Stardate 2260.74
"Voris."
"Silek."
It was the shortest verbal greeting possible between father and son, but there were a lifetime of tense exchanges woven between those four syllables.
"You might have informed your family that you had decided to take a mate," his father said, the lyrical Shi'Kahran accent punctuating his Vuhlkansu.
"And you might have informed me you intended to come for a visit," Voris replied.
"I attempted to contact you, but you have been disregarding my communiqués."
"You are blocking the entry to my home and Dagny must get inside," he said, taking several bold steps up the stairs.
Silek took a step back to allow them to pass and studied Dagny. She had perspiration forming on her forehead and was starting to quiver—whether from trepidation or heat exhaustion he wasn't sure.
"You might have chosen a less fragile mate."
"And you might try speaking in Standard so that she can understand you when you insult her," he retorted in their native tongue.
"It is illogical to imply I have offered an insult," Silek insisted. "I have merely made an observation."
Silek's eyes came to rest on Dagny and the longer they lingered, the more Voris could feel her anxiety increasing.
"H-h-hello," she mumbled, nodding at Silek and offering a little wave.
Silek's eyes narrowed but he bobbed his head and replied in Standard, "Hello."
"Let us go inside out of the midday heat," Voris said to Dagny, motioning for her to move forward and keying in the access code on the door panel.
It slid open and both men stood to the side to allow Dagny to enter first. Voris followed her and paused halfway in the threshold. He turned and he and his father stared at each other for several seconds. To refuse his father entry into his home would be synonymous with declaring that he was not welcome, and such a gesture had grave repercussions within Vulcan family circles.
He was not ready to formally cut ties with his father and by extension, the rest of his family, without first attempting to come to an understanding. His father strongly objected to Dagny—he'd made that clear the night before—but he did not know the entire story. They had mutually ended last night's transmission before Voris could explain that he hadn't chosen Dagny so much as she had been the only female available at a very unfortunate time.
"Will you allow me to enter or do you require that I ask first?"
Voris stepped back and Silek breezed through the open doorway. He surveyed Voris' small and sparsely decorated home, his eyes drifting toward T'Sala's candle on the mantle above the ceremonial hearth. It would be illogical to speculate what his father was thinking.
"It is polite in Vulcan society for the lady of the house to offer refreshment to her guests," Silek finally said, glowering at Dagny.
Her sweaty face paled by several shades and she started to mumble in reply, "I can- um, what- what would you like-"
"You will not come into my home and intimidate her," Voris interrupted.
"I am not at fault for her timidity," Silek replied. "And I meant no offense. I was simply trying to educate my new daughter-in-law on Vulcan hospitality customs. Additionally, are you going to introduce us or will you force us to acquaint ourselves?"
"Dagny, this is my father, Silek. Silek, this is Dagny Skjeggestad," Voris said. "And as we are not formally bonded, she is not your daughter-in-law."
"If you have not yet bonded, that gives you more options to settle this distasteful business quietly." He turned to Dagny and added, "Would you be willing to accept an annuity?"
"What?" she blurted, looking at Voris. For the first time since he'd known Dagny, there was no sadness in her, only shock and growing anger.
"My son informs me you are pregnant with his child," Silek explained. "It is logical and appropriate that Voris should tend to his responsibilities, but it is not necessary for you to reside in his home."
"I- I don't understand," she stammered, her eyebrows furrowing.
"It is very simple," Silek began to explain.
"Dagny has elected to stay here at my invitation," Voris interjected, forcing his own budding anger into submission. "It is one I have no intention of rescinding."
"Surely more suitable arrangements could be made," Silek insisted.
Voris locked eyes with Silek and quietly said, "Please, leave my home."
"You are becoming emotional. It is logical to discuss a more appropriate resolution to providing for your mutual offspring than having an unbonded human woman living with you."
"I invite you to leave," Voris reiterated.
"Dr. Voris, I should- maybe I should- I- I should go," Dagny mumbled, shuffling toward the hallway that led back to the bedrooms.
"There is no reason for you to," Voris explained. "Silek was just leaving."
"I urge you to consider your actions," Silek said, his tone subtly darkening. "You would reject your family, your-"
"Get out," Voris interrupted, taking several steps toward his father.
They'd had numerous disagreements over the years, but Voris sensed this one would come to define the course of their relationship. He and Silek stood silently, glaring at each other and waiting for the other to back down. A full minute later, Silek uttered a discontented sigh and said, "You will regret not allowing reason to guide you in this matter."
"Regret is illogical," Voris replied. "Live long and prosper, father."
"I no longer have a son."
