Stardate 2260.178
"Good afternoon, lovey!" The high-pitched voice split the silence like a lightning bolt, nearly causing Dagny to fall off her stool.
She turned to see Aisla approaching and did a double take. "Is it already afternoon? I didn't know you were coming in today."
"It is afternoon but no, I'm not working today; I have work in the greenhouse this afternoon," Aisla replied, stopping next to Dagny and giving her a sideways hug. "How are you? How's the bump?"
Dagny's hand instinctively brushed her stomach and she smiled. "Everything is good."
"Is that baby moving yet?"
Dagny's face fell as she pressed her hand harder on her belly. "No, nothing yet."
Aisla rubbed her shoulder. "I know it's pointless to tell you not to worry, but everyone worries with their first. But remember, it is your first."
"I know," Dagny sighed, thinking this baby would be her first and only. "I know it might be another month or more before I feel any fetal movement. I know these things. But you're right, I'm still worried."
"You're doing everything right and I know Dr. Voris is taking good care of you. What does that specialist on New Vulcan say?"
Dagny grimaced. "We have another conference scheduled with her next week."
"You don't sound excited."
"I know she's going to change all my medications again and tell me all the same things I have to look forward to. She'll probably prescribe a new series of immunosuppressants, which means Voris will be even more keen to keep me locked up in the clinic so I don't get sick. I'll have to start wearing a temperature monitor soon to make sure I don't overheat."
"Hybrid pregnancies are really that serious?" Aisla said, offering a look of concern.
"They are when they're between humans and Vulcans, apparently."
"I don't understand. Khel never did any of those things."
"Khel is a Romulan mother and had a half human baby, not a human carrying a half Vulcan baby. And besides-" Dagny caught herself before she pointed out that Khel had also lost two pregnancies. Aisla seemed to sense what she was going to say anyway and cleared her throat, so Dagny quickly got back on topic.
"Anyway, it's nice to talk to Dr. Govorski and have another person give me some reassurance, but with her being so far away, it always feels like she's really just talking to Voris and they spend the whole time discussing me like I'm just some case file."
"You're not some random patient to him," Aisla huffed, crossing her arms. "That man dotes on you."
"Voris?" She didn't mean to choke when she said his name, but she had no idea what Aisla was talking about.
"You're the best cared for patient on this whole colony."
"The baby is, maybe. I just happen to be part of the package for the next five months."
"You don't really believe that." Aisla's face was hard to read, but Dagny suddenly felt ashamed. She hadn't meant to criticize Voris.
All things considered, he had been incredibly kind to her. He had sacrificed a lot too, even uprooting his life when it became clear New Vulcan wasn't a good environment for her. She understood on some fundamental level that Voris probably cared about her well-being beyond the fact that she was currently serving as a home for his child, but she assumed the baby was his primary concern and that he thought of her as another one of his patients.
Dagny gave Aisla an apologetic smile. "I don't mean to be moody, Aisla. You came in here with a smile on your face and all I'm doing is complaining."
"Everyone's entitled to that now and again," Aisla shrugged, holding her arms out to give her a hug, which Dagny gladly accepted. "But you need to put the idea that Voris doesn't care about you out of your head. He's devoted to you."
Dagny was about to argue that "devoted" seemed hilariously extreme, but she didn't want to bring up the subject of the baby's father again. "Right, so what can I do for you?"
"I was actually here to see Dr. Voris," Aisla said, pulling away from Dagny.
"He's out on rounds today. Is there something I can help you with?"
"It's not about medicine. Well, it is, but I don't need medical attention. I was actually going to ask if he would write me a recommendation."
"A recommendation? For what?"
Aisla bit her lip and looked away. "I… I want to go to nursing school. Well, a proper Federation nursing school anyway."
"Really?"
"There's a school on Earth that offers classes to non-traditional alien students. I know it must sound crazy-"
"It doesn't sound crazy," Dagny interrupted, breaking into a smile. "I had no idea you wanted to go to nursing school. I mean, I guess I thought you already had."
"Well yes, I did my three year Orion apprenticeship, but it's not the same thing as a proper nursing education, is it? All my life I've been told what I couldn't and couldn't be. Then I moved to Bergeron colony and found out I really like helping people. I mean, I like working in the greenhouses too, but that's where they stick a lot of the unskilled labor. I know I'm probably too old-"
"You're already a great nurse, but I'm excited for you!" Dagny said, cutting her off to give her a hug.
"So, do you think Dr. Voris would write a recommendation for me?"
"I'll never forgive him if he won't. There are days I don't know how we'd cope if you weren't here. Voris would never admit it because of logic and whatnot, but I think he would have lost his mind if you hadn't been helping him while I was on bedrest. But if you go to school, we won't have you around anymore."
"Don't get ahead of yourself. I haven't even gotten in yet and besides, the classes don't start for another eight months."
"You'll get in," Dagny insisted. "And we will definitely miss you around here."
"And I'm going to miss you, but I'll be back, eventually. The school is four years long, but I like it here and my girls like it too."
Dagny thought of Aisla's four daughters, two of whom were grown and the others who were not far behind. "Will they go with you?"
