Notes:
The idea that the Andorian circulatory system contains few or no veins derives from the original series episode, Whom Gods Destroy, in which an Andorian patient must be given an inter-muscular injection, rather than an intravenous one.
Although I have adopted some Andorian terminology from other sources, I have not always defined specific terms in the same way as those sources have done. I have also added a significant amount of vocabulary of my own. I am trying to build an internally consistent linguistic structure with my Andorian vocabulary, and every word I use has a meaning. At some point, I am thinking of putting together a glossary of terms, and appending it to one of my chapters.
Acknowledgements:
I give many thanks to Casper and Chelsea for looking over this chapter, and giving me their feedback.
Responding to the Reviews:
Thank you to everyone who has commented!
To ParadiseOfTheMind: I'm thrilled that a fellow writer here on the site, one interested in Enterprise-era Star Trek, is reading my story!
To The First Mrs de Winter: octopodes! Glad you like the format here. I hope to deliver a lot more cultural and political background in the chapters ahead.
To LHvegan: Andorians are a fascinating species that never get enough screen time in Star Trek, or enough attention in fanfiction! They appear a few times in the original series, and quite a bit in Enterprise. My character, Tholos, appears in the episodes The Andorian Incident and Shadows of P'Jem, although he is a little different in my story than he is on-screen.
To Delighted Guest: Smurfs! That made me smile. I hope you enjoy watching Enterprise.
And finally, To thatfriendlyghost: Thank you indeed for your detailed reviews, I really do appreciate them, and find them very helpful! Regarding your point about repetition in the first chapter, I have edited the passage in question, and taken out one of the offending repetitions of the idea of secrecy. Thank you for catching that! I will try to pay more attention to the issue of repetition going forward. Regarding your request for a better demarcation between the two chapter-sections, I think I have found a better way to do that. Many of the things I put in to create a separation (a line of dashes, for instance) were deleted by the system here when I uploaded, and the line supplied by the site itself is very subtle, and easy to miss. That said, I think I have found a solution!
Chapter III: Sparks Fly Upward
He stood frozen at the doorway of the medical chamber, his eyes locked on Kelev. Naked and still, with the white pallor of death about him, his slender body covered in wounds only recently cleaned, his broken skin anointed with some sort of cream that smelled of herbs, his comrade and friend looked like one of the Ushaan'los, the honorably fallen. Tholev had looked so, after he had been slain in the Ushaan, and Tholos felt as if he were a young boy again, standing in his family's val'nor, and watching as the battered body of his elder brother was prepared for his final Rite of Honor. All the members of Keth Dara, save those lost to the cold darkness of space, left the family stronghold for the last time through the doors of the val'nor, borne off to the vast ice caverns where they were laid to their final rest.
Tholos had been truly frozen once, on a hunting trip to the Northern Wastes. Separated from his companions, with night falling fast and the temperature dropping, he had sought shelter in a nearby ice cavern, but had been too late. It had been an oddly peaceful experience, feeling his body stiffen around him, as he slipped into a kind of restful paralysis. He had been conscious the whole time, awake inside his motionless body, and waiting for the dawn. This current stillness had none of the calmness of that earlier experience. Tholos felt as if he should move. There were things he needed to do, questions he needed to ask. Weren't there? He stood frozen instead, trapped in a world of memory, the sorrows of the past rising up like shadows in his mind, while the world around receded. His body was still, but he was not at rest. With a shock, he realized that he had slipped into the lor'val, a powerful grief state that sometimes gripped Andorians, incapacitating them for brief periods. What had his professor once said? That biology was destiny, and that Andorians, always vulnerable to the physical after-effects of their visceral emotions, were better served by avoiding too much personal introspection.
The small human woman in the room before him - the doctor of whom Mareg had spoken, no doubt - was saying something, but although he registered the sounds she was making, they were meaningless to him. Her cadence was musical, with a little lilting lift in her words that he found curious but soothing. The woman came to stand in front of him, a look of concern on her face, speaking again. Tholos found himself examining her, as if from a great distance. Her coloring was unusual, he thought, with her pale pink skin, bright blue eyes, and deep golden hair. It reminded him of something, but what? She laid a tentative hand on his arm, and it was as if she had broken a spell. Tholos breathed in deeply, no longer frozen, no longer deaf, and looked down at the woman's hand in surprise. How had she done that? he wondered. There was something familiar about the feeling of her hand on him, but he couldn't place it. Perhaps a residual effect of the lor'val, he thought, twitching his antennae to clear his head.
