Vahklas

by Bluenblack

The V'Tosh Katur return home. And Tolaris? Well...

13. Chapter 12

Vahklas

By Blacknblue (aka Bluenblack)

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek. I wrote this for fun. Anyone is free to download and/or redistribute this story as long as you keep it complete and intact, and as long as you don't make any money from it.

Vulcan terms used in this story were taken from the online Vulcan Language Dictionary, the Vulcan Language Institute, or I made them up myself.

This is not edited. Take it as you see it, typos and all.

Author's Note: The jaws of conscience have been ripping chunks out of my backside over this thing. I said I would finish it, and by Cochrane I will finish it if I live. Bear with me.

This chapter does not mention the Expanse. Last chapter, Enterprise got to the Northstar colony and found survivors from E2. How they go there, what happened to the rest of the ship, and a load of other fascinating and inspirational information will be forthcoming later one. I have not forgotten them. They are just busy at the moment and will get back to you as soon as they can. Stay tuned.

A/N: This story makes several references to events that took place during earlier stories in my series. It also incorporates aspects of the Vulcan social and economic structure, as described in my prior stories. If you have not read my earlier work you might have issues following along. Enter at your own risk.

Anyone is welcome to use anything I invent in these fan fics as long as they don't make any money off it. I also appreciate it when they take the time to give me a brief nod. Otherwise help yourself.

In order, the stories in this series are:

1) For Want of a Nail

2) In The Cold of The Night

3) Father To The Man

4) Purgatory

5) Hess + Kov

6) and this critter, Vahklas

T'Hosh stepped into her living quarters and was mildly surprised to find the message light blinking on her comm. Aside from her former crewmembers, who she had just left, and on rare occasions her kinsman Kov, there was no one that she could recall who might be leaving her a message.

Unless... perhaps, Tolaris? She paused. That would be most uncomfortable. He could not possibly expect her to assist him now. Not after launching a criminal accusation against the mate of her own kinsman. An accusation that had been proven false, no less. No, she reflected, most likely it was not Tolaris. Perhaps some emergency had occurred at the factory.

She seated herself and activated the unit. Then she stiffened in her seat by conditioned reflex. T'Hosh firmly re-established control of herself and centered her balance. Even a message from the Eldest Mother was no cause for panic. And it was, after all, a recording. There were a large number of reasons why the Eldest Mother might decide to contact her, none of which would necessarily imply a failure on her part.

The screen lit to reveal Laritkla's intimidating visage. The old woman did not waste time or mince words. "This message is being sent to all unbonded females of child bearing age in the clan who are not known to me to be in a position that precludes their cooperation.

"I request assistance on behalf of a kinsman. Kov, son of Kuvak, is betrothed to a human woman, Anna Hess. Kerlek, an experienced healer at the University of Shi'kahr, and Phlox, a Denobulan expert on genetics, agree that there is no medical reason why they cannot produce a viable binary clone. Council member Kuvak, and Chief Minister T'Pau, have confirmed that the Science Directorate's former assertion that Vulcan and Human DNA are incompatible was entirely a matter of propaganda.

"However, in order to avoid a potentially lethal complication referred to as immuno-rivalry syndrome, it is necessary that one of the genomes be made completely dominant, and the other made entirely recessive. Based on data whose source she is not at liberty to reveal, Anna states that the child will be stronger and healthier if their Vulcan heritage is made dominant. She refuses to consider the alternative option. Her human body would reject a fetus with a Vulcan dominant genome. Therefore, she and Kov need a host mother. I am asking for volunteers."

The old woman's face and voice softened almost undetectably. "Anna has been informed of the prenatal bonding that would surely occur. She accepts this as the inescapable cost of having a child with your kinsman. She did state that she wishes to request the option of frequent contact during pregnancy, in order to form as much of a preliminary maternal bond as possible.

"I recognize that this would be a significant sacrifice of time and effort on the part of anyone who volunteers. The situation is unusual, but not extraordinary. Other members of the clan have required similar assistance in the past. I also recognize that Anna is human, and this fact will weigh heavily in the decision of some. I urge you to cast out fearful preconceptions. I have personally examined Anna Hess, and I find her to be an acceptable mate for your kinsman, and a valuable addition to our clan. I confidently await your responses."

The screen went dark. T'Hosh released the breath that she had been unaware of holding. A host mother? Many men would not even consider a woman who had been a host mother, due to the lifelong bond with another man's child. Not to mention the child being half-human. On the other hand, a former V'tosh Katur woman such as herself was never likely to be overwhelmed by male attention. At least not male Vulcan attention, though several of the humans at the factory had made a point lately of seeking her company. Advice from human females on her crew had been to proceed with excessive caution regarding these men. Her co-workers had referred to them as 'hounds' for some reason. Apparently this was not an indication that a man was a desirable mate.

She closed her eyes and tried to re-focus back on the main subject. She and Kov had been through much together. They had roamed the galaxy as shipmates, fought Nausican pirates together, laughed together on Rigel, wept together as they interred fallen friends. And they were blood kin.

He had also used his father's influence to obtain her current position and her current living arrangements. A point to be considered. Kuvak was a Council minister. Anna was her direct superior on this project, and when this project was done, Anna'a recommendation would have a strong effect on any future prospect that T'Hosh might enjoy. Further, Captain Tucker and Anna were former shipmates and close friends. Captain Tucker was highly regarded by the Chief Minister herself, as well as the Andorian High Command, and the Human High Command. To establish a debt of honor with all of them could not fail to benefit her.

T'Hosh felt a flash of pain. It was bitterly familiar, and she suppressed it without effort. Offering to carry a half-human child would finish any hope of ever resuming contact with her parents. Not that there was any reasonable chance of that happening in any case. When she joined the V'Tosh Katur, they declared her unwelcome. She was confident that they would have cast her out of the family altogether if they had held the authority.

T'Hosh tightened her lips and turned back to the comm.

###

"Remember, T'Lissa," T'Pol said firmly. "When we go inside, you are to remain at my side at all times. Do not speak to anyone except me, and then only in a low voice. If you require reassurance, you are welcome to hold my hand at any time. When you desire to leave, we will leave immediately. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ma-mehk," the little one looked up with anticipation, and a trace of concern. "Is there bad things in there? Why you scared?"

T'Pol took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I am not... scared. I am concerned on your behalf. This is a new situation for you, T'Lissa. We have deliberately avoided taking you into crowded public areas in the past. I am feeling overly protective, obviously. I am certain that you will do well. Feel free to ask me any questions you wish, as long as you do it softly. Speak Vulcan whenever possible, unless you wish to ask something that can be more effectively expressed in English. I have not seen the exhibits myself, but I have been to Earth. I can assure you that the ecosystem there is quite varied and fascinating. You will enjoy this. Let us proceed."

They marched forward into a massive structure. The roof was a four story tall semi-dome, divided into quarters by buttress supports. There were no windows anywhere on the structure, and very few doors. The building stretched for the better part of half a kilometer in all directions and, as T'Pol had already informed her daughter, it plunged ten stories deep into the ground. It was the University of Shi'kahr xenological research facility, generally acknowledged to be the most extensive and sophisticated facility of its kind in the sector. Even by the Andorians.

The air inside was refreshingly cool to the two ladies, although still hot by Human standards. A comfortably large, efficiently laid out reception area provided maps and communication kiosks to assist visitors. At the back of the reception area a large display had been posted. It announced, in seven different languages including English, that the new Terran exhibit was complete and open to visitors for the next two hundred and six days.

With their target locked, T'Lissa took off like a torpedo while T'Pol dashed in pursuit. She caught her daughter in three strides and said, softly but sharply, "One more episode like that, T'Lissa, and we leave instantly." The little girl wilted and nodded.

"All right, Ma-mehk," she whispered. "I be good."

A spiraling ramp led down three full levels to a huge airlock. A Vulcan of middle years stood outside, wearing a nondescript coverall and a nondescript lack of expression. A small crowd milled outside the airlock, consisting of mostly Vulcans, along with a few Andorians, one Tellarite, and oddly enough, a Klingon.

"Whyfore we just stand here, Ma-mehk?" T'Lissa whispered.

T'Pol leaned over slightly and told her softly, "Look at the airlock, T'Lissa. The light pattern indicates that it is running through a cycle. We will enter once it is finished."

T'Lissa's faith in her mother's prophetic ability was once again born out. Soon the light switched to amber and the door slid open. The door attendant said calmly, "Go to the far end and wait. When all have entered, the door will close and the cycle will commence. The temperature will drop thirty seven points on the Rektulin scale, humidity will rise 82%. This will duplicate the approximate average of daily conditions in Earth's Sahara region during the warm season. When you step out of the airlock, gravity plating will reduce your weight to Earth normal. If you find yourself suffering respiratory or circulatory distress due to the cold or moisture, medical aid stations are located in both the east and west wings, at the midpoint of each main hallway. Proceed."