"No, Salai wants to stay and Mora does whatever Salai does. Xhela is putting in an application for Starfleet—apparently they allow Orions on a provisional basis now—and Lida is head over heels for some boy. I don't want to uproot them. I will miss them, but my aunt and sisters are moving here next month, so my girls won't be alone."
"I'm proud of you, Aisla and so happy for you too."
"You really don't think I'm too old?"
Dagny paused, suddenly thinking of her own situation. She was eighteen weeks pregnant and living on a remote colony world outside Federation space; medical school never felt so far away, both literally and figuratively. "It's never too late."
"I also wanted to ask Voris if he would talk to Sam about me working more hours in the clinic. I need the hands-on experience and you'll need the help, especially as you get further along. And once the baby comes, you're going to need time off. Besides, the last time I looked through the patient files, we have twenty-two babies due in the next three months."
It was weird to think about the idea that in a little more than five months, assuming everything continued to go smoothly, most of her time would be consumed by caring for a baby. Her baby. Instead of allowing her mind to go down the rabbit hole of sobering panic, she nodded. "We could definitely use the help. We seem to be going through something of a mini baby boom."
"It happens around this time every year," Aisla laughed. "Some species gestate longer than others, but there are always a lot of babies born at the beginning of winter because they're holdovers from the last snowy season. I can almost guarantee if you do the math, most of them were conceived during the last snow-in. Long, cold winter nights have a funny way of making babies. Your little one will be a spring baby, which will make her a bit of an outlier, but I guess she wasn't made here either so what can I say?"
Dagny blushed furiously at the thought of discussing how and when she'd ended up getting pregnant. She knew it was a popular subject of colony gossip, but no one had ever directly asked her about it. In a way, she couldn't blame people—she would have been curious too.
"She?" Dagny asked, trying to ignore her embarrassment.
"Hmmm?" Aisla murmured.
"You called my baby a she."
Aisla shrugged. "It's a habit. To Orions, all babies are 'she' until you know what's what. Better than calling your baby an 'it.' Have you thought about whether you'd like a son or a daughter?"
"I don't really know. My mother never wanted to know beforehand. I thought it would be a nice tradition. Voris knows though."
Aisla's eyes lit up. "Now I have another reason to talk to him!"
"Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't want anyone else knowing. It's bad enough that he knows."
Aisla gave her a warm grin. "Boys are nice enough, but girls are a treasure."
"Coming from a woman with four daughters."
"Maybe I'm a little a partial," Aisla winked. "Anyway, it's getting late and I've been at lunch for too long. Any chance Dr. Voris will be back in the next ten minutes?"
"I doubt it: he had twenty patients to see today." She glanced at the wall where the convalescent ward would eventually be installed, thinking it couldn't be built soon enough. Visiting sick and recovering patients in their homes seriously cut into the clinic's efficiency. Someone should have come by the day before to conduct a preliminary structural survey, but that had never happened. "I don't think he'll be back before 1800 hours. But I can talk to him for you, if you like."
"If it's no trouble."
"It's the least I could do."
"You're the best!" Aisla said, throwing her arms around Dagny for yet another hug. "I've got to run back to work then. I'm off tomorrow, so I'll be here in the afternoon."
"See you then," Dagny agreed.
Dagny went back to reviewing the inventory of drugs in the pharmacy cabinet, noting the stocks of nalaproline were low. Nalaproline was one of the medications she was currently taking to keep her immune system from attacking the baby. She had a feeling Dr. Govorski was going to prescribe an even more aggressive immunosuppressant during their conference with her next week, so she didn't want to make more nalaproline if she wasn't going to need it. She was in the middle of running the numbers in her head to see if it was even worth bringing it up to Voris when a hand came to rest on her shoulder.
She flinched, but thinking it must be Aisla, who was always touching and patting and hugging, she teased, "You really shouldn't sneak up on people!"
But instead of a petite Orion with thick, loopy hair, there was a tall, stocky man with sad black eyes and a bad gash near his temple. Instinct made her jump. He looked familiar, but she couldn't think of his name. "I'm- I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to be rude. I thought you were someone else."
His only response was a single, slow blink. Dagny wrung her hands and shut the pharmacy cabinet door. "That's a nasty cut in your forehead."
The man's eyes shifted back and forth, but he remained silent.
How'd it happen?" she asked as she went to the supply cabinet for a tricorder and a dermal regenerator.
No response. She was starting to feel awkward, like she was talking to herself. Maybe he didn't speak Standard. She turned back around and made eye contact with him. "What's your name?"
He gave her a sad look and said nothing. She pointed to herself. "I'm Dagny." Then she pointed at him. "You?"
He shook his head and pointed to his right ear, very near where the laceration was. "Yes, I see you're injured and I want to get you patched up," Dagny added. "It would help if I could find out what happened. Do you speak Standard?"
"He doesn't speak anything. Mike's deaf and mute."
Only then did Dagny notice the tall, slender woman standing in the doorway, watching Dagny with a smug look of amusement. It was ridiculous to dislike a woman she barely knew, but Vaksur's mocking tone and calculating eyes spoke volumes.
The man turned around to see what Dagny was looking at. He shifted his weight and glanced at Dagny. They didn't need words to share understanding: they both deeply disliked the idea of Vaksur's presence.
"Can I help you?"
"I was looking for Voris."