Silek departed and as the door glided shut behind him, Voris attempted to re-center himself. He took several slow breaths and replayed the events in his mind. He had become emotional, and emotions were illogical. Yet his father had not acted rationally either. He'd come into Voris' house and offended… his mate? His guest? The soon-to-be mother of his child? He decided it did not matter how anyone would characterize his relationship with Dagny; she currently lived in his house and Silek did not. He looked around the front half of the dwelling and noticed Dagny was gone. He found her sitting on the edge of his bed, staring into space.
"Dagny?"
"Please go away," she whispered. "I'm not in the mood to do this right now."
"It would be illogical to apologize for the behavior of another, but I can apologize for subjecting you to it for so long."
"Your father hates me."
"Hatred is illogical , therefore-"
"Stop saying that!" she snapped, turning to face him.
"I have only said it once in your company."
Her face started turning red and after a few gulping breaths she said, "Your father hates me and I hate it here. I shouldn't have come."
"I have already told you I would not keep you here against your will. Where do you wish to go?"
"Anywhere I don't have to hear the word 'illogical' a hundred times a day," she spat. "And anywhere that isn't a billion degrees would also be nice."
Five years in a Terran emergency hospital had taught him humans didn't prefer to have their frequent exaggerations corrected. Rather than explain that one billion degrees was 66.4 times hotter than the temperature within New Vulcan's local star, he simply asked, "Are you angry with me?"
She didn't reply immediately. Instead, her mouth formed a series of silent words and her face rotated through four different expressions before she rubbed her temples and mumbled, "No. But as awful as your father was to me, I don't want to come between the two of you."
"You would not be the first person or thing to do so."
"I would give anything to have my father back," she retorted. "I don't want to be the reason you never speak to yours again."
"So you would have me reject my child in favor of my father?" he asked. "What kind of father would that make me?"
She cast her eyes down at her hands. "I don't know."
"Whatever happens between my father and myself is his decision. He has essentially declared an ultimatum and ought to have anticipated it would not work in his favor. Now, will you come eat a midday meal and take your prescriptions?"
She took a deep breath and replied with a cracking voice, "I'm sorry I yelled at you. You haven't done anything other than try to help me."
"I can appreciate these circumstances are very difficult for you."
She rose to her feet, crossed her arms tightly around her body, and followed him into the kitchen. He could perceive a mixture of emotions flowing from her, but she gave no external indication she was feeling anything. She stopped at the replicator and rather than ask for guidance in selecting a meal as she had done on previous occasions, she unceremoniously chose the first option on the list.
She seemed surprised by the dish that appeared before her. Ameelah was a dessert made of fried fruit and nuts, typically served at Vulcan banquets and religious festivals. She shrugged, collected the bowl, and made her way into the kitchen to collect utensils. He prepared himself a bowl of pok tar and followed her.
She offered him a spoon and he prepared a glass of water for each of them and then they sat down next to each other on the stools under the central kitchen island. He considered asking her if she would prefer something more balanced and nutritious to eat, but the moment her spoon touched her tongue, she smiled.
"This reminds me of my mother's applesauce cake." Her eyebrows furrowed in sadness but her smile refused to fade.
"What was your mother like?" Voris asked, hopeful his query was not indelicate.
She pressed the spoon to her lips as she thought. "She was kind."
Voris took a bite of his noodle soup. He was uncertain if discussing her family would upset her. Her moods were so unpredictable.
"What was your mother like?" Dagny asked suddenly.
He paused before replying, "She was kind also. Her name was T'Para. She was a renowned healer."
"My mother's name was Sofie. She was… a mother," Dagny said with a little laugh. "My father was Emil. He was the Albret's captain."
"You have had the pleasure of meeting my father already. Silek has worked in politics and diplomacy for most of his life," Voris continued. "He is likely to become Vulcan's Minister of State in the upcoming election."
Dagny's eyes widened. "That sounds like an important position."
"My family has been involved in high-level politics for generations. T'Liri, my elder sister, was a legal advocate and my younger sister L'Nai was an administrator in Vulcan's former Transportation Ministry before their deaths. Both intended to follow my father's path and eventually enter Vulcan's Diplomatic Service."
"Why didn't you do that too?"
"I was more interested in my mother's profession. Any attempt to be successful in Vulcan bureaucracy would have been hampered by my lack of ambition and talent for such things."
Dagny chuckled. Voris was uncertain why, but it pleased him to experience one of her lighter emotions, however briefly. He noted that he was detecting her emotions more readily and began to hypothesize whether it was due to being in close proximity to her or whether their bond was deepening more than he'd anticipated.