T'Pol and T'Lissa were among the last to walk in. They were right behind the Andorians, whom T'Lissa watched with bright-eyed fascination. "Ma-mehk," she whispered. "They not some of them blue people that Sa-da works with. Who are they?"

T'Pol fought back a wince and told her, very softly. "Visitors, like us. Please remain silent until we exit, T'Lissa." One of the Andorians smiled slightly, but did not look back.

The temperature dropped noticeably, but remained well within Vulcan tolerance. Which meant that the Andorians were still sweating. The Klingon seemed to have no issue with it. Nor did the humidity seem to bother him. T'Lissa stared when he stepped out and looked at her mother, who shook her head and squeezed the child's hand.

As the only small child present, T'Lissa had already attracted several smiles from the aliens. When they stepped out of the airlock, the lone Tellarite looked down at her and snorted, gently. He said, "What is a little cub like you doing out wandering around here? Aren't you afraid that one of the Earth monsters will eat you?"

T'Lissa straightened indignantly, then stopped when her mother squeezed her hand again. "You may respond, T'Lissa. Politely."

"I don't get afraid," T'Lissa said pointedly. "I throw afraid away, like Ma-mehk showed me." Several nearby Vulcans raised eyebrows with mildly approving expressions. "N' Earth things aren't monsters. Sa-da's from Earth. He isn't a monster. He's the bestest Sa-da."

"I thought so." One of the Andorians looked at T'Pol and bowed. The others quickly imitated him. "Lady T'Pol. You looked familiar, but I wasn't completely sure. It is an honor to meet you, and your daughter. I am Lieutenant Jetrin, serving aboard the corvette Ice Slicer, and these men are crewmembers. If we can be of service, do not hesitate to call upon us."

T'Pol offered the ta'al in resignation. "Peace and long life to you and your men, lieutenant. The offer is appreciated, but I do not anticipate requiring aid. We merely came to provide T'Lissa with an opportunity to observe some examples of the life forms on her father's world." They were gathering a rather varied crop of looks from the other Vulcans, ranging from curious to thinly veiled hostility. The Klingon eyed them with speculative assessment, and a glint of amusement. The Tellarite that started it all had faded into the background as soon as the Andorian group pushed forward.

The sound of footsteps announced the approach of another Vulcan, this time a woman, also wearing an unadorned coverall. "I am here to guide and explain the exhibit," she said. "Remain together if you wish to hear the descriptions, they will not be repeated. Detailed information is posted on the wall near each exhibit in Vulcan, for those who can read it." Her tone did not indicate much sympathy for those who could not read it.

The short passage that they were in terminated in a T intersection at a much taller and wider hallway. The far wall of the new hallway was lined with viewing screens, and occasional sheets of transparent aluminum, until they other curved out of sight in both directions. Their guide, who had not introduced herself and wore no name tag, turned and said, "The hallway is circular. The eastern portions is primarily devoted to invertebrates and plants. The western part is devoted to vertebrate animals, both marine and terrestrial.

She turned east. "We will begin with the plants and invertebrates, pass into the vertebrate section, following the hallway until we return here. At opposing points on the circle, medical aid is available for those who suffer respiratory or circulatory distress from the environmental conditions. It is regrettably necessary. Each exhibit is enclosed in its own unique environment, but in the event that atmospheric integrity in one of the units is compromised most of the creatures can survive these conditions for at least a brief period."

She stopped just before they reached the first exhibit and looked at the Klingon, then the Tellarite, then the Andorians. "Please refrain from touching anything. These creatures cannot see or otherwise sense you, so tapping on the viewport is futile and merely smears the material."

The view port showed a shallow pool of water, full of floating particles with scum covering the top. The Vulcans leaned forward, fascinated. The guide droned, "Life began on Earth at some point prior to four billion years ago. Initially, life forms on Earth were anaerobic. Due to a combination of factors, very little remains in the fossil record to provide information about this early life. The advent of photosynthesis caused a buildup of oxygen in the atmosphere, destroying most of the extant ecosystem. The layer that you see floating on the surface of the water is one of the oldest surviving types of photosynthesis using plants on Earth. This particular type is ubiquitous across the planetary ocean, and is one of the main sources for recharge of the planet's oxygen content.'

She moved on, with T'lissa craning her neck to look back as they left. "Why come it don't drown, Ma-mehk? The Edest said that if I gived her cactus too much water it would drown. But that plant gots no dirt, all it gots is water."

"They are adapted to differing conditions, T'Lissa," T'Pol told her patiently. "The cactus evolved to survive in Earth's desert regions. It requires much less water to survive."

"You mean like you and Sa-da?" The little one looked up and blinked. "That's how come Sa-da sweats a lot and has a hard time breathing sometimes, 'cause he e'vov-ed to live where its cold and there's lotsa water?"

T'Pol automatically suppressed another sigh. "Correct, daughter. Your father's ancestors completed their evolution during a time when Earth was undergoing what is called an Ice Age. At that time conditions were similar in many ways to what they currently are on Andoria, although the planet has since warmed." The blue aliens exchanged significant looks, and even more significant antenna twists. None of the others made an outward sign of hearing the conversation, although the Vulcans at least could not have failed to.

They continued through the plant section, pausing to look at various specimens of grass, shrubs, and trees. The trees provoked a few intrigued questions, especially when the guide played a hologram that illustrated harvesting lumber for everything from housing to musical instruments to weapon stocks.

The Venus flytrap provoked condescending amusement.

"It's teensy, Ma-mehk," T'Lissa stood on her tip-toes and peered. "Th' Marnik you showed me was a lot bigger."

"It does not need to be any larger, child." The guide turned and addressed T'Lissa for the first time. "This plant captures small invertebrates which swarm all over the planet in overwhelming numbers. The flytrap never lacks for prey. The Marnik is large because it must be able to capture anything at all, due to the fact that it rarely catches anything."

T'Lissa moved closer and asked, "Does it have muscles? How does it close? Ma-mehk said the Marnik uses its stems like tentyculls 'cause the poison in the sap makes 'em twisty. Does the fytap have poison? How does it open again? Where does the bug go?"

The guide said, "The plant has fibers that perform a function similar to muscles. Your mother provided you with accurate information regarding the Marnik. The flytrap does not have poison. Once the insect is digested, the fibers relax, allowing the trap to open again. The fly does not go anywhere, it is absorbed, like the prey of the Marnik."

The Klingon grunted, looking at the small plant with deep interest for some reason. The guide looked at him briefly, then continued on through the next several displays of flowering plants, with an explanation about the interlocking mechanism of insect pollination being necessary to produce Earth fruit. "Airborne pollination is inefficient on Earth," she said. "By luring flying insects with sugar, the flowering plants ensure that their pollen is spread to hundreds of other plants in the course of a season."

"Another trap," the Klingon grunted. "Deviously effective. Does everything on Earth operate by misdirection?"

"Not everything," the guide said. "However, many things do. There is one flower that mimics the appearance of a female insect. When the male insect, believing that he has found a female of his kind, stops to copulate he become covered in pollen and carries it to the next flower. There are also some animals that defend against predators by becoming poisonous to ingest. Other animals, rather than becoming poisonous, merely mimic the color and markings of the toxic creatures. Leaving the predator unable to distinguish them from the actual poisonous animals."

The Klingon snorted in amusement. "Excellent. Continue on." The guide gave him another look, but started moving again.

"Discussion of insect pollination is an appropriate point to begin discussion of invertebrate animals," the guide said. She stopped in front of a display. This one was a side view of an underwater environment. Several small crabs were crawling over the sand at the bottom of the tank, scooping up food scraps. Several bivalves were nestled in the sand, two of which were partially open. Sea anemones drifted faintly in the almost undetectable current, and three jelly fish floated near the top of the tank. Seaweed and scum abounded.

The guide said, "On Earth, animal life originally began, as is typical, by taking nutrients directly from the ocean water and expelling waste directly into the water. When animals began to develop self-contained circulatory systems, they used copper based blood. All invertebrate Terran animals which possess a self-contained circulatory system use copper."

One of the Andorian drew back, looking indignant. "Vulcans aren't supposed to joke. What kind of foolishness is this? Humans use iron based blood, everyone knows that."

The guide looked at him blandly. "Humans, and all vertebrates animals on Earth, use iron based blood. All invertebrate animals use copper based blood."

The Vulcans stirred with interest. They had nothing on little T'Lissa, who started quivering with excitement and lunged toward the display, pulling up short when she reached the end of her arm and her mother's firm grip.

"They all gots copper like me? Hows come? If Sa-da gots iron, and Ma-mehk gots copper, and I gots copper, then maybe we not real different if half the stuff where Sa-da comes from gots copper too!" Her eyes were wide and shining with what could not be mistaken for anything but raw hope.