"Dr. Voris is out on his rounds right now."
"Oh, I was hoping to see him."
Dagny clenched her teeth, gathering her reserves of civility. "I figured as much, but he isn't here right now. If it's an emergency-"
"It's not as serious as that," Vaksur interrupted without even bothering to look at Dagny. "When will he be back?"
"In a couple of hours, maybe."
"Hey, Vaksur," called a masculine voice from behind the Vulcan woman.
Dagny had thought Vaksur was the last person she would have wanted in the clinic at that moment, but apparently, she had been mistaken. It was Pearson Schoenbein.
She hadn't seen him since that first night at Bergeron colony when he'd come in with burns following a mining accident. He had called her an angel, but he'd also had a concussion. The problem with Pearson was not only that he was probably the most attractive man she'd ever met, but also he was so kind and friendly. She didn't want to like him, but she couldn't help it.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Schoenbein?" she asked, her voice cracking like a teenage boy's.
"I can't remember the last time someone called me that," he replied, grinning and rubbing the back of his head. "It's just Pearson. Anyhow, Joe was supposed to come by yesterday and do a survey of the rock in here but he got stuck covering a second shift down in the tunnel and now he's back at it today. He says he's sorry and asked if I could come do it. I'm sorry if it's caused you any trouble."
Voris had expressed a considerable amount of displeasure over it last night and in truth, Dagny had been kind of annoyed that the project had been neglected too, but all she could bring herself to say was, "It's no trouble at all!"
It was bad enough that her voice had become awkward and squeaky, but the fact that she could see Vaksur smirking out of the corner of her eye only made it that much worse. "I'll try coming back tomorrow when the doctor is in," she announced, as if Dagny cared. Without any further ceremony, she turned on her heel and left, calling over her shoulder, "Bye, Pearson. It was good to see you."
"Sure thing," he called after her, before turning to Dagny, gesturing to the side wall, and saying, "All I need is about half an hour to take some readings. I'm not going to be in your way, am I?"
"No," Dagny gulped. "Stay as long as you want."
The moment her sentence ended, she wished she could suck the words back in. Stay as long as you want? What a stupid thing to say.
Pearson pulled a tricorder-like instrument from his tool bag. "I'm going to start from outside and work my way back in. The tunnel plans say there's a room above the clinic. Any chance I can get access to that?"
"Oh, that's-" She paused. She had been about to say, "that's our quarters," but she felt weird associating herself with Voris. She figured he had to know about her situation with Voris, but she still didn't really want to discuss it with him. She noticed Mike staring at her and pulled her shirt down further over her tiny bump, as if that would hide it. "I live above the clinic."
"I don't want to snoop around in your private things," Pearson replied. "I can try to go to the surface and take a reading."
"Oh, it's not really a problem," Dagny stammered. "Let me see to my patient first and I'll show you upstairs."
"Sure thing," Pearson replied, offering her a lazy salute. "Like I said, I gotta start with my readings outside the clinic anyway."
She watched him head toward the door, suddenly uncomfortable at the thought of Pearson Schoenbein poking around the tiny space she shared with Voris. He would certainly notice their two beds. What would he think? She glanced down at her stomach, wondering if it was obvious that she was actually pregnant at this point and not just bloated. She hated that his presence made her so flustered, but she especially hated that other people seemed to notice. Above all, she hated that she couldn't really explain why she had become immediately infatuated with him.
Rather than let it get to her, she turned to the man sitting on the exam table and said, "So, your name is Mike?" momentarily forgetting the fact that he wasn't able to hear her.
He closed his eyes and gave her a thin-lipped smile. Something in his expression triggered a memory and she suddenly remembered he operated the transporters at the colony. She could patch up the wound to his head in less than five minutes, but with as bad as it was, she knew she needed to assess him for a concussion.
She grabbed her PADD from by the computer desk and tapped the button on the device to dictate a message, saying, "How did you get that cut on your forehead, Mike?"
She handed the PADD to him. He scanned the words and sighed. He pulled up an application, quickly typed out a response, and handed the PADD back to her. She read, "It's not important. Will you please just stitch it up? I need to get back to the transporter."
She clucked her tongue and dictated a response into the handheld device. "If you got hit in the head hard enough to make that kind of cut, you could have a concussion. I'm happy to patch you up, but can you answer some questions for me first?"
It took forty-five minutes of dictating and typing messages back and forth on the PADD, but it was much better than playing charades to understand each other. After her assessment and tricorder scans left her satisfied he probably didn't have a concussion, she asked him to stay while she updated his medical records.
His name was Mike Yates. He was thirty-four years old, had been born on the Alpha III colony, and had a degree in mechanics from the University of Ottawa, wherever that was. Other than a few notes about routine vaccinations since his arrival at Bergeron colony three years ago, his file was empty. There was no indication about why he lacked the ability to hear or speak.
She turned to him and held out her hand, indicating she wanted the PADD. He gave it to her and she quickly dictated, "Have you always been deaf?"
He read her question, but rather than reply by typing on the PADD, he simply nodded.
She held the PADD up to her mouth and dictated, "Have you ever been assessed for the cause of your hearing loss? Maybe Dr. Voris can help you."
