Stardate 2260.79
"You must constantly whisk in small circles while gradually lowering the applied heat, otherwise, the sauce will not emulsify correctly," T'Mir explained, gazing at the whisk in Dagny's hand and reaching across her to adjust the setting on the stovetop thermal unit.
Dagny adjusted her stirring technique and after about a minute, the brown sauce began to lighten and become smooth and creamy. "Is this right? Does this look ok?"
"It is acceptable, yes," T'Mir replied, completely turning off the heat.
Coming from T'Mir, "acceptable" was high praise. Dagny smiled. Hoisting the saucepan with both hands, she poured the fluffy golden cream over the lightly steamed vegetables and noodles in the glass pan on the counter. She jiggled the casserole dish to get the cream to coat the vegetables more evenly and then sprinkled the top with the ten grams of crushed grain she had prepared with a mortar and pestle.
"Now it must bake at 190 degrees Celsius for fifty-two minutes."
"Fifty-two minutes seems oddly precise," Dagny murmured, sliding the glass dish across the metal rack of the thermal unit. "Surely a minute either way wouldn't make a huge difference."
T'Mir pursed her lips and Dagny fought the urge to smile. "It is the correct length of time to obtain the most optimally tender vegetables."
"What if someone likes their veggies on the crisper side?" she asked, setting the timer for fifty-two minutes.
T'Mir raised an eyebrow and Dagny decided to drop it. T'Mir reminded her so much of Ingrid that it was easy to fall into the natural habit of teasing her, just as she had done with her younger sister. Ingrid had been introverted and enjoyed rules and order: she wouldn't have thought twice about being told something needed to cook for exactly fifty-two minutes.
They had just finished preparing a casserole-like dish called balkra for the evening meal, or aru-yem, as the Vulcans would say. Dagny had spent three days in Sarek's household and they had been informative beyond measure. She had learned about Vulcan language and culture, absorbing anything and everything she could. T'Mir had shown her a number of recipes that had belonged to her grandmother, or ko'mekh-il.
Dagny lapped up Vulcan vocabulary readily and was fair with grammar, but T'Mir insisted her pronunciation left a lot to be desired. She'd spent yesterday afternoon trying to teach Dagny how to raise her tongue to the roof of her mouth to form certain vowel sounds and focus on accentuating the right syllables, but Dagny wasn't sure it had made much of a difference. T'Mir had told her that her articulation had gone from being entirely unintelligible to merely terrible, so surely that had to be an improvement.
A small chime echoed from the other room and T'Mir left and returned with a PADD in her hands. "First Minister Sarek will be joining us for end meal."
Dagny offered a small smile, even as anxiety welled in her gut. The First Minister was rarely at home; most days he left before Dagny woke up and returned after she went to sleep. She'd only seen him once since the night he'd fetched her from Voris' quarters and took her to the hospital. He had been unable to speak with Voris directly but had been informed by the Security Ministry that Voris was alive and in good health and that he aware she was staying with Sarek in the interim.
Voris should have been allowed to come back to New Vulcan today but she'd heard nothing about it. She was sure someone would have told her if the situation had escalated or changed, but maybe that was why First Minister Sarek was coming home early tonight. Maybe he had bad news.
"I should prepare the dining room," T'Mir said, walking toward the rear kitchen exit that fed into the formal dining room.
"Is it just going to be him or is he bringing guests?" Dagny asked, following her.
"The First Minister will be alone," T'Mir replied, activating the switch on the wall and illuminating the room.
Dagny looked out over the long table, wondering why Vulcans enjoyed standing on so much ceremony. She remembered her first night sitting at this table with Voris, Sarek, Silek, and Ambassador Spock. She had been so intimidated then and despite T'Mir's lessons, she was intimidated now.
Since her arrival, she'd eaten small, quiet meals with T'Mir in the kitchen. She wondered at the logic of eating at this enormous table. To Dagny, it made more sense for two people to sit at a table for six rather than at a table for fifty, but T'Mir had explained that breakfast and lunch were traditionally consumed in the kitchen and dinner was eaten in the formal dining room, regardless of the number of guests.
T'Mir was a member of the staff and she took all her meals in the kitchen, so apparently sometimes Sarek ate alone in this massive dining room. She wondered what it would be like, sitting at the head of a table staring down two long rows of empty chairs. Was it lordly? Humbling? Depressing?