T'Pol turned inward and seized her training with all of her willpower. She could not, must not, start crying in public. It would disgrace her family. But the shaft of pain that her daughter's plaintive words inflicted was like a stab wound in the gut.

Even the guide seemed to be affected. She did not change expression by any detectable degree, nor did her tone alter in the slightest. But she told T'Lissa, "The difference is not extreme, child. DNA analysis confirms the common ancestry of copper based and iron based animals on your father's world. His earliest ancestors used copper based blood."

"Then... what happened?" The Tellarite grunted. He looked around, self-consciously, but not even the Andorians seemed to object. Everyone wanted the answer.

The guide said, "Earth's system has a large asteroid belt, which is extremely crowded. For example, Earth has a sister body, similar to T'Khut. It is called Luna. Unlike T'Khut, Luna did not form simultaneously with Earth from a common dust cloud. Rather, Luna was created by a catastrophic impact between the original Earth and an asteroid of nearly equal size. The planet was pulverized, and the two largest fragments eventually coalesced into Earth and Luna."

The Tellarite winced. "What does that have to do with Humans changing their blood?"

"There have been multiple events of planetary extinction due to asteroid bombardment," the guide said. "The earliest one came very close to sterilizing the planet completely. The most widely accepted estimate is that more than 98% of all life forms on the planet were wiped out. Later episodes were not as extreme, but they were still far more destructive than anything ever experienced by Vulcan, Tellar, or Andoria. After multiple such extinction events due to massive asteroid bombardment, vertebrates appeared in the fossil record. We cannot say categorically that all of them used iron. However, all of the surviving types use it. Whether this was due to increased iron levels in the oceans from the iron asteroids, or some other cause, has never been conclusively determined."

The Klingon growled, "That's equivalent to saying that a corpse with its head cut off and a bloody sword next to it might, or might not, have died from old age. Of course everything started using iron because the oceans were saturated with it. It's surprising that the copper based life did not die out."

"Increasing the iron levels did not diminish the copper levels," the guide pointed out. She turned and indicated the display. "The overwhelming majority of animal life on earth is copper based, including every creature in this display with an exoskeleton. There are additional creatures buried in the sand at this time which rarely emerge, they are also copper based."

The guide paused and turned back to T'Lissa, "It might interest you to know, young one, that not only does your father share DNA with copper based life forms. The genotypes are so similar that for generations, his people harvested creatures very similar to the ones that you see crawling here. They used the blood from those creatures to prepare the base formula for many of their most widely used vaccines. It was necessary to use those creatures in particular, despite the fact that they were copper based, because their blood was uniquely suited to saving Human lives. Millions of young Humans similar to yourself survived, because your father's people share ancestry with that particular animal."

T'Lissa locked rigid. "Them havin' copper blood was why come they could make sick people better?" She almost whispered it.

"Not strictly," the guide corrected. "The factor that made the creatures' blood appropriate was not necessarily..." She looked at the little girl's face. "Being able to make sick people better does not depend on type of blood, young one. You have seemed fascinated with every display thus far. Are you interested in making sick people better?"

T'lissa swallowed hard. "Sa-da nots feel good sometimes. Its heavy here and it makes him hurt, and its hot. I wanna make him feel better but I can't, 'cause he ain't made for here and I feel bad 'cause I'm made for here and I don't hurt like he does and it isn't fair 'cause Sa-da is the bestest Sa-da that ever was."

The Klingon shot her an appraising glance. "Such loyalty to your line and your House. At such a young age." He smiled faintly.

"There is no logic in feeling guilt, T'Lissa," T'Pol said firmly. "Your physiology, and that of your father, are both beyond your control. Also, while concern for your father is entirely appropriate, discussing the matter in public is not. We will revisit this topic when we return home."

"May I ask," the guide spoke at T'Pol in a respectful tone, "if the child is old enough to begin formal schooling?"

"No," T'Pol said. "At least two more years of maturation are required."

The guide raised an eyebrow. "She is younger than I had estimated, based on her questions. I offer the suggestion that you consider xenology as a specialty for her. The field is rapidly expanding, and we suffer from a critical shortage of competent personnel. She is obviously interested, and her intelligence is evident. If she does decide to become a healer, there is always an extreme need for healers with xenological experience at every colony and embassy we have."

"I will take your suggestion under advisement," T'Pol inclined her head. "It may well be the most logical course, given my daughter's propensities."

"Let us continue." The guide turned and moved onward. "The next display is an example of the first type of invertebrate to move from a marine to a terrestrial existence. It is called a scorpion. You will note the superficial resemblance to a dorloth. Like the dorloth, its tail.."

They spent a long time on marine animals. The invertebrate section finished up with cephalopods. The guide told them, "The octopus size range is posted next to the display. These creatures are remarkably intelligent, by the standards of Terran invertebrates. There are documented reports of an octopus crawling aboard a human fishing boat, working its way across the deck, and deducing how to unlatch the access hatch to the storage area for the day's catch."

"What did the humans do when they caught it?" The Klingon's eyes gleamed.

"I believe they carried it to the side and threw it back in the water," the guide said. "One of them said that they respected the creature's cleverness and determination too much to kill it."

"Granting honor to a worthy opponent. Even an animal." He bared his teeth. "Better and better."

The guide resumed slowly, keeping her eyes on the Klingon. "A near relative called the giant squid may or may not approach sentience. They dwell too deeply in the planetary ocean to be reliably observed, even with modern equipment. Based on both brain size, and brain to body ratio, they are likely to approach the threshold of sapience if they have not passed it. However, their severely abbreviated lifespans due to their reproductive methods prevent them from advancing."

She proceeded to the next display, where a small shark swam in lazy circles. "This is an example of the oldest surviving type of vertebrate. It uses cartilage, rather than bone. The phenotype has survived with only minor changes for hundreds of millions of years..."

It was the better part of an hour before they got out of the water, so to speak, and began to reach the display of terrestrial vertebrates. "Finally," the Tellarite muttered. "Why so many fish?"

"Over seventy percent of Earth is covered in water," the guide said. "Of the rest, much is frozen to the point where little if any life can survive. There are also substantial desert areas that native life finds inhospitable." She moved to the next display. "This is an amphibian called a frog. It lives partly on land, but it must return to the water to spawn."

The Tellarite groaned.

They worked their way through various other amphibians and into reptiles. The lizards and snakes drew only mild interest, although the Andorians and the Klingon perked up when the guide described the difference in symptoms between being bitten by the bushmaster, rattlesnake, and king cobra.

The next display caught everyone's attention. "It's big, Ma-mehk," T'Lissa said, with eyes almost as big as the display. "What is it?"

The guide looked like she might be willing to consider smiling, if she weren't Vulcan, and weren't in public, and no one was watching her. "It is called a Komodo dragon, child. The bite is lethal, although more from the toxins produced from decaying flesh between its teeth than to the noxious saliva. As a result, death from this animal's bite is slow and painful. The animal does prey on humans if it gets the opportunity, but of course it only gets the opportunity if the Human is very young or remarkably careless. They are capable of outrunning a sehlat, and are quite resistant to stun beams. A larger relative, which stood slightly higher at the shoulder than an adult male Vulcan, was exterminated by ancient humans millennia ago."

"No sane person could blame them!" The Andorian Lieutenant, Jetrin, stared. "I am as devoted to preserving a planet's natural ecosystem as anyone, but a planet that has something like that, as tall as a man at the shoulder, is..."

"Magnificent." The Klingon moved forward, entranced, until he was almost touching the screen. "A truly beautiful animal. Surely they would not destroy something like this?"

"They are protected," the guide said. "The last Human world war inflicted devastating disruption on their planet. The recent Xindi attack exacerbated the problem. They have no intention of deliberately destroying any species." She paused. "The related animal I spoke of was destroyed in self-defense thousands of years ago, by Humans using primitive stone weapons, at a time when they were struggling to survive and avoid being eaten themselves."

The Klingon turned back and nodded. "Every race must establish mastery of their own world, and sometimes that means that even the most cherished of challenges must be sacrificed. But if pleases me to know that they at least understand and value beauty."

The guide walked on to stop in front of a pool of muddy water. A tangle of grass and weeds grew densely around it, and defunct vegetation like sticks, leaves, and a chunk of dead log were visible poking up through the surface. "This exhibit contains a creature known as a crocodile. There are several regional variations of these semi-aquatic ambush hunters."

"I don't see it, Ma-mehk," T'Lissa stood on her toes and craned her neck. "Where is it?"

"It is under the water, T'Lissa," T'Pol told her softly. "It hides under the water, much like a Le-Matya hides behind a rock. When an animal comes to the water to drink, the crocodile strikes."