"Are you unwell?" the woman asked, clearly repeating a question she had already posed. Flushing a little under his suddenly focused gaze, she removed her hand from his arm. Perhaps she felt she had committed an impropriety, he thought idly, recalling that her species, unlike Andorians, were sometimes shy about personal touch.
"I am fine," he answered briefly, his eyes moving again to Kelev, lying motionless on the medical bed, another pink-skin standing beside him. "Your patient..?" he enquired, unable to formulate his question.
"Are you his friend?" the doctor asked in return, face lighting up with some emotion - relief? happiness? - that Tholos couldn't quite read. "He is in very bad shape," she continued in her musical tones, without waiting for a reply, "and I have been in something of a quandary, in considering his treatment."
Humans were really rather trusting, he thought, unaccountably angry at the idea of this small woman simply assuming he was a friend, and no threat to her and her patient. "We are comrades," he said simply, glancing back at the table where the second pink-skin, a male, stood quietly watching him. There was something about the man's stance, and his attentive, focused calmness, which made Tholos think of a warrior, internally readying himself for battle. They couldn't all be naive do-gooders, he thought with a sneer, recalling that his past encounters with their species had taught him that although they were impetuous, and often ill prepared, they also had a tendency toward the unexpected, and a surprising ability to defy expectations. No doubt these humans had an agenda, just as he had his own ends to pursue...
"Will he live?" he asked, voicing the concern uppermost in his mind.
The woman hesitated, looking at him searchingly for a moment before turning toward Kelev. "I am not sure," she said softly, an expression of sadness - or was it uncertainty? - flitting across her face. Looking up at him again, she continued with more force, "but we will do everything we can to help him. I am Doctor Elinor Cameron, and this is my assistant, Connor Dowd."
Tholos dipped his antennae briefly at the male, before responding to the doctor in kind: "Commander Tholos, of the Imperial Guard. I am here to retrieve your patient, Commander Kelev. What can you tell me about his condition?"
"His wounds are significant, Commander," the doctor began, motioning to her assistant to continue with his work. Tholos noted with approval that the man positioned himself in such a way that he could carry on treating Kelev, without turning his back either on him or on Dr. Elinor. The human male obviously had a degree of situational awareness, and the commander found himself oddly relieved that the doctor, who clearly had nothing of the sort, hadn't been left entirely unprotected in this dangerous locale.
"We're applying anti-fungal cream at the moment," she continued, "and will follow up shortly with some internal treatments. But I'm much more concerned about his phase-related infection, which appears to have spread throughout his system."
Here Tholos interrupted: "He was hit with a particle weapon?"
"Yes, Commander..."
"How often?"
"Only once, that I can see, but the resultant infection and necrosis has spread to his other wounds..."
"What caused his other wounds?"
"He appears to have been attacked with a bladed weapon, and stabbed multiple times. He was also beaten with some sort of blunt object."
Tholos observed that the doctor looked unsettled, relating these details, almost as if they were causing her physical distress. "The beating occurred after he was incapacitated by the particle weapon, in your opinion?"
"Yes. He would most likely have been unconscious."
The commander dipped his antennae. This tallied with Mareg's description of an ambush, and with his own knowledge of Kelev's fighting skills. It was foolish not to have anticipated such an ambush, but even the best warriors made mistakes upon occasion.
"I should begin treating the phase infection immediately," the doctor continued, "but Commander Kelev will need a number of transfusions, and I have no supply of Andorian blood on hand, here at the clinic. Would you be willing to donate, Commander?"