As he read her message, a dark expression washed across his features. He shook his head and slid off the examination table, tossing the PADD down where he had been sitting just moments before. He turned to leave, but his demeanor gave Dagny the distinct impression she'd struck some sort of nerve and she started to feel very foolish. She doubted whether he had gone his entire thirty-four years of life without at least someone asking about his deafness.
She started to call after him, to apologize if she'd offended him in some way, but immediately felt even more ridiculous. He wouldn't hear her. She was torn between the deep instinct to chase after him and beg forgiveness and her fear of sticking her foot even farther into her mouth.
As she approached the threshold, she bumped into Pearson, who was just coming around the corner. She started to lose her balance, but he caught her by the arm and said, "Careful there."
Her heart flip flopped wildly. Dagny pulled away and mumbled, "Yeah, thanks."
"So, I think I have good news. I'm going to need to take a scan from your quarters to be sure, but I think we can not only install the ward you want, but also add some additional storage too."
"Dr. Voris will be happy to hear that," she replied, slinking back into the clinic.
"He must work you like a dog," Pearson grinned. "I don't ever see you around."
"I uh- I do work a lot," she explained, clearing her throat and crossing her arms. "So, do you uh- want to join me in my bedroom then?"
A long enough silence passed between them to make it wretchedly awkward. It took longer than it should have for Dagny to realize the implication of choice of phrase. "I mean, to take the scans. Not- you know, to… yeah."
Pearson chuckled. "I knew what you meant. Lead the way."
Dagny hurried past him before he could see just how red her face was. She was halfway up the stairs when he said from behind her, "I bet it gets old, working where you live."
"Yeah," she said, reaching the top of the landing.
"I'll try not to take too long," he said, walking into the middle of the room and pulling out an engineering tricorder.
She felt the urge to tell him again to take as long as he wanted, but managed to catch herself that time.
"How are you liking Bergeron colony?" he asked.
"It's nice."
"What brought you here?"
She held her breath, wondering where and how to begin. "It's kind of complicated, I guess. What about you?"
"Not complicated at all," he replied, holding the tricorder out in front of him and taking several slow steps forward. "I just came here looking for something different."
"Different from what?"
"I grew up on a transport ship. My mom passed away shortly after I was born, so I was raised by my dad. He was the ship's captain. We had regular routes in the Sol System. I guess I got tired of seeing the same old places but never really settling down in any of them."
"I grew up on a salvage ship," Dagny said wistfully. "I know what you mean… about settling down, that is."
"The longer I stay, the less I think planetary living is for me," Pearson sighed, looking up from his scanner. "Don't get me wrong, I like the people here, but I have half a mind to go back to my dad's ship. I even toyed with the idea of joining Starfleet for a while."
"That sounds exciting. I used to hate the fact that I grew up on a salvage ship, but I miss the sounds of the engines." Dagny missed a lot more than the feeling of being on a ship, but she didn't really feel like telling Pearson her entire life story. "So, uh- can I get you something to drink?"
"No, I'm good for right now, but speaking of drinks, does the good Vulcan doctor ever give you time off?
"We take a day off each week, but we're always on call," Dagny explained.
"Me and some friends meet down at Jester's for drinks every so often. It would be good to have a new face. Why don't you join us?"
Dagny gulped. "Oh, I don't think- I- I shouldn't."
"No pressure or anything," Pearson shrugged. "Just thought you might like to make some friends."
Dagny stared at him. Was he asking her to join him because he really just wanted to be friends, or did he want something more? What did she want? Maybe it didn't matter what she wanted—she doubted Pearson wanted a girl who was having someone else's baby.
She felt enormously guilty even contemplating the idea that she liked him in a romantic sense. What about Voris? What about their baby? The longer she went without mentioning it, the more she felt like she was lying.
"I uh- I just… I can't. I can't drink, I mean."
"Are you allergic or something? Religious?"
"I'm expecting a baby."
"Oh, I didn't know. Congratulations!" He spoke so genuinely and calmly, without hesitation or a hint of jealousy in his voice. "You can still join us for drinks, you could just have juice or something."
Maybe he really just wanted to be her friend. The thought of that filled her with unexpected relief. "I just- I don't know. I don't know how Voris would feel about it."
"Oh, are you two… you two are… oh."
Dagny closed her eyes and grimaced. Everyone else on Bergeron colony seemed to know about her and Voris. Did Pearson live under a rock? "Yeah, it's… complicated."
"I didn't mean to pry," Pearson quickly added. "I mean, you can bring him if you want. It'd probably be good for him to have a night out too."
"I'll uh- I'll let him know about your invitation," Dagny muttered. "I make no promises."
"Did I just make things weird?" Pearson asked, giving her a serious look.
"No," she explained. "Things were already weird. It's a weird situation. I figured everyone on the colony knew about it."
"I don't really get involved in colony gossip and drama," Pearson shrugged. "I keep my head down and spend time with friends. I would never try to cause trouble in someone's relationship."
"We're not- I mean…" Dagny cleared her throat and nodded. "It's exactly what I said earlier. It's complicated."
"Most things are," Pearson replied, looking over his shoulder and giving her a smile.
It had been an embarrassing conversation, but she felt better. She felt honest. At least she felt honest until she turned around to see Voris standing at the top of the stairs, staring at Pearson with unusual intensity. She didn't know why, but she felt like she had been caught.
