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Emotionally Compromised
Ch. 4
In the morning Shahtau rose, cleaned the puddle and mess left by a dog left too long with no good options, showered and ran her clothing through the 'fresher. She then walked sedately out through sickbay, trying not to look either out of place or as though she expected to see the ship's Chief Medical Officer anywhere.
After all, she did not.
Regardless of his comments the night before she expected the young doctor to have had time to realize, in sobriety, what had escaped him in the quiet of the previous evening. She was far older than he, would live far longer, and she could not join him in his life regardless of whether she might wish to or not. It was in all ways illogical. Indeed, how could the impossible be anything but illogical?
There was no point in even asking herself what she might want, if she were free to want. She owned no such freedom. Indeed, it was only since the death of Vulcan that she could even have been said to properly own herself. Prior to that she had been the property of her katelau-skilsu, the man who had won victory at the time of her mating.
That Saael, Kalifee S'haile, her master, had been a good man and the father of her children, who had honored her and supported her even after he married a proper wife more happily in later years, did not and never could change the fact that she had challenged, and her champion had failed and died. It did not change that the man who had died had not loved her, but had fought to please her father, who had repented his choice of bonded mate for his daughter. It did not change the fact that her father objected not for the sake of his daughter, but for the political associations the marriage would bring with it. Saael had been a human-lover, her father one of the exclusionists. That had been reason enough to demand his daughter call Koon-ut-kalifee.
She was the youngest of his many children, named Shahtau to indicate that he wished for no more. He had bargained well, bonding his children into the status structure of Vulcan with precision, finding allies, finding those who would give him and his causes power. That being the case he felt no great loss denying her when she was lost to the challenge. Better if her champion had won…but still an acceptable outcome, as she had never achieved any particular standing or virtue in any case.
She had chosen never to feel guilt upon realizing that her life as a possession was, nonetheless, more satisfying than her years of theoretical freedom. She had borne three children to her Kalifee S'haile, and if he had never loved her, nor she him, they had both loved their children. She had been able to work, and he had allowed her to retain her own earnings. In the end she had considered both he and his true wife…friends.
Now they were gone. All gone. Saael, Tanat. The children, both hers and theirs: tall Palu, who had just entered the Science Institute; brilliant M'natha, who had refused to bond in childhood and who was training to pass Kholinar; Trath, who raced from sun-up to sundown, never still and never patient, but always finding time for friends. Jariat, Tanat's oldest, who had once gotten into a school fight defending Palu's honor, swearing that he was her brother even if their mothers were not the same. Shahtau had never been able to say what she knew to be true: that she adored Jariat with a passion fully equal to that she felt for her own children. But, then, she had never been free to admit to that passion, either. She was still Vulcan, still a follower of Surak, no matter how poor her discipline. Some things could not be said.
She knew she would love new children, also. But this, too, could not be said: that she did not particularly want to love children, ever again. That she did not want to be owned, or second in status, or bound by her honor ever again. What she wanted was irrelevant. She could bear children: therefore she would bear, and she would treasure what she birthed. But…
It was better never to admit to herself, ever, that one sweet kiss in a silent room was more violently tempting than a thousand children born to the future of the Vulcan race. Better not to admit because she was wise. One kiss could never support the future she faced, nor was it likely that its sweetness could survive the reality that would come if she tried to gain more. It was a night dream in cool, lush winter, when the flowers of Vulcan once bloomed and the world had become briefly gentle. Flowers that had seldom lasted more than a few days, then died.
It would be cruel to wish for more: cruel to him, cruel to her. He was so young. So very young. And so very, very kind…
She ordered fruit for breakfast, and hot tea: things that had grown familiar to her in the months on Earth following Vulcan's death. For Toto she ordered scrambled eggs and toast. She ate at a table to one side of the rec room, her back turned to the entrance to avoid eye contact. She wanted to be alone. Instead she watched Toto gulp the food from the plate, lick the surface completely clean.
"Excuse me. I think I owe you an apology."
Shahtau looked up, half fearful, into the face of Spock's intended, Uhura. A beautiful woman, as Tanat had been, and dark like Tanat and Saael, too, with the same dark eyes.
"No apology is needed or expected, Lieutenant Uhura. It is I who apologize. Were I free to act only on my own desires, I would merely bless your bonding and leave you to peace and a long life together. I am driven by imperatives beyond my will, and, yet…I can hope that the elders will allow you that peace."
"May I join you? I think we need to talk."
"I think you are correct. Please, do sit. Do not let Toto lick you: he will not stop once he starts. He is a very bold creature."
Uhura laughed -- no, giggled, as the dog squiggled and wriggled and tried to wash her face. "Bold is right. He is so cute, though!" She chucked the dog under the chin, then gently cupped her palm over his muzzle, holding him away from her and preventing him from licking. "You are just a love-bug, aren't you? Too cute! Oh, you are too cute!" Toto wagged and wagged his agreement, then reluctantly allowed himself to be curled into Uhura's lap to settle. "Where did you get him?"