Dagny's eyes skimmed the surfaces of the dining room, thinking it was already in immaculate condition, but T'Mir had an eagle's eye for dirt and disorder. T'Mir started directing a number of small domestic bots to polish and buff the long table and sweep the plush rug beneath it. Dagny stood by, watching the robots' progress and watching T'Mir occasionally go behind them to correct tiny deficiencies they'd missed.
She did everything with such precision and attention to detail, but Dagny never got the sense that she was suited to being a housekeeper. After three days together, she still didn't know much about the woman, aside from the fact that she was young and had been on the Albret.
Dagny hadn't told T'Mir everything either. She had talked at length about her previous life—her friends and family and her interest in medicine—but she had left out all the parts about Voris, the destruction of Vulcan, and the loss of the Albret. She'd mentioned her pregnancy in passing, but T'Mir had never pressed her for more information. She wondered how much Sarek had told her, if he'd said anything at all, but if she was curious about Dagny, she did a very Vulcan job of keeping it to herself.
Dagny was certainly intrigued by T'Mir. The Vulcan woman's former life had come up exactly once and she'd changed the subject, so Dagny had just assumed she didn't want to talk about it. She knew Vulcans were very private and she wanted to respect T'Mir's space, but her curiosity was gnawing at her.
"Were you a housekeeper… you know… before?" Dagny asked as casually as she could manage, moving down the opposite side of the table from T'Mir.
"No."
Dagny bit her lip, keeping her eyes on the backs of the chairs and making sure they were perfectly aligned. She made a quick adjustment to one chair and stepped back to observe the difference, but before she could decide if she'd made things better or worse, T'Mir said, "It is now out of alignment."
Dagny moved it back to its previous position, feeling like it looked crooked but deciding to trust T'Mir's judgment. "So were you a chef then? You make such wonderful meals."
"I was a student," T'Mir replied. "I was accepted to the Vulcan Science Academy to study theoretical chemistry."
"You were a chemist?" Dagny mused, deciding it made a lot of sense. T'Mir had a habit of explaining thermodynamic processes and chemical properties whenever Dagny asked a question about cooking.
"No," she replied. "I did not finish my studies."
Dagny frowned and looked away from the center of the room. She didn't need three guesses to figure out why T'Mir hadn't graduated. Figuring she'd pushed the issue far enough, she struggled to think of a more neutral topic of conversation, but T'Mir surprised her by adding, "I was midway through the first year at the Vulcan Science Academy when I was recalled to my family home in Gol to be married."
"Oh," Dagny mumbled. T'Mir had never spoken of a husband, and the phrase, "I was recalled to Gol to be married," was really strange. She made it sound like she had no choice in the matter.
"We had been married for four days when Vulcan was destroyed," T'Mir continued, staring down at the table and running her hand over the gentle arch of one of the chair backs. "We were taken aboard your ship, but he had been severely injured when the roof of our home collapsed. Despite your best efforts, he succumbed to his injuries."
Dagny's heart sank. "I treated your husband?"
"You did," T'Mir replied.
Dagny's breath caught in her throat. How she wished she could do anything to rewind time and avoid starting this conversation. She had no recollection of T'Mir or her husband, but he had died under her care. How callous she must seem to not remember him. There had been so many injured Vulcans and so few supplies and her memories from two years ago were one giant blur that she usually kept locked away in the darkest recesses of her mind.
"I'm so sorry."
"You have already apologized once," T'Mir replied. "Furthermore, it is illogical to apologize for that which you could not control. There was nothing you could have done to prevent his death with the limited resources available to you at the time."
"I'm sorry for his loss, but also sorry that I don't remember," Dagny admitted, biting her lip to have something to focus on in order to avoid tearing up. "What was his name?"
T'Mir was quiet for a short time, but she eventually replied, "His name was Verel."
She fought the impulse to apologize again, but she was unsure of what she should say to bridge the silence. Changing the subject felt wrong somehow, like she didn't want to acknowledge Verel's death, but she also didn't want to pry any further into a subject she doubted T'Mir wanted to talk about.
They came to the end of the long table and T'Mir finally broke the tension by saying, "It is in the past."
"Yeah," Dagny mumbled. "So anyway, why don't you go back to studying chemistry if that was what you were doing before?"
"The New Vulcan Science Academy was founded within months of the establishment of the New Vulcan colony, but it remains small and unable to support many students or disciplines," she explained. "Furthermore, New Vulcan has an excess of chemists and other scientists. What the planet requires are laborers, farmers, merchants, and tradespeople, but I am not well suited to any of those occupations."