Voris breezed through the side tunnel and headed toward the main loop. He had completed his rounds much sooner than he'd anticipated and he found himself looking forward to a late midday meal. Korva, a Klingon matron, had offered him a fresh plate of gagh in appreciation for him checking up on her son, but he had refused. Eating animal flesh was repugnant; eating the wriggling, worm-like creatures the Klingons enjoyed would have been doubly so.
He paused when he heard a crash up ahead. It was the sound of rock smashing against rock, and was followed by the giggle of adolescent, masculine voices. They spoke in a choppy language that reminded him somewhat of his native tongue. He thought he heard words like "idiot" and "throw" and "cry," but he couldn't be certain.
He approached the voiced cautiously, immediately realizing they were coming from a secondary tunnel that connected to the surface. Another rock collided with a wall, followed by more laughter.
"You think it's funny, throwing rocks at people?" shouted a female voice.
Voris finally made his way to the tunnel opening to find the elderly haberdasher with the cough facing down three young Romulan boys. They stared at her quizzically, unaware of Voris' presence.
"You could have killed him, you little turds!" she howled, picking up a loose rock from ground. "How would you like it if I threw rocks at you?"
The tallest boy in the middle smiled at her and shrugged. "You won't throw it."
His Standard was short and clipped, but it was perfectly clear and delivered in a sure tone. The woman wound her arm back and hurled it, clearly aiming over the boy's head. It smashed into the wall behind the trio, who all ducked on instinct. The woman fell into a violent coughing fit from the exertion.
"May I inquire what is going on?"
The three boys' heads whipped around. "She's trying to kill us."
"Why would she do that?" Voris asked.
The smallest boy looked back at her with open scorn. "Because she's crazy."
"I'm not crazy," she wheezed. "You're savages. Attacking an innocent man who couldn't even hear you."
"He should be culled," the middle boy scowled. "I don't know why humans let their sick and infirm live."
Voris wasn't sure who or what they were talking about, but deduced they were referring to ancient Romulan traditions regarding euthanizing weaker members of society. "Perhaps you should return home."
"You can't tell us what to do," the tallest boy retorted, puffing up his chest and eyeing Voris in open challenge.
"I don't have to tell you what to do," the woman choked. "I'll drag you home by those pointed ears and tell your parents exactly what you did."
"I cannot tell you what to do, but I can inform the constable of your activities," Voris interjected. "I urge you to return home."
"Vez, let's go," the third boy muttered. "It's not worth it."
"You should listen to your companion," Voris agreed, locking eyes with the boy called Vez.
As they slinked down the side tunnel toward the surface, Voris turned to the elderly woman, who was only just beginning to regain her breath. "And may I inquire why you were throwing rocks at young boys?"
She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. "They threw rocks at Mike Yates. Probably to see if they could get him to speak."
"It is unacceptable to throw rocks at another individual."
"I know," she spat.
"And yet you threw rocks at them."
"Oh, high and mighty Vulcan," she sneered, turning her back to walk away. "Always above violence. Always insisting you know the better way."
"I do not always know the best way," he argued, following her.
She stopped in her tracks to begin coughing. She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and held it up to her mouth, and when she pulled it away, it was freckled with bright red blood.
"But I do know you require medical treatment," he added, approaching her.
"Go away," she insisted, hobbling into the main loop.
"You clearly have a significant pathology."
"And you clearly don't respect people's privacy," she snapped.
He didn't know how to reply, so he continued to trail behind at her languid pace. She was evidently irritated by his presence, but said nothing until they reached their tunnel.
"You don't have to follow me. I promise not to keel over dead and make more administrative work for you."
"Your booth is located very near the clinic," he explained. "I believe we are simply heading toward proximate destinations."
"Hmmmmf."
"It occurs to me that I do not know your name," he said, lengthening his stride to walk abreast with her.
"Adelaide Proctor."
"I am Dr. Voris."
"I know," she mumbled. "Zernon tells me you have a baby on the way."
"Yes."
"With that little redheaded girl who works in your clinic."
"Yes, her name is Dagny."
"How'd that happen?" she asked, giving him a sly smile.
"You require an explanation of reproductive processes?"
It began as a hearty laugh and ended in a wheezing cough. She placed the handkerchief over her mouth again, and began to sway. Voris reached up to steady her shoulder, but she batted his hand away.
"Trust me, I know how babies get made," she panted. "You just don't see a lot of Vulcans dipping their wick into humans. You lot seem to stick to yourselves."
Voris swallowed hard and took a small step back, unsure how to respond to her crude language.
"I do like an unlikely love story though," Adelaide mused. "Had a few myself, but they never worked out."
"I do not love Miss Skjeggestad." He hadn't expected to make such a frank confession to a woman he barely knew, but there it was.
"Oh, just knocked her up then. Still… how'd that happen?"
He raised an eyebrow and inhaled a slow breath, trying his best to be mindful of his outward appearance. Embarrassment was illogical, but in this instance, it seemed insurmountable. "I do not care to discuss my private matters with you."
"And now you know how I feel," she laughed. "Still, good on you for sticking around though. A lot of men don't."
"It was the only logical option. She is carrying my child."
"And you say you don't love her."
