Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC's. Thank you so much to Fameanon for helping me write this.
This story is a loving tribute to Bob Morrisey and Gregory Itzin. Rest In Peace.
A small red headed woman with gently pointed ears sat nervously across from Strom. He was very hopeful as he looked over her resume, but also very curious. He had met half Vulcans before, but never a person with such diluted Vulcan blood. From just looking at her, he suspected that her Vulcan ancestry was at least two, perhaps three generations back.
"Shija Malone," he said, and she snapped to attention. "An interesting mixture of names. My great foremother's name was Shija, and yet Malone is, if I am not mistaken, a human surname."
The young woman schooled her response, pushing down her nervousness. "My family is Vulcan, on my father's side, my father's father to be specific. I think he came from…Ra'al," she said, very unsure of herself.
"Intriguing. Your resume is also unusual. You were a member of a religious order of nuns?"
"I was, is that a problem?" Her hesitation was evidenced by her suddenly breathy voice.
"Not at all. On Vulcan, we honor such life commitments greatly. We have equivalent orders dedicated to logic and the pursuit of knowledge. It is an admirable life, one I could not participate in."
Strom couldn't believe he just admitted that out loud, and to a stranger, no less. This new life had changed him in just the short few months he had been there. Thankfully, the Guardian, who or whatever he was, had set him up with some money and appropriate credentials to start a life. He hoped Sopek and Letant had received the same consideration. Once he hired his assistant, he promised himself that he would continue to look for them both.
A gentle clearing of the throat roused him from his thoughts, and he looked to the young woman again. "If you are concerned about emotional considerations…"
Strom held up his hand. "I am not. I worked in the Interspecies Medical Exchange for many years and am adept at the emotional instability of non-Vulcan life forms." He looked over her resume. "You went from the religious order to nursing. Can you tell me why?"
"The prerequisite for being a sister in the Order of the Merciful Heart was to have a nursing certification. We were a working order who were stationed among the poor and suffering of various colonies throughout the galaxy," she said, clearly remembering fondly her time there. "Post scarcity has not reached everyone just yet. When I left the order, I went back to school so I could be a nurse practitioner, as it seemed…um…logical."
"It was a wise investment of time," Strom agreed, his mind made up that she was the perfect candidate to be his right hand in his new practice. "I have created a packet of responsibilities, duty expectations, and privileges this posting would allow you." He handed her a PADD across the table. "Every year we will attend four Inter-Species Medical Conferences." He said it with the gravitas that someone might use when giving a fifty-thousand-dollar sign-on bonus. "And you will be allowed to hire your own support staff."
Her eyebrow raised. "Are…are you offering me the position?" She tried not to hyperventilate with joy.
"I am," Strom said flatly. "Based on your personality, discipline, and skillset, I believe I will not find a more appropriate applicant."
She blinked several times in succession to keep away the tears that threatened to spill from her eyelashes.
"Do you accept?" Strom continued, realizing she may be having second thoughts.
"Oh, yes. I accept it all." She snatched the PADD from his hands like a woman who was afraid he'd change his mind. "I accept!" she reiterated.
Strom nodded. "Agreeable. Tomorrow, return here and meet with work resources to orient yourself, then on Monday you will return to this office and we will begin onboarding you into the practice."
She popped up out of her chair. "You will not regret this, Dr. Strom! Thank you." She moved to shake his hand, then abruptly pulled it back and instead raised an awkward ta'al. With that, she swiftly exited his office, closing the door behind her.
Strom leaned back in his chair, looking back over his new assistant's resume. He wondered at her exit from the Order of the Merciful Heart, but reasoned that without the guidance of a parent's logic - which she would have received if she were fully Vulcan - a human hybrid such as herself would be forced to find her own path. Perhaps that path included some trial and error, but he could feel her earnest nature even without touching her. She would do well in the medical sciences, and he looked forward to knowing her better.
The rest of his shift passed with no issue, and he was on his way to his small aircar when he heard a mewling sound from the nearby bushes.
He stopped, and crouched down, and saw an orange tabby kitten shivering in the underbrush, the corpse of its mother beside it, cold and unmoving.
He thought the little creature would run at the sight of him, but it padded up to him, its steps wobbly and uncertain, and its cries of hunger pierced the evening air.
Strom gently touched the little kitten on the forehead. He instantly felt its fear and hunger, but also a strange sense of relief, a sense of having found who they were supposed to find. It was an imprecise translation of feelings, but he felt suddenly owned by the little creature. Stuffing the tiny kitten in his interior pocket, he removed two kerchiefs from his pants pockets and very carefully wrapped the dead mother up so he could carry the body without touching it.
