions began to eat away their margin. A sizeable minority of the Storilayar began referring to themselves as the Vinem-lar—the assimilationists. They believed Vulcans should open the planet to new immigrants who were willing to develop the land and there was no shortage of willing human, Tellarite, and Denobulan colonists eager to immigrate to New Vulcan.
Though all Federation member planets boasted egalitarian societies that were generally free of civil conflict, poverty, and crime, extra-planetary colonization remained an attractive option for many due to economic stagnation, limited resources, and growing populations on their respective home worlds. The discovery of habitable planets was always newsworthy, as every new planet presented a unique opportunity for development, research, adventure, and economic growth for species throughout the Federation. New Vulcan was no different.
Starfleet had charted New Vulcan's star system in 2205 and fully surveyed it in 2241, noting the fourth and only M-class planet's abundance of semi-precious metals and rare elements, particularly nitrium and trilithium. The Federation zoned it for settlement and mining, but conflicts with the Klingons and territorial disputes with the Laurentians made establishing colonies and mines impractical and politically treacherous for more than a decade.
After diplomacy and military posturing had established a fragile peace with the Klingons in 2251 and the Laurentians formally withdrew their claims to the planet in 2255, private investors and planetary governments began planning four separate colonies. A Terran multiplanetary corporation made extensive investments, intending to send 20,000 employees and colonists to the southern continent to mine the rich deposits of trilithium.
A second group of Terrans descended from nomads of the Eurasian Steppe laid claim to New Vulcan's grassy northern continent for the purpose of reestablishing their cultural heritage, several thousand Tellarites planned to found an agricultural community on the western side of the northern continent, and a large group of Denobulan dissidents who opposed their home world's practice of plural marriage intended to start a colony on the Southern continent. A complicated court battle arose in 2256 when the Terran corporation sued the Denobulans over their land claim, which halted the establishment of all colonies while Federation courts settled the lawsuit. Then Vulcan had been destroyed.
The Federation Charter gave Vulcan refugees priority over private enterprise and planetary colonies, and by executive order of the Federation president with unanimous consent of the Federation Council, the Vulcans were awarded control of the planet and its two moons less than a month after Vulcan's destruction, permanently ending any possibility of non-Vulcan settlements without the consent of the Vulcan government. While the Ba'taklar insisted on withholding citizenship from non-Vulcans and the Storilayar intended to place moderate restrictions on immigration, the Vinem-lar rejected both these ideas.
The Vinem-lar wanted to allow the establishment of the Terran, Denobulan, and Tellarite colonies and grant citizenship to those of good character who agreed to live by Vulcan's laws, pay taxes, and stay to develop the land. The Vinem-lar's proposal was purely economic—Vulcan's destruction had greatly skewed their population demographics, leaving enormous holes in the Vulcan labor market.
Only eleven percent of surviving Vulcans had been rescued from the planet; the remaining eighty-nine percent had been living off world at the time of its destruction, primarily engaged in the fields of research, education, medicine, law, and diplomacy. The end result was the population of New Vulcan possessed an excess of professionals and an extremely small working class.
Severe shortages in the construction, agriculture, retail, service, sanitation, and manufacturing industries threatened to cripple the already fragile New Vulcan economy and sentence it to an existence of subsistence economics and dependence on the Federation. The Vinem-lar theorized that by recruiting non-Vulcan colonists to participate in the economy, Vulcan would be capable of resuming its former place as a central socioeconomic power in the Federation within six generations.
It was logical from an economic standpoint, but there were other relevant issues to consider. Both the Ba'taklar and Storilayar rejected the Vinem-lar's proposal, citing concerns over cultural dilution and the erosion of political influence, given that initial estimates put the number of potential non-Vulcanoid colonists at around two hundred thousand individuals, a figure which obviously dwarfed the current Vulcan population. Yet while the Storilayar were willing to negotiate a compromise, the Ba'taklar refused to accept any non-Vulcan colonists on New Vulcan, a decision that further alienated them from mainstream society because there were already non-Vulcan individuals residing on New Vulcan—the Komihn k'tur.
The Komihn k'tur were a group of non-Vulcanoid Federation citizens lobbying for Vulcan citizenship. Most were human and had arrived on New Vulcan to assist with the colonization efforts and simply never left. Others eventually joined them and though their numbers were still small—approximately one thousand people—they were beginning to represent a moderate political force.
It seemed odd to Voris that so many humans would suddenly attempt to embrace logic as Vulcans did. A human physician he'd worked with at the temporary hospital during the previous year often mocked the Komihn k'tur, calling them a disingenuous cult of groupies, but Voris believed some of their claims had validity.