"My opinion of her is irrelevant."
"Commitment is its own kind of love," she insisted. "Some people go their whole lives without ever figuring that out."
He was in the midst of devising a reply when he heard a melodic voice call his name. "Dr. Voris! I'm happy I ran into you. I was just coming from the clinic."
He craned his neck to see the elegant, glossy-haired woman approaching from an adjoining tunnel. "How may I assist you, Vaksur?"
"I'm still having headaches," she whined. "And you never did come to visit me."
Voris' mind stalled. She was quite correct: she'd requested he visit her to perform neuropressure and he'd forgotten to add her to his rounds.
"The neuropressure?" she murmured, as if trying to remind him of what he already knew.
"Yes, I apologize for overlooking your care. if you would follow me to the clinic-"
"Can't you just come by my room?" she interrupted. "I just live right down the way. And your assistant said you were out on rounds today. She also seemed to be under the impression you would be gone for hours. And you owe me, remember, for going to get Ann to babysit her?"
Adelaide began coughing again, but it sounded as though she were attempting to disguise a laugh. "Bye, Dr. Nosy," she called over her shoulder in between coughs. "And good luck."
He could not determine why she would wish him luck, but he did not have time to reflect upon it before Vaksur again asked him to join her in her quarters to perform neuropressure to alleviate her headache. He followed her, reasoning Dagny did not anticipate him back in the clinic until 1830 hours.
He stepped through the entry of Vaksur's quarters, finding a cluttered space filled with pink and purple décor. It was a small room, only approximately only ten square meters, with a single, unmade bed against the far wall.
"Pardon my mess," she said, undoing the sash of her coat and tossing it over the back of a chair. "My grandmother used to tell me neuropressure could heal just about anything."
"That is incorrect," he explained. "It is useful for treating minor ailments, but I believe you could benefit from meditation as well."
"I never saw much use in meditation," she shrugged. "I wasn't raised on all that logic nonsense."
"Logic is not nonsense."
She offered him a sly grin. "We'll just have to agree to disagree."
Voris was curious about Vaksur's upbringing, about why she rejected logic and how she had come to live on Bergeron colony, but it would have been extremely indelicate to pry into her life. Instead, he stood in the center of the room and waited for her to direct him to sit. Then she began unbuttoning her blouse. He instinctively looked away and asked, "Why are you removing your clothing?"
"Isn't that required for neuropressure?"
"Certain forms of neuropressure, yes," he explained. "But it is neither necessary nor appropriate in this circumstance."
"Oh, I didn't know." She gave a small laugh and began re-buttoning her buttons, noticeably leaving the top two unfastened. "So, show me, how is this done?"
"The effect would be greatly enhanced if you would commit to learning basic meditation techniques," he explained, taking a small step toward her.
"Let's see how it goes without it."
"Very well, I need to access certain pressure points on your neck and jaw—will you move your hair out of the way?"
She did a half turn, sweeping her black locks into her left hand before lifting it up to reveal her long, slender neck. "Is this ok?"
"Yes." He moved behind her and prepared to place his hands on her, but hesitated before making contact with her skin.
Something was wrong. He felt… he did not know. It bothered him that he felt anything at all, but it bothered him more that he could neither identify nor repress it. He supposed humans would call it intuition, but that was illogical. This woman posed no threat to him.
He spent the next five minutes applying pressure to different locations along her cervical spine, all the while thinking it would have been better were there a female healer available to perform this treatment. The moment his index fingers touched her jaw for the last series of adjustments, she uttered a low, guttural moan. His discomfort grew, causing him to step back.
"Is something wrong?" Vaksur asked, looking over her shoulder at him. Her eyes cast upward, looking into his with patient focus.
"I believe that should be sufficient to relieve your migraine," he said, taking a slow breath.
"Oh yes," she said, releasing her hair and tossing it side to side. "Much better. But what if it comes back?"
"You know where the clinic is," he explained, taking another step toward her door.
"Do you have to be in such a hurry?"
"Dagny is in the clinic by herself. She may require assistance."
"I doubt it," Vaksur shrugged. "I came from there not that long ago. She was making heart eyes at Pearson Schoenbein."
"Heart eyes?"
"Yes, flirting with him."
His discomfort with Vaksur metamorphosed into something darker and more resolute, not to mention more shameful. He knew this emotion: jealousy. He'd felt it before, the last time Mr. Schoenbein had been in their clinic. Jealousy was illogical for any reason, but particularly in regards to a human man who was interested in a human woman who was not his mate. Just because Dagny was pregnant with his child did not mean she owed him fidelity, and yet… he greatly disliked the thought of her seeking out a mate. It was illogical in her condition.
"If you will excuse me," he said, offering Vaksur a small bow. He traveled the short distance to the clinic, doing his best to assuage his emotions.
When he opened the door to the clinic, Harold darted between his legs and into the clinic. He had been missing for weeks but rather than reflect upon his sudden return, he scanned the room. Dagny was nowhere in sight, but his sensitive ears detected voices coming from upstairs. One was soft, the other, deeper. Why would she have invited him up to their private quarters? It was her home and she was free to have guests, but it was also his home and he had not consented to this violation. Furthermore, she was on duty.
