I am, as always, flattered and overwhelmed by your comments. To those of you who do not have accounts yet still review as guests - you are much cherished, and I am sorry that I am unable to respond to you personally via FanFiction's system.
I also wish to thank Majestrix, the one who encouraged me to start writing again. She puts up with all of my whiny angsting and has also taken the time to help me edit this chapter.
5.
A House Divided
It is 1:08am when T'Pau's comm notifies her of an incoming call. She swallows the remaining portion of her tea, flicks on the kettle to heat more water, then retrieves the receiver. Given the hour and the fact that this is her personal line, T'Pau expects to see Sarek, Spock, or another familial relation on the caller identification. The number, however, is not one that she recognises. Fourteen numerical digits. Nine Roman letters. The call is coming from off-world via subspace.
Once seated in the lounge, T'Pau presses the answer button and waits for the person at the other end of the line to inform her why they are calling.
2.1 seconds pass.
3.3.
3.7.
After 3.9 seconds, the caller, a woman, finally decides to speak: "Hello?" she says.
T'Pau knows that she is expected to repeat 'hello' back, but to do so would be illogical and so she will not. Instead, she says nothing and waits for the woman to state her business.
"Hello? Is anybody there?" the caller asks.
Of course, someone is 'there.' Were no one 'there,' the call would not have connected. For the 1,831st time since meeting Amanda, and for the 97th time since meeting Nyota, T'Pau notes with some satisfaction that her son and grandson located the only two logical humans in existence.
On numerous occasions, Amanda and Nyota proved more logical than their respective husbands. Emotional, but logical.
Over the course of her life, T'Pau has come to the conclusion that despite the arbitrary nature of gender, men—and especially the men of Surak's clan—often cling toward an illogical stubbornness when it comes to certain matters, usually those involving relationships. If Spock's visit earlier today proved anything, it was that.
He'd come by in order to ask that T'Pau care for Selik for the remainder of the week beginning tomorrow. Tonight, he planned to inform her that she would not be allowed to attend her kahs-wan. He predicted that this news would cause emotional upset and that it would therefore be beneficial and quite logical for Selik to spend some time in the company of her great grandmother, since T'Pau would provide the child a much needed sense of calm.
Accustomed to the tendency of all of her male kinsmen to distort logic to suit their own emotional desires, T'Pau is able to listen to Spock's 'reasoning' without snorting. Beneficial, he'd said. Quite logical.
"To clarify," said T'Pau, once her grandson had given his explanation, "you wish to avoid the repercussions of your decision regarding the kah-swan by keeping Selik here with me. Correct?"
Spock blinked. "I would not have put it in such terms."
"I am sure you would not have, son of my son," said T'Pau, examining her grandson's face for minute expressions, finding none. "But yes, your proposal is agreeable. I will arrive tomorrow at 9:15 to pick Selik up. She will remain here as she navigates her emotional response."
As much as T'Pau disagreed with Spock's decision to disallow Selik her rite-of-passage, she could not fault his logic completely. Often times, there were two paths that were an equal amount logical and illogical. Selik survived two drug-resistant infections this past year that had severely weakened her lungs. Though she had significantly recovered, her constant health concerns were a reality that could not be ignored. Unfortunate, but, kadiith.
Spock's ploy to bring Selik here to avoid emotional fallout was ridiculously transparent, but T'Pau would not deny the prospect of spending a full week in the company of her pi'sahrev, her little storm. Children frequently did better finding the Path of Surak when they had opportunities to be independent of their parents. So, indeed, there was some logic to his decision.
What struck T'Pau as stubbornly illogical during her conversation with Spock had nothing to do with Selik, but with his refusal to acknowledge reality in other domestic matters—chiefly, the matter of Nyota. When T'Pau inquired after her emotional state, he'd said, "She is performing her duties as a Starfleet officer, a mother, and a wife satisfactorily."
T'Pau acknowledged passing feelings of incredulity, scepticism, disbelief, that he would answer her question thus. T'Pau did not 'gesture.' T'Pau did not 'emote.' She was too old for such immature displays, yet in that moment she empathised with Selik's tendency to roll her eyes. "I did not ask whether Nyota was performing her various duties satisfactorily," she said. "I asked after her general state. When last I saw her, she displayed several Human markers of duress."
Spock's eyes flitted away from T'Pau's, and he went to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of water from the carafe. "I know not of what you speak," he said.
"I speak of the one who is your bonded." Nyota was T'Pau's kin as much as Sarek, Spock, Selik, and Amayel were, as much as Amanda had been, and still was, her katra gone but never gone.
