Thank you all very much for your reviews, I loved reading your speculations about the Vulcans!
As for the Vulcan words and expressions I used in this story, I'd like to acknowledge that I got most of them from the Vulcan Language Dictionary, compiled by Selek (Marketa Z.) from Vulcan Language Institute (it seems that such a thing actually exists!). Here's the link (please insert the the slashes and dots):
www(dot)starbase(slash)10(dot)de(slash)vld(slash)
I invented sort of a grammar myself (I expect real Vulcan grammar would be a lot more complicated ;) ), so that's where all the apostrophes and added letters come from. If anyone's really interested in what the Vulcans are saying, I'd be happy to put a short "introductory to Vulcan grammar" under my next chapter. Just let me know (and yes, I know I'm a language freak ;)!)
Enjoy!
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6
Malcolm got up. Vulcans. The only explanation he could think of was that something had happened to Enterprise, something that not only prevented the Captain from rescuing them, but called for Vulcan intervention.
She's been destroyed, an all too familiar voice said in his mind, and he listened in spite of himself. These are obviously special forces. Why else would they send the Vulcan S.A.S., unless there's been a real emergency?
Two more uniformed Vulcans had followed the first one, and Malcolm noticed that they were carrying sidearms of a kind he had never seen before. The tallest one of them drew his weapon and looked around as if he were expecting an attack. Malcolm frowned. The Vulcans must know that this was an uninhabited planet, and it wasn't as if Trip and he posed any threat. Something was seriously wrong here.
One of the Vulcans, a young woman with short black hair, glanced down at a scanning device in her hand and raised her head, pointing in the direction of their campsite. Malcolm was about to leave his hiding place when suddenly all three of the Vulcans pulled out their weapons. The tallest one, apparently the commander, called out a few harsh-sounding words.
"Sasarlah'a, komihnu! I'sasarlah'a!"
Malcolm didn't move, still concealed behind the trees. This was more than strange. The Vulcan commander knew that he was addressing humans, and while not all Vulcans spoke English, they usually made use of the UT. Only few humans spoke fluent High Vulcan, let alone any of the dialects.
"I'sasarlah'a, komihnu!" the commander called out again, and this time Malcolm picked up the second word. Komihnu. Humans. So the commander was indeed talking to them, although his manner of address was unlike anything Malcolm had ever heard from the polite and well-spoken Vulcans he had met.
The woman said a few words to him, too quietly for Malcolm to understand. In response, the commander pointed his weapon in the direction she indicated, and the three of them began to climb the slope, quickly approaching the campsite.
Malcolm clutched the phase pistol harder. It wasn't only how the commander had addressed them; Malcolm knew hostility when he saw it, even in a Vulcan. He considered opening fire on them now, but he wouldn't be able to take down all three of them before they had reached Trip. And he had lost the element of surprise he had counted on; the commander had addressed them in the plural, so the woman's scanner had obviously picked up two human bio signs.
Malcolm took a deep breath and slowly stepped out of his hiding place, holding up the phase pistol in an, as he hoped, universal gesture of peace. In the meantime, the Vulcans had reached the top of the slope. The commander took a step forward, his weapon trained on Malcolm now.
"Mura pohshayek, komihn!"
Very slowly, keeping his eyes on the man, Malcolm laid the phase pistol onto the sand in front of his feet, then straightened up again. Trip, still propped up on his elbows, was the first one to speak.
"Look, I don't know what's goin' on here, but I'm sure there's been a misunderstanding. We're-"
It was as far as he got. The Vulcans had reached the campsite, and the anger on their faces was unmistakable.
"Hizhuka!"
Trip cried out in pain when the woman kicked him hard in the ribs. Malcolm took several quick steps towards her, all caution forgotten.
"What do you think you're doing?"
The commander's dark eyes returned to him, and Malcolm almost took a step back. He had never seen such unrestrained anger on a Vulcan's face.
"Varibena'etwel tu ar'i kloshai'ne, pau'kaluk!"
"What the fuck-"
The woman kicked Trip again, harder this time, and Malcolm bit down on his cry of protest. His Vulcan was seriously rusty, but if he had caught the commander's meaning right, then what little he knew would have to do.