Dagny suddenly felt very sad for T'Mir. She knew exactly what it was like to have a passion for something and be unable to pursue it because of unfortunate circumstances. She knew better than to tell T'Mir she should follow her dreams no matter what: Dagny didn't adhere to logic like Vulcans did, but she knew just how far empty optimism went. Optimism didn't pay for schooling, it didn't take care of other responsibilities, and it certainly wouldn't guarantee a job after she graduated if there were already too many chemists on New Vulcan. Dagny didn't know all the finer details of T'Mir's personal situation, but she had the strong sense that if T'Mir felt like she could go to university and be successful, she would have already done so.
She made eye contact with T'Mir and nodded. Dagny had always considered herself a pragmatic optimist—she was willing to work hard to achieve her goals, but she was also willing to accept that just because she wanted something and it wasn't theoretically impossible didn't necessarily mean it made sense to pursue it.
She excused herself to take her evening medication and once in the bedroom, she hopped up on the towering bed and thought of Voris' insistence that she could still attend medical school despite everything that had happened. She was still young, but the longer she waited, the harder it would be. Without a baccalaureate degree in a scientific field, the only way for her to get into a medical program was to have two years of professional medical experience, an active paramedic's certification, and pass an entrance exam proving she had the basic scientific knowledge to be successful in medical school. She needed to be employed as a paramedic, not only to keep her skills sharp, but also to maintain her credentials.
New Vulcan seemed to have a glut of medical personnel and her temporary visa wouldn't allow her to legally work on the planet anyway. Voris had talked about relocating to a place that had a medical school nearby, but she wouldn't be able to start school until after the baby was born.
She laid back on the bed, running through different scenarios of how she could manage juggling a difficult pregnancy, a newborn baby, a Vulcan partner who was still practically a stranger, working as a paramedic, and going to medical school. She closed her eyes and tried not to let it overwhelm her.
She ran her hands over her stomach and felt a surge of panic. Being a mother was something that was constantly on her mind, which was strange because her pregnancy felt very abstract. She focused on how she would raise a baby, but all too often, she forgot that she was currently growing a baby. She didn't feel pregnant. Aside from some nausea on the day she'd been trapped at the apartment with no food, she hadn't really had any symptoms. She felt constantly hot, sweaty, and drained, but that was just a simple fact of living on New Vulcan.
At this point, the baby wasn't even the size of a pea. Her stomach was completely flat and would remain that way for several more months. It all seemed very theoretical still, and that had her worried. She knew all about pregnancy symptoms... her mother had been perpetually pregnant for more than twenty years. It suddenly occurred to her that at almost four weeks post conception, she should be experiencing tender breasts and more frequent urination, but she felt the same as she always did.
She closed her eyes and sighed, begging herself to stay calm. She had never been pregnant before, nor had she ever cared for a patient with a hybrid pregnancy, so she didn't know what was normal. She was due to visit Dr. Govorski again the day after tomorrow, but she knew she was lying when she promised herself she wouldn't worry.
She hated not knowing how to feel about it. This baby hadn't been planned; it was still smaller than her pinky fingernail and was already putting major hitches in her future plans. She couldn't imagine having a weirder relationship with the father than the one she currently had with Voris, and yet… she wanted the baby so badly. It would have just been easier to skip the hormone suppressants and let nature take its course, but the thought of doing that filled her with a deeply negative emotion that she had no name for. It felt so strange to be worried about a baby that she hadn't even wanted, but its unexpected existence had given her a sort of purpose when everything else had been stripped away. Regardless of anything else, it was keeping her going for now, and that was better than nothing.
She closed her eyes and tried to relax, but what felt like just moments later, there was a knock on the door.
"Miss Skjeggestad, end meal is ready to be served." Despite her request that she call her Dagny, T'Mir still insisted on using the more formal honorific.
She sat up, thinking that couldn't possibly be right: she had only rested her eyes for a minute. She glanced at the clock on the wall, scarcely believing it was 2015 hours. "Um, give me just a minute," she called, leaping from the bed and scrambling to take her medication and change into a nicer, less rumpled shirt.
She moved as fast as she could to the formal dining room without breaking into a run, pausing at the corner of the hallway to smooth down her hair and shirt. She entered the dining room and found two place settings laid out on the great table and Sarek standing behind a chair on the end. T'Mir stood in the corner with her hands tucked behind her back.