He waited for her to finish a bite and asked, "Did you have siblings?"
She nodded. "More than most people."
He cocked his head and waited to see if she would clarify her statement. After a brief period of silence she said, "Aksel and Benjamin were older than me. Aksel was twenty-one and Benjamin was nineteen when they died. I was the third child, and then after me was Daniel, then Ingrid, then Frida, Martin, Johan, Olav, Hedda, Sigurd and Sigrid—they were twins—and then Henrik and Tilde."
"You had thirteen siblings?"
She displayed a thin, pained smile. "Like I said, more than most."
"You said that Benjamin was older than you but also claim he was nineteen years of age when he died."
"Aksel and Benjamin died at the Battle of Vulcan," she explained. "I used to hate talking about it, but… it was more than two years ago. It hasn't even been a month since I lost the rest of my family and already I can't remember certain things about them. Their faces are fuzzy around the edges in my memory. How long is it going to be before I forget?"
"At the very least their images are available in Federation identity databases," he offered, recalling the hours he had spent in the weeks shortly after Vulcan's destruction staring at the identity scans of his friends and loved ones in an effort to commit them to memory.
A strange look came over her face. "It would be nice to see them, but I don't think I should right now. I've probably cried enough for one day."
"I apologize if my inquiries about your family were inappropriate."
"Don't be," she insisted. "I asked about yours too. I think this is the longest and most normal conversation we've ever had. I know things are weird between us and probably always will be, but I would like to get to know you."
"I quite agree," he said. He looked down at the empty bowl of ameelah in front of her and asked, "Are you still hungry?"
She looked prepared to say no but hesitated. He sensed she was struggling with two opposing forces—a belly that was still currently hungry and a lifelong habit of eating just enough to keep hunger at bay.
"Dr. Govorski recommended that you gain weight," he reminded her. "It would be preferable to balance your nutritional intake and remain mindful of your diet, but at this juncture I would encourage you to eat until you are satisfied."
"This was pretty good, whatever it was," she said, gazing down at the bowl in front of her. "But it would be nice to eat something with a little less sugar and a little more substance. Are you're sure it's not a problem, I-"
"I would not have offered if it were a problem," he insisted. "What would you like?"
"I'm not picky," she said, getting up from the stool to return the dish to the reclaimator.
"I did not accuse you of being so. There is nothing wrong with having preferences if numerous options are available."
"Whatever you just ate looked pretty good," she said, studying the long list of options on the replicator screen.
"Pok tar," he said, approaching the replicator and toggling through several screens before locating the item.
"Is your language hard to learn?" she asked, gently touching the loopy vertical script on the screen.
"It is not difficult to learn, but it is widely considered one of the most difficult to learn to speak."
"Is there a difference?"
"There is a marked difference. The written language can be easily mastered with practice, but I am told the human tongue and ear have considerable trouble with the spoken aspects of Vuhlkansu."
"Could you teach me some words?"
"If you like."
Dagny took the pok tar and resumed her place at the kitchen counter. Voris made his way to the spare bedroom to locate his hypospray and give Dagny her afternoon medications. When he returned to the kitchen, he set the hypospray on the counter and sifted through the box to find the lentrazole and apropramine canisters. Dagny set her spoon in the bowl of pok tar, made quick modifications to the hypospray, and held out her hand for one of the canisters.
"You have adjusted for the increased dosage?" he asked, offering her the lentrazole.
She placed the canister in the hypospray chamber and smirked. "I was at the same appointment you were. 125 ccs of lentrazole twice a day instead of 50 four times a day."
She quickly injected herself, checked the canister, and asked for the apropamine. "I know you can do this," she muttered, delivering the second injection to the opposite side of her neck. "But I can too. I don't need you to do everything for me. Besides, I can't imagine you're always going to be here to do it anyway."
He observed as she removed the canister, checked it, and then reset the hypospray settings to default. She moved quickly, efficiently, and according to standard protocols. "How long have you been a paramedic?"
"Officially? About three and a half years," she replied. "But I've been working in the ship's clinic since I was eleven. My Aunt Birgitte was a doctor. She died when a small asteroid clipped the starboard side of the ship about five years ago. I sort of filled in the gap after she passed. We should have had a proper doctor, but wasn't easy to lure people with that kind of expertise to work on a salvage ship when all we could offer them was long months of dangerous work in deep space for unguaranteed pay."