"This year has presented our family with a number of obstacles. Numerous hospital visits for Selik. Amayel's withdrawal at school," he said, pausing. "It is expected that Nyota would experience negative feelings and a reduction in emotional well-being."
"As her adun it is your responsibility to help heal her wounds, as she heals yours," said T'Pau, unable to determine whether Spock was deliberately evading or being obtuse.
"I understand my responsibilities as Nyota's husband," said Spock, his voice steady. His control these last six months was perfection, something T'Pau found alarming. Perfect Control outside of kolinahr was impossible, and a sign of impending emotional eruption. She had seen this before in her grandson. The pressure to be more Vulcan than any Vulcan, to master all emotions, to excel academically and professionally, caused him to repress and collar off what needed to be acknowledged and dealt with. Emotions were to be managed. Not quarantined.
"You inform me that you understand your responsibilities as husband, yet you let your bondmate anguish so? I thought more of the son of my son," said T'Pau.
She turned away to conceal the judgment that surely passed over her face. She lifted the ceramic pitcher from the counter and began to water the plants in the lounge. They were Terran in origin. Amanda had picked them out. T'Pau had them relocated from Earth's Embassy to here.
"You should not speak of things you know nothing about," said Spock.
T'Pau set the pitcher on a wooden shelf, perhaps with more force than required.
"You speak to your clan matriarch thus?"
"Honoured Grandmother—I did not intend—"
"Your intent is of no concern to me," said T'Pau.
Spock conceded. "I will make efforts to address you with the respect and veneration you deserve, Honoured Grandmother."
"Indeed." T'Pau resumed the business of watering her plants. "You will take your leave now. Before you depart, I remind you that in the matter of Nyota, you are parted and never parted. When you deliberately shield yourself from her, you disrupt nature's course."
She watched the son of her son for a reaction, however small it might be, and was rewarded with a slight relaxation of the shoulders.
"Nyota is psychically quite powerful," he admitted.
"Indeed," said T'Pau.
"Though I have taught her to shield her empathic connections, she frequently does not desire to do so."
T'Pau was curious where this conversation would lead. Spock was not one to speak in a round-about fashion when one could be direct, so she trusted each piece of information was necessary.
"Lately, I have found my own emotions unexpectedly turbulent. I have meditated with increased frequency, but still, they are there. I would not wish my wife to experience them so acutely," said Spock.
There was more to this, T'Pau sensed, but Spock was already nodding and turning to make his leave.
T'Pau had meditated on the conversation after his departure, then spent the better part of the afternoon and evening readying her home for her great-granddaughter. Servants prepared Amayel and Selik's quarters, went to the market to buy the foods Selik most preferred, went to the archives herself to find suitable music for Selik to play on her lute, and bought her the latest issue in the X-Men comic series, which, of course, Selik would already have, but she was meticulous with the care of her comic books and rarely took them out the house. She would appreciate having another physical copy to read at T'Pau's.
Once she'd sufficiently prepared for Selik's arrival, T'Pau retired. She'd just finished her night-time cup of tea and was ready to meditate when the hello lady called.
Now, T'Pau waits for the woman to get to the point.
"State your business," T'Pau says. She is tired and impatient. She has not slept in forty hours. In addition to dealing with family matters, she'd stayed up all evening last night judging the matter of a V'tosh Ka'tur who wished to reclaim custody of a distant young cousin, fifteen years old. The boy had lost all relations during Va'Pak, and his adoptive guardian had recently died, as well. The Vulcan without logic, named Fer'at, lived off planet but was willing to relocate to New Vulcan to care for the orphaned child.
It had taken 7.8 hours for the various contingents to present their cases regarding the fate of the boy, and eventually, after much deliberation, T'Pau had decided to award Fer'at probationary custody for a period of six months.
"Is this, um, Tee-paw? Tee-paw-oo? Tee-po?" the woman asks in Standard.
"No, it is not. There is no one here by the name Tee-paw tee-paw-oo tee-po." T'Pau disconnects the call, only for it to ring again 8.9 seconds later when she is pouring water over tea leaves to steep. Again, she presses the answer button, and again, the caller says nothing for several seconds. Why is this person calling if they have nothing to say?
"Speak," says T'Pau. Sometimes non-Vulcans, humans especially, needed to be prodded along.
"Oh, hello again," the woman says. "I'm calling for a lady with a name spelled T-P-A-U."
"I am she," says T'Pau.
"Okay. Good. This is Jenna Briggs."
T'Pau waits for Jenna Briggs to continue, but she does not.
"Are you still there?" Jenna Briggs asks.
"Indeed." Where would T'Pau have gone? She is not prone to disappearing into the ether.
