Author's note:

Apologies for the hideously long delay but, ironically enough considering where we left off here, I've been in the hospital off and on. Not the entire time, you understand, but long enough and often enough that any work on this story was a good ten lines down the list of things I hadn't the time or energy for.

But now I do. So let's see what we can do with this thang.

Vulcan Medical Institute

Shir Kahr

Out the starboard window of the shuttle pod, T'Pril could see there were far too many people waiting for them at the landing pad. A liaison representing the institute perhaps, someone to represent the medical staff themselves, maybe…at most there should be two or three persons awaiting them below. Including Ensign Rodriguez, who didn't seem to be in attendance. Only twenty feet in the air, though descending quickly, it wasn't difficult to fully assess the situation before the shuttle touched down.

"Ensign P'Trell, there are in excess of thirty individuals awaiting us here." She said, plainly. "That is far too many to be considered normal."

He was already out of his seat and peering out the shuttle door window before she finished speaking.

"In that case…" He said, turning to fetch a phase pistol from the nearby locker. "If you would allow Ensign West and I to exit the shuttle first, Captain?"

"Very well." T'Pril nodded.

T'Pril stood aside, allowing West to move up behind P'Trell as he opened the shuttle door. She could feel the air pressure in the shuttle plummet as the excess was sucked away by the Vulcan atmosphere. And the heat that rushed in to replace it…

She was, to be honest, quite surprised. The heat washing over her…that really wasn't anything she wasn't used to. Vulcans back home, her mother included, routinely maintained room temperatures only somewhat lower than this whenever Humans or Centaurans weren't around.

The lower air pressure and oxygen in the atmosphere, though…already surrounding her, assaulting her…

She'd felt the planet snatch perhaps half the breath right out of her lungs, in less than a moment. And the gravity…she hadn't even stepped outside yet but already she could feel the oppressive shift in weight, even through the open shuttle door.

And the smell. Burnt...sand, perhaps? Or…so many scents, all unknown yet somehow familiar…

It was all just…good.

As if she'd been tinkering with environmental settings in her quarters and had suddenly, by pure random chance, stumbled across the most perfect combination of precise settings…to produce…

Well, not comfort. It certainly wasn't at all comfortable. It was, physically at least, entirely disagreeable.

But, still…it felt…

"Captain?"

She blinked. P'Trell. Looking at her with concern from beyond the door.

She nodded and quickly exited the shuttle, casually moving to stand next to Ensign West. P'Trell remained behind her at the shuttle door, no doubt still assessing her. It was difficult to wrest awareness away from her environment in order to appraise the crowd before her. But she managed it, if barely.

Thankfully the majority seemed content to stand quietly at the edge of the landing pad and…observe, she assumed. Only one Vulcan had stepped forward to interact with them in any way.

Displaying the traditional greeting, she spoke directly to T'Pril. Apparently having waited for her to appear before moving up to speak.

"Captain Tucker. Dif-tor heh smusma." The woman intoned, displaying the Vulcan salute.

"Sochya eh dif." T'Pril replied, returning the greeting.

"Amsetri tre." The woman returned, with a slight bow. Making the polite, otherwise very traditional greeting between the two somewhat more eminent than T'Pril thought appropriate.

'Your presence honors us'? And bowing rather than a proper nod? The Vulcan version of 'laying it on thick', she supposed. She would almost wonder if the woman hadn't mistaken her for someone else, if she hadn't clearly identified her by name already.

"I am Assistant Director V'Sen." The woman continued, in Vulcan. "Director Remel is away for the moment and is unable to greet you himself. He has asked that I assure you that his delay was unavoidable and is confident you will not hold the honor of the Institute accountable for his failure."

T'Pril was almost, almost, tempted to frown. Of course. It was Alpha Centauri all over again. Every new Vulcan she encountered it seemed…

But here? On Vulcan? The very last thing she had expected.

And now the movement to her right, out of the corner of her eye. One of the Institute's staff there, already wielding a personal data device to snap a picture. Naturally setting off a wave among the others in attendance to do the same. Which elicited an audible shuffle from P'Trell behind her, of course, as he quickly assessed the crowd for anyone that might need to be shot at.