"Understandable," he murmured. The bulletins were always flooded with requests for physicians for various colonies and space expeditions. The better-funded missions could pay quite well, but there were also many job postings begging doctors to work for only lodging and supplies. Those often went unanswered for years at a time and if they were ever filled, it was often by lesser-trained medical staff, recent medical school graduates with poor performance records, or individuals who had had their licenses revoked or suspended.
"So how long have you been a doctor?" Dagny asked.
"30.8 Standard years."
She blinked and gave him a nervous look. "If you don't mind me asking… how old are you?"
"I am 50.6 Standard years of age."
"Oh," Dagny replied, turning her attention back to her bowl of pok tar.
"You seem surprised by my revelation."
She shook her head. "I knew that Vulcans lived a long time, but you're older than my father was. That's weird to think about."
She took a few bites of her noodle and vegetable soup. Voris considered returning his medical equipment to its case, but Dagny asked, "So you specialize in interspecies medicine?"
"Yes, I spent five years at a fellowship at Sarah April Memorial Hospital in San Francisco. I also hold a medical degree with a concentration in emergency medicine from the Vulcan Science Academy and advanced degrees in genetics and applied chemistry from the Institute of Gol."
Her jaw fell open. "I would have killed to do any one of those things."
Voris doubted she would literally have killed someone to have any of his experiences, but her confession still intrigued him. They both chose the next moment to speak.
"So what made you-" she started, just as he began to ask, "Why do you say-"
They fell silent. Dagny offered a little wave and said, "Please, go ahead."
"Your statement suggests you have an interest in medicine that extends beyond being a paramedic."
"I always thought it would be fun to be a doctor growing up," she admitted. "After I went to paramedic school at Deneva Station, that was when I knew I really wanted to do it."
"Why didn't you?"
She took several bites of her food before she answered. "I was always supposed to, I guess? I mean, it was the eventual plan, but the timing was never right. My family needed me. There was never enough money to send me. I didn't have the best education. Pick a reason."
"Do you still desire to become a physician?"
She shot him a strange look and said, "I had thought about it, before…" She motioned to her abdomen. "I guess it wasn't in the cards."
"You believe that pregnancy and motherhood preclude you from studying medicine?"
She scowled. "I was already so far behind before all this happened and to be honest, I struggled through parts of paramedic school. If it didn't relate to the running of a ship or the economics of salvaging, I had to learn it on my own."
"Receiving a poor education does not guarantee you are incapable of thriving academically under better instruction."
"Maybe not, but I want to be a good mother, like my mother was. I have no idea where I would find the time to study to get into medical school, let alone get through it."
"There is no correct way to be a mother, therefore, it is incorrect to say the only way to be a good mother involves forgoing schooling."
"Ok, sure, but with only 30,000 people or however many you said, I don't suppose there are a lot of options for medical schools on New Vulcan."
"While it is true there is currently no institution on New Vulcan where you could study medicine, there are many such places throughout the Federation."
"Do you have a counterargument for every excuse?" she sighed.
"Perhaps. How many more excuses can you contrive?"
"Was that a joke?"
"Jokes are illogical."
She laughed again and gazed down at the dwindling reserves of pok tar in her bowl. "Sometimes I guess it just seems like the universe is telling me I wasn't made to be a doctor."
"You were not made to be anything. You are able to be what you are willing to work to become. I am willing to assist you."
"You would really do that?"
"My actions have had a profound effect on your life and I believe I have already explained I intend to provide for you and our child in any way necessary. I cannot change what has already happened, but I can assist you in achieving the things you would have achieved prior to your becoming pregnant."
She set her spoon down and stared at him. She swallowed hard. "It just seemed overwhelming enough before there was a baby and a Vulcan father sort-of partner person to think about." Her words trailed off and she looked away. "I know you said before you would move anywhere I wanted to go, but I feel like New Vulcan is your home and you're already going so far out of your way to help me. You said you-"
"Vulcan was my home," he corrected. "New Vulcan is where I currently reside. And regardless of your ambitions, Dr. Govorski recommended relocating prior to the fifth month of your pregnancy. Perhaps proximity to suitable medical programs should be a factor when selecting a new place to live."
"I don't even know what to say."
"You do not need to make a decision now."
She nodded, drank the remnants of the pok tar broth, and placed her bowl in the reclaimator. She returned to her seat on the kitchen stool and put her hands in her lap.
"Would you like to continue this exercise of becoming acquainted?" he asked.
"I would," she replied, giving him a crooked smile. "But I'm getting really tired. I think that's one of the main side effects of the apropamine. Do you mind if I go lie down?"