"Good evening, First Minister Sarek," she said, feeling very awkward.
"Miss Skjeggestad," he replied, giving a small bow of his head.
She made her way to the other place setting, trying to remember the Vulcan rules of formal dining etiquette she'd picked up over the past week from Voris and T'Mir. She should stand behind her chair and wait for Sarek to tell her to sit. The moment she found her place, Sarek looked over his shoulder to T'Mir and said, "Fetch a dish and utensils for yourself. I shall see to the serving of the meal."
T'Mir raised an eyebrow and hesitated, which prompted the First Minister to add, "We dine together regularly when we do not have guests. I see no reason to alter our conduct due to Miss Skjeggestad's presence. Unless of course she has some objection."
Dagny uttered a tiny sigh of relief and shook her head. T'Mir had served them the last time she'd eaten at this table and it had been weird then. Now T'Mir was the closest thing she had to a friend on this planet and the idea of her waiting on Dagny would have been almost too uncomfortable to bear. The three of them made their way to the kitchen—T'Mir grabbed a place setting for herself, Sarek collected the casserole dish, and Dagny poured water for the three of them.
T'Mir set her plate to Sarek's left, but when Dagny looked to Sarek for the invitation to be seated, he said, "Perhaps it would be more appropriate to forgo the formality, as we are such a small party. Please, sit and serve yourself."
Dagny couldn't help the broad smile of relief that spread across her face. She sat and folded her hands in her lap, thinking that just because Sarek had kindly decided to skip all the fancy rules didn't mean she should forget some of the more basic ones. She remembered Vulcans didn't touch food with their hands and prayed she would remember to eat with her mouth closed.
"T'Mir informs me you prepared the evening meal," Sarek said, unfolding his napkin and placing it in his lap.
"Oh, uh, not really," Dagny admitted, shooting a glance at T'Mir. "I mean, I did a lot of the prep work but it wouldn't have been possible without her direction. She's a very good cook and I learned a lot from her."
"Please, serve yourself," Sarek said, gesturing toward the casserole. It certainly smelled delicious, but now that Sarek knew she'd had a hand in making it, she was terrified it something would be wrong with it.
She heaped a large spoonful onto her plate and passed the serving spoon to T'Mir. She had never seen half the vegetables in this casserole prior to that afternoon, but one looked a bit like a snap pea and another like brown eggplant. She took a cautious bite and immediately relaxed. It was near perfect.
They tucked into their dinner, and though Dagny knew Vulcans didn't prefer to talk during meals, Sarek had said that he didn't mind ditching formality. She did her best to read the situation, but she eventually decided she couldn't wait until after dinner.
"I hope you don't mind me asking, First Minister," she began, doing her best to project confidence, "but I thought Voris was supposed to be done with quarantine today. Is he ok? I mean, do you know? I don't mean to interrupt your dinner, I just…"
Sarek looked up from his dish. "I had intended to speak with you privately following our meal, but I am told Dr. Voris was allowed to leave the Oglethorpe this afternoon and boarded a Vulcan medical vessel. He should be released within the next twelve hours pending the results of an independent medical examination."
Dagny chewed her lip and momentarily closed her eyes, allowing the good news to sink in. "Thank you."
"You have nothing to thank me for," Sarek replied. "Dr. Voris is returning as scheduled. It is regrettable I was unable to secure an earlier return for him."
She was about to launch into an explanation that she was grateful he'd been so considerate to help her but had the distinct impression that would be a conversation better held in private. They ate the rest of their meal in relative silence, but Dagny noticed Sarek and T'Mir exchange occasional glances that were hard to categorize.
When they were finished, Sarek asked T'Mir to attend to the dishes, but it seemed less like an employer giving his housekeeper an instruction and more like a friend requesting a favor from another friend. Sarek invited Dagny to join him in his sitting room for evening k'vass, so she followed him into the room at the end of the hall with the mirrors and artwork and red patterned carpet where she'd first met the First Minister five days earlier.
He offered her a tall thin glass full of light brown liquid that smelled of butterscotch, apples, and exotic spices and directed her to sit on one of the central couches. She sipped the k'vass and shuddered. It had a bite to it that was vaguely reminiscent of alcohol and she was torn between spitting it out and swallowing it to be polite. She allowed the drink to slide down her throat, wondering if she'd just made a huge mistake.
"Is this alcoholic?"
"It contains no ethyl alcohol and is safe for pregnant women to consume," Sarek replied. "My late wife enjoyed k'vass and drank it throughout her pregnancy."