The Komihn k'tur argued that being Vulcan was a philosophy, not a mere result of biology. As the planet's only practicing interspecies healer, he'd encountered many of them, and each followed Surak's teachings with a hungry fervor that rivaled the conservative Ba'taklar. Though he doubted their ability to master their emotions as completely as Vulcans, he found it difficult to doubt their devotion.
In stark contrast to the Komihn k'tur were the V'tosh ka'tur, the Vulcans without logic. The V'tosh ka'tur had existed since the early twentieth century, a fringe movement formed in response to the previously oppressive pre-Federation Vulcan High Command. The discovery of the Kir'Shara in the mid-22nd century had led to a sweeping series of reforms and irrevocably crippled the movement, but a few V'tosh ka'tur had persisted, electing for a nomadic existence as expatriates for more than a century.
A small vessel of V'tosh ka'tur arrived three months after the last settlers and their teachings immediately found a captive audience, particularly among the younger generations. They respected logic but rejected emotional mastery and many disillusioned Vulcans readily began to follow their philosophy. As the V'tosh ka'tur gained political clout, the Ba'taklar insisted on sanctioning them for blasphemy, which only served to underscore the need for a formal constitutional convention to enumerate rights that had never been previously defined in the original Vulcan Bill of Rights. The convention took a month of intense debate and inquiry and resulted in a temporary eighteen-month charter and plans for an election following the formal completion of the critical settlement infrastructure. That had been nearly seventeen months ago.
In forty-two days, the planet would hold elections and then the newly elected officials would have sixty days to draft a permanent government charter. Though all elections were important to a free people, this particular election carried a larger degree of significance, as its outcome would dictate the future of New Vulcan for generations to come and settle the question of whether Vulcans preferred an isolationist, traditionalist society or a diverse society of immigrants and interplanetary cooperation.
As the social, political, and economic stakes continued to rise, public sentiment became more difficult to assess. At the outset, most Vulcans had favored a progressive government closely modeled off of the former one, but the most recent data was inconclusive. No party held a simple majority—yesterday's poll indicated that thirty-two percent of Vulcans intended to vote for Sarek and the moderate Storilayar, twenty-nine percent favored T'Nas and the fundamentalist Ba'taklar, and twenty-seven percent supported Velik and the reformist Vinem-lar. The other thirteen percent vowed to vote for V'tosh ka'tur candidates or remained undecided. With so much uncertainty, political maneuvering had become routine.
The Storilayar had far more in common fundamentally with the Vinem-lar than they did with the Ba'taklar, and for the past three months, both parties had tried to establish discreet partnerships in an effort to curb the rise of the Ba'taklar's radical fundamentalism.
The Vinem-lar candidate for Minister of State had dropped out of the race, leaving a clear path to victory for his father Silek, but this left his Uncle Sarek in a precarious position. For their concession, the Vinem-lar had expected Sarek to drop out of the race and ensure the election of their candidate, Velik, to the office of First Minister. Velik was bright, moderate, and an exceptional orator, but he only forty-eight years of age and had no experience in politics. He had been a low-level economist and had never even traveled off world prior to Vulcan's demise.
Though many within the Vinem-lar agreed Sarek was a more qualified candidate than Velik, they were understandably hesitant to allow brothers from an opposing faction to claim two crucial positions of power at this formative stage of government. Prior to the abolition of the Vulcan High Command in 2154, familial dynasties had dominated Vulcan politics for centuries, making it virtually impossible for outsiders to gain influence.
Yet the S'chn T'gai family's ability to expand its power was extremely limited, as it only had six members and two of them were half human and theoretically the same person, though not technically, due to an unusual accident of time travel. Neither incarnation of Spock posed a long-term threat to Vinem-lar influence however, as Ambassador Spock was 157 years old and in declining health due to his hybrid physiology and his younger counterpart, Commander Spock, had elected to remain in Starfleet. Since Voris was a physician and had no intention of entering politics and Sarek's firstborn son Sybok had chosen not to immigrate to New Vulcan, at present, the S'chn T'gai family's political dynasty included exactly two people: Sarek and Silek.
The Vinem-lar remained hesitant despite the Storilayar's reassurances, but several days earlier, they had made a quiet proposal to broker a compromise. If Sarek would consent to mentor Velik and support his candidacy for First Minister in ten years, Velik would agree to withdraw from the race. Sarek had readily agreed, but Velik had added a personal caveat.
Velik wanted to forge a more permanent alliance between their families as a sign of good faith, and the most practical way to do this was through marriage. Like most other Vulcans, Velik had little family to speak of, but he did have a surviving sister, T'Rya. His initial proposal was for her to marry Sarek, but neither Sarek nor T'Rya favored this idea, since T'Rya was quite young—only thirty-four years old—and had no interest in being the wife of Vulcan's First Minister.