"Earth. After Vulcan died. He asked very few questions, you see."
Uhura's eyes went dark. "I understand," she said. "Sometimes that's easier."
"Much."
The two shared a glance that made Shahtau feel all the more as though she was once again with Tanat, sister-mistress and friend. Uhura glanced down and back. "I am afraid we have a problem."
"That would seem an accurate assessment of our circumstances."
"No, I mean we have a new problem." Uhura looked around the rec room, filled with breakfasting crewmembers. She looked back at Shahtau. "How well do you put up with noise?"
"Excuse me?"
"How well do you put up with noise? There's a rec room off of one of the engineering levels that is just plain loud. Spock hates it -- it gives him headaches. But we can talk there and no one will hear, and it's less likely to attract attention that sneaking around or hiding in my quarters would."
"I believe, then, that under the circumstances I can endure the volume," Shahtau said, realizing that, yes, this woman had more on her mind than just an apology and an ultimatum or two.
The two walked together through the ship, the dog skipping along with them happy as a dog can be. Shahtau hoped that he would not use a corner or wall for a latrine. It would be embarrassing, if reparable. Fortunately the little dog behaved. Soon she would have to take him down to the space station, if only to allow him to run in one of the green belts that helped maintain the atmosphere. And, truly, it would give her a time away from a ship rapidly becoming full of emotional pressures she doubted she could continue to face with any semblance of Vulcan calm.
When they reached the loud rec room, humming with a steady drone of engines and pipes and moving machinery, Uhura added one more pressure.
"This is not intended to be a judgment about you: you have to understand, Spock and I know this isn't your fault. But…Spock sent word to Kaiidth that he was rejecting their plans for us all. He is willing to donate sperm, or gene samples. But he wants us to be left alone."
Shahtau leaned against a rail overlooking the engine room below. "What he wants will be challenged. Not by me, but by the elders. They have more candidates and much determination. They have also reached a state of believing that the ends justify any means."
Uhura snorted. "C'mon. They're Vulcan. There have to be a few limits left."
Shahtau met her eyes. "A few. Fewer than you would think. They are not above exerting pressure to destroy your career and Spock's. Nor would they shrink from exiling the Future Elder, nor Sarek, in an attempt to coerce Spock's cooperation. You must understand: by the standards of traditional Vulcan culture, they are mad. Perhaps we all are."
"Excuse me?"
The look Uhura gave made it clear that she suspected that if anyone were crazy it was her companion. Shahtau sighed, unsure if she could communicate the basic truths of the situation to a human… a human who might feel more compassion and understanding of what had occurred when Vulcan died than most, but who still could not understand what it was for Vulcans, and especially for the elders, to have suffered that death.
"Vulcans are many things. But, as a race, we are not _humble_. Humility is illogical. And we were not humble for our world, either. Regardless of any astrophysical truths, to my people Vulcan was the center of the universe, our race the beacon to the other races, our philosophy the guiding light that would bring the universe into sanity: _we_ were the narrative that gave the entire nature of existence meaning.
The elders may not have considered themselves infallible, but they might as well have: they believed that there was no problem that the unified wisdom and knowledge of Vulcan could not overcome in time. Unfortunately they were given no time. Their wisdom was proven completely useless. And their future, such as it is, was rescued by a handful of humans and the half-breed spawn of a race traitor…or at least that is how some of them have and always will see it. There is no stable point left in their understanding of themselves, their people, or the universe itself. None. Yet in that condition of complete instability they are nonetheless required to choose for the good of the race. Please, tell me: when there is no longer a stable point of anchorage, yet the obligations remain, infinite and demanding, on what basis do you make a decision? The Vulcans who live, for the most part, are making decisions based on the complete loss of all rational structure, and the choices they are making are in many ways quite mad. Logical, and practical. But mad."
"You don't appear to be all that mad."
"I am a very poor Vulcan, as such things are understood. And I did not suffer the loss of my world in a matter of minutes, without warning. Not as the elders did. On Earth I heard barely the echo of the deaths of a billion katras. And, yet…I, too, am mad. You cannot lose all we have lost and not be a little mad."
"I see," Uhura said. "You're all emotionally compromised." The look in her eyes spoke of a hell she had seen, as real as any Shahtau had experienced.
"Exactly."
"You're right. That is one big problem."
"I believe that is what I said."
The communication band pinged.
"Uhura here."
"Lieutenant, there's a private call coming in from Kaiidth. Commander Spock said you should come up and hear it in the briefing room -- and to bring someone named Shahtau up with you when you come."
"Acknowledged," Uhura said, and closed the link. The two women looked at each other, equally grim.
"Well? What are we gonna do about that?"
"I believe we are going to fight. Together. For us all," Shahtau said, hoping that hope was not simply further insanity.
End Ch. 4