He placed it in the trunk of the aircar and made his way home to his small cottage house by the local river. When he arrived, he removed the mother cat from his trunk and replicated a small garden spade. Taking it and the kitten (who was now sleeping in his pocket with a gentle purr) to the backyard, he carefully measured the cat's body and dug out a hole long enough so it could fit, and deep enough as to not attract scavengers.
Once that was done, he filled the hole, placed a small stone on the freshly dug earth to mark the spot, and then went into the house to get cleaned up. With great care he laid his jacket and the kitten on the bed, and went for a shower.
It appeared that he had acquired something he had never had before, a pet. Not even when he was a boy did he have an animal companion; they were forbidden by his father, a strict disciplinarian. Two hundred years later and he was able to have his first. After his shower he would do the research required to care for the tiny creature that now shared his home with him.
…
Sopek had spent the last two months meandering around Earth where he had landed after he and Strom stepped through the porthole. He had assumed they might land near one another, but he looked all over that day and saw nothing. He had a small home, an aircar, identification as a pilot, and other sundries, but no sense of purpose or roots.
He took a weeklong trip back to Vulcan. Everything was the same there, but slightly different. Nothing he could put his finger on exactly, it was just off. That trip did allow him to find Strom, who was stationed at a hospital in one of the western states of the old United States of America. Oddly enough, Strom was in the city he had landed in, just across town. Had he been more patient, he would have run into him, but in fairness to himself, he'd never been dead before and had no real measure by which to find guidance.
In truth, he needed a friend, as he didn't exactly know what to do with this newfound freedom. His entire life had been in service to the High Command, and even at 230 years old, he waited for orders. As illogical as it felt, due to his age and experience, he wanted someone to tell him what to do. Or, at the very least, give him some guidance. He was sure Strom might have something to add from his own experience. And so it was time to return to where he started, and on Monday he would go see his friend.
In the meantime, he took this opportunity at a new life to learn about Earth, and explore his surroundings. In his previous life, he had found humans irrational and impulsive, but he would rather be surrounded by his fellow humanoids than dawdle at home doing nothing. He was used to being around others in rather contained quarters, and though the unknown of this new existence was fascinating, he still longed for some familiarity.
He decided it would not be untoward to use the public transportation system to make a trip to the local library, and he meandered down his road to the nearest transportation depot.
"Everyone stand back!" Sopek heard a female voice cry out as the train came into the station. There weren't many people there, but the few present backed off from the scene, and it peaked Sopek's curiosity. He approached from a side angle just in case this was a problem he might need to physically fight.
When he got to the bushes, he saw a demure woman with red hair performing some kind of medical movement on a man's chest. She would breathe for him, and then push on his chest to stimulate the heart muscle. She did this without a break for ten minutes before the first responders arrived to take over.
Once the professional team was there, which was fascinating to watch in and of itself, the young woman gathered her belongings and boarded the train. Sopek followed her and casually sat in the seat across from her. It was then that he noticed the tips of her ears. He raised the ta'al to her and spoke in their home language. Then his jaw slacked at the sight of her cheeks turning a rosy tint.
'I'm sorry, I don't speak Vulcan."
Sopek's eyes widened slightly. The sound of her voice, her tone, everything was human. "Forgive me, I saw your ears and assumed."
She smiled brightly. "Oh I get that all the time. That and…" She paused and lifted up her hair. "See? They are real, I'm not just putting on ears."
Sopek nodded slowly. "I see." He didn't really see, but he thought he might have understood. Somewhere in her line there was a Vulcan or two. That fascinated him, since in his youth such unions were frowned upon. "I am Sopek," he continued as an introduction, raising the ta'al once again.
"Shija," she replied, her own hand floating between returning the sign or offering her hand to shake. In the end, she waved her hand about and then let it fall limply into her lap.
He was confused at her greeting, but decided it would be impolite to comment on it. "Shija. That is a Vulcan name. It is..." He tilted his head. "It is a rare name, but it suits you."
She smiled slightly, then a look of guilt crossed her face, which made him frown. Her expression calmed into a wooden, almost graceless neutrality, and her warm golden eyes bored into the space in front of her, as if a great secret were inscribed on the fabric.
"What was the procedure you performed on that man?" he asked, loathe to exit this conversation. There was something unusually intriguing about this woman, and he found her responses - a strange mix of Vulcan and human mannerisms - fascinating.
"CPR," she replied. "I don't know the Vulcan term for it, but it stands for cardiopulmonary resuscitation. It's an emergency procedure consisting of chest compressions and artificial ventilation." He raised an eyebrow, and she laughed awkwardly. "Uh...mouth-to-mouth?"
He nodded. "I understood the explanation. It looked quite taxing."
"It is," she said with a sigh, running a hand through her short red hair. "But thankfully my heritage gives me an advantage in that department, so to speak. I find I have more endurance than many of my peers."