Dagny retired to the bedroom and Voris went to his computer to begin researching potential places for relocation. He was in the middle of reading about the recent transition of power on Rigel VII when he received a notification on his PADD. Given his recent break with his father, he suspected it was from the hospital, but it turned out to be a missive from his Uncle Sarek.
Dr. Voris—
I invite you and your human companion to dine with me in my home this evening at 1900 hours. Kindly respond by 1730 hours if you accept.
Sarek
Dagny awoke to a gentle knocking on the door. Her mind felt alert, but her body remained sluggish.
"Yes?" she called, her voice muddled with slick saliva.
"May I enter?" Dr. Voris called through the door.
She scoffed to herself and shook her head. "It's your room."
"Yet you are currently occupying it and are owed privacy. I was merely-"
"Come in, Dr. Voris," she interrupted, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.
The door sprung open and he wandered in, tucking his hands behind his back. "Will you permit me a query?"
She gave him an exasperated look and said, "I thought we talked about this. You don't have to ask if you can ask me a question."
His eyebrows rose and he replied, "Why do you call me Dr. Voris?"
"Because… that's your name?"
"Voris is my name; doctor is my title," he corrected. "You asked that I refer to you as Dagny rather than Miss Skjeggestad, and is it not human convention to show a similar level of formality between individuals?"
"You want me to call you Voris?" she asked, licking her lips to get the dryness out of her mouth.
"I have no preference."
"Voris it is then," she said, giving him a thin smile. "What time is it?"
"It is 1700 hours. I would not have disturbed you, but my uncle has extended an invitation to end meal."
"Your uncle?"
"My Uncle Sarek," Voris explained. "He is New Vulcan's interim First Minister."
She started to feel numb. She'd had no idea Voris was from such a powerful and well-connected family.
"It is likely he has also invited my father," he continued. "I believe this is an effort to settle the conflict between Silek and myself before it becomes more publicly known."
"He invited me also?" Dagny mumbled.
"He did."
"I- I don't know," she stammered.
"Earlier you expressed desire that I should come to an understanding with my father."
Dagny would have preferred that he do it without her being present—there were only so many insults she could tolerate. Besides, what if his Uncle Sarek held a similar opinion to Silek's? It had been bad enough being dressed down by one tall, terrifying Vulcan: she doubted if she could handle two of them.
"Do you want to go?" she asked.
"I believe it would be prudent."
She sighed and gave a little nod. "I just don't want to embarrass you. I don't-"
"Embarrassment is illogical," he interjected.
She took a deep breath and continued. "I don't want to start crying and I know nothing about Vulcan hospitality customs, like your father said. I don't- it's just that I-"
"I have not spent much time in my uncle's company, but I think you will find he is quite different than my father."
"How so?"
"My Uncle Sarek married a human woman while serving as ambassador to Earth."
"Really?"
"Yes, and they had a child together—Spock. You met Ambassador Spock aboard the Sekla."
She was about to ask how old his Uncle Sarek was if Ambassador Spock was his son, but decided it would probably be a rude question. She was intrigued by the idea of an important Vulcan man marrying a human woman, which made Silek's attitude toward her even more baffling.
"What should I wear?" she asked, thinking she was going to regret signing up for more verbal abuse.
"The invitation did not stipulate formal wear, therefore, it is reasonable to conclude daily attire is acceptable."
Dagny nodded and rubbed her face with her hands.
"Was your nod indicative of consent?" Voris asked.
"I guess so. When are we supposed to leave?"
"We should depart in ninety minutes if we are to arrive at the specified time."
"I'll get dressed then," she said, throwing her legs over the side of the bed.
He left her to sort through the bags of clothes Laura had given her for something suitable to wear to dinner at a Vulcan First Minister's house, whatever that looked like. She remembered how strange those first meals with Laura and Paul had been, but they had been patient. Dagny had never dealt with things like napkins and place settings and politely asking someone to pass the salt.
She had been mortified when Laura had casually mentioned she should try chewing with her mouth closed and never talk with food in her mouth one evening as they'd cleared the table. Apparently those were widely considered to be good table manners, but no one had ever bothered to tell her.
Family meals aboard the Albret had been eaten in chaotic shifts. They'd had a table in the main room of their quarters that could comfortably sit six people, but in practice usually sat eight plus a baby in a high chair, whichever Skjeggestad had been on shift as a baby at the time. That arrangement had barely left room to comfortably cut one's food, let alone indulge in luxuries like special places for extra spoons and cloth napkins and water glasses.
Whoever showed up late to dinner often joined her mother at the tiny galley counter and ate standing up. Anyone who was too late to snag one of those limited spots had to wait for someone to get up, and thus, meals in the Skjeggestad household were full of elbowing and cajoling and shoving food in one's mouth as quickly as possible.