Two of the Vulcan staff even seemed to be capturing the moment on video.

"Your Flight Officer, Ensign Rodriguez, is also unfortunately delayed." V'Sen continued, speaking in English now for the benefit of the two other Starfleet officers. "Her recovery was taxing and has delayed her receiving final instructions. I will escort you and your officers there, if you will allow it."

"That will be agreeable, Assistant Director V'Sen." T'Pril replied. With a much more proper air of detachment than had been afforded her so far.

V'Sen bowed. Again. Then turned to gesture at the crowd behind her, parting them effortlessly to allow passage. T'Pril waited before actually moving forward, to give them time to step decidedly away from her path. One would think the average Vulcan could be trusted not to crowd anyone, even a notable person of any sort. But T'Pril had long since discovered that was hardly something one could rely upon.

Their path cleared well enough, T'Pril then followed V'Sen, sparing only a quick glance at her companions. West had followed immediately behind, seemingly too overcome by the environment to have noticed much of what had just occurred. She was sweating profusely already and even beginning to smell, T'Pril noticed.

P'Trell, bringing up the rear...seemed interestingly enough better acclimated than West. Though he wasn't bothering to hide the scowl on his face. She realized then that he'd been unprepared to deal with this situation, having underestimated her fame as well. The entirely too expressive look from the Security Officer communicated his opinion of her being there clearly enough.

Which begged the question…why had he insisted on coming along then?

P'Trell was more than happy to find the crowd of…fans that T'Pril's arrival had attracted at least had the good manners to remain outside. Except the Assistant Director, that is. She'd been practically babbling the whole time.

"…further, the Tucker clan itself, it cannot be denied, is a remarkable example of the principle of IDIC."

It didn't seem to have any effect at all on T'Pril but it was certainly grating on his nerves.

"I understand there are at least twenty different species in your clan, connected by blood and bond. One would assume such an arrangement inherently unstable and yet your clan continues to expand and grow in influence…"

"If you will excuse me, Assistant Director." T'Pril interrupted. "That is because our clan insists upon conformity to a common culture and creed. And so, not so apt an example of diversity as one might assume."

V'Sen paused at that but quickly pressed on. Probably excited that she'd finally gotten T'Pril's attention, Rexas thought.

"Clearly your clan embraces the principle of IDIC nonetheless. I would find it hard to believe otherwise, considering the evidence."

"Indeed we do." T'Pril replied. "A more rational application of the concept, however."

Now the Vulcan woman seemed almost eager. "Will you explain?"

"Certainly." T'Pril said, suddenly coming to a stop, turning her attention fully to V'Sen.

"Diversity exists because the universe is chaotic." She continued. "Survival requires adaptation, hence the diversity we witness in all things. For this reason, diversity is beneficial and worthy of celebration. Because an infinite universe provides infinite threats to survival we have an infinite selection of adaptations to chose from. That is a significant source of strength to draw upon. However, to attempt to apply diversity universally would simply replicate and magnify the chaos we seek to survive. That would be illogical."

V'Sen pondered that for a moment. And since that left the four of them standing in the middle of the hall, rather than retrieving their Flight Officer, P'Trell felt compelled to intervene.

"Captain…" He groused. And found himself instantly forestalled by a single raised hand, T'Pril still focused on the Assistant Director.

"I confess I do not comprehend." V'Sen replied at last. "It is commonly understood that IDIC is the very foundation of the Way of Surak…"

"It is not." T'Pril stated flatly. "IDIC is a relatively recent invention, applied to the Way incorrectly. Indeed, it should be obvious the Way itself presents a singular, intolerant path."

V'Sen's eyebrow twitched at that. "Intolerance to diversity? I fail to see the logic in that. Appreciation for infinite diversity is at the heart of Vulcan philosophy."

"Then Vulcan philosophy and the Way of Surak are at odds. Diversity is both a boon and a curse, conducive in truth only to itself."

V'Sen blinked surprise but managed to reply evenly. "Yet the Way of Surak is the pinnacle of Vulcan philosophy, is it not?"

"I would say not. There are many Vulcan philosophies. The Way of Surak is an adaptation to Vulcan nature, in the interests of survival." T'Pril replied.

