—Chapter 16—
The day after the kal-if-fee, they made their way back to the Golden Shavokh, the restaurant where Trip and T'Les had eaten the night T'Pol had spoken to Koss, and Trip had tasted his first laboratory grown meat. Soval and T'Pol joined Trip and T'Les this time at the Shavokh.
"It's good that we have a chance to share our restaurant with others, T'Les," said Trip.
"Our restaurant?" said T'Les, a trace of irony in her tone, for she'd been the one to introduce Trip to the Golden Shavokh.
"Yes, T'Les, our restaurant," said Trip, "because this is where I launched the charm offensive campaign with which I won you over to my side long before the meal was finished."
"It would be more accurate to say that I found your charms offensive," said T'Les, looking at Trip with that deadpan look which Vulcans had mastered, the look which made it practically impossible to tell if they were being serious, or if they were kidding around.
"Well I aim to give it one more try to win you over," said Trip, "and if I fail, I'm moving in with Soval."
Soval raised brow at that and made eye contact first with T'Les, and then Trip, though the ambassador did not seem overly disturbed by that possibility.
A server approached them then, and after offering some beverage choices, he took a drink order, only to return a few minutes later with a large pitcher of ruby red liquid, and four glasses already filled with the same beverage found in the pitcher.
"I have had this before, Trip," said T'Pol. "You will like it."
"What is it?"
"Ice cold water, pomegranate concentrate from Earth, sugar, and some slices of everjek fruit, which is a citrus fruit grown in one of our off-world colonies."
Trip took a sip from his glass, and found it delicious. The tartness of the pomegranate asserted itself first, followed by the sweetness from the sugar, finally chased down with a blast of citrus, that seemed much like an orange, but much more intense.
"Oh, this is good, T'Pol," said Trip, looking appreciatively at his Vulcan love: she looked particularly cute tonight, in a lightweight Vulcan robe.
"One of the cooks working here tonight spent three years working in our embassy on Earth," said T'Les, "so I asked him to give you a taste of home, at least so far as ingredients are concerned. I am not certain if his cooking style originates from your particular region on Earth, Trip."
"No matter," said Trip. "I am certain that I'll like it."
Their server approached them once again and offered menus, but T'Les said, "I am T'Les. I've spoken with S'Lak earlier today. We've decided to go with the klomess."
Klomess was a Vulcan culinary tradition in which one trusted the chef to prepare what dishes he thought best to serve. It allowed the maximum degree of freedom for the chef to exercise his creativity, made use of fresh seasonal foods, and selected only the highest quality ingredients, all in order to deliver the best value for the customer, and all for a set price. The server nodded, and left the table to notify S'Lak that his party had arrived.
"So," said Soval, "I have some news for you all. Koss's father reached out to me. He invites Captain Tucker to visit his holding tomorrow."
"Why?" said T'Pol, instantly suspicious of the clan elder's motive.
"He did not say," said Soval.
Sensing T'Pol's suspicion, T'Les said, "You are over reacting, T'Pol. He would have to be insane to harm Captain Tucker. He would be the first suspect if harm befell the man."
"I agree," said Soval. "He also asked of me to accompany Trip, so that Captain Tucker might feel secure in granting his request."
"I still do not like it," said T'Pol, mollified somewhat at the thought that Soval would accompany her mate, if he was foolish enough to accept the invitation. "Do not go, Trip."
"I'm going," said Trip, looking at T'Pol. "I'll wager he just wants to smoke the peace pipe, but if that's not the case, I'll need to know that as well."
None of the Vulcans had heard the peace pipe metaphor before, but all understood Trip's meaning.
The server came then, a large tray in hand, and from it he dropped off the first course. Soup. A white, gently seasoned creamy soup, composed of coconut milk, roasted garlic and roasted cauliflower pureed into the soup, and topped with shredded cilantro and a drizzle of sesame oil. The consensus at the table was that the soup was sublime.
"I still do not like you going to that clan's holding tomorrow," said T'Pol.
"Look at her," said Trip, laughing. "She's seeing danger behind every shadow."
"Danger is not as implausible as you might think, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol. "I served for a time in the Vulcan Security Directorate, and I am well acquainted with every method of treachery known on Vulcan, and beyond."
"Really?" said Trip, and Soval and T'Les nodded, affirming the truth of T'Pol's words.
