The doors close automatically, but Juliette continued staring - concealed from the lightning storm and dust, lost to her family, hidden from the Vulcan Science Academy. She sighed, rested her palm against the door and lightly raked her nails across the surface.

The third Scion of House Sri has been brought to Vulcan under false pretenses. The fact Matron's words echoed The Trial of Coletta was no accident. It was one of Matron's favorite Passion Operas-

Oh stupid, stupid! The mask! The mask was from The Trial of Coletta as well. Coletta's daughters were taken hostage by opposing houses. Matron's message was clear: She didn't believe the delays in the Vulcan Science Academy were an accident, and that for all purposes, Juliette was a hostage, but whether for good or ill. In The Trial of Coletta, there were two houses that had taken the scions of Coletta hostage. One house took a hostage to enrich itself and by the other thwarted assassins within House Coletta and only took tribute to deceive the assassins. The "houses of boon and bane" changed each performance.

Which were the Vulcans? Hadn't they done some good? She could be around people and not have to wear that ugly helmet. Correction - she could be around Vulcans. And they had lied - even to each other. P'nem and Lorot's surprise had been genuine. But to what purpose? Tribute? To the Vulcans? What could the Vulcans possibly demand of the 433rd House of Betazed? Latinum? Vulcans weren't Ferengi, they didn't need Latinum. Knowledge? That was freely shared between Federation worlds. Perhaps support in some Federation Council decision? Maybe, but to have Betazed influence the Council, they should have captured one of the Decadet. Only the top ten houses have direct influence with the Federation. Every house - at least from the Pentahectad and above, were taught about being a hostage. Pay attention to your surroundings, anything you notice could help in the event of rescue.

She sensed Danek's presence as he approached, but kept her back to him until he stopped and cleared his throat. She let him wait a little longer before she crossed her arms and pivoted. His face was pink and clean, his onyx hair was tamed back into its traditional bowl, and his travelling robe had been replaced with a pale blue tunic with dark blue scapular and hood. His cleanliness made her feel all the grubbier.

"We have established a connection back to the city. My mother asked me to find you and escort you back."

She matched his emotionless expression with her own stubborn silence until he arched his brow. Juliette held her hands out from her sides to show the frayed sleeves of the dirty travelling robe hanging over her fingers. "I would like to be more presentable to my family."

"Very well, I shall escort you to facilities. This way."

Juliette cared more about learning her surroundings than cleaning up for the family and she tried to be more attentive to her route. As they walked the lights flickered, then dimmed to near darkness before their glow resumed. When the lights returned, Danek had a light in his hand.

"You should not wander the hallways without a light. Sometimes the power goes out."

Juliette imagined having to grope her way through the pitch black hallways, stumbling into walls. "Is that because of the storm?"

"The storm does not help, but many of these systems predates the Time of Awakening. "

"How long-"

"Slightly over twenty-two hundred years ago."

"This was around then?"

"Yes, and in much better condition."

Juliette's mind whirled at the thought. Twenty two hundred years ago, when the Ten Great Houses were forming the Decadet and the Gearworks of Rixx was still a futurist's dream, Vulcans stood in these alloy halls, bathed in bulbed lighting, twisting knobs and pulling levers on ancient consoles. Danek, with his bowl cut and robes fit in more with these leaden corridors than with the sleek lines of the space port.

"Are there many monks here?"

"One hundred thirty-three in all, but there are others that stay here - like those who follow Kolinahr.

Juliette let her gaze drift down the deserted hallway. "Where is everyone?"

"All the novices should be sleeping. Even though the monastery is mostly underground, we follow the daylight patterns of the surface. The halls will be brighter during the day. You will get used to it."

"I don't want to get used to it. I was promised to be sent to the Vulcan Science Academy, not this run-down cave."

"This run-down cave is where my mother walked the path of Kolinahr. My father's calligraphy is on many of the banners. My ceremony of bonding was held on the summit, at Surak's Shrine."

Juliette's rubbed her temples. Hosts or captors, it did her no good to antagonize them. "I am sorry. I did not mean to offend."

"I am a Vulcan, Juliette. To be offended is to be emotional. I am not emotional."

"But in the storm, I felt your fear - It's alright, I was scared too."

It was as if they were separated by glass. Danek folded his hands into the sleeves of his robe, looked down, and said nothing until he stopped and nodded to a door. "I will find you fresh robes."

The facilities were spartan but serviceable, and more importantly, a better place for her to think. She hung the disheveled travelling robe on a hook and washed away the layers of dust as best she could in a small basin.

She looked into the tall, narrow mirror on the wall; bloodshot eyes stared back, held up by sand-scoured cheeks. Her hair refused to obediently lie and formed a dirty sprawl. No wonder matron had been so startled. Much of the Vulcan dust had filtered through her robe and gave the hiking outfit she worn underneath appear pale and travel-worn. A length of dirty bandage hung uncoiled from her hand, showing her palms pink and mottled with the remnants of blisters. The sight reinforced the ruin, and her strength drained away. The desert had nearly killed her, and now she was prisoner in an ancient monastery. Escape? Vulcans were faster, stronger. Even if she escaped and didn't get lost, there was nowhere to go. Juliette hugged her knees tight against herself and sobbed.

"There-there."

The sound took Juliette completely by surprise. A Vulcan stood in front of her. Her pallid face started narrow and angled to a fine, pointed chin and a mouth fixed in a small frown. Her ears pushed outward from her head. Juliette looked at the girl incredulously and tried to comprehend what she had just said.

"There-there," She repeated. Her lips hardly moved. She studied Juliette a moment as if she had was a lab experiment, then asked, "You do understand Federation Standard, don't you?"

Juliette puzzled through the accent, then replied in Vulcan. "I most certainly do, and I also speak Vulcan."

"Then I do not understand why my Terran comforting technique is not having the desired effect."

Juliette glared and her words carried an icy chill. "I am not terran."

"You certainly look Terran, well, if Terrans have red eyes." She tilted her head, thinking aloud. "Do Terrans have red eyes? You are only the fifth or so I have met -"

"I am not-"

She leaned forward. "Of course, it did not work because I forgot the required tactile action," Her expression held no warmth as it loomed before Juliette. "There-there," she said as she gently patted the top of Juliette's hand with her own.

Juliette felt the rush of telepathic contact as their hands touched. Memories swirled and tightened around each other. Her name was T'Mar. She lived with her mother near ShiKahr, but her real home was the monastery. She'd been looking for -something, and then there was this alien with yellow hair. How did she know her name was Juliette and she was in an emotional crisis, like a Terran, but she wasn't Terran, she was something else, something bright that burned, and hurt, but she couldn't pull away.

Everything was boiling.

Juliette wasn't sure who had screamed louder. T'Mar grip crushed Juliette's bandaged hand and she felt a series of wet pops from her knuckles to her shoulder. Juliette frantically tried to close the connection between them, but the images and memories that rushed to her shattered into sharp fragments.

This was nothing like the sehlat - she had no sense of anything.

Juliette Sri. You must release T'Mar.

Master Surot? Juliette couldn't respond. She was shattering like T'Mar, exploding, dissolving. She couldn't even ask Surot for help.

I regret there is no option without pain, Juliette Sri.

She felt a sharp stab, a hook catching whatever was left. It pulled her downward.