Velik then suggested T'Rya could marry Sarek's younger son Spock, not only because they were much nearer in age, but also because Spock was half human. As both the Storilayar and Vinem-lar strongly opposed the Ba'taklar's intention to prohibit interspecies marriage, the union of T'Rya and Spock would serve as a symbolic gesture of both factions' commitment to Kol-ut-shan, or Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations.
Yet Sarek declined this suggestion as well, refusing to even mention the match to his son, whom he claimed already had a mate. That left Voris as the only logical choice of husband for Velik's sister, and though Sarek also refused to ask of his nephew what he would not ask of his own son, that hadn't prevented Silek from reminding Voris of his duty to his family.
Velik and T'Rya were due to arrive at any moment. Voris glanced at the mantle above the hearth, allowing his eyes to linger on T'Sala's candle. It was all he had left of his former mate.
He would have preferred to remain unbonded for the remainder of his life, but the unique consequences of Vulcan biology made that impossible. He was already eating and sleeping less. Soon he would begin experiencing subtle lapses in his memory and increased difficulty in regulating his emotions. In approximately three months, pon farr would be upon him, and it was for this reason he'd informed his uncle he would marry T'Rya if she were willing to accept him.
Vulcans hadn't been a species that routinely indulged in romantic fancy since Surak's Reformation. Nearly all Vulcans were betrothed in childhood, and though some bonds dissolved due to severe incompatibility, most eventually resulted in successful marriages. Choosing mates for oneself was rarely done logically, but accepting mates that had been chosen by one's parents generally was—so long as both participants were followers of logic and shared reasonably similar personal and professional ambitions. His bond with T'Sala had been particularly strong, but that had been the old way.
The new way was still yet to be determined. The deaths of six billion Vulcans had already had profound effects on the structure of Vulcan families and marriages. In addition to imbalances in the labor force, Vulcan's destruction had left disparities between the genders. Fewer females than males had opted to reside off world prior to Vulcan's destruction and as a result, the population of New Vulcan was 56.3 percent male, which left approximately three thousand males without mates when adjusted for individuals who were not attracted to the opposite sex, females who did not wish to take mates, and those not of reproductive age.
Due to pon farr, Vulcan males could not remain celibate indefinitely, which had yielded some dire and peculiar results during the past two years. For the first year, there had been a small but statistically significant uptick in suicides. Ninety-three percent had been male and many had screened positive for elevated levels of yamareen—the pon farr hormone—during their autopsies.
As a response, Vulcan physicians had met with community leaders and discussed strategies for eroding some of the long-held social taboos relating to reproduction. Ultimately, the healers had agreed to discreetly screen their at-risk male patients and tactfully recommend alternatives to suicide or succumbing to pon farr. It had been very difficult for Voris to do at first, as he would never prefer to discuss his own very private situation with anyone but his bonded mate, but New Vulcan was on the verge of a public health crisis and it eventually became easier to address the issue with his male patients.
The results had been mixed. Suicide rates remained elevated but were declining and Vulcans still found it extremely distasteful to speak openly of pon farr, but taking mates of other species, common law plural marriages, and extra marital sex were becoming somewhat more common, as evidenced through secondary effects. His hospital was seeing an increase in interspecies pregnancies and three months earlier, healers in the Kanunsh'es district had been forced to respond to a small but troublesome outbreak of a rare parasitic infection typically spread through sexual contact.
The door buzzed, drawing him from his quiet reflection. Velik and T'Rya had arrived for the interview. By the old custom, it was traditional for parents to escort their daughters to the homes of would-be mates to allow them to grow acquainted during the course of an afternoon. If the children appeared to be suited to one another, the parents would proceed with negotiations for a betrothal ceremony.
T'Rya's parents were dead and neither she nor Voris were children, but Velik had suggested the meeting occur at Voris' residence to allow T'Rya the opportunity to investigate her potential future home. Voris had never met her, but knew she was a botanist dedicated to collecting and preserving Vulcan's plant species that had survived extinction in off world nurseries, arboretums, and public and private gardens.
He opened the door to discover a tall woman with pointed features and a willowy build on his step. Her sharp eyes scanned his person and when they came to rest on his face, she gently cocked her head to the left.
"Live long and prosper," Voris declared, raising his right hand in the ta'al. "You have come alone."
"I did not think it necessary to involve my brother," she replied, returning his gesture and adding the appropriate Vulcan salutation.
Voris stepped back to allow her to enter. She stepped across the threshold casually and waited for the door to close behind her before announcing, "I accept your offer."
"Perhaps you would prefer to discuss it first," he responded. "After all, I have not formally declared koon-ut-so'lik."