He strode up the stairs and upon reaching the top, found Dagny leaning against a table, watching Pearson Schoenbein study a tricorder.
"Voris?" she said, her tone oddly strained. "You're back early."
"Yes, and no one is on duty in the clinic."
"Oh, hello Dr. Voris," Mr. Schoenbein said, looking up from his handheld device.
"What are you doing in our quarters?"
"He was just taking some readings, you know, to do the structural survey for the convalescent ward."
"And he required access to be in our private quarters to do this?"
"To make the most accurate assessment, yeah," the man explained, rubbing his free hand through his straw-colored hair.
"You were supposed to have conducted the survey yesterday, were you not?"
"Um, actually, the foreman, Joe Jensen, was supposed to do it, but things are hectic down in the mines right now, so he sent me."
"And you are qualified to perform a structural survey?"
"I've done half a dozen," Mr. Schoenbein said, shrugging his shoulders.
"An underwhelming résumé," Voris replied. Dagny gave him a dark look.
"Uh, anyway, I'm pretty much done here. I'll turn my report over to Sam and hopefully she can get a team down here pretty soon to add this ward you want, plus that extra storage space."
"Thank you, Pearson," Dagny said, exchanging glances with him. "I'll show you out."
"We should both return to the clinic," Voris suggested, stepping into the room to allow Mr. Schoenbein to pass so he could follow him down.
Once downstairs, the human man waved his tricorder in Dagny's direction and said, "It was good seeing you, Dagny. And you too, Dr. Voris."
"Yes. Goodbye."
The moment the clinic door shut behind him, Dagny hissed, "What is wrong with you?"
"There is nothing wrong."
"You didn't have to be so rude to him. He came here to help improve the clinic."
"His intentions were commendable," Voris replied. "But he does not seem qualified. What are his credentials?"
"You are unbelievable!"
"What do you not believe about my statement?"
"It's not about what you said—it's about what you're doing. You complain about the inefficiency of trekking all over the colony to visit patients, you complain about not having enough space here, and then when someone shows up to try and fix those things, you complain about that too."
"I was not complaining," he corrected. "I was merely observing that he is poorly qualified for the task he was performing."
She scoffed and turned her back on him.
"Have you finished the inventory of the pharmaceutical cabinet?"
She wheeled back around and her mouth slowly fell open. "No, actually. I've been seeing to patients. Your girlfriend came by the clinic looking for you, by the way."
Voris had spent enough time in the company of humans during his time on Earth to know a "girlfriend" did not literally mean a friend who was a female child, but it seemed odd that Dagny would insinuate he was romantically attached to anyone. "Clarify."
"Vaksur."
"Yes, I spoke with her. But we are not involved in any kind of romantic relationship."
Dagny rolled her eyes and turned her back on him once again. "Maybe you should tell her that."
"Have I upset you?" he inquired.
"You're so- you're just completely- ugh, I'm not in the mood for this." She waved her hands and flopped down on the stool by the computer.
"So… do you intend to continue with your inventory of the pharmaceutical cabinet?"
"Yes, Voris," she barked, glaring at him. "Why are you back so early, anyway?"
"I was able to visit four of my patients simultaneously while they were on their shift in the second mining tunnel, and two patients insisted they did not require follow-up care."
"Lucky me," she muttered.
"It was not luck."
She turned toward him on the stool, biting her bottom lip. "You know what, fine. I'll just ask: what is going on with you?"
"Clarify."
"I shouldn't have to," she replied, crossing her arms. "It's a pretty straightforward question."
He cocked his head, studying her firmly set features. They stared at each other for a full minute. He noticed her complexion was reddening and was about to ask her if she felt well when she uttered a loud sigh and said, "It's not like I want to feel what you feel, but no matter how hard you try to meditate this weird psychic bond away, I can still pick up on your feelings sometimes, Voris. You were jealous. You were jealous of Pearson Schoenbein."
"Jealousy is illogical."
"That may be, but you were."
"And you are jealous of Vaksur."
Her face turned even redder. She sputtered a few syllables, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. "I don't like her."
"Why?"
Before she could give an answer, a woman walked in with a broken nose and Voris found himself tending to her while Dagny returned to the inventory. They stayed steadily busy until the clinic closed several hours later.
Once upstairs for the evening, Dagny began preparing end meal while Voris reviewed and updated the clinic's logs for the day. Dagny's entry at 1358 hours caught his eye. "You treated Mike Yates for a head laceration?"
"Yeah," she answered, not bothering to look back at him as she stirred a pot of soup on the stove. "He wouldn't tell me what happened, but I was able to do a trauma assessment by typing messages back and forth on my PADD. Why do you ask?"
Voris was aware of the transporter operator's inability to speak or hear, but his records contained no indication of what might have caused such a pathology. Certain congenital or degenerative diseases or traumatic injury to particular areas of the brain, ear, mouth, or larynx were all possibilities.
He thought of the Romulan boys in the tunnel and Adelaide's assumption that they had been throwing rocks in an attempt to get him to make a vocalization. "I believe he was attacked."
"Attacked? Who would do that?"
"It is not a matter we should involve ourselves with," he replied. "I'll speak with the constable in the morning."
"No, I want to know who hurt him. And why. Aside from being on the edge of Gorn and Klingon space, I thought this colony was pretty safe."