She gave him a weak smile. She had so many questions about Sarek's human wife, but she wasn't sure if it was appropriate to ask about her under any circumstances. She took another sip of her drink, thinking it was really quite good, now that she wasn't afraid of it harming the baby.
She waited until Sarek took a seat on the opposite couch and said, "I thanked you at dinner for trying to help Voris, but I also want to thank you for helping me."
"You have already thanked me on three separate occasions," he replied.
"I know, but I don't know what else to say," she confessed. "I know that my presence here probably isn't helping your election, and I just- I'm so thankful that you've been so kind to help me anyway and welcomed me into your family."
Tears started to blur her vision. Horrified at the thought of crying, she took another drink of the k'vass and looked away.
"I believe I understand the circumstances that brought you and my nephew together and they are regrettable, both for you and for him," he replied. "You are in this situation through no fault of your own and are attempting to resolve in accordance with your conscience. It is not my place to give you my opinion on the most optimal solution, even if my brother has no qualms with making his opinion known."
"I'm still sorry if I've caused problems between you and Silek."
"My brother and I have had many disagreements that have led us to avoid speaking to one another as brothers should. He has always held very strong opinions regarding interspecies partnerships. It is illogical to believe you are responsible for his conduct toward you."
Dagny wasn't sure what to say. She'd had plenty of occasions where she'd butted heads with her siblings, but nothing quite like this. She finished her k'vass and excused herself for the night.
She stopped by the lavatory in the hall and took her time washing her hands, studying her reflection in the mirror. She still didn't look like herself, but she couldn't remember what she used to look like. She leaned against the counter and slipped the aquamarine pendant from around her neck, fingering the gemstone tenderly.
Erik had given this to her on her birthday, the day the Albret had been destroyed. Looking at it should make her feel sad, but she felt nothing, aside from the same sense of grief and loss that she felt for everyone else. She felt guilty for feeling nothing. She had been in love with Erik, hadn't she? She took a moment and used the mirror to affix it back around her neck, shut out the lights, and then opened the lavatory door. She jumped.
There were two figures in the hallway and it took her mind a second to process that what she was seeing was a reflection of a reflection in the row mirrors that lined both sides of the angled hallway. Sarek and T'Mir were standing outside T'Mir's bedroom at the other end of the corridor, their bodies much closer than anyone would consider appropriate for a housekeeper and her employer.
Awkwardness forced her back into the dark shadows of the lavatory. She was fairly certain they hadn't seen her, but she felt awful for spying on them and intruding upon a private moment. Should she walk out there and act like everything was normal? Footsteps echoed on the tile floor. Someone was moving in her direction. She took a deep breath and strolled out of the lavatory as casually as she could and almost ran into Sarek.
"Oh, I didn't expect to see you here," she lied, hoping she wasn't blushing as badly as she thought she was. "I was just going to bed. Goodnight, First Minister."
"Goodnight, Miss Skjeggestad."
Once in her room, she uttered a silent laugh and covered her mouth. She'd had a fleeting suspicion at dinner that there was more going on between Sarek and T'Mir than met the eye, but figured she was just imagining things. To use a Vulcan turn of phrase, she was being "illogical" to assume a few furtive glances meant anything.
Maybe she was still being illogical. They had just been standing in the hallway and his room was next to T'Mir's. That alone didn't prove anything. But they had been standing so close that she would have thought they were romantically involved if they were human, and Vulcans seemed to crave personal space.
She shook her head and smiled, drumming her fingers on her chin. T'Mir was Sarek's housekeeper and as far as she could tell, T'Mir was only a few years older than Dagny. There was no telling how old Sarek was, but if Silek were younger than Sarek and Silek had a fifty year old son... She decided it didn't matter: it wasn't really any of her business and she was in no place to judge. Sarek and T'Mir were both good people and deserving of happiness just like anyone else, and if they had found it with each other, then she was happy for them.
Voris rematerialized outside the Va'ashiv district hospital. The Vulcan medical ship had transported him and the rest of the staff back to the planet's surface. It was now more than four days after they had been due to return.
He had spent three days on the Oglethorpe and in that time, Voris had become acquainted with many of the crew and passengers. He had initially dismissed Ann Svendsen's offer to join them on Bergeron colony, but the more he learned of the colony and its people, the more he began to consider it as a viable possibility.