"Oh, good, thought I'd lost you there for a second. I'm calling in regards to Amayel?"
T'Pau does not understand why this woman phrases everything as a question. Either she is calling in regard to Amayel, or she is not.
"You may proceed," says T'Pau.
"You're listed as one of the emergency contacts. I first tried to get in touch with Mr. and Mrs., umm, Say-shin, um,Ta-gay, Ta-jee?—"
"Cease attempting to pronounce S'chnn T'gai," says T'Pau.
"Right, sorry. So, we tried to get in touch with Amayel's parents but were unable to after several attempts."
Unusual. Nyota is likely sleeping given the time, but Spock is typically awake at this hour. Even if he had been slumbering, he would have heard the notification sound on the communicator.
T'Pau closes her eyes and investigates her familial bonds for any sign of trouble. Spock's mind is, as usual, completely walled off. Nyota is distant, but with some effort at concentration, T'Pau senses a vague hum of distress. Selik is—
"I'm afraid there's been an incident," Jenna Briggs says, then another pause.
This woman needs constant nudging. "Please, elaborate," says T'Pau, though it is quite obvious Jenna Briggs should do so without explicit verbal instruction.
"I'm sorry to say that after a little accident, Amayel fractured her arm."
T'Pau opens her eyes, pulling herself out of the minor trance she'd used to find her kin in the bond, and focuses on Jenna Briggs. "Continue."
"We took her to see the doctor on staff here straight away, but Amayel said repeatedly that it would be more logical for her to go home. She refused to get in the bio-bed or even go near a tricorder."
T'Pau rings the bell to call her aide to the lounge, sensing she would be needed soon. After several seconds, Simar, T'Pau's mamut, enters the sitting area to await instruction. She is near in age to T'Pau and has served the family for many years. She completes all her duties efficiently and expertly and is agreeable company. Her logic is always sound, and her mind is sharp.
"How did Amayel come to sustain fractures to her arm?" T'Pau asks, her hand held up to Simar so that she knows to wait here.
Though quiet and generally gentle in nature, Amayel's curiosity frequently got the better of her. It is not out of the realm of reason that she'd wanted to test one of her many inventions outside, and had lost body self-awareness in her excitement and slipped, as young beings were apt to do.
"That is actually the main reason why I'm calling," says Jenna. T'Pau notes the hesitation in her voice. "It has come to my attention that some of the other children have been bullying Amayel a bit because of her hearing?"
Again, with the question-tone.
"Define 'bullying'," says T'Pau. "I am not familiar with this jargon."
"Well," says the woman, "taking and hiding her things. Calling her names."
"So then 'bullying' is another word for 'harassing' and 'abusing?" T'Pau asks, wishing to clarify.
"I suppose you could say that in this case."
"And were her parents notified that this was occurring?"
"The instructors here were unaware it was happening until this most recent event. Amayel didn't tell anyone what was going on, or of course we would've intervened and called her parents."
T'Pau had been right to be sceptical of this so-called 'camp.' The level of incompetence required to allow such treatment to continue unaware is unfathomable, even considering how many humans were involved.
"Who is it that broke her arm, and are they being appropriately held accountable?" T'Pau asks.
"Nobody in particular broke it per se. It seems that a group of the children took her hearing aid while she slept and messed with the settings when they were playing with it. As far as I can tell, it was completely an accident. When they returned the device, the calibration was slightly off, and and there was ringing and vertigo that disrupted Amayel's depth perception, causing her to misjudge a step and fall down a set of stairs. I am so sorr—"
"I would speak with Amayel now. You may wake her if she is sleeping. It is no matter. I require you to connect a video feed so that I may sign with her and review her condition. Go."
"Of course," the woman says. There is silence as she goes to complete the task.
T'Pau, of course, will need the names of all the children involved, as well as their parents' names, the names of the directors of the camp. They certainly will not be allowed to continue operating after this session. The Young Xenonaturalist's Camp was located on a Terran colony in the Omega C star system, and like most Federation organizations, involved mostly humans, with a sprinkling of other species. The camp involved a three week stay in a research outpost, where young people conducted "expeditions." T'Pau approved of the course of activities in theory, but the people in charge were obviously inept and Amayel would never be returning. Frequently, what humans consider prestigious—and the Young Xenonaturalist's Camp is considered such—does not meet the most basic requirements: that of insuring the safety of the young people involved.
"Simar," T'Pau tells her aid. "Please make arrangements for me to travel to Omega C-2. Send Zhi'rev and S'harien to the home of mine grandson and granddaughter by marriage to ascertain the state of affairs."
"Yes, Dorli Pid-kom," says Simar and nods. "Shall I send someone to alert Sarek?"