"Trasha'ak," he said, willing his voice to sound firm. "Fam dash-tor. Etek fam..." He couldn't think of the word for „enemy" and settled for „bad" instead, praying that they would understand what he was trying to tell them. The woman's weapon was trained directly on Trip's head.
"Etek fam et'liwh."
Trip turned around to look at him, and Malcolm met his eyes, trying to convey a mute message: Don't say anything.
Rebels, he thought. These Vulcans had to be some sort of rebels, like Tolaris and his crew, and for some reason hostile towards humans. Fortunately, Trip seemed to have understood and remained silent, holding his ribs and glowering at the Vulcans, who took little notice of him.
"Wilat ke'strontorer'si'la, komihn?" the commander demanded, looking at Malcolm again. "Vartora!"
Malcolm got the last part – "tell me!" – but he had no idea what the commander wanted to know. Carefully he shook his head.
"Akshl'ze," he said. "Fam ken-tor."
The Vulcan's mouth grew thin when Malcolm told him that he didn't understand. The smaller man said something, too quickly for Malcolm to catch the words, but the commander ignored him. His weapon still pointed at Malcolm, he made an impatient gesture, and Malcolm slowly began to walk towards him. The man was almost a head taller than he, and Malcolm had to look up to meet the dark eyes. He was startled by what he found there. He had seen indifference on Vulcan faces before, and sometimes a cool aloofness that might have been arrogance, but until now, he had never encountered outright contempt.
The commander stared at him, his eyes narrowing. "Va namtorak'si nash sai-vel?"
Sai-vel, clothing. He had noticed their uniforms. "Enterprise," Malcolm said. "Etek yel-hali. Our ship," he added, wanting to be sure that they got him right. Maybe Trip was right and this was a misunderstanding. "We're Starfleet officers-"
The words had barely left his mouth when the commander backhanded him hard across the face. Malcolm felt blood trickle out of the corner of his mouth, and took an angry step forward.
"What-"
The next thing he knew was pain exploding on the side of his face, and when the world slid back into focus, Malcolm found himself sprawled face-down on the sand. Next to him, Trip was shouting angrily at the Vulcans, who... laughed?
"Datora, komihn!"
A boot connected with his ribcage and Malcolm groaned, trying to get up again. His face felt as if he had run into a metal bulkhead, or rather, had been shoved against it with brutal force. He could feel blood running down on either side of his mouth.
"Hizhuka, pau'kaluk!" The woman delivered another kick into Trip's side. "Ke'wartorer variben'etwel pau'kaluku lakh'ne?"
Malcolm turned to look at the Vulcan commander. "Sanoi," he said, or rather tried to say. His lip was split, and it was hard to talk through the blood in his mouth.
As he tried to get to his feet, the commander pushed him back down into the sand with his boot. "Kuv varibener'si va'ashiv komihnu lakh, prah'er'si kai wonil-zehl."
'If you speak human language again...'... Malcolm hadn't caught the second part, but it was clear from the commander's tone that he was serious about his threat, whatever it was. He remained silent, and the smaller Vulcan, a stocky man with a hard mouth, said something that made all three of them grin. For some reason, seeing their very Vulcan faces break into smiles was almost as disturbing as the careless cruelty.
Malcolm wiped the blood off his mouth. "Etek yel-hali," he said, omitting the word "Enterprise" this time. "Bolaue'si fun-tor yel-hali."
The commander ignored him as if he hadn't spoken at all. "Katau'a au shanhali'na," he said to his two subordinates, who stepped forward.
"Lamtora, pau'kaluk!" The hard-mouthed Vulcan prodded Malcolm with his boot, gesturing for him to get up. As Malcolm stumbled to his feet, he saw the woman reaching for Trip's arm.
"Rai!"
The woman narrowed her eyes at him, and Malcolm pointed at Trip's bandaged foot. "Sanoi, dashtorak!"
She frowned down at Trip. "Ke'namtorer kup im'roi?"
Malcolm didn't dare translate her question, but Trip seemed to have understood that she wanted to know if he could walk. Slowly, he shook his head. "Rai," he said hoarsely.
The commander gave Malcolm a hard push in Trip's direction. "Goltora ak!"
'Help him.' It was easier said than done; Trip was hardly able to stand even with Malcolm's assistance, and Malcolm found himself getting dizzy from the exertion of supporting the engineer's full weight. His left cheek was throbbing like a live thing.