She thought of her first meal with Dr. Voris—correction, Voris—and how she'd agonized over trying to follow his example. She still had to consciously think about keeping her mouth shut when she chewed and avoid slurping on her water. It was daunting enough eating a simple meal with him and now she was going to be expected to eat with an important Vulcan bureaucrat?
It took her forty-five minutes to select a pair of gray slacks and a black shirt with ruffled sleeves. Laura had said it was a very fashionable shirt, whatever that meant. Dagny could count on one hand the number of articles of clothing she'd owned in her life that had been brand new. No one on the Albret ever really made a point of caring about the way clothes looked, so long as they were warm, clean, and covered the necessary parts.
It took her another thirty minutes in the lavatory to tame her hair into submission. It wasn't long enough to braid or collect in a ponytail and it was oddly kinked from the way she'd slept. She combed water into it to smooth it out but the end result still looked wrong. She finally gave up, brushed her teeth, and wandered into the front room to find Voris waiting for her.
He called for another automated car and they rode together in relative silence until Dagny said, "Your father said something about offering guests refreshment."
"Yes. Why do you mention it?"
"Only because I know nothing about Vulcan table manners or hospitality. I meant it earlier when I said I was afraid of embarrassing you. I know you think you can't get embarrassed, but I can. I want to make a good impression, especially after this afternoon."
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. "That is understandable, but I do not believe Vulcan dining habits differ greatly from human ones."
"Ok," she murmured. "But could you at least tell me what I should expect? Surely they can't all be the same."
"Sarek will understand that you are not well acquainted with Vulcan customs."
"Your father didn't seem to."
He turned his head to look at her more closely. "It is commendable that you would attempt to honor Vulcan customs. There are several differences between our cultures that come to mind. Vulcans do not prefer to touch prepared food with their hands. It is also considered a gross breach of etiquette to leave the table before the host, excepting incidents of extreme emergency."
Dagny started making mental notes in her head to keep utensils in her hands at all times and use the lavatory before sitting down to eat. Her stomach did flip flops for the rest of the drive, and as the car turned into a long circle leading up to an enormous structure, she started to worry that she was going to throw up.
"How many people live here?" she asked, leaning against the glass to get a better view of the building.
"Only my uncle and perhaps a small staff."
"This whole building is his house?" she said, unable to hide the disbelief in her voice.
"Yes. The structures to the rear of the building house other members of the New Vulcan government, but this house was built specifically for the First Minister."
She couldn't help but gawk. Daniel had once shown her pictures of a place called Buckingham Palace that he'd found in one of the databases. Apparently it had been the home of Terran kings and queens for centuries. They had laughed about what it would be like to live in such an extravagant home and have their own rooms and eat off golden plates and have pet swans that waddled through rose gardens.
The First Minister's home didn't look quite that grand, but it was still the nicest home she'd ever seen. It looked like three distinct houses—a taller structure flanked by two shorter ones. An angular series of stairs and landings lead up to what looked a main courtyard that had a lot of flowering plants and statues guarding the house's impressive front door.
It took her a long time to climb those stairs, but she managed. She started to sweat and wondered whether it was from anxiety or the planet's oppressive heat, but then decided it didn't matter. Whatever the reason, she was showing up to the Vulcan First Minister's house looking like a sweaty mess. Voris pressed a button on a panel near the door and then folded his hands in front of him.
"Good evening, Dr. Voris and Miss Skjeggestad," said a calm voice behind them.
Dagny whipped around to see Ambassador Spock approaching the house's main entry.
"Good evening, ambassador. Live long and prosper," Voris said.
"Yes," the elderly Vulcan man replied, lifting his hand in the gesture that Vulcans called the ta'al. "Live long and prosper, Dr. Voris."
Dagny wondered if she should offer the same greeting, but the front door sprung open to reveal a young Vulcan woman. Her small and sharp features gave her a unique variety of beauty that Dagny felt compelled to stare at. She said nothing but motioned for the three of them to follow her down a long hallway. Voris had said Sarek lived alone, so who was this woman?
"May I offer some refreshment?" she asked, stopping in front of the last door on the left.
Both Voris and Ambassador Spock refused, so Dagny felt compelled to do the same. The woman bowed her head, motioned toward the door, and said, "They await you."
Ambassador Spock entered the room, followed by Voris and then Dagny. She found herself in a spacious chamber with unusual artwork and mirrors on the walls, a rich red patterned carpet on the floor, and a series of couches all facing inward on a wide, square table.