"Correct." The guide looked at T'Pol. "From my understanding of the news reports, you spent some time assigned to the Earth embassy. Have you seen these creatures in their natural habitat?"

T'Pol told her flatly. "I have witnessed these creatures feeding."

The Klingon turned to look at her and started to smile. T'Pol was starting to become quite uncomfortable with that one. The guide lifted a brow. "You are unusually fortunate. Most Vulcans never see one, much less see one feeding."

She told the others, "Their environment is exceedingly humid, and they favor areas which tend to be infested by the stinging insects that we saw earlier. The ones that carry a venom potentially lethal to Vulcans." She turned back and touched a few controls.

"This," the guide said, "is a recording of a crocodile taking a creature called a gazelle." T'Pol firmly suppressed a wince. "Observe closely the surface of the water." The viewport switched to become an obvious hologram of a riverbank, where a gazelle move toward the water with extreme caution. The antelope sniffed, listened, and looked in all directions carefully. It looked suspiciously at the water, then finally bent forward to drink. There was an explosion of muddy water, a frantic kick and thrash, and nothing was left except ripples.

The Andorians hissed and the Tellarite muttered something. None of the Vulcans made a sound, but more than one of them looked tense. The Klingon, however, looked fascinated. "Replay that." He paused and forced it out. "Please." The guide hesitated, then obliged. He watched in seeming admiration. "Superb. Not the slightest trace of its presence until it strikes. I have heard that Humans are experts at traps, both setting them and detecting them. After walking through here, I begin to see why."

He turned and directed his questions at T'Pol, rather than the guide. She shifted uncomfortably. "Do all Earth predators hunt this way? Does your mate hunt? Have you seen his kills?" the Klingon said, smiling coldly.

T'Pol felt her nostrils flare. Maybe it was the neural damage, or maybe she was just tired, but she looked him in the eyes and said sharply, "The vast majority of my husband's kills have been in battle. However, on our daughter's naming day I did see him kill a Le-Matya with a spear."

The Klingon's smile widened. "I would enjoy hunting targ with him."

"Perhaps you would enjoy hunting on Earth, instead," T'Pol almost hissed it. "If you think you are strong enough."

He threw back his head and broke into a belly laugh. "Well struck, commander. Your reputation is well-deserved. The humans say that when their captain was captured and being interrogated, you took command of their ship in the battle at the Xindi home world. I had wondered about that, but now I believe it. It is no surprise that they revere you."

T'Lissa looked up, puzzled and slightly concerned by the unspoken tension. "What's a reveer?"

The Klingon chuckled. "It means, little one, that your father's people see your mother for the warrior she is, and they honor her for that as they should. It is a good thing."

"Let us proceed," the guide said tersely.

She paused in front of a display where a pair of

They worked their way through the reptiles. Into the birds, with a brief sidetrack to explain how dinosaurs and mammals split from a common ancestor, and dinosaurs developed into birds. "It is disagreeable that none of the larger birds were available for transport," the guide said. "They are all on the verge of extinction and none could be spared. We do, however, possess some fertilized eggs. It is our intention to attempt the establishment of a population of ostriches. They are remarkable creatures, and quite unlike anything on Vulcan."

A small flock of chickens, three hens and a rooster, started a minor debate. "These domesticated birds," the guide said, "are ubiquitous across Earth and all Human colonies as a source of food."

"Are these creatures part of the food supply for the Human embassy? A remarkably convenient reciprocal arrangement, if so." One of the Vulcans, who had regarded T'Pol and T'Lissa with disdain ever since they were identified, obviously couldn't hold it in any longer. He didn't change expression, but his tone was explicit. "Or are they perhaps held in reserve?"

"Your remark is illogical," T'Pol pulled up all of her alternate self's training at Gol to keep her voice emotionless and her expression blank. "Further, your tone implies disapproval. Do you disapprove of the exhibit, or the fact that Human physiology requires them to consume animal protein in order to maintain optimum health?"

The other Vulcans locked down and pulled back. The Tellarite perked up and paid close attention, while the Andorians moved in a step closer to T'Pol. The Klingon simply looked delighted.

"Your statement is correct," the guide tried to head off the incipient battle. "Humans are obligate omnivores. While it is possible for a Human to avoid death by starvation on a strictly vegetarian, or a strictly carnivorous diet, neither is optimal."

"It is not required that they behave like savages when they live here," the Vulcan man very nearly sneered. "Dietary supplements are available."

"It is not the place of the guest to provide for the comfort of the host," T'Pol said. "It is the place of the host to provide for the comfort of the guest. Does your clan not choose to follow the ancient traditions?" One of the other Vulcans actually winced. Very slightly.

"It is the place of the guest to avoid disrupting and offending the household of the host." Her opponent lowered his brows and chin.

T'Pol did not even let herself tighten her lips. Her face remained utterly impassive. "Dietary supplements available on Vulcan are inadequate. Humans require the trace elements present in Terran life, and the specific amino acids present in Terran proteins. Some of them do choose to minimize their consumption of animal products, although they are under no obligation to do so. As for example, my mate. In the interest of complying with Vulcan custom to the limits of his ability, he consumes most of his protein requirements in the form of milk, and infertile eggs from those creatures." She pointed at the chickens. "I reiterate. If the guest is thirsty, it is not the place of the host to berate them for needing water. It is the place of the host to bring water."

"Meat's yucky," T'Lissa said indignantly. "But Sa-da likes it an' nobody can say Sa-da is bad." She glared up at the disapproving Vulcan. "Whyfore you care what my Sa-da eats, anyway? Who are you?"

"Precisely, young one." Lieutenant Jetrin said. His eyes did not leave the indignant Vulcan. "It is not a matter of concern to anyone else what your father, People's Hero Tucker, chooses to dine upon. The Vulcan High Council maintains that a new era of tolerance has begun on this world. So far, I see very little evidence of it. My report to the High Command will reflect this." None of the Andorians looked friendly at all.

T'Pol turned and said, "I regret interrupting your presentation. I acknowledge my inappropriate action and offer recompense."

The guide gave her a look. "There is no offense where none is taken. The information you offered was a valuable supplement to the tour. Let us continue." They moved on, with the Klingon wearing a broad grin.

The mammals started with shrews and mice, working their way up through rabbits, and included a pair of terriers who were napping in an artificial yard. "These dogs are actually the personal property of a Human who is here on an exchange program. He is quite devoted to them, and they to him. Humans first domesticated the dog in their pre-history. The actual time period has always been a matter for debate. What is known is that the two species have developed a quasi-symbiotic relationship. In some ways, the emotional bonding between a dong and its Human owner is even closer than the bond between a Sehlat and its Vulcan owner. Selective breeding has produced a range of breeds for every purpose from hunting, to herding, to law enforcement, to war."

"War?" The Klingon tilted his head. "I have read some Human literature. Much of it is garbage, fit only for fertilizer. But there are some stories, especially the older ones, that are true art. One Human named Shakespeare, who they call the immortal bard, wrote about releasing the dogs of war." He gestured at the display. "These could not have been what he was talking about."

"No." The guide looked uncomfortable with the subject. "The ones in this display were bred for hunting small game such as the animals we passed earlier. Generally, dogs bred for war are as massive as an adult Human male. Appropriate, since they were originally trained to kill Human warriors. Some of those breeds are capable of biting off a Human male's leg at the hip."

The Klingon smiled again. "Superb." None of the Vulcans looked thrilled. The Andorians seemed mildly interested. The Tellarite was keeping his mouth shut on this one.

They paused for a brief holographic display of aquatic mammals, to the disgust of the Tellarite. The guide explained, "We lack the facilities, and the expertise, to effectively care for such creatures. They are quite intelligent and in order to maintain behavioral stability they require room to swim. The smallest ones need space that is nearly equal to the entire size of this building."

The cats consisted of a housecat, a bobcat, and a lynx. "This type of predator can grow to the size of a sehlat. Earlier types also had extended canines, similar to those of a sehlat. However those animals have been extinct for more than twenty thousand years. The only surviving breeds of big cat are, regrettably, on the very edge of total extinction. Humans have requested our assistance in using genetic manipulation to salvage them, and we are attempting to provide this aid. Which leads to the next display."

She walked down the hall and stood before a blank viewscreen. "The creature you are about to see is not located in this building. The screen will display a remote view." She touched a control and a small park-like setting appeared. It was obviously indoors, however. "This is a controlled environment being maintained at the zoological garden and research facility at the northern edge of the city. It seems that the creature is inside its den at the moment. I will change monitors." She touched another control and the view shifted to a darker area, where a large mound laid beside what appeared to be a carcass. It shifted position and yawned. Then it stood up and stretched, causing the Tellarite to step back with a grunt.