Tholos hesitated. The human doctor looked up at him expectantly, clearly anticipating an answer in the affirmative. Perhaps it was the custom amongst her kind to give blood freely to whoever was in need, with no thought for the identity of either recipient or donor. Such a reckless practice would be in keeping with her species' seeming desire to befriend the entire quadrant. For Andorians however, the sharing of blood was a more complicated affair. The ancient rituals governing kinship and honor were still observed by most of his people, and to openly give blood to any individual outside of one's own keth was an action that could be interpreted in only one way, and that could lead to only one possible outcome. To mingle blood was to become blood kin. By offering his blood, the donor was inviting the recipient into his keth, with all of the rights, protections, and obligations that that entailed. By accepting the blood of another, the recipient agreed to become a part of that individual's keth, to pledge loyalty to it, and to uphold its honor in the complicated arena of Andorian kethni politics.
There was a reason that blood donations had been strictly anonymous on his planet for centuries now, and that the entire process was shrouded in an absolute secrecy scrupulously guarded by the Medical Guild. The consequences of an open blood exchange gone wrong were often dire. Whether the blood recipient refused to accept his new role in his second, adoptive keth, or the blood donor's keth refused to accept its new member, the resultant loss of honor on all sides inevitably led to violence, ranging from interpersonal strife and conflict, possibly even the declaration of the Ushaan between donor and recipient, to the invocation of the dreaded blood feud between the keths of those involved. Blood feuds had been officially outlawed on his home world for many centuries - indeed, the Ushaan itself had initially been meant to limit and contain the destructive potential of Andoria's seemingly endless internecine conflicts - but when it came to matters of honor, many of his people had a somewhat flexible interpretation of the law. Unofficial blood feuds, in which members of warring keths found pretexts to challenge one another to single combat in the Ushaan, still cropped up from time to time, and required the mediation of the Kethni Council.
"Commander?" the doctor prompted, an uncertain look on her face.
Tholos stirred uneasily, conscious that he needed to make a decision. His gaze shifted to Kelev, lying so pale and death-like on the medical bed. Outsiders were notorious for being particularly touchy about their independent status as surface dwellers. Would his friend and comrade welcome the idea of joining Keth Dara, particularly if the decision were made without his input? Many in-dwelling Andorians would hesitate to accept such an offer, mindful that loyalty to the Dara might conflict with their existing obligations to their birth keth. Surely an Outsider would feel this even more acutely? Of course Kelev was already a guardsman and a member of the Ahm Tal, both vocations that required loyalty to a larger, pan-kethnic identity, so perhaps his friend would adjust. But what of Keth Dara? Talat and the other Dara elders might have harsh words for a keth-son who made such a choice without first consulting them, and obtaining their blessing. His kinsmen had difficulty trusting even the members of Keth Idrani, Andoria's foremost warrior keth, and their coalition partners in government these last two millennia. How would they feel about a son of Keth Adana, a member of a group who made it plain that they considered themselves outsiders in more than just name?
Suddenly impatient with himself, and with this uncharacteristic waffling, Tholos shook his antennae vigorously. The facts were these: Kelev would die without his blood. The other man was unquestionably loyal to Andoria, and to the Ahm Tal. And perhaps most importantly of all, Tholos already regarded him as a brother, even if they had not exchanged blood. If Talat or the other elders were angry at his choice, he thought suddenly, he could always tell them that the Outsider was his intended co-husband. After all, they had once been playmates, in that adolescent period when Andorians were encouraged to experiment sexually, before eventually settling down, and as a member of his quad, Kelev would have eventually become a member of Keth Dara anyway.
Turning to the doctor, he said: "I will donate the necessary blood."
0-0-0
Their antennae were fascinating, Elinor thought, almost dizzy from trying to track and catalogue the dancing movements of those slender appendages. She had been terrified by her first glimpse of Commander Tholos, standing at the entrance to the recovery room, his antennae as still and unmoving as his face. His slim, black-clad figure had given the impression of elegance, and of power, reminding Elinor of a ballet dancer she had once seen, waiting silently in the wings for that moment when he would burst out upon the stage and command the attention of the entire theater. He had a stern, almost harsh-looking face, all sharp angles and austere expression, and Elinor had thought with a shiver that he seemed as if he were carved out of blue ice. Transfixed, she had waited for the stranger to speak, the silence stretching out in an agonizing way.