"Welcome, Spock and Dr. Voris," said a pleasant voice from the other end of the room.
Dagny had been too entranced by the rich décor to notice his presence. He was not alone, however—Silek stood next to him, unmoving and unspeaking. Dagny felt the blood drain out of her face. Voris had warned her Silek might be here but she'd been secretly hoping he was wrong.
"Live long and prosper, Minister," Voris replied. He gestured in Dagny's direction and added, "Minister Sarek, this is Dagny Skjeggestad. Dagny, this is my uncle, First Minister Sarek."
She raised her hand as if on instinct, formed it into the ta'al, and uttered the words, "Live long and prosper," dumbfounded that they came out clearly enough to be understood. She could feel Silek's eyes on her but didn't dare to look in his direction.
"Yes, live long and prosper," Sarek replied. He glanced at Silek and said, "My brother informs me you are already acquainted."
"We- we met this afternoon," Dagny replied.
"If there are no more introductions to make, then let us sit for end meal," Sarek said. "The chef has informed me it is ready."
Dagny wasn't sure whether to dwell on the idea that Sarek employed another person whose only job was to cook or the fact that she was about to sit down to a meal with Silek, a man who just earlier that day had suggested she should take Voris' money and leave his family alone.
They entered a softly lit formal dining room with a long, rectangular table that could have easily sat half the crew of the Albret. At the far end were place settings for five people; Dagny wondered if there was a certain place she was supposed to sit. Sarek went to the head of the table; Spock went to his right and Silek to his left. She snuck a nervous look at Voris and saw him nod in the direction of the seat next to the ambassador.
Once they were all standing behind their chairs, Sarek told them to be seated but remained standing himself. She was sitting across from Voris and was secretly grateful to have someone directly in front of her to give her visual cues on what to do. Moments later, the woman who had greeted them at the door emerged through a side door carrying a large bowl. She offered it to Sarek, who set it in the center of the table.
One by one they ladled helpings into their heavy and ornate bowls. Dagny was reluctant to take more than a spoonful, but seeing how much there was for only five people and watching Ambassador Spock help himself to three scoops, she split the difference and served herself two spoons of the thick brown stew. It smelled delicious.
Her eyes darted around the table and after noticing the others placed the embroidered napkins in their laps, she followed suit. She saw Voris pick up the larger of the two spoons in the place setting and did the same, dipping it into the thick liquid.
She ran through a checklist in her mind, reminding herself to chew with her mouth closed, take small bites, only touch food with utensils, and so on. The others had started eating, but as she prepared to take in her first bite, Sarek said, "It is an honor to have you at my table, Miss Skjeggestad."
She nearly dropped her spoon in the bowl. "Thank you for inviting me."
"There are many on New Vulcan who owe their lives to you and the crew of the Albret," the First Minister continued. "Its loss is our loss. All of New Vulcan grieves with you."
She took a deep breath, suddenly horrified at the thought of being reduced to tears at the table. "Thank you."
They settled into their meal and for a long time, the only sounds were the clinking of metal utensils on china and gentle thuds of glasses being set down on the cloth-covered table. She focused on eating politely like Laura had shown her, but the silence of the dinner party was palpable.
She was nearly done when she noticed Silek place his napkin on the table, set his spoon on top of it, clear his throat, and say to his brother, "It would be illogical to pretend you didn't have an underlying motivation for summoning us here."
"You are correct," Sarek replied, setting his own spoon down. "The elections are in eighteen days and you are foolishly risking the outcome because you intend to openly disavow your son's mate."
Dagny held her breath and started studying the intricate pattern on the soup bowl. Vulcans certainly didn't waste time dancing around the issue.
"She is not suitable."
"My choice of mate is none of your concern," Voris interjected.
"It is my concern," Silek countered. "You have always followed your own selfish ambitions. T'Rya was the most appropriate match you could have made. It was illogical to reject her."
Dagny had no idea what he was talking about, but the conversation was moving so quickly she didn't have time to reflect upon it.
"She rejected me," Voris replied, his voice noticeably rising by several decibels.
"You might have persuaded her to see reason," Silek retorted. "Her brother had convinced her to change her mind, but you refused to even consider the possibility because you'd already chosen to bond with an uneducated human female from a garbage scow."
Dagny's mouth fell open and her hands started to tremble.
"I believe the Albret was a salvage ship operated by a crew that saved the lives of a considerable portion of our population at great risk and cost to themselves," Sarek rejoined.