"This animal," the guide said, "is called a bear. It is the largest and strongest land predator on Terra. This specimen is specifically designated as a Kodiak bear, after the island where its breed originated. It is by far the largest type of bear. It is also within one generation of extinction. There are less than fifty-two of them left in existence. Human law forbids genetic manipulation, due to the abuses of their last war. However, Human researchers are approaching desperation in their efforts to save these creatures. They have brought this specimen to us in the hope that we will be able to produce binary clones that can be artificially incubated."

"It looks big," the Tellarite said. "Do they use it for food? Is that why there are so few?"

"No," the guide said. "Not usually. It is, or rather it once was, hunted for food, fur, and in come cases as a form of personal challenge. Most of the time Humans left it strictly alone. The difficulty it faces is primarily due to habitat loss. A Human colony world has been selected to receive an experimental supply of cloned embryos from this animal, as well as several other species. If we are successful. It is the hope of the colonial administration to build a healthy population. Ultimately, they would like to offer hunting opportunities to a select minority in return for extravagant remuneration."

"No pay could be too extravagant," the Klingon said. "A chance to hunt the largest and strongest predator that your home world had to offer? That colony will be obscenely rich if this works. And the Humans will be able to preserve a precious part of their heritage." He looked honestly pleased. "These people truly do seem to have the spirits of warriors."

"And the university is collaborating in this?" A Vulcan woman was obviously disgusted. "You are using public resources to help the Humans breed prey for the hunt?"

"The alternative," the guide said calmly, "is to allow the animals to pass into oblivion. By providing an economic justification for the expenditure in time and money, the Human government is able to allocate the necessary resources. By assisting in this effort, the university is increasing its database on Terran life forms by a minimum of three hundred percent, perhaps more."

"Will your husband go there to hunt them?" The woman asked T'Pol disdainfully. "You spoke earlier of his prowess with a spear."

"Why are you hostile to me?" T'Pol looked at her. "I do not recall ever meeting you before."

The woman's nostrils opened. "My mate was with the Vulcan fleet when your mate attacked. He was badly injured and suffered permanent damage."

T'Pol held herself still. "Charles attempted to avoid that conflict. It was only by direct order of former Chief Minister V'Las that the battle happened at all. His desire and intent was to prevent harm, not cause it."

"Humans claim to want peace," the woman said. "Yet they are constantly fighting someone. Their words do not agree with their behavior." She looked at the screen. "That perverted program is further evidence of their barbarity."

"Barbarity?" The Andorian lieutenant's face was cobalt. "It was a Vulcan fleet, coming to our space to launch a cowardly sneak attack against our civilians, that began the fight where your mate was hurt. It was People's Hero Tucker who stopped it from going any farther. I was there. He and his crew were not the barbarians in that fight. But if you must have an enemy, select me. It is quite possible that it was my hand on the gun that hit your husband's ship."

"Enough. Please." T'Pol turned and placed a careful hand on the Andorian's arm. "Lieutenant. I ask you, as a personal favor, not to continue."

He took a shaking breath. "Of course, Lady T'Pol. For you, anything." He straightened and set his jaw.

"Unfortunate," the Klingon said. "I was hoping to see some bloodsport. In any case, you are a fool," he told the Vulcan woman. "Why shouldn't Humans hunt these animals? They always have. If they do not make exceptional efforts to preserve them, their children's children will lose the chance to prove themselves in the way of their ancestors. That would be tragic. Why do you wish them to become extinct? What did this animal ever do to you, that you would prefer to wipe it from existence, rather then let it follow its inborn destiny in the dance of life and death?"

"It is unworthy of civilized beings to engage in such behavior," she said tightly.

"Unworthy of civilized beings?" The Klingon smiled very slowly, showing a lot of teeth. "I killed my first targ before I was half grown. Every Klingon learns to hunt before we learn to read. Do you say we are not civilized? Our empire is already larger than yours ever was, even at the height of its power. And we are expanding every day." He took a step forward. "We are not civilized?"

"She is upset," T'Pol said quickly. "Danger or injury to our mates can compromise our control. I request that you take this into consideration and realize that she was not referring to Klingons."

He shot her a look. "Why do you defend her? It was your own mate that she attacked. Is your loyalty to your kind greater than your loyalty to him?"

"No," T'Pol said emphatically, causing a varied selection of reactions. "But I seek peace whenever possible. Nothing can be gained by escalating this matter. Speaking in terms of tactics, there is no advantage in moving forward at this time."

He chuckled. "All right. You are interesting to watch. I will hold back for now."

The guide said, "Let us proceed." Nobody was relaxed anymore.

The next display got even the Vulcans muttering. "These creatures are called lemurs. They are, regrettably, extinct in the wild. However, Humans have been successful in breeding them for research. The group you see was offered as a gift to the university, with the understanding that the results of any research we conduct on them will always be freely available to any Human who wishes to access it. The institute intends to build an expanded environment for them that mimics, as closely as possible, their natural habitat."

"They have hands." One of the Vulcan spoke for the first time. He looked at the guide. "Some of the other arboreal creatures also had hands, but none of the ground dwellers did. Does that imply that Humans originate in a forest environment?"

"It does." The guide said, "Lemurs are the oldest surviving members of the group that Humans call primates. The word means primary ones, and it is applied to all members of the group from which Humans are descended."

The group shifted and stared more closely at the display. "These creatures first appeared millions of years ago, in a significantly different form. Eventually, they branched and specialized to occupy every available arboreal niche that the planet had to offer. Some of them began to use their tail to the point that it became prehensile. Others grew larger and lost their tails completely. Then the climate changed."

"The trigger stress." Everyone turned to look at the Tellarite, who seemed flustered. "What? What's wrong with you people? It's standard theory. Every race develops sapience in response to environmental stress, and there is always some kind of initial trigger to get the process started. A sapient brain is expensive to feed. Nothing is going to grow one unless it really needs it."

Another reason that my people," the Klingon said tauntingly, giving his former debate opponent the eye, "and Humans, and every other race except yours eats meat. You ate it yourself, until that madman you follow persuaded you to be ashamed of your warrior heritage."

"In any case," the guide said sharply, pulling eyes back to her. "Earth entered a colder, drier period. The forests began to die, leaving the ancestors of Humans no choice but to adapt to living on the ground. They did not have trees to retreat to, and they were not good runners, and they had no claws, fangs, or horns to defend themselves. So they picked up rocks. This was five million years ago. Three million years ago, they were breaking pieces off the rocks and using the edges. They were probably sapient by then. Probably. It is uncertain because there were, at that time, multiple competing quasi-sapient races on Earth. Two million years ago, the ancestors of modern humans were unmistakable. They were using fire and hunting the other predators. One million years ago, they were for all practical purposes anatomically Human, and the other related breeds were nearing extinction."

"One million years?" The Tellarite grunted. "What were they doing for a million years? Napping?"

"Most if it," the guide said, "was spent hunting and expanding across their planet. Until another planetary catastrophe seventy thousand years ago. This time it was a volcanic eruption during their last Ice Age. It inflicted six years of darkness, and induced a thousand years of weather colder than anything that Humans had ever experience before. Every Human alive is descended from one of the less than eight thousand survivors of that time."

The Klingon's eyes narrowed. "Asteroid bombardment. Climate shift. Tectonic disruption. They are the survivors of the survivors of the survivors."

The guide looked at him expressionlessly. "After the thousand year winter, Humans became warriors. They spent the next seventy thousand years doing the same thing that Vulcans did. Killing each other."

The Klingon met her look. "Neither of you were doing it as well as Klingons." T'Pol pulled T'Lissa closer and adjusted her stance slightly. She was only barely aware when all of the Andorians moved as a group to flank her.

The Klingon looked down at T'Lissa and his smile changed from challenge to amusement. "Your parents are proven warriors. You would do well to imitate both of them, little one. Someday you will face my children in battle. My best hope for them is to have worthy enemies."

He turned and headed for the airlock. No one hurried after him. By the time the group arrived, the airlock had already cycled. Lieutenant Jetrin said quietly, "With your permission, Lady T'Pol, we will escort you to your aircar. Or your transport cube, whichever is relevant."

"That will not be necessary," she told him. "My husband is on his way. However, the offer is appreciated. I believe I will remain here for a time and enjoy the reduced gravity. In my condition it is a pleasant relief."

He glanced down at her bulging belly and nodded. "Of course. It is an honor, commander." He offered T"Lissa a friendly hand clasp and a grin before joining the rest of the group in the airlock. One at a time, the rest of the men did the same.

As soon as the door closed, the guide moved in and said, "This way, please. You obviously require respite." She led T'Pol to one of the wall panels and laid her palm against it. There was a click, and the wall panel slid up to reveal a small two seater cart with a tiny cargo box in back. "Please seat yourself," the guide said. "Young one, please position yourself securely in the cargo box and take a firm grip on the handrail behind the seats." The motor started with a soft hum and they shot down the hallway, headed for a med station.