It had taken her a moment to realize that he was transfixed as well, gazing at the half-dead Andorian on the treatment table, an unreadable expression on his face. Elinor knew that his species expressed emotion largely through their antennae, but that had not prepared her for the blankness of the man's face, nor for how at a loss it made her feel not to have any little clues she could recognize, in deciphering his mental state. Swallowing audibly, she glanced briefly at Connor, who looked tense and alert, ready to intervene. Knowing how protective her assistant could be, and well aware that Andorians had a reputation for being fierce fighters, Elinor stepped into the breach.
"Are you here for the patient?" she asked tremulously, very much aware that her hands were sweaty and trembling, and that her voice had an embarrassing squeak in it. "You are welcome to come in," she continued, gesturing vaguely around the room. The black-clad stranger's total lack of response was unnerving, until it occurred to Elinor that he simply hadn't heard her. Was he in some sort of shock? she wondered, realizing anew that although her exobiology course in medical school had covered the basics, there was still so much she didn't know about Andorian biology.
"Careful, Doc," Connor warned softly as she moved closer to the motionless intruder.
"Are you unwell?" she asked, trying to speak calmly and soothingly. The man's gaze shifted to her, but he did not respond in any other way. Carefully and gently, as one would with a wounded animal that might prove dangerous if startled, she laid a hand on his arm. An odd tremor ran through him at her touch, and Elinor was surprised to find that the shiver of movement continued into her own arm, as if it were a wave moving through her. The sensation was odd, but not unpleasant. What was that? she wondered, before pushing the question aside to concentrate on the stranger in front of her.
"Are you unwell?" she asked again, as the man seemed to come alive underneath her hand, breathing in deeply and focusing on her in a way he had not done before. As if released from some sort of paralysis, the Andorian suddenly looked much less blank, his antennae swiveling toward her and his face taking on a sneering, almost saturnine appearance. If he had looked intimidating before, the man now appeared positively dangerous, and Elinor found herself trembling under his suddenly sharp gaze and his sharper questions. His rapid-fire interrogation made her feel flustered and incompetent, although she understood his sense of urgency, and did her best to answer his inquiries.
Her initial relief at the appearance of a second Andorian - here was a possible source for the blood her patient so desperately needed! - soon gave way to silent consternation at Commander Tholos' evident reluctance to donate. What on earth should prevent him? she wondered to herself with indignant amazement, only to recall with chagrin that she wasn't on Earth anymore, nor anywhere near it. Who could say what motivated this blue-skinned alien, with his fierce-looking face and brusque manner, to do or not do anything? Perhaps Tholos and Commander Kelev were not on good enough terms for an exchange of blood, or perhaps the practice violated some warrior code about which she knew nothing. It was impossible to say.
"I will donate the necessary blood," he said, after long moments of silent consideration, and Elinor let out a breath she hadn't even been conscious of holding.
"Very well, Commander," she replied, trying not to show how relieved she was at his decision. "I think it would be best to take some now, and then perhaps more at a later time. I have a small stasis unit where I can store the blood, while we work on treating Commander Kelev's wounds, and prepare him for dialysis." Elinor turned, already planning out the steps she would need to take for this unusual blood donation procedure. It would be necessary to use a scalpel to make an incision in the commander's skin, as the Andorian circulatory system contained very few veins, and needles would be of little use. Would a standard surgical scalpel suffice? she wondered, or should she use the laser scalpel? Intent on this question, and on getting the vials she needed, Elinor only belatedly realized that Connor was frozen in place, gaze fixed on the Andorian behind her. Turning again, she saw with alarm that the man had drawn a wicked-looking dagger, and, putting it down on a nearby supply table, was rolling up his sleeve. Surely he didn't intend to use his knife...?
"If you'll let me get a medical scalpel, Commander..," she said faintly, trailing off as he looked up at her, his expression almost satirical.
"This will be sufficient, Doctor Elinor," he had replied, and then, perhaps thinking that she might require further clarification, he continued: "in blood exchanges it is customary to use one's own hrisal."
"It's Doctor Cameron," Connor said unexpectedly from behind her, his usually friendly voice cool and somewhat clipped. The commander paused, his antennae cocked toward her assistant in an almost speculative way, and Elinor wondered in alarm if the nurse's statement constituted some sort of insult or challenge.