"The Albret's actions are not at issue here," Silek insisted. "Voris' behavior not only reflects poorly upon his family, but also has serious implications for the future of New Vulcan. I do not imagine many people would be receptive to the idea of a First Minister or Minister of State who permit a member of their family to cohabitate with a female they are not bonded to."
"So what is your solution?" Voris asked. "Would you be satisfied if Dagny and I were to formally bond?"
Silek's face darkened. "I already proposed the most logical solution this afternoon."
Dagny wanted to say something, but she wasn't sure where to start. Voris and Ambassador Spock began speaking at the same time, but Voris yielded to his older cousin.
"It also seems implausible that a single human woman could destroy Vulcan society simply by giving birth to your grandchild," Ambassador Spock mused.
"A half-breed," Silek snapped.
Dagny's face suddenly felt incredibly hot. Voris, Ambassador Spock, and Minister Sarek all slowly turned to look at Silek. Something in his eyes suggested he was acutely aware he'd overstepped a serious boundary.
"Fine, I grew up on a garbage scow," Dagny spat. "That's one way of putting it. And no, my parents didn't teach me a lot of fancy manners and this whole time we've been sitting here, I've worried about doing or saying the wrong thing. But even on a garbage scow I learned how to treat people with respect."
Silek's eyes narrowed but he didn't respond. It almost felt like an out of body experience and though she knew she was probably going to regret this outburst, she no longer cared. "I didn't ask for this," she continued bitterly. "I didn't ask for any of this."
"No, you did not," Ambassador Spock agreed, finally tearing his gaze away from Silek to look at her.
"Regardless of what my brother will do, I invited you here to welcome you into our family in whatever capacity you and Voris agree to," Sarek said, turning to Dagny.
"And I would welcome you also," Ambassador Spock replied.
Dagny's hands were shaking so she placed them in her lap hoping that no one would notice. There was a noticeable ringing in her ears and her face felt like it was on fire. She wasn't sure what to do. Apologize for shouting at a Vulcan dinner table? Keep standing up for herself? Thank the ambassador and the First Minister for their unexpected acceptance?
"I should leave," Silek said, rising from the table.
"You are still welcome in my home, Silek," Sarek replied. "It is my hope we can come to an understanding on this matter. It is logical to preserve our limited familial ties and present a united front for the Storilayar."
"You would destroy everything we've worked for because of a human woman who wedged her way into this family by conceiving my son's child?"
"I might ask you the same question."
Silek turned and left the dining room without another word. Dagny took several slow breaths, willing herself to keep from crying in anger and making an already awkward situation worse.
"I regret that I have brought a disagreement between my father and myself into your home, Minister," Voris said.
"You were both here at my invitation," Sarek replied.
"I'm sorry I yelled," Dagny gulped, trying to look at Sarek but unable to coax herself into looking him in the eye.
She detected a minor hint of surprise in his expression. "Your apology is unnecessary, Miss Skjeggestad. You are not the first human woman to lose her temper at my dinner table."
"Perhaps we should leave also," Voris said, setting his napkin on the table.
Sarek steepled his hands and nodded. "I thank you both for coming. I regret the evening was not more civil. As I told Silek, you are welcome in my home, as is Miss Skjeggestad."
Ambassador Spock chose to leave at the same time, and Sarek escorted his three guests back down the long hallway. After a quick series of goodbyes, they followed Ambassador Spock to a car that was waiting in the driveway and accepted his offer of transportation home.
Ambassador Spock spent most of the journey discussing the itineraries of several upcoming trips with Voris. Dagny occupied herself by gazing at the beautiful lights of the city whose name she could barely pronounce. Vah-shev? Vah-shy-ev?
It seemed like they were all going out of their way to pretend like nothing had happened. While it didn't seem very logical, Dagny was grateful. She wasn't interested in reliving the most awkward meal of her life, but she had a lot of questions. Who was T'Rya? What had happened between Voris and this person? She almost didn't want to know.
When she and Voris arrived back at their housing complex twenty minutes later, there was a cat sitting by the doorstep, the image of a statue except for a swishing tail. For a moment, Dagny forgot all about the awkward, awful, angry day she'd had and marveled at the cat called Harold.
He allowed her to pick him up and scratch his head while Voris keyed in the door code. He was an ugly thing with a fat face, a milky eye, a torn ear, several missing teeth, and a number of scars on his head and chest. He looked like the physical embodiment how Dagny currently felt and she decided immediately she liked this wayward creature very much.
"I have never seen him express affection for anyone," Voris remarked as they walked inside.
Dagny scratched his cheek and he rubbed her hand with the side of his face. She smiled. "I don't think anything is unlovable."