Agent Tegrath walked into the ambassador's office and stood before the desk, erect but not stiff. "Reporting, sir."

Kilruyn waved at a chair. "At ease, major. Have a seat. What can you tell me?"

Tegrath settled into the chair. "The Klingon is definitely on some kind of scouting mission. The trouble is, I can't find out what or why. He has been in touch with the Romulans, but we intercepted more than one of his messages and he's not taking their orders. Or giving them orders, either. It's like he's their guest, or something. But today was exceedingly interesting. It may reveal something, you must be the judge."

Tegrath hesitated. "There is also something else, ambassador. It may be nothing at all. But I would like to request an expedited DNA analysis."

"Certainly." Kilruym pressed a control and the door opened to reveal an entry level trainee. "I have a sample to be delivered to the lab for DNA analysis. I want it analyzed and the results back on my desk before the sample gets there. Understand?" The youngster looked bewildered but nodded.

Tegrath chuckled and handed over a carefully wrapped disk. "If you touch it or drop it, I will feed you to one of those maneating weeds out in the desert." The boy's eyes popped. He saluted and took off on a run.

"Now, talk to me," Kilruyn said.

Tegrath spent the better part of two hours giving the ambassador a complete, highly detailed report on events during the tour of the Terran exhibit. Kilruym sat tensely at first. "You were on guard. I don't really need to confirm that, do I?"

"Of course, ambassador." Tegrath looked like a man who was offended but knew better than to express it. "As soon as I saw her I signaled my trainee. We were in bodyguard mode for the entire tour. If that Klingon had so much as touched a fork, he would have died where he stood." Kilruym relaxed and gestured for him to continue.

At the end of it, Kilruym sat back and scratched his nails over the surface of his desk thoughtfully. "Was he scouting Lady T'Pol? There wasn't anything in that exhibit that couldn't have been obtained from the Human database, was there?"

"Not that I saw, ambassador," Tegrath said. "Perhaps he simply wanted to get a better instinctive understanding of Humans by learning more about where they come from. They are a bit puzzling sometimes."

Kilruym choked on ironic amusement. "A fair statement. I don't- ah. Here is your analysis." He hit a button. "Report."

"Ambassador. This sample has been contaminated."

"I'm going to kill him." Tegrath leaned forward, anger flashing in his eyes. "I warned that fool." Kilruym threw up a hand in resignation.

"Can your analysis tell me who contaminated it?"

"Not yet, ambassador. We do not have a database of Human or Vulcan DNA. We can tap into the Vulcan public records if you wish. I am not certain how difficult it will be to break into the Human records. If the Human is a member of Starfleet, the defenses might be difficult."

"OH... my." Tegrath scooted forward eagerly. "You are saying that you think its contaminated because it contains both Human and Vulcan DNA?"

"Ambassador? I don't recognize that voice."

"It's Attache Tegrath. Answer him," Kilruym snapped."

"Yes, sir. The sample is a mixture, sir."

"Is the DNA complete?" Tegrath wanted to know. His eyes were almost glowing. "Is each strand of DNA a complete sample from a complete individual? Or is each of them a partial strand?" There was a pause.

"A partial sample, sir. How did you know?"

Tegrath chuckled. "Proceed under the assumption that you are examining the DNA of a Vulcan-Human hybrid. Analyze it and give me as much as you can get." He leaned back looking insufferably satisfied.

Kilruym sat staring for a long moment. Then he deactivated the link and folded his hands. "Are you trying to play games with me, Tegrath?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

"No, sir!" Tegrath straightened in his chair. "Lady T'Pol said something to that Klingon that set off an alarm in my memory. So I palmed a sample disk when I took the little girl's hand when we left. I'm sure you remember that after their baby died, Captain Tucker and Lady T'Pol adopted the little girl, T'Lissa. At least, that was the public story. If that story was true, she would have already had her name when they adopted her."

Kilruym's brows drew together. "I don't see it."

"Perhaps I forgot to mention it, sir. I apologize," Tegrath knew he had certainly not forgotten it, but declined to provoke his commanding officer by pointing that out. "When the Klingon was harassing Lady T'Pol about Captain Tucker being a hunter, she said that during their daughter's naming ceremony, he had killed a Le-Matya with a spear."

He waited while Kilruym got it. "You see, of course. Lady T'Pol is too honorable to lie about something involving her daughter, especially something that could be checked. It would damage her family's status. Moreover, with all respect to Vulcan propriety, the woman was angry. She wasn't tying to filter her speech. She was lashing out in defense of her mate's reputation."

"Good for her," Kilruym muttered, still thinking hard. "So their baby did not die. They cured her. Then, to protect her from their enemies, they hid her in plain sight. Brilliant. The man is brilliant."

"I believe that Lady T'Pol is equally intelligent, ambassador," Tegrath said delicately. "Also, their entire clan has to be aware of the truth."

"This also means," Kilruym's face changed, "that the child Lady T'Pol is carrying was not inseminated from the stored sperm of a dead man. It must be Captain Tucker's child as well. And we have been letting her, and her child, wander all over this benighted city unprotected! That changes right now."

He hit the switch again.

# # #

Captain Karkeel looked up at the sound of his door chime. He adjusted the concealed disruptor under his sash, and made sure that his met'leth was ready for instant action.

His dampening field was active and showed no scans in progress. The readouts he had installed at the doorway indicated a single figure, armed with only standard weapons. The ludicrously inadequate security that these Vulcans provided for their transient housing was an insult to every alien visitor. Fortunately, Karkeel was in the mood for a fight anyway. He snarled, "Enter," and waited.

The door slid aside and a hooded figure moved smoothly into the room, tossing back the covering as the stepped through the doorway. Karkeel's nostrils flared. "Why are you here? I told you I would make contact tomorrow." He stood up with his hand on his disruptor, glaring suspiciously.

The man, who looked superficially Vulcan, spread his hands and smiled disarmingly. "Set your suspicions aside, Captain. Our operatives reported your encounter with commander T'Pol and her bodyguards. We merely wanted to ensure that you were not in need of assistance."

Karkeel sneered. "Assistance? With a pair of limp-wristed Andorian spies? Or were you worried that a pregnant woman and her baby would kill me? You are making excuses, hoping to get my answer now instead of tomorrow."

The visitor help up his empty hands. "That is entirely up to you, captain."

"Yes, it is." Karkeel snorted. "The empire is not interested in your game. You are about to put your hand in the mouth of a D'arg'nihl, and we want no part of it."

"It is the perfect time," his visitor retorted. "The Vulcan fleet is weaker than it has been in centuries."

"Forget the Vulcans," Karkeel spat on the floor. "You will not live to face the Vulcans. The Humans will tear you apart. The Klingon Empire does not make alliance with blind fools, and you are too arrogant to see what is in front of your eyes."

"They are ignorant primitives," the imitation Vulcan said. "Only a hundred years into the stars. A bare handful of colonies, and only three of those colonies are large enough to offer any resistance at all. They will fall effortlessly."

"As I said," Karkeel growled. "You are blind with arrogance. Technology can be obtained, as you well know. In that same hundred years Humans have gone from warp one to warp five. They are using anti-matter warheads now, and high yield cannon, and our spies report that they are in the final testing stages of deflector shields. It matters not whether they invented or stole the new technology. The fact that matters is that they have it. They are a warrior race, born to battle. They have even proven themselves against our own warriors. The Nausicans fear them. The Orions, Andorians, and Tellarites respect them. Even the Vulcans hesitate to attack them. And you think that you will simply fly in here and stomp them into the mud? Pah!"

"They will be badly outnumbered," his visitor argued.

Karkeel was getting more disgusted by the minute. "What possible relevance does that have? At the battle of Mount Gr'hent, Lord Rekna was pinned down by a force three times as large as his own. But at the end of the day it was his men who drank from the helmets of their enemies."

"I think that the Klingon Empire will regret this lost opportunity if it does not join us," the visitor said evenly.

Karkeel smiled. "That was as pitiful a threat as I have ever heard. The day may eventually come when you prove yourself worthy to stand and fight beside the empire. I doubt it, but the universe can be an astonishing place. It may come, but it has not come yet. First you must learn what it means to face an opponent who is not incomparably weaker than you are. One who is born and bred to the hunt and the kill, as Humans are. When your colonies are burning, and your children are wailing for their parents, you may come to a better understanding of reality. Now begone. Your presence offends me."

The man who looked like a Vulcan, but wasn't, raised his hood with tight lips and turned to leave. When he was gone Karkeel moved to stand beside the window and peered around the edge of the sunshield. The contact filters he wore allowed him to see well enough, despite the cursed Vulcan sunlight. The watcher was still in place, and had been joined by another. When his former guest walked out, The second watcher waited briefly, then ducked into a side street. As Karkeel recalled, that side street looped around and rejoined the main route at the end of the next block. He nodded slowly and went back to the desk. Human tequila wasn't as weak as he had expected.