"It's not that important," she had assured Tholos, whose antennae had swiveled back toward her, and curved in on themselves in such a way that she was reminded of a question mark. He regarded her in silence for a minute, and Elinor wondered if he found her to be as much of a challenge to decipher as she did him.
"Among Andorians, the correct form of address is considered essential," he replied matter-of-factly. "I ask forgiveness for my error, Doctor Cameron."
Flustered at this apology, delivered without inflection, and with no hint of a sneer, Elinor nodded her head. "The important thing is to help Commander Kelev," she replied, walking over to the supply cabinet to hide her embarrassment. She had always found conflict intensely uncomfortable, going out of her way to avoid situations that might lead to tension. The idea of telling the fierce-looking Andorian commander that he had gotten her name wrong would simply never have occurred to her, and she was a little surprised that her usually easy-going assistant had felt strongly enough about it to have done so himself. Collecting the vials she would need, she set them down on the counter and inserted her hands into the tabletop decontamination unit. Connor appeared beside her, with the topical anti-fungals he had been using on their patient.
"If you've finished with his wounds," she said, turning to her assistant, "let's administer forty ccs of idrazole, and get the portable radiation device ready. I'll begin excising the necrotic tissue as soon as I've collected Commander Tholos' blood. Can you bring the laser scalpel in? I believe it's in the external utility shed."
"Of course, Doc," the nurse replied, but stood hesitating all the same. Realizing that the man was reluctant to leave her alone with Tholos, she gave his arm a reassuring pat, before gently pushing him toward the door. Turning to the Andorian, Elinor discovered that he was watching them carefully, eyes tracking Connor as he made his way to the door.
"We keep certain items, like the laser scalpel, in the outside utility shed, where we have a better security system," she hastened to explain. "Anything that might be used as a weapon, like the scalpel, or anything that might be particularly tempting to thieves, is kept locked up when not in use."
"You are... unarmed?" the commander asked slowly, as if attempting to grasp an unfamiliar concept. "How do you ensure your safety here? The Shengars can be a dangerous place."
"We're here to help people, not fight them," Elinor replied, flushing a bit at the way the commander's antennae suddenly straightened out - in alarm, she wondered, or just surprise? - at her words. "We have no need of weapons."
"Your assistant is armed," Tholos observed, his blue lips curling in a sneer.
"Connor? Whatever makes you think that?" she asked in surprise.
"You can see it in the way he carries himself," the Andorian replied briefly, his tone making it plain that he thought it was obvious. "Shall we begin, Doctor?" he continued, picking up his curved dagger. "How much blood will you need?"
Disoriented by the rapid change of topic - was Connor really armed? she wondered a little wildly - Elinor paused for a minute before replying. "With humans we usually take around 450 milliliters. As Andorians have roughly the same volume of blood, we'll start there for now."
Dipping his antennae in acknowledgement, Tholos made a brief incision in his forearm, cutting length-wise down the center. His face impassive, his antennae still, he looked down at the blue blood welling up from the wound before turning to Commander Kelev. Bowing his antennae, he spoke aloud: "I offer this blood for my brother. May I live in him, and he in me."
Turning back to Elinor, he held out his arm to her. Taking a vial, she pressed it to the lower end of the incision, watching as the beautiful blue substance, which had an almost pearl-like radiance to it, filled the glass container. Swapping the full vial out for an empty one, Elinor glanced up at the commander's face, and immediately wished she hadn't. He was looking down at her, his antennae curved forward and fixed upon her, his face relaxed, almost pleasant. Conscious of their proximity, and embarrassed by Tholos' frank, assessing gaze, she blushed furiously. The hand holding the vial trembled, and the commander reached out, putting his cool hand over hers and steadying it. She shivered, remembering that the mean Andorian body temperature was somewhat below the norm for humans.
"You will come to no harm through me, Doctor Cameron," the commander said, that satirical look, midway between a smirk and a sneer, back on his face.
"Of course not, Commander," Elinor replied a little breathlessly, blushing even more deeply, and furious at her seeming inability to control her own reactions to the blue-skinned alien. Why did she always seem to feel most flustered around people who were themselves so confident and collected, people who no doubt had not even a passing acquaintance with embarrassment or insecurity? Everyone knew that Andorians respected strength, and despised weakness! Why couldn't she appear more in control? she wondered helplessly.