T'Rya glanced around the interior of Voris' apartment. It was the standard size dwelling that most Vulcans occupied, sparsely decorated, fully furnished, and impeccably tidy.
"We are both followers of logic," she countered. "My brother wishes to ally our families for the betterment of the Vulcan people, and as your family possesses no female relations to marry into ours, he has asked me to marry into yours. Of all your relations, you are the most suitable candidate."
"And what is your opinion?"
"You possess an acceptable occupation and appear generally healthy."
"Worthy qualities in any mate," Voris replied, marveling at her candor and making a similar determination of her. "Yet far from a comprehensive inventory."
"Will you permit me a personal query?" she asked.
"Certainly."
"Why do you remain unbonded?"
Voris could offer a number of explanations, but none perfectly described the reason for his current bachelor status. There were few unattached Vulcan females and he stayed occupied with his duties at the hospital and attending Ambassador Spock during diplomatic missions, but in truth, he missed T'Sala. It was illogical, particularly after so much time, but it would be equally illogical to deny it.
"Your silence suggests you either do not know or do not wish to tell me," she murmured.
"I lost my mate of sixteen years."
"I grieve with thee," she replied. "Did you have children?"
"No."
"By choice or design?"
"Design."
"Do you wish to have children with me?"
"I believe that is a question better posed by me to you," Voris replied.
"If I may speak frankly," she began, as though she hadn't been for the entirety of their brief conversation, "I am currently pregnant."
Voris repressed a slight sensation of shock. "Would you not prefer to make a match with your child's father?"
"That is not possible, for reasons I do not wish to discuss and you should be able to deduce."
Voris understood. She had likely become pregnant assisting another male through pon farr and the father was either her brother's political rival or some other unsuitable mate.
"Does Velik know of your condition?"
"Yes."
He sensed from her fading voice that it would be grossly indelicate to continue his line of questioning. Whether or not Velik knew the identity of the father, it was likely he wished to help her secure a mate to raise her child and avoid a minor scandal with more conservative voters.
Voris had never given much thought to children once he'd learned T'Sala was infertile. If his mate could not have children, he could not become a father, and it was illogical to continue to reflect on what could never be. Yet here was a mate who was obviously capable of bearing children, and though this child would not be biologically his, he would share in the responsibility for providing for it.
"I am aware it is not an ideal situation," she continued. "I would not require you to claim the child as yours, should you choose to proceed-"
"How much longer will your gestational period be?" he interrupted.
She seemed startled by his question for a fraction of a second before admitting, "Approximately eight months."
"Will you permit me a personal query?" he asked.
She nodded in assent. "Do you care for the child's father?"
She thought to herself for a few moments. "Not in the way mates ought to care for each other."
"Do you believe you will care for me in such a way?"
"I do not know," she replied. He nodded, believing it was a fair response.
"You have been forthcoming with me, so I feel compelled to reciprocate," he explained, deciding to follow his own advice to his patients and broach the subject of pon farr. "I shall soon require… assistance. With a private matter."
She lowered her eyes and gave a subtle nod. "How long will it be until your private matter must be resolved?"
"I anticipate no more than three months," he explained. "Given your extenuating circumstances, do you wish to rescind your acceptance of the offer?"
"It is my turn to state that that is a question better posed by me to you," T'Rya countered, meeting his eye.
"I have no other prospective options for alleviating my… condition. And I am running out of time," he admitted. "My proposal stands if your acceptance of it does also."
"You are certain?"
"It would be illogical to speak casually," he replied.
"When do you wish to hold the ceremony?"
"I am due to depart for Aldebaran this evening and do not anticipate returning for several weeks," he explained. He was accompanying Ambassador Spock to meet with representatives from the proposed non-Vulcan colonies in a neutral setting to discuss contingency plans following the results of the Vulcan elections.
"When you return then," she murmured. "I would prefer to do it soon-"
"I agree," Voris interrupted. "And I understand. I am also willing to accept your child, should you ask."
"I am grateful to you," she said, her voice growing duskier.
"And I am grateful to you," he replied.
She gave a single nod of her head. They agreed to discuss the finer details of their bonding ceremony when he returned. She left his apartment and Voris set to work packing the necessary belongings for his journey to Aldebaran with Ambassador Spock.
Theirs would be a marriage of convenience generated by mutual need, but given the lack of alternatives, it would have to be sufficient. He would respect and provide for T'Rya and her child and perhaps affection would develop between them. Perhaps they would have their own children.
As he left the apartment, Voris glanced at T'Sala's candle on the mantle once more and grimaced. Due to its tenacious and enduring qualities, there were few emotions as difficult to repress as guilt.