# # #

T'Lissa chattered nonstop all the way back home from the University. Trip activated the car's autopilot and sat back with a smile to listen while she talked about the airlock, and the guide who wanted her to study "zenolojjy", and how little the "veenis fytap" was compared to a Marnik.

He glanced at T'Pol. "You look worn out, hon," he said. "Maybe you should grab a nap."

"I am tired husband," she agreed. "However I am not in need of sleep. It is agreeable to simply be here with you and T'Lissa." She leaned back and closed her eyes.

"Did you know, Sa-da," T'Lissa suddenly perked up even more, "you used to have copper blood, like and Ma'mehk?"

"I did?" Trip raised his eyebrows. "Now that is something that I didn't know. How did that happen?"

"She is referring to the fact that animal life on Earth began by using copper as a base for circulatory fluid," T'Pol said, without opening her eyes. "T'Lissa found the concept engrossing."

"I guess that is right, isn't it?" Trip looked thoughtful. "And everything on Earth is descended from those early crawlers. So yep. Way back when, I'm descended from copper blood."

"So we ain't really different after all!" T'Lissa was bouncing with happiness. Trip didn't even try to resist the temptation to grab her for a hug and a tickle.

"Not different at all," he smooched her. "Except you and Ma-mehk are cuter."

T'Lissa went back to chattering. Trip listened fondly. Until she mentioned something that caught his attention

"What man with the wrinkles on his head? You mean a Denobulan, like Doctor Phlox?"

T'Lissa said, "Nuh-uh. He was a klanggon, Ma-mehk said."

Trip stiffened and jerked upright. "Klingon!" He looked at T'Pol, who opened her eyes in resignation.

"It is all right, husband. In any case, there was an Andorian shore leave party on the tour with us. They recognized us and from that point on, T'Lissa and I were escorted by a band of self-appointed bodyguards."

"God bless those blue guys," Trip muttered. "Why was a Klingon there? He couldn't have been planning to invade the shark tank. What was he after?"

T'Pol opened her eyes in resignation and gave her husband a summary description of events. "No harm was done, and T'Lissa certainly gained valuable educational insight."

"One way to put it," Trip said. "No wonder you look so tired. Let's get you home and at least on the couch. We can have an early dinner and a quiet evening."

"That sounds highly desirable." T'Pol sank back into the seat and, despite her best intentions, started to drowse.

# # #

Junior Attache Larka walked into Kilruym's office and stood at attention.

"At ease," the ambassador said. "Time for your five day report already? How are things progressing? Do you need assistance, or have anything unusual to report?"

"Ambassador," Larka kept her eyes fixed on the wall and stood straight, despite the order to stand at ease. "I am pleased to report that relations with People's Hero Tucker remain cordial, and there are no indications of friction between our people and any of their co-workers at the factory. Normal personnel matters are being handled with acceptable efficiency. There was one unusual incident to report, involving friction between Humans and Vulcans."

"Really?" Kilruym sat back, looking interested. "Does this relate to the Tolaris incident?"

"I cannot be sure, ambassador," Larka said. "Tolaris was not directly mentioned. However, one of the principles involved was Anna Hess. I… borrowed… a copy of the factory's internal security footage if you wish to review it."

"Absolutely," Kilruym said. "You know I do."

Larka pulled out a data cartridge and handed it to him. "I was present during the confrontation. I had left the office which People's Hero Tucker loaned me and gone to the factory floor…"

… Larka walked between the towering walls of the factory computer's central core and memory banks. It was a mixture of the best Human and Vulcan computer science, and even by Andorian standards it qualified as impressive. It had to be, since all of the manufacturing processes, material testing, diagnostics, and record keeping was processed through here. The output of every terminal in the factory ultimately passed through here, and every keystroke on every terminal was saved in the permanent record. If anything went seriously wrong, the Humans were determined to know, down to the instant, what had happened, when it happened, and why.

Larka thoroughly approved. She honestly enjoyed working with Humans. They laughed and joked. They never got tense without a reason. They were tolerant of other people, unlike Vulcans who only made a pretense of being tolerant. If only it weren't for this Mother cursed heat and gravity, she would be quite happy with this assignment.

She emerged from the walkway and heard a conversation underway between one of her people and a human coworker. "I don't want to go there, Selrath," the human woman, who Larka recalled as being named Amy, said. "There's no point in starting an argument. It's all over with now."

"I wasn't trying to start an argument," Selrath said. She glanced at the three Vulcans working across the open area, none of whom were overtly paying attention. "I just wondered. I have heard some of your shipmates talking about it, and of course I know the story from our people's point of view. I just wondered what you thought about P'Jem."

Larka stepped forward and said firmly, "Amy said that she did not want to discuss it, Technician First Class Selrath." The tech jumped in surprise and straightened. "She is right. Nothing can be done about the past, and chopping old memories out of the ice will only make life more complicated for everyone."

"Discuss what?" Jack Chen walked into view from the far side of the area. He pushed his tool cart over to the terminal next to Larka. Selecting a screwdriver, he started to remove the cover. "What old memories are you talking about?"

"Nothing important." Amy looked uncomfortable, glancing across the room quickly. "Selrath wanted to know what we thought about P'Jem. That's all."

"Not important?" The oldest Vulcan, whose name Larka had never bothered to remember, turned around sternly. "P'Jem was one of our oldest temples. For centuries, our people went there to meditate and heal. And you think its destruction was not important?"

Amy flushed. "I didn't mean that. I meant that-"

"No? Perhaps you simply wish to minimize your own involvement in the matter," the older Vulcan said coldly.

The other two Vulcans turned around. One of them, a woman, suggested, "Perhaps she meant that it was not important to discuss the matter here and now, since it is not relevant to today's work. I submit that we should return to our assigned tasks if we are to complete them on schedule."

"Our involvement?" Jack Chen put down the tool and stood up slowly, with his face getting darker. "Our only involvement was being lied to by our so-called allies. Something that Humans have gotten used to over the last hundred years."

Larka took a quick step forward and whispered to Selrath, "Get Anna Hess. Hurry." The tech took one look and left on the run.

"Jack." Amy sounded like she was pleading. "This is useless. It's only going to cause trouble. Don't do this. I know you lost family when the Xindi attacked. We're all as sorry as we can be for that. But he didn't do it."

Jack looked at Amy. "He didn't do it, but he sure isn't sorry about it. What does he care? They were just Human. For more than a hundred years we gave them virtually free rights to mine our asteroids. We gave them preferred status on every kind of food and drug we make, including some that you can't get anywhere else in the galaxy. We let them use our spaceports duty free. Because we were supposed to be allies. What did we get in return? Half a dozen colony ships got escorted, a few rescue missions here and there when someone's drive blew out or they were hit by pirates. The kind of thing that we offer to strangers, just as a courtesy. But the whole idea, the big part of it, was that they were supposed to be there if we were ever attacked by anyone else. Well, we were attacked. What happened? Where were they? They turned their backs on us and walked away. They said it was our problem and we brought it on ourselves. So you know something Amy? I really don't give a fat rat's ass if it causes trouble. Next week is the anniversary. Right now, trouble sounds damn good to me."

"It doesn't sound good to me. We have work to do." Anna Hess stepped into view, with Selrath following gingerly a few steps behind. "You can spar on your own time. Jack, gather your tools and get down to the mounting braces. That molding extruder is jammed again."

"Yes, commander," Jack said, never taking his eyes off the Vulcan. "As soon as I finish here."

"You're finished here," Anna said. "Do I have to spell it out? You're finished here. Or, you're finished here. Haul your ass, crewman."

Jack stiffened and barked. "Yes, ma'am." He swept up the screwdriver and started pushing the cart along the path Larka had followed, with a stiff back. He didn't look back.

Anna looked around, pausing on Larka, who bowed her head. She told the bellicose Vulcan, "If what happened at P'Jem is weighing heavy on your mind, or working with Humans is generally more than you can endure, you know where the exit is. I will put in your personnel file that you simply can't adapt to working with us. You would be far from the first Vulcan to have that problem. It takes a special kind of Vulcan to work with Humans."

"A Vulcan such as Captain Tucker's mate," he said tightly. "One who betrayed her oath and disobeyed her superior's direct commands for your people."

Anna stood very still. "You are leaving this project. But before you leave, you are going to stand and listen to some things. Would you prefer to do it here? Or should I enlist the help of every former crew member of Enterprise to secure you?"

Amy's face lost all expression. She stepped up at Anna's shoulder and took what Larka recognized as an unarmed combat stance. Apparently the Vulcans recognized it also.