"Haltora!" The commander pushed Malcolm again, almost sending the two of them back to their knees. "Weh'sahris!"
"Petakov coi'alar," the woman commented from behind. Her hard-mouthed colleague chuckled at what had obviously been an amusing remark.
"Dvuntora, pau'kaluku."
The going was slow, even though Trip did his best to shift some of his weight onto his good leg. Malcolm half-dragged, half-carried him down the slope with the Vulcans following shortly after, their weapons held loosely by their sides. They never even lifted a finger to help him, talking quietly among themselves. By the time they had reached the aircraft, Trip's face was as white as a sheet, and he seemed close to passing out. Malcolm almost lost his balance, trying to keep the semi-conscious man upright.
"Tra'abru!" The Vulcan commander roughly grabbed Trip's other arm and began to drag him to the back of the shuttle, Malcolm in tow. "Dvuntora, bath'pa."
He opened a hatch and pushed Trip towards it, gesturing with his weapon for them to climb inside. "Svi'abru!"
The back of the craft was obviously designed to hold prisoners, separated from the rest of the small vessel by a force field. Malcolm had never seen this kind of technology before, not even on the Vulcan ships he had visited. They must have traded for it, or stolen it somewhere, although it was hard to conceive of Vulcan pirates. Or, on second thought, maybe it wasn't even that hard. These three, at least, didn't give the impression as if they'd hesitate even for a second before taking by force what wasn't given to them willingly.
Prodded by the commander's gun, Malcolm supported Trip as the engineer awkwardly clambered through the hatch.
"Tu isha!" The commander pointed impatiently with his weapon when Malcolm didn't follow immediately. Malcolm hesitated. Asking couldn't hurt, always assuming that he could make himself understood. Trip looked like hell, and it was unlikely that these Vulcans would make it a priority to get him medical attention.
"Haseret." He pointed at their abandoned campsite, then at Trip who was lying on the floor of the holding space. "Sanoi. Ak... ak dashtorak. Mau dashtorak."
Please, let me get the medkit.
The commander gave him a long look. "Fitorer'e kai, komihn."
He drew out the last word like an insult, and Malcolm had no doubt that it was meant as one. He said nothing in reply, pretending he didn't feel the Vulcan's eyes between his shoulder blades as he climbed into the holding space after Trip. The hatch almost hit him in the back as it was slammed shut behind him.
"Palikaue'si," the commander said as he climbed through the side hatch. He didn't spare another glance at the prisoners in the back and sat in the pilot chair, adding another few words that elicited a chuckle from his colleagues. Malcolm felt the deck beneath them shudder as the thrusters were engaged.
He looked at Trip. The engineer was lying on his back, his eyes half-closed, and for a moment Malcolm believed he had passed out.
"Trip?" he asked quietly. "Trip, can you hear me?"
"Yeah..." Trip swallowed and brought a hand to his forehead, as if to wipe off the sweat that had gathered there. "Any idea who they are?"
Malcolm shook his head. "Outlaws, I believe, like Tolaris and his crew. They didn't bother to introduce themselves."
"Didn't know you spoke Vulcan." Trip coughed.
"I took a course at the Academy once, but I'm hardly fluent." He paused, remembering the sudden anger on the Vulcans' faces when Trip had addressed them in English. "I didn't get most of what they said."
Except that none of it was meant in a complimentary way.
"Any idea what they want?" Trip wanted to know.
Malcolm shook his head. "No, I..."
"Hizhuka!"
Malcolm turned his head. The Vulcan woman was standing in front of the force field, glaring at him.
"Fatorer'si variben, eh kuhshtore'tu'si kai abi khafauer'si lu lashare'si, pau'kaluku!"
Malcolm noticed Trip's eyes on him and quickly shook his head, never taking his eyes off the woman as she returned to her seat. She couldn't possibly have said what he thought she'd said... could she?
"What..." Trip began, but Malcolm closed a hand over his mouth before he could continue. Shaking his head, he mouthed "no talking", almost relieved that he didn't have to relay the entire message. Which he'd gotten wrong in the first place, of course.
Malcolm leaned back against the wall and pulled his knees to his chest. The silence that followed rested heavily on his ears.
TBC…
Tantora a'faw, sanoi! (Please leave a review ;)! )