"I do not believe we are at risk," Voris explained. "I believe he was targeted by adolescents seeking amusement."
She whipped around, sending droplets from the tip of the spoon in her hand onto the floor. "Who are these kids? Where are their parents? I'll go talk to them right now."
"This is a matter for the constable and does not concern us," he insisted.
"Yes it does!" she yelled, tossing the ladle into the pot of soup. "He came into the clinic with his head split open."
"Does it occur to you that he is a competent adult capable of filing his own complaint with the constable?"
"Maybe he doesn't want to make trouble," she argued, putting her hands on her hips. "He doesn't deserve to be treated that way."
"No, he does not, but if your assumption is correct that he does not want to make trouble for himself, why must you insist on making it for him?"
"I felt so helpless today, when he came into the clinic. I didn't know how to talk to him. And he looks so sad. Then I think I made him mad by suggesting maybe there was something we could do to fix him."
"Is he broken?"
"He can't hear, Voris. He can't talk to people."
"You said you communicated with him effectively via a PADD."
"Basic communication isn't the same thing as… as…"
Voris arched an eyebrow, but she never finished her sentence. "Perhaps he does not see himself as needing to be 'fixed,' as you say."
"How could someone not want to hear? He said he's been deaf since birth. He's never heard music or the sound of his mother's voice."
"And you have never perceived magnetic poles as Andorians do. Do you believe your perception of your surroundings is impaired?"
"That's different."
"Because you have never sensed a magnetic pole?"
"Because what's the point in being able to hone in on magnetic poles?"
"It was merely an example, but if you were to ask an Andorian, they would consider it an essential part of their sensory perception. They might even pity you for being unable to perceive it. Your species primarily relies upon five main senses for experiencing their surroundings, two of which—hearing and vision—are highly integrated into routine function. Yet there are other species who use different senses to navigate their environment. And all species perceive things in different ways; there is even variation within species."
She gave him a perplexed look, evidently struggling to find a counterargument. Voris sniffed the air, smelling the savory tones of the soup, and rose to his feet to collect two bowls.
"But pretty much every species I've ever encountered perceives sound. It's not species specific. And besides, Mike Yates is human."
"True, it is evidently quite heavily favored by natural selection to have arisen independently on so many species. But there are differences. As a Vulcan, I am capable of hearing a much wider range of frequencies than you, a human, are."
Dagny ladled some soup into her bowl and gave him a pointed look. "I'm trying to talk about what we can do for Mike, not get a lecture on Vulcan exceptionalism. I know Vulcans are better than humans at everything."
"Your assertion is incorrect." Voris sat down at their small round table and waited for her to join him.
"Do tell," she called over her shoulder as she searched the utensil drawer.
"Your species has unique photoreceptors that enable you to see a wider spectrum of the electromagnetic field than I can. On average, a human can perceive approximately three million more colors than a Vulcan. I am unable to discern the color you call purple from the colors you call blue and green."
She took a seat across from him and glanced around before gazing at the rug underneath their feet. "What color is the carpet?"
"Dark," he replied. "Brown or gray, perhaps."
"You've lived with this rug for months and really had no idea it was navy blue? You're colorblind?"
"To a human. To a Vulcan, my color vision is normal. Yet I do not believe your inability to hear high frequency sound or my inability to see high frequency light renders either of us broken."
She lifted a spoonful of soup to her mouth and paused. "I see what you're saying. I can think of more examples—I know Betazoids 'see' others' emotions and Orions have noses that could put dogs to shame—but I just can't wrap my mind around it. I just want Mike to have what I have, and if we can give that to him, is that so wrong?"
"If Mike wanted to hear and speak, it is logical to conclude he would visit a physician. If the physician had been able to help him gain these abilities, we would not be having this conversation. Therefore, either Mike does not want my assistance or there is no assistance I can give him."
Dagny sighed and slid the spoon between her lips. He detected a soft emotion growing in her subconscious.
"You are sad."
She glanced up at him. "Not really. Well, maybe a little. I'd rather not talk about it."
He nodded and looked down at his bowl of soup. "Would you like to continue your studies in organic chemistry this evening, or would you prefer a different subject?"
"Hmmm?" she muttered.
"You are still underperforming in organic and biological chemistry," he reminded her. "They are essential topics for medical school."
She frowned, but suddenly sat up and replied, "That reminds me—Aisla came by the clinic this afternoon. She wants to know if you'll write her a recommendation to attend a nursing school on Earth."
"I will. I believe she would make an exceptional nurse with more formal training."
Dagny's sadness grew to include relief, excitement, and jealousy, and yet she wore a smile on her face. "Great, I'll let her know."
Voris felt tempted to ask her about her perplexing bundle of conflicting emotions, but recalled their argument from earlier and decided he didn't want to revisit the topic of his own shameful jealousy regarding Pearson Schoenbein. He had repressed the emotion, but could not repress the memory.
Through their jumbled bond, he understood what she was feeling, but not why. Should he have said he would not write a recommendation for Aisla? Had he been wrong to praise their Orion volunteer? He felt a fleeting and illogical urge to retract his previous arguments regarding varied sensory perception among sentient species. His emotional blindness where Dagny was concerned was a failing he often wished he could compensate for.