"You performed admirably, and your quick reaction and willingness to save a stranger..." He swallowed thickly, finding his mouth had suddenly gone dry. "You are an honor and a credit to your family, to both our races. May I ask, where did you learn this? Are you a medical practitioner by trade?"
The red headed woman grinned but looked down at her lap to hide it; something inside her wanted to giggle at the way he phrased his questions, by trade. There wasn't anything funny about it, but it made her feel shy, "I'm a nurse practitioner, which is where it gets confusing. I have a doctorate in nursing, which technically makes me a doctor, and I can treat and prescribe medications for patients, but I'm not an actual doctor." She schooled her face so as to not be seen as a grinning ninny and looked up at him. "I know outside of the medical field that doesn't make any sense, but the answer is yes, I am a medical worker by trade. I work at the hospital this train dead ends at."
"I am going to that hospital now." Sopek said, changing his plans on a whim. "I have a friend there. He is a doctor."
She chuckled and shifted in her seat uncomfortably. "That friend wouldn't be Dr. Strom would it?" She didn't know if it was racial profiling to assume his friend was also a Vulcan, but it seemed kind of obvious since Strom was literally the only Vulcan staff member other than her.
"That is my friend," Sopek affirmed. "You know him, then." He sat forward a little.
"I just started working for him. He is the head of neurology. I'm his assistant," she said, much brighter than any Vulcan woman would, but then her face fell into that graceless wooden facade.
"Then, with your permission, I will follow you to work."
"Sure, why not. The more the merrier!" she said brightly, and then closed her eyes chastising herself softly for that dumb turn of phrase.
…
Strom was turned with his back to the door, bent over a small box where he had the kitten arranged with a gentle heating pad, a small stone that mimicked the heartbeat of a cat mother, and plenty of blankets. The material said he must feed the kitten every three hours to start, and so he set it up in his office at the hospital to assure the prompt delivery of nutrition.
He had just finished warming the bottle when he heard his door open, with kitten and bottle in hand he saw his assistant, and his friend Sopek. He schooled himself not to react, but nodded. "Sopek, my friend, it is agreeable to see you." He gently held up the kitten to show them both. "Forgive me for not raising a ta'al, but timing is crucial in the care of such a small mammal."
Shija melted. "Oh, that is so cute!" She grinned. "Look at the little milk belly!" She cooed at the kitten and rubbed a finger over its forehead. "I'll take the little one off your hands for you, doctor, if you want to visit with your friend."
"No, I am able to perform this task. Go to the HR department and gather what you might need," he replied with a nod, and then instantly noticed his new assistant had garnered the attention of his friend. The signs were small, imperceptible if you didn't know Vulcan men and their customs, but following Sopek's eyes, the signs were there.
Shija quickly agreed and made to leave, but paused as Sopek spoke again.
"She saved a human man with CPR," he bragged. "I saw this at the train station. It was impressive."
Strom raised an eyebrow; that explained his fixation. He nodded for his assistant to leave and then looked to Sopek. "She is a highly skilled and disciplined addition to my team. She was a former nun, much like the priestesses and monks of logic back home. It does not surprise me that she would aid a stranger in need, it seems to be consistent with the little I know."
He turned and gently lay the now full and sleepy kitten on the heating pad and turned on the heartbeat so it would rest comfortably. "It is agreeable to see you, I did not know whether or not we would find each other."
His friend seemed so certain that he was the Sopek he had known before, but to be sure beyond a doubt, Sopek took a deep breath and said the sign.
"Yes...Carl sends his fondest greetings."
Strom stared for a moment, then bowed his head, and he knew beyond any uncertainty that it was his friend. "An interesting turn of events, but not an unpleasant one. What sort of credentials were left to you?"
"I have a piloting license, but I have no desire to pursue that as my career. There is service in it, yes, but after what I have seen today..." His eyes, almost against his will, trailed to the door, to where Shija had last been in his line of sight. What a fascinating woman, and how fortuitous that she would be Strom's assistant of all things. They would cross paths often, and Sopek found the notion most agreeable. "Your assistant is...a credit to you, to your staff and to her family. It is obvious that one or more of her ancestors was one of our people. Have you been able to ascertain who?"
"You have taken quite an interest in my new assistant," Strom replied, tilting his head slightly and letting an air of amusement suffuse his words; he was not disagreeable to Sopek pursuing Shija as a potential mate.
"I only ask out of curiosity," the admiral replied flatly, though Strom noted the slightest tinge of green touching the tips of his ears. "I'm sure you recall, in our time, human-Vulcan pairings were frowned upon by the High Command, but several unions were born out of that time regardless. I was simply curious if I perhaps knew the Vulcan in question. An idle curiosity, doctor."
Strom nodded, noting Sopek's gaze was once more trained on the door. "She believes her grandfather came from..." He smirked. "Perhaps I should let her tell you. It