"Violence is unacceptable and unnecessary," the Vulcan woman said. "We are all willing to listen."

"Are you?" Anna looked at her. "You might stand there without talking. Whether you actually listen is another matter. But all I can do is give you the information. If you choose to ignore it, the loss is yours."

She looked back at the man. "P'Jem. T'Pol was assigned to Enterprise by your High Command as an observer on our first deep space mission. In other words, a spy. We all knew it, and she knew that we were aware of it. The situation was awkward to say the least. Especially since she was arbitrarily moved into the position of First Officer, which was supposed to belong to Trip. At that time either Captain Archer or Trip would gladly have kicked her out the airlock without a qualm. Everyone on the ship was watching her, waiting for some excuse to get rid of her. None of us, none of us, trusted her. Not at all. Can you grasp that concept?"

He fought to keep his face stolid. "Of course."

"When our course brought us near P'Jem," Anna said, "The captain wanted to stop for a courtesy visit. T'Pol tried to talk him out of the idea. She explained that it was a sacred place for Vulcans, she said that aliens were not generally welcomed, and that there wasn't really anything to see. Trip needled her into agreeing, finally, by accusing her of thinking that Vulcans were superior to Humans and unwilling to have us contaminate the place."

All three of the Vulcan's looked uncomfortable. Larka took a comfortable position propped against the console and listened with increasing enjoyment.

"Three of them went down," Anna said. "Trip, the captain, and T'Pol. They were going to stop in, greet the priests, and leave. Then they were captured by Andorians. The captain was beaten, repeatedly, and interrogated about the monitoring station. The priests lied to all three of them, swearing up and down that there was no such station. Our security chief led a rescue party and there was a firefight through the catacombs. That's when the captain discovered that those sacred priests that you think so highly of, the ones that pretended to follow Surak, were a pack of lying, dishonorable dogs. They had been willing to let Captain Archer get beaten over and over until he couldn't stand up, and Trip to freeze and starve, and all of our people to risk their lives in a fire fight, to hide the fact that your High Command was deliberately and willfully breaking the treaty. Our people were not happy. Indeed, they were profoundly unhappy. Can you grasp that concept, self-righteous one?"

He shifted position. "Sometimes a government must perform actions for the good of its people that would not be acceptable in an individual."

"Like failing to keep its word?" Anna smiled. "But you see, if one government cannot trust the other to keep its word, there is no reason to ever bother with a treaty, is there? Which is why over two billion Humans on Earth, even as we speak, are advocating the dissolution of our alliance with Vulcan. They maintain that your word is worthless, and we have no reason to continue our association with you."

"Two billion?" The other man had no spoken until then. He looked troubled.

"Yes," Anna said. "That's approximately twenty-five percent of our population. Two billion actively seek dissolution of the alliance, on the premise that Vulcans are dishonorable and undependable. Another three billions are undecided. The remaining three billion are willing to wait and see what your new government does."

"We do not need Humans," the man sneered. He actually sneered. Larka stared in fascination.

"No, I suppose not," Anna said. "But if you are facing an an enemy who doesn't trust you to keep a treaty, the only workable alternative is constant warfare until one side or the other is completely destroyed. What would happen if we dissolved our alliance with Vulcan and made one with Andoria, when neither of our races trusts you to keep your word?"

The other two Vulcans looked visibly distressed. The man Anna was verbally flaying stood stiff and his face tightened. "You would be destroyed. The Andorians are not likely to keep their word either."

Anna smiled. "Either? You admit it. Finally. To finish the story of P'Jem. Captain Archer ordered T'Pol to take scans of the monitoring station and give them to Shran. It was a test, and I am sure that he was hoping she would refuse. If she had, he would have had the perfect excuse to toss her in the brig and keep her in shackles until we found another Vulcan ship to dump her on. Your people would have lost their only observer, and we could have gone on our way without Vulcan having the slightest idea about what we were up to."

Larka didn't even try to hide her grin. She looked at Selrath, who had her antenna twisted in open amusement. None of the three Vulcans looked cheerful.

"Remember that T'Pol had no idea the station was there. Not only did your High Command break the treaty and lie to the Andorians, and lie to their allies, they also lied to their own agent. The High Command was pathological about it. They lied when the truth would have served their purposes more effectively. So. She could refuse and be shipped home in chains. Or she could obey and at least maintain her assigned position as an observer.

"There was no possibility that she could salvage the situation. She was surrounded by a heavily armed Andorian landing party, and also by a heavily armed Human landing party. At that time, not only did we not trust her, but every Human looking at her was enraged. If you think that her own shipmates would have hesitated to shoot her, think again, fool. Even if she had refused, Shran would simply have taken his own readings. Or Captain Archer would have taken some with Human equipment and given them to him. I'm sure he thought about blasting that place into dust himself, on general principles."

Anna stopped to breathe for a moment. "Now you all know what really happened, instead of the propaganda version. You can choose not to believe me, which would be understandable. I don't care. I know I am telling the truth, and that's sufficient. As for disobeying orders and going with us into the Expanse? Her doing that is one of the overriding reasons that only two billion Humans actively want to dissolve the alliance, instead of four or five billion. I can't recall all the Humans who have told me that a race which could produce someone like her can't be all bad, so maybe Vulcans deserve another chance." She looked at the Vulcan man. "Report to the front office for your severance documentation. Don't start any more fights along the way. Please."…

…Kilruym's antennae were twisted in delight. "I am not certain what a fatrat is, but the Human called Jack certainly sounded less than enchanted with his Vulcan colleague. You did well, Larka. Calling Commander Hess was the correct course of action. This is a small advantage gained for us. But diplomacy usually consists of an endless series of tiny steps forward that gradually build up to something substantial."

"I am honored to serve, ambassador," Larka said, smiling. "Permission to ask a question, sir?"

"Surely."

"The numbers that Anna quoted," Larka asked. "The percentages of her people that favor dissolving their alliance with Vulcan. Are they accurate?"

"According to my latest information," Kilruym said, "they sound fairly close." His expression turned rueful. "I'm certain that the old Vulcan High Command had no intention of placing an honorable operative aboard the Human ship. It's ironic that the mistake which cost them P'Jem also saved the most valuable alliance they have."

Larka's antennae twisted pensively. Kilruym looked at her and asked, "What is it, attaché?"

"I have never been overly religious, ambassador," Larka said slowly. "But sometimes things happen in this universe that make me wonder about the possibility of the Mother taking a direct hand, for her own reasons. What are the odds of the old High Command placing the only honorable Vulcan ever born aboard that Human ship? I mean, her presence was responsible for exposing their treachery at P'Jem, which helped her earn the loyalty of her crewmates. They also earned hers. So when the Xindi attacked Earth she went with them because they were her comrades, and a battle sister does not abandon her comrades."

Kilruym nodded and sighed. "Which impressed the Humans so much that they are willing to give the Vulcans another chance. And also impressed People's Hero Tucker so much that he married her."

"I have heard." Larka hesitated and went on more softly. "I have heard some of the Humans who served aboard Enterprise during the Battle of the Vulcan Ambush. Not all of them say this. Not even most of them. But some of them say that if not for T'Pol, they might have been tempted to mutiny. After all, they did not owe Andoria anything. And none of them cared whether Vulcan was destroyed in a war with Andoria. They really didn't, Ambassador Kilruym. I have seen their eyes. Those Humans would not have cared if we had launched a barrage of planet cracker bombs at this place. That's how angry they were. But they all felt that they owed T'Pol their lives and the lives of their people. So they followed Tucker into battle, believing that they were flying into certain death. Because she had done the same for them."

Kilruym said silently for a while. His antennae were perfectly still. Finally he cleared his throat and said, "Return to your duties. We still have a lot of work to do if we are going to make formal allies of these people. Dismissed."

# # #

Tolaris paced slowly, with his hands in his sleeves and his hooded head bowed. Across the street, the Tucker sub-clan turned from the walkway onto their own property. Tolaris made no head movement or any other sign of interest.

T'Pol had been more active at making excursions than he originally anticipated. Since he began assessing her home, she had spent three of the past five days taking her child somewhere. No matter. The other two days had been completely uninterrupted. All he had to do was work out the pattern. Everyone's life had a pattern. Once he had learned her pattern, he could choose a day when she was most unlikely to be visited or have a scheduled external appointment.

The child might present a minor inconvenience. But only a minor one. If T'Pol refused to confine her, a neck pinch would settle the matter. For that matter, stunning T'Pol before commencing the mind meld would perhaps be the most effective approach.

Unseen under the hood, his mouth twisted distastefully. He had been looking forward to once again sampling the essence of her fearful resistance. Perhaps, perhaps not. It would all depend on how things proceeded once he had gained entrance and control.

For now, he needed to return to the desert. He had not hunted in five days. The need to kill was becoming unbearable.

TBC