"A survival technique?" V'Sen nearly exclaimed. "Clearly you minimize the depth of Surak's revelation."

"Not at all. This technique has assured Vulcan civilization, as well as the civilization of many other peoples. But we must bear in mind that, while it is good that the diversity of the universe allows for the Way of Surak, it is also diverse enough to have allowed for Vulcan savagery."

V'Sen did not immediately respond, so T'Pril continued.

"Discipline then is the foundation upon which the Way of Surak rests. There is no room for diversity in the Way."

P'Trell could see the Vulcan woman's mouth tighten. Well now, this was proving interesting...

"Yet there is logic in all things." V'Sen insisted. "Even the laws of physics suggest…"

"If you will excuse me…" T'Pril interrupted. "The concept of ozhika-ek was never spoken of by Surak and is falsely attributed to him. As the Kir'Shara clearly established. Indeed, it can be traced rather to the philosopher Tal-hon, who committed murder-suicide based on that philosophy."

V'Sen hesitated again. "Nevertheless, the principle is sound…"

"Certainly not. Were there logic in all things, it would behoove the Vulcan people to abandon the Way of Surak and embrace their true nature. As Tal-hon did."

V'Sen stared for a moment.

"I see." She said, rather coldly. "Captain Tucker, you should have little difficulty finding your way to Recovery Room 313. I will return to my duties. Dif-tor heh smusma." She offered the Vulcan salute in parting.

"Dif-tor heh smusma, Assistant Director V'Sen." T'Pril replied flatly.

And V'Sen was gone just that quickly. Rexas barely had time to blink before T'Pril proceeded down the hall, without any apparent concern. As if she hadn't just stomped all over the Assistant Director's core beliefs.

P'Trell hurried to catch up, ignoring for now West's attempt to catch his eye for some form of confirmation of what they'd both just witnessed.

After a moment, he decided to start testing the ice, so to speak.

"An…interesting perspective, Captain." He said, being sure to inject a measure of arrogance in his tone. Better to keep up appearances, after all.

"It is unfortunate the Assistant Director felt compelled to attend to her duties before I was able to conclude. She would have undoubtedly benefited."

"So there's more then?"

T'Pril spared him a telling glance. "Naturally. As it stands it must seem I have rejected the tenet of IDIC. Which is, of course, absurd."

Ah. So it has been intentional. And she wasn't about to admit it.

Which rather begged the question. Why tempt the Assistant Director to anger? What had been gained, other than...?

...other than leaving them on their own, without the supervision of any Institute personnel.

Recovery Room 313

Vulcan Medical Institute

Marisa peered a bit more closely at the image on the wall before her

"You mean the little squiggles here? Those are the…what, nerve clusters?" She asked, curiously.

"Indeed." Replied Sorkel, her assigned attendant. "As you can see, there is already a pronounced difference evident between the scans I've taken now and those conducted immediately prior to the procedure."

"That's…wow. Chido! I didn't expect…I mean…that was pretty quick!" Marisa grinned widely at the attendant.

Then quickly realized her mistake.

"Oh." She said, looking away and adopting a more solemn expression. "I, uh…sorry…"

Sorkel held one hand up, a universal gesture of assurance. "Do not be concerned. I have worked with Humans before and understand the need for emotional expression. There is no offense where none is taken."

Well…would have been more believable if the guy's face wasn't so…blank when he said it.

"Uh…right." She nodded uncertainly. "Yeah. So…is there something I should do now? I mean…some follow-up or something…?"

"Doctor Sulok will receive a full medical data packet shortly." Sorkel replied, without so much as a facial twitch. "It will contain all information pertinent to your treatment. However, that will amount to little more than occasion physical inspections to detect regression, which you can expect to be extremely unlikely."

Marisa nodded. "So..."

"That concludes your instruction." Sorkel announced suddenly. "Your fellow officers have arrived. You may claim your belongings and depart now."

He raised his hand to salute her. "Live long and prosper, Ensign Rodriguez."

"Oh! Right. Uh…" She raised her hand in return, fumbling for a moment before getting the gesture right. "You, too, I guess. Thanks."

With a sharp nod, Sorkel turned and briskly departed. Leaving Marisa to frown a bit. She didn't take any offense herself so much or anything but she was definitely ready to "depart".