The colony was reasonably developed and had become profitable early last year. He would not be guaranteed a salary, but like all the other inhabitants of Bergeron colony, he would be entitled to a share of the miner's rights and profits, as well as food and housing. It was a financial gamble but he had accrued a substantial amount of savings over the last two years. He also wouldn't be bound by any contract and could choose to leave at any time.
He had always been interested in practicing medicine on a colony world. He had received an offer from Vega colony prior to Vulcan's destruction and would have accepted if T'Sala would have joined him. If he were ever going to practice medicine on the frontier, it would be most logical for his career progression to do so within the next ten years while he was still young, but his situation with Dagny complicated things.
There were many things to consider, but her health and safety—as well as that of their child—were paramount. Cestus III was situated in a region of space just beyond the Federation's borders between the Klingon Empire and the Gorn Hegemony. While that was cause for concern, he also rationally understood that even though New Vulcan was technically within Federation space, it was almost as vulnerable as Cestus III, should either the Gorn or Klingons decide to attack the Federation.
It also lacked many resources he took for granted. Neither Bergeron colony nor the Federation colony on Cestus III had a dedicated spaceport. Transportation to and from the colony was intermittent and unpredictable. The Oglethorpe made three passages to Nausicaa annually and the colonists also had access to a smaller transport vessel that made a several trips to Aldebaran each year as needed to pick up and drop off passengers or to receive specialty supplies.
There were places that would probably be considered more appropriate, but there were also many benefits to Bergeron colony. Dagny would be able to resume work as a paramedic if she wanted to, so long as her pregnancy remained healthy. The gravity and climate were ideal: the average temperature was nineteen degrees Celsius and the gravity was 0.99G, making it quite similar to northern regions on Earth.
Aside from practical considerations, he had learned yesterday that Ann Svendsen and her family were distant relations to Dagny and had been aboard the Albret for more than twenty years. Ann already knew of the Albret's fate but had been unaware Dagny had survived. It had been difficult to admit that Dagny was currently living with him and he hadn't seen the necessity of informing her that she was expecting his child, but Ann was very eager to see Dagny again, and given the scale of Dagny's loss, he supposed she would be pleased to see Ann also.
He did not have much time to make a decision—the Oglethorpe was scheduled to leave New Vulcan's orbit in approximately five days and had no plans to come back through New Vulcan space in the near future. There were also no regularly scheduled direct transports between Cestus III and any Federation port. If he and Dagny were not on the Oglethorpe within the next five days, their next opportunity to get there would be in four months and they would have to travel to Nausicaa, and Nausicaans were not renowned for the hospitality, particularly to Vulcans.
"Do you require anything else from us, Dr. Voris?" T'Nar asked, looking down at a PADD in her hands.
"No," he replied. "Live long and prosper."
The four of them exchanged goodbyes and Veran, T'Nar, and Selaara left to return to their homes, but Voris called a taxi and went to his office to upload his reports for the hospital's records while he waited for his transportation to arrive. His reports had also been sent to the Federation and New Vulcan health agencies, as well as the New Vulcan Security Ministry. He had filed death certificates for the first officer and payload specialist who had been killed during the initial vacuum fluctuation, but he had made no mention of Rhaal. He had also found no evidence of Orion lungworm on the Oglethorpe, but he had not expected to.
When he was finished transferring his files to the hospital's servers, he met his taxi outside and went directly to his Uncle Sarek's house. He was immeasurably grateful that his uncle had taken time from his schedule to attend to Dagny's needs while he was detained in orbit.
He sent the First Minister a message saying he would arrive in approximately thirty minutes to collect Dagny, but his uncle informed him Dagny had already retired for the evening. He was about to suggest he could come by in the morning, but he received a second message from Sarek that said, "You are still welcome to come. There is much I wish to discuss with you." Voris arrived at his home precisely twenty-eight minutes later and was surprised when First Minister Sarek himself answered the door.
"Good evening, First Minister," Voris said, raising his hand in the ta'al. "Live long and prosper."
"Yes," Sarek replied, returning the gesture. He stepped aside to allow Voris to enter. "Have you taken end meal?"
His last meal had been approximately six hours ago on the medical transport, but he wasn't particularly hungry and didn't wish to inconvenience his uncle. "Your offer of hospitality is appreciated but unnecessary."
He followed Sarek into the sitting room at the other end of the hall and was invited to have a seat. His uncle offered him a glass of k'vass, which he readily accepted, and they began a discussion of the events of the past four days.