Finishing up with the last vial, she walked over to the counter, opening the door of the stasis unit and carefully placing the glass containers in their proper places. Grabbing a tube of anti-fungal cream and an antiseptic bandage, she turned around to find Tholos already rolling down his sleeve.
"I need to treat and bandage your incision, Commander," she said.
"That won't be necessary, Doctor," he replied.
"I cannot agree. Fungal infections are quite common here on Coridan - just look at the state of Commander Kelev's wounds! I couldn't possibly let you leave with an untreated open wound, no matter the size." When the Andorian merely cocked an antenna at her in reply, Elinor walked over to stand in front of the door, arms crossed in front of her. "Please roll your sleeve up, Commander," she said, attempting to sound calm and in command of the situation.
"Are all pink-skins this fussy?" he asked almost teasingly, slowly moving to comply.
"No, some of us are just as stubborn as you," she shot back, hardly daring to believe her own boldness. "Are all Andorians this foolhardy?"
"Yes," he replied succinctly, his antennae wiggling in such a way that Elinor suspected he was laughing at her. She humphed softly, moving to treat his incision. Just as she was finishing up with the bandage, the commander looking on with a curious but somewhat detached air, Connor walked in with the radiation unit and the scalpel.
"We'll be all set up in a moment, Doc," he said, eyes scanning the pair before him, as if assessing whether anything untoward had occurred in his absence. Tholos pulled his sleeve down, and walked over to the treatment table. "How long until I am able to move Kelev, Doctor?" he asked, looking over at Elinor.
"I'm not sure, Commander," she replied. "He definitely cannot be moved right now, and probably not for at least a week, unless you have a clean medical environment to which you can transfer him."
The Andorian was silent for a moment, clearly weighing the options as he gazed down at his comrade. When he spoke, it was with a reluctance that seemed somehow out of character for a man obviously used to command. "I cannot leave him here," he began, looking up at Elinor's sharply indrawn breath. Before she had a chance to object to the idea of her patient being moved, however, Connor unexpectedly laid a gentle hand on her forearm, shaking his head minutely at her.
"We could convert the external utility shed into a treatment room," the nurse said calmly. "No one would need to know that Commander Kelev was here."
The two men exchanged a long look. It was as if they were communicating silently with one another, thought Elinor. "What about the Coridanite doctor who works here with you?" Tholos asked.
"He rarely goes out to the shed," the Irishman replied, the beginnings of a smile in his eyes. "I'm usually the one who fetches supplies, and it is a part of my duties to keep the shed in order."
Tholos considered this in silence for a moment, gazing at Connor in an assessing way. The nurse stood calmly looking back, waiting for a decision. "If you can assure me that the Coridanite will not be made aware of his presence, I will leave Kelev here until he can be moved," he said at last.
To Elinor's surprise, the Irishman nodded. "Agreed. We won't tell him a thing."
"Doctor?" the commander asked, as if wanting her assurance as well.
"We treat many people without any thought of alerting the authorities, or anyone else," she said. "Dr. Togar is a committed healer and a compassionate man, but if keeping the commander's presence from him will convince you to leave your colleague in our care, then I agree."
Tholos dipped his antennae at her, as if in acknowledgement. "I will return tomorrow or the day after to check on Kelev," he said, turning toward the door.
"But Commander," Elinor burst out, suddenly realizing that in all the discussion they had not addressed the issue of the men who had attacked her patient. "What if the men who assaulted Commander Kelev come looking for him again? Can we be sure that they are unaware of his location?"
The blue-skinned commander paused at the door, looking back at her, and Elinor trembled at the expression on his face. He looked utterly ruthless, like a man who would not draw back from any harsh act in the pursuit of his own ends. "You need not be concerned, Doctor," he said softly, his words taking on a certain sibilant quality that was equal parts mesmerizing and terrifying. "The dishonorable criminals who ambushed Commander Kelev won't live long enough to try their cowardly handiwork on any other." With that, he dipped his antennae a final time toward the two humans, and turned and walked out the door.