Vulcans, she had decided, irritate the hell out of her.

Then suddenly the captain was at her door, with P'Trell and West in tow. Oh, so that's what he'd meant.

"Hey! Captain!" Marisa grinned brightly. Really more relieved to be able to appropriately express some sort of emotion again.

"I trust you are fully recovered, Ensign?" T'Pril inquired.

"Yeah, looks like." Marisa grinned. She clapped her hands together lightly. "Guess we can get out of here…?" She asked, hopefully.

"It would seem. Gather your…"

T'Pril noticed Ensign West's near vibratory state beside her. Undoubtedly barely suppressing the impulse to bound about the room and express her affection for Rodriguez. Who…on second glance seemed to be barely suppressing much the same herself.

"Gather your gear, after you have greeted your fellow officers."

The two were hugging and chattering at one another before she'd properly finished speaking. Ensign P'Trell at least appeared to be in control of himself, so she turned to him. Partly to avoid the obscene display.

"Ensign P'Trell, escort West and Rodriguez to the shuttle once they are prepared to depart. I will join you there shortly."

With that she turned sharply away, hoping she could avoid questions...

"Where you are going, Captain?"

She replied casually, over one shoulder, as she walked away. "There is a family acquaintance in residence…"

But suddenly the absolute lie she'd prepared just didn't seem acceptable to her. Granted, she was willing to exercise misdirection from time to time, when it was logical to do so, but…to engage in direct falsehood for convenience sake…

No. She was simply unwilling to do that. So she stopped and turned to answer more properly.

"There is a matter I must attend to. I will meet you shortly." She assured. "At the shuttle."

"I'll accompany you, Captain." He answered, already moving to do so.

"Ensign P'Trell, it appears you are still armed." She said quickly, noting the phase pistol at his hip. "I do not think it would be appropriate for you to proceed any further. Return to the shuttle with Ensigns West and Rodriguez…"

"Not a problem, Captain." He said, removing the pistol and holster from his waist, handing them to Ensign West.

Who had begun to notice something was going on. Just as Rodriguez already had.

"Ensign P'Trell." She announced, with a bit more authority this time. "Your dedication is acknowledged but your assistance will not be required. You will return to the shuttle with Ensigns West and Rodriguez."

Rexas stared calmly back, unmoved. "Is that an order, Captain? The regulations are very clear. A minimum of two ground crew at all…"

"Very well." She interrupted. "Ensign West, Rodriguez, return to the shuttle and prep for launch. Ensign P'Trell and I will meet you there shortly."

She turned and strode away, as if entirely unconcerned whether or not Ensign P'Trell followed. Leaving West and Rodriguez to stare after them until they turned the corner down the hall and disappeared.

"Um…" Remarked West. "What the hell was that?"

Rodriguez shook her head, leaning against the doorframe. "Dunno. Some kind of trouble with those two recently?"

West shrugged. "Not that I know of. No more than usual, I mean. It's not like they're best friends or anything."

"Hmph." Rodriguez snorted. "Then the Captain's up to something."

West sighed, shaking her head. "And Rex is sticking his nose in it."

Rodriguez grinned and turned to her. "Rex, huh? So what's the latest with you two?"

"God! Nothing!" West exclaimed. "No time for anything! Maybe…you know, flirting a bit here and there. But this is probably the first I've stood still for five whole minutes this month. Who has the time?"

Rodriguez shook her head, still grinning. "Told yah you'd end up humping in a closet."

"I wish." West muttered.

Marisa smirked. "Well, speaking of which, we better stop standing still and get outta here."

Captain Tucker hadn't slowed down a step, clearly knowing just where she intended to go. Which left P'Trell feeling more as if he were pursuing her than accompanying.

Until they had, it would seem, finally arrived. Room…12? If he was translating the digits right. Personal quarters probably, according to the layout of the wall map they'd passed. The one she hadn't so much as spared a glance at.

After staring at the door for a long moment, giving somewhat the impression she expected it to behave in an untoward manner, she turned to him at last. The first time she'd acknowledged his presence since they left Rodriguez' recovery room.

"Ensign P'Trell, you will wait here." She said simply.