As Voris had suspected, the fears of Orion lungworm had been largely unfounded and the quarantine of the ship had been a ruse to give the New Vulcan authorities more time to investigate the people on board the Oglethorpe for terrorist connections and activities. He was unsurprised to discover they had looked into both his and Dagny's backgrounds as well, but apparently four days of exhaustive investigation had yielded nothing of interest to the New Vulcan Security Ministry.
In the current government, the highly conservative and isolationist Ba'taklar dominated the Security Ministry and though they were anticipated to lose most of their power following the elections, the elections would not be held for another thirteen days. It was logical to conclude the quarantine of the Oglethorpe had been a feeble attempt to apprehend terrorists or foil a terrorist plot and prove to the New Vulcan populace that they continued to face significant threats from offworlders.
He thought of Rhaal. If he had noted the Romulan refugee in any of his reports, it was quite possible he, the rest of the medical team, and the crew would have been placed in detention for a significant period of time while they struggled to prove their innocence. Lying and falsifying reports was still illogical, but that did not mean it couldn't also be personally beneficial.
"I am grateful for your efforts to look after Dagny in my absence," he said, finishing the last of his k'vass.
"It was logical," Sarek replied. "It was a duty that your father ought to have undertaken, but as he has vowed to disown you, it seemed logical to conclude he had no interest in assuming responsibility for your mate."
Voris nodded slowly. "I regret that this situation has caused you personal difficulty."
"Miss Skjeggestad attempted to apologize also and I shall say to you what I said to her—your apology is unnecessary. Silek is behaving as I expected he would. He never approved of my marriage to Amanda and didn't speak to me for more than twenty years after we were married."
Voris remembered well. He had just entered medical school when his Uncle Sarek had announced he intended to take a human mate, citing his choice as logical due to his position as Vulcan ambassador to Earth. Voris had thought it peculiar and unorthodox but had never given the match much consideration. Whom his uncle wished to bond with had been none of his business, as far as he had been concerned.
Voris had few memories of Sarek from his childhood. His uncle had been in the diplomatic service for many years and was rarely on Vulcan. They had seen each other on occasional holidays and at family functions—weddings and funerals, mainly—but Sarek had never been a guiding influence in Voris' life. When his father had cut ties with Sarek following his marriage to Amanda, Voris had unofficially done so also because at the time, his father was disappointed that his son had chosen a career in medicine and it had been easier to make the small concession of supporting his father in his disagreement with Sarek. Now he was coming to believe he had made a grave mistake.
"I have convinced your father not to publicly disavow you," Sarek continued, setting his empty glass on the table between them. "But I cannot convince him to meet with you privately. I believe it would be prudent to leave New Vulcan for a time, if you are able."
"I have already begun making arrangements to do so," Voris admitted, stopping short of confessing he was seriously considering relocating to Bergeron colony, a place where the current New Vulcan Security Ministry thought was a terrorist haven.
Sarek rose to his feet and replied, "Wherever you go, I wish you peace and long life, nephew."
Voris nodded. "Thank you, uncle."
Sarek showed him to a bedroom in the middle of the back hall. Dagny was in the next room and for the first time in days, he fell into a peaceful sleep. He awoke early the next morning, intending to fulfill his duty as a guest and prepare first meal for the household, but when he entered the kitchen, he found Dagny and the First Minister's housekeeper already making plomeek soup.
He watched her in the entryway for nearly a minute before she noticed his presence. The moment her eyes flicked in his direction, she gave him a wide smile and took several steps toward him.
"You're back," she breathed, the smile on her face only growing wider.
"Yes."
"Uhm… how have you been?"
He approached her. "I am well. How have you been?"
She made a strange expression and shrugged. "First Minister Sarek and T'Mir have been very kind to have me," she replied, glancing over her shoulder to the housekeeper.
"Yes," he agreed, glancing at T'Mir and adding, "Will you give us a moment to speak privately? I can assist Dagny in preparing the first meal."
The woman called T'Mir nodded and excused herself. Dagny seemed flustered to watch her go. "Is everything ok?" she asked, once T'Mir had left the room.
Voris moved toward the sink to wash his hands. "I have received an offer I wish to discuss with you."
It had been ten days since he had brought Dagny to New Vulcan and already they were leaving. She was sitting in a chair just behind him, trying to pacify Harold's fury by petting him through the wire mesh of the animal crate.