"So, what? You were like a secret spy or something?"
"Not precisely," said T'Pol, "but I am a highly trained operative."
"So you could have killed me on the Bridge of the Seleya?" said Trip. "I was just lucky?"
"No," said T'Pol. "You are good. I am just better."
"And yet I won," said Trip, teasing T'Pol.
"The fact that my brain was turning to mush under the influence of Trellium might have given you a slight advantage on that day," said T'Pol, her voice laced with irony.
"Oh, listen to her, listen to my little Vulcan operative," said Trip. "I have my own personal assassin!"
"Hardly an assassin," said T'Les, who was privately troubled by some of the things which T'Pol had likely been forced to do on behalf of the V'Shar.
"Careful, T'Les, I could have T'Pol kill you if you displease me, or you Soval, or maybe the chef if I find his food lacking," said Trip, as if T'Les's denial had never been spoken. "My little stone cold killer relishes the power of snuffing out lives, and I control that power now! Remember that before you cross me."
"I begin to wish now that Koss had won the challenge," said T'Pol. "I can not endure your sense of humor for the rest of my life."
"Endure it you will, T'Pol," said Trip. "Be strong."
Fortunately for T'Pol, the next course arrived just in time to derail her mate's megalomaniacal dreams of power.
"What's this?" said Trip, looking curiously at his plate.
He recognized both green and black olives on his platter, feta cheese, grilled onions, some slender pickles, and some small fire roasted and charred tomatoes. He recognized all that, but he did not recognize the fist sized item on the plate.
None of the rest of them could answer Trip, so the server said, "The kibbet is composed of a mix of cracked wheat and chickpeas which are chopped finely, and then seasoned. A touch of olive oil and flour is added to the mix to bind it all together, and then this mix is wrapped around meat in your case, Captain Tucker, and roasted green chile and cheese for the rest of your party. So once the kibbet is formed, it is deep fried in oil. Take a bite after dipping it into the green sauce."
Trip followed the Vulcan's instructions, and groaned appreciatively.
"Fantastic," said Trip, and the server nodded, before heading back for the kitchen, only to return minutes later with salads.
"I am almost stuffed," said T'Pol, and T'Les nodded her agreement with her daughter's words.
"Not me," said Trip. "I want more of this chef's cooking, my murderous little soldier."
"Stop that, Trip," said T'Pol.
"Yes, well, I am also curious to see what the chef has in store for us next," said Soval, who had quite enjoyed everything he'd been presented with so far. "By the way, I will be heading back for Earth next week. What of you two?"
T'Pol looked at Trip, wondering how badly he wanted to be off Vulcan.
"We're going to stick around for a bit longer than that," said Trip. "We still have three months of leave, and T'Les is pampering me shamelessly."
T'Les scoffed at that, but did not look displeased at the thought of having her daughter and her mate underfoot a while longer.
"Eventually we'll have to go back," said Trip, "so that my folks can meet T'Pol. The media hype should be over by that time, so we'll have a good time."
Soval was about to say something, but a server approached their table to clear their plates, while another served their entrees. A richly seasoned and spiced rice and lentil pilaf for the Vulcans, leavened with a variety of vegetables, some grilled, some stir fried, some deep fried, all scented with Vulcan redweed spice, and livened by the addition of dried apricots. For Trip, a saffron scented bed of basmati rice, topped by a two thick white steaks, drizzled with butter, and oddly rectangular. Trip dug into one, and then the other, and smiled.
"I'll be damned," said Trip.
"What is it?" said T'Pol.
"More of your Vulcan laboratory grown meats," said Trip. "The left steak is red snapper, and the one on the right is blue crab, I think. Delicious!"
"Good," said T'Pol, then turned her attention back to her own plate.
"So what you have decided to do about T'Pol?" said T'Les, and hearing the question, T'Pol laid her fork down and looked at Trip.
"I don't understand the question, T'Les," said Trip. "Someone elaborate."
"You must understand that the ritual of kal-if-fee is a carryover from the days of Old Vulcan," said Soval. "It's roots are found in a time in which Vulcans embraced passion, rather than logic, and the Bonds formed between mates differed somewhat from the Bonds we form now, or rather the option for different types of Bonds existed. Although the old ways have fallen by the wayside, and mind-priests will no longer perform the old rituals generally, your situation differs, for you risked your life in the kal-if-fee in order to make T'Pol yours, and so for you, the old ways are still an option, along with different types of Bonds."