"Sarek is currently off-planet negotiating trade terms. This matter will only distract him. However, do leave him a message to get in touch with me tomorrow."
"Yes, Honored Matriarch," Simar says, and hurries off to make the arrangements.
Twelve seconds later, the subspace video feed connects and Amayel appears on screen. She is wearing her night clothes, a buttoned shirt that hangs past her knees and a pair of mismatched knee socks, one blue and the other black, and a sling to stabilise her arm. Her hair is both unbound and uncombed, large and poofy, making her narrow face look that much more miniature in appearance. Her face reveals nothing of her state, but she is trembling as if cold.
Of the twins, it is Selik who has always been the smaller one. Now, Amayel is competing for the status. She has visibly thinned since T'Pau last saw her.
"What is your condition, pi'veh?"
"I have three fractures in my right forearm and wrist, which is currently being stabilised with a splint." She signs with one hand, but is still perfectly understandable.
"Are you in pain?" asks T'Pau.
"Moderate pain," Amayel signs.
"I will be there to retrieve you in approximately an hour. I cannot say how long it will take more precisely as I am not aware of the transport schedules."
"That is not necessary, Komekh-kel. Such last minute transport is expensive. I am not certain of your logic."
"My logic is sound. I must disconnect now. Use your PADD to reach me on my personal port-comm if you need me."
"Komekh-kel—"
"It is decided, pi'veh. I am coming."
"Yes, Honoured Great-Grandmother."
Simar finishes the arrangements, gathering the appropriate parties. Her suyu, travel staff, will include four klashausu-lar, to secure her safety and defend her from any attempts to assault her person, two gol'nevsu-sar, so that one attendant could stay near to her constantly and so that one could run errands and fetch items, and of course, Simar, her personal aide. Finally, the family's on call hassu, who would come in order to remedy Amayel's fractures immediately.
The trip carries out without event, without conversation, without hiccup or hesitation. The small shuttles housed at the Ministry are Warp-6 capable, unheard of in such small ships—unheard of to off-worlders. Simar easily secures one for T'Pau's private use this evening. The navigator pilots the ship to Omega C-2 in thirty-nine minutes and twelve seconds.
When they enter the colony's air space, ground control hails them.
T'Pau takes the navigator's seat at the helm and opens the feed.
"We will land now," says T'Pau, deigning to speak Standard, though she does not find the language adequately detailed.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but you don't have the authorisation to come to ground here," says a young human male with pale skin and fair-colored hair.
"You will find updated records stating the contrary if you do your job as specified and actually look," T'Pau says. "I will land now." She ends the transmission and returns to her seat.
As the shuttle passes through atmosphere headed downward toward the outpost, a subspace message comes in from S'harien. The communications officer interprets the data, translates it to text, and uploads the message to T'Pau's PADD.
Update regarding the estate of the son of your son [STOP]
Nyota mildly affected by the bonded experience of Selik's respiratory distress [STOP].
Healer on the way [STOP].
Selik gone and experiencing significant lung incapacitation [STOP].
Spock retrieving her [STOP].
Selik had taken Spock's declaration even less well than expected. Like Spock had done all those years ago, she'd left to attempt her kahs-wan without notifying anyone.
T'Pau inhales and calculates digits of pi, picking up at the three-quadrillion decial place, where she last left off.
"Attend," says T'Pau, once they shuttle makes contact with the ground.
Her four personal guards stand up and flank her, two on either side. Her personal attendants stand a foot behind her, and Simar stands slightly behind her and to the right—typical of the bonded position.
They descend the steps of the shuttle, the planet dark, greeted by four human persons in 'khaki,' looking thoroughly bedraggled and unworthy of caring for T'Pau's great granddaughter. Despicable.
Despite wearing her full head cover and formal robes, which are thick and multilayered, T'Pau feels cold. No wonder Amayel had appeared to lose weight. She'd probably devoted a significant portion of her energy to maintaining her core temperature. Not acceptable.
"Show me to my great-granddaughter," says T'Pau, when the humans fail to direct her accordingly.
They are ridiculously inefficient in their movements, stumbling over every step. They seem to be attempting to speak, yet all that comes out are incoherent stutters.
"Tee-po?" says the woman that T'Pau identifies as Jenna Briggs, going by her voice. She has thin, light brown hair, a round face, and wears a 'Polo' shirt. Terran fashion, as usual, fails to impress T'Pau.
"My name is Lady T'Pau, Daughter of Satok, Matriarch of the House of Surak, and you will address me such," says T'Pau.
"Of course," says Jenna Briggs, voice shaking and uncertain. "We didn't expect you until tomorrow morning."