Harold was old and Voris was uncertain how well he would handle the journey and though his relationship with Mrs. DePaulo's cat had never been a particularly friendly one, he found himself incapable of abandoning him now. Whatever life had in store for them at Bergeron colony, they would share the experience with Harold.
It hadn't taken long to pack his belongings. Most of the items packed in the meter long black cargo containers were medical supplies. His household goods, clothes, and other personal effects barely filled one of the boxes. He had lived on New Vulcan for exactly two years as of today, and in that time he had accumulated very few things. The furniture and appliances belonged to the housing agency, so all he owned were some dishes, some towels, a set of bedding, a compact cleaning android, and a few other simple items. There was also T'Sala's candle. He had very nearly tucked it in his breast pocket as he often did when he traveled, but at the last moment he'd decided to pack it with the rest of his meager possessions.
It was 0013 hours and he hadn't slept since the night he had stayed at his uncle's home. He had been occupied during daylight hours making arrangements to leave New Vulcan and meditating at night while Dagny slept.
It had taken two full days to settle his accounts and make arrangements with a financial manager to tend to his assets in his absence. Voris had amassed a considerable amount of wealth over the last thirty Standard years and T'Sala had wisely made a number of extraplanetary investments. The destruction of Vulcan had financially ruined many survivors and though Voris had lost a great deal as well, he had fared better than most.
He had liquidated several of his investments to purchase vital medical equipment the colony was lacking. Ann had forwarded him an inventory of the clinic's supplies and the provisions they were due to collect on Nausicaa, but the clinic was still poorly outfitted. Voris had added an industrial pharmaceutical synthesizer, a chemical analysis unit, a non-organic replicator, a stasis unit, and a large tissue regenerator to the colony's requisition and had paid for them with his own funds.
He wasn't certain moving Dagny and their unborn child to a remote colony world was the most logical course of action, but she wanted to go and Dr. Govorski had approved of the location for its cool climate and lower gravity. He was unconcerned for his own safety, but Dagny and the child were a different matter. Dagny didn't seem to think in the same terms he did though, which was unsurprising given she was born only a few thousand kilometers from the Romulan Neutral Zone.
For now, Dagny and the child were healthy. She'd had an appointment yesterday and all of her tests and scans had come back within normal parameters. The embryo was continuing to develop correctly and the levels of yam'tan in Dagny's bloodstream were no longer detectable even with the most sensitive tests. Dagny had gained more than a kilogram since her previous visit and her blood count continued to improve. It was still very early, but everything was proceeding normally, or as normally as could be expected in a hybrid pregnancy.
Despite this, Voris had concerns about his ability to manage Dagny's complicated pregnancy. He had scheduled weekly transmissions with Dr. Govorski and she would be available to answer questions should the need arise, but Dagny was his patient once again.
In Vulcan society, male healers rarely tended to matters of gynecology and obstetrics. He'd received training in those specialties as was required of all healers, but he had never actually heard of a male physician regularly working in female health fields. He had treated many pregnant patients over the years, human and Vulcan alike, but his concentration was emergency interspecies medicine and all of those patients had come to him with other concerns. The fact that they had also been pregnant had been secondary.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" Dagny asked from behind him, breaking his internal reflection.
He turned to find her standing, arms crossed, shoulders slightly hunched and peering at him with wide eyes. He detected a hint of worry from her, but he could not determine the cause.
"Have you changed your mind?" he asked.
"No," she mumbled. "I mean, I don't think so. I'm just worried about you. Is this really what you want?"
"I have my concerns," he admitted. "However, I am content to follow you wherever you wish to go."
She opened her mouth to protest but the transport manager interrupted her. "The Oglethorpe is ready to receive your supplies."
Voris helped the man lift the five storage boxes onto the transporter pad and moments later, the manager informed the ship and their things disappeared into a matter stream.
"I am reconfiguring the transporter for organic life forms," the manager said. "Please position yourselves on the pad according to the diagram and standby."
Voris glanced at Dagny, noting her arms crossed even more tightly around her body. He grabbed the handle of Harold's crate and after an initial fit of hissing and growling, the cat settled down. They made their way to the platform and waited for further instructions from the transport manager.
"I don't like being the reason you have to pack up everything and start a new life and I'm sorry," Dagny muttered.
"These are the circumstances. It would not be the first time either of us have begun again," he replied.
She pursed her lips and nodded. "I'm so thankful for you, Voris."
As he disappeared into the matter stream and left New Vulcan behind, he found himself thinking he was thankful for her also.