Trip digested Soval's words, and parsed their meaning.
"Different…" said Trip finally, truly curious now. "How so?"
"The psychic bonds created among mates allow a great deal of leeway for free will," said Soval, "but the old ways also allow for a different type of joining in which the winner of the kal-if-fee holds such sway over the other's action that rather than referring to one's partner as a mate, it would be more accurate to refer to one's partner as property, or slave if you will, but a very willing one."
"You don't say," said Trip, turning to face a now blushing T'Pol. "Now I understand the Arbiter's words, of choosing wisely which path T'Pol will follow. So the priest determines which type of Bond is activated between T'Pol and I according to my choice?"
"Essentially," said Soval.
"Good to know," said Trip, with a wink for T'Pol.
Everyone waited for Trip to say more, but when the man began stuffing his face without saying another word, T'Les could take no more.
"Well, Captain Tucker?" said T'Les. "Which will it be?"
"I'll have to think about it, T'Les," said Trip, giving T'Pol a scoundrel's grin.
"T'Pol got herself into this," said T'Les, "but she has a right to know the manner in which she will be Bound to you."
T'Les considered her words the essence of logic and looked to T'Pol for support, but strangely enough T'Pol did not seem bothered by the matter either way.
"Leave it alone, mother," said T'Pol simply. "I am content either way. It is not your concern."
"I suppose," said T'Les, and made way for the server to remove her plate, along with the others.
T'Pol gave her mother a supportive nod, and said, "I could use something sweet."
T'Pol's wish was fulfilled when the server brought out a giant slice of red velvet cake with coconut cream frosting for each of them, along with a tall cup of French Roast coffee.
The next day, two hours after lunch, Trip and Soval made their way to S'Koren's holding, and S'Koren's holding was a large estate, about twenty miles squared, on which lived some fifty families of Koss's clan, though the entire clan actually numbered in the thousands of families, spread out across Vulcan. Soval had told Trip what he might expect, so Trip was not surprised when S'Koren, Koss's father, met them personally at the door with a bow, a mark of gratitude and respect from the older, wealthier, more powerful Vulcan to the Human, rather than leaving it a servant. Trip and Soval returned the bow, and S'Koren led them through his house, to Koss's large bedroom, and Trip saw that Koss was awake, and seemed well, though confined to his bed. Trip gave Koss the ta'al, the Vulcan gesture of greeting with the split fingers, then sat as bid, and waited for Koss or his father to speak.
"Allow me," said S'Koren, "to speak on behalf of my clan, and much more importantly in this case, as a father, as I express my deepest gratitude to you, Captain Tucker, for not killing my son."
"And I second my father's sentiments," said Koss. "Your generosity was unexpected."
Trip nodded and looked at Koss, then said, "And I humbly apologize for coming between you and T'Pol, Koss."
"I understand," said Koss. "The universe always has the last laugh, when it comes to making plans."
"Yes," said Trip, "and though I tried to find a way out of the kal-if-fee with the least harm for both of us, I'll kill you if you interfere with me or T'Pol again. Tell me you understand that, Koss."
"I do," said Koss, wincing as he tried to adjust his position. "As it turns out, a number of eligible Vulcan females found my willingness to engage in combat in order to maintain Vulcan tradition, quite admirable. I am inundated with offers, and I will soon choose a new mate."
"That's great, Koss," said Trip, then noted another wince as the Vulcan moved again. "Sorry about the collarbones. I could have suffocated you without breaking them, but I wasn't willing to take the chance you'd pull some Vulcan trick on me, and overcome me, given your strength advantage."
Koss made a small motion with his hand, signifying that it was of no importance, then said, "I hope that next time we meet, we can speak as friends, or at the least as pleasant acquaintances."
"You may count on it, Koss," said Trip.
"I understand you and T'Pol will be mated soon," said Koss. "Allow me to wish you, and your future mate, long life and peace."
"Thank you, Koss."
"May I make a suggestion?" said Koss.
"Sure," said Trip.
"Enslave T'Pol," said Koss, with something close to a smile. "That female can be a pain in the ass sometimes."
"Really?" said Trip. "You're telling me?"