"With all respect, Captain, regulations are clear…" He denied.

"Nevertheless." She answered. "And this you may consider an order."

Which left him precisely no wiggle room. Although it confirmed his suspicions that she was up to something that she didn't want to draw attention to, else she'd have made it an order before.

T'Pril turned directly to the keypad at the door then, tapping in a code quickly. So…she had the code to someone's personal quarters? In the Vulcan Medical Institute? On Vulcan, where she'd never been before in her life until today?

Ah…apparently not…

T'Pril was already tapping in the code a second time…still failing to unlock the door. And suddenly seeming at a loss…

Hmm.

P'Trell stepped forward then, delivering an abrupt forward kick that slammed the heel of his boot forcefully into the wall. Directly beneath the keypad, by precisely twice its height. Something snapped audibly within, clinking as it slipped down the interior of the wall.

"The hydraulics are probably on the left side there." He said casually, nodding in the right direction.

To her credit, the Captain stared for only a moment before turning to examine the door again. In short order she'd dislodged the snap-on frame, yanked the metal tube free and snapped the frame back into place before hydraulic fluid could douse her. He had his multi-tool in hand by then, the titanium flathead already extended and ready.

He offered it to her. "You're stronger than I am, I assume. It's not ideal but unless you want to use your fingernails…"

She took the tool without comment and began wedging it into the door, jimmying about until she could squeeze her fingers in and pull the door firmly aside by hand. Returning it, she still hadn't met his eyes.

P'Trell may not have had much experience with Vulcans…or Humans…that didn't involving killing or injuring them in some manner…but he knew guilt when he saw it. This was clearly not where the Captain wanted to be at the moment. And especially not with a witness.

"Wait outside." She ordered, though somewhat subdued. "Do your best to…appear casual." She entered the room.

"Yes, of course, Captain." He replied through the door after her. "An Andorian standing about in the halls of the Vulcan Medical Institute. I'll be over here…blending in."

Frowning, he did his best anyway, moving down the hall a few steps to the wall map. There he busied himself examining it closely, trying to simultaneously appear to be lost and keep this antennae on the door to that room.

After nearly fifteen minutes, T'Pril was beginning to reassess the wisdom of bringing Ensign P'Trell along. As opposed to Ensign West, that is. Who had significantly more skill and experience at computer hacking than she. She was beginning to suspect the Romulan sympathizer was wary enough to keep the data stored separately from the communications console somehow. She could certainly find no sign of it anywhere within.

The décor of the small room had proven quite suggestive the moment she'd entered. The peculiar skull and facial muscle models on the three prints adorning the walls. The books and data disks on the shelf, most obviously. Considering the remarks that Agent Harnes had made, it was readily apparent how the man was of such use to the Romulans. He was a reconstructive surgeon.

Which…now that she considered all of that…

A quick glance around and she spotted the thing she'd failed to recognize the significance of during her first inspection. The hardbound book on the shelf above the console.

"The Teachings of Surak."

Yes, of course. Very humorous.

Snatching the volume from the shelf and opening it…there it was. Nestled within a…disgusting gash…carved into Surak's teachings. A miniature data drive, certainly containing not only the encryption system but likely all the software and hardware necessary for the task of issuing coded subspace communications. The console here was probably superfluous to the process. One need only plug the device into the data port there, override the console's normal operating system…

"Vi-du? Ro-du than…?"

She didn't need to look up to know exactly who stood in the doorway now, questioning her. But she did anyway, if only to know the face of the one who had mutilated Surak's wisdom to hide the tool with which he betrayed his people…

Not this man's people. Surak's people. This man, whatever his blood, was no more Vulcan than the Andorian in the hall. He'd given up any such claim with his first traitorous act for the Romulan Empire.

Correction. The Andorian no longer in the hall but now standing in the doorway blocking the man's escape.

T'Pril snapped the book shut sharply, one-handed, to distract his attention back away from P'Trell to her. But he'd recognized the danger he was in already.

A quick glance at the shelf on the far wall and T'Pril knew where he was heading when he quickly leaned and stepped. But P'Trell, yet again displaying a reaction speed exceptional even for a well-trained Andorian soldier, was already diving, tackling and flying past her with a double armful of the yelping traitor.