"I would not leave Amayel in your care for another minute, let alone another several hours," says T'Pau.
A man who is dressed differently than the others, wearing proper grey trousers and a black shirt, walks toward T'Pau, but one of her guards steps in the way. "You will not approach Lady T'Pau," he says.
"Whoa there," says the man, holding up his hands. "I am Alan Shaw, and I'm the Senior Residential Counselor, here to address any concerns you might have."
T'Pau looks at him for four seconds, assessing. "You cannot address my concerns," she says. "I will speak with the person in charge of this program tomorrow at 7:00am by Vulcan reckoning. They should avail themselves with lawyers and other counsel if he wishes. I plan for nothing less than the dissolution of the Young Xenonaturalist's Camp. I will gather the Vulcan Council to leverage charges against you for reckless endangerment and negligence. Now, however, you will bring my great-granddaughter to me. You are dismissed, Alan Shaw, Senior Residential Counselor."
With the news from S'harien about Nyota, Selik, and Spock, the need for expediency is even more pressing. She must return to New Vulcan and regulate.
One minute and twelve seconds pass and Amayel is still not there.
T'Pau instructs one of her attendants to locate Amayel and carry her out to the shuttle. "Alan Shaw, Senior Residental Counselor, direct mine attendant to the daughter of the son of my son."
In less than twenty seconds, the attendant returns with Amayel in his arms, Alan Shaw carrying her luggage.
"Komekh-kel," says Amayel, wiggling out of the attendants grasp despite her arm. She walks in quick, measured strides toward T'Pau, dodging the four guards, stopping when she is one foot before her great grandmother. Her head tilts up. "Your presence is agreeable," signs Amayel, "but unnecessary. My condition is acceptable." Her hand movements are excited and uncharacteristically demonstrative.
"It is not unnecessary," T'Pau signs back, and presses her hand to Amayel's back to guide her up the ramp to the shuttle. "We will return to New Vulcan now."
The hassu attends to Amayel's bone once they're secured inside. The osteo-stimulator will repatch and set the bones, but the arm still needs to be stabilised with a splint.
"Honoured Great-Grandmother, I have much to tell you regarding my discoveries on this planetoid, if you are amenable," she signs, having trouble using only the one hand, but managing.
"I am amenable," signs T'Pau, as Amayel begins to discuss her findings, as well as describe the tricorder she reprogrammed to detect microscopic lifeforms specific to Omega C-2. From what T'Pau can glean from Amayel's ramblings, the child spent most of her time during the program alone.
"Amayel, I wish to see inside your mind," says T'Pau.
"Right now?"
"Only if you would wish it. If you do not wish it, it is no matter," T'Pau tells her great-granddaughter.
Simar pours Amayel a cup of cactus fruit juice from the shuttle's stores and hands it to her, along with a dense, fatty soup made of pureed root vegetables and nuts, spices, and kov-sayas milk. She does all of this without T'Pau explicitly command her to, and though T'Pau is tempted to raise an eyebrow, she refrains, used to her aide's often presumptuous behaviour. It is not disagreeable.
"Eat this, child, you are wane," says Simar.
Amayel has no issue devouring her juice and spiced chowder. It is clear she wishes to request more, but does not. Simar, however, is already fixing her another portion.
"I would have you in my mind now, Honoured Great-Grandmother," says Amayel after she finishes her third bowl of soup and second cup of juice.
T'Pau sits Amayel on her lap and initiates telepathic contact with a gentle brush of the hands to her palm, keeping her mental touch light and non-intrusive.
She feels, through Amayel, humiliation, shame, frustration, worry, sadness, excitement to be with T'Pau and going home, anxiousness. The amount and intensity of Amayel's emotions should have tipped Spock or Nyota off to Amayel's condition at the program, but it is clear that just like her father, the little girl has put up significant mental walls to shield herself from that empathic and telepathic connection. Not only had she expended significant energy keeping herself warm, without eating enough to support the effort; she had spent much energy keeping her experiences hidden from her parents.
Amayel is a powerful, powerful telepath, especially given her age. It is disheartening that she would use her skills to withdraw in such a manner.
T'Pau stops her investigation of Amayel's young mind.
"I did not wish to burden them," says Amayel, responding to the question that T'Pau had not yet asked. She could do that—sense thoughts even without touch.
"Your actions were foolish, pi'veh."
Amayel does not respond to the admonishment, instead taking a final sip of her cactus fruit juice. She lays her head back onto T'Pau's chest. "I would sleep now," she says.
T'Pau cradles the child in her arms as the shuttle makes the short journey back to New Vulcan.
Her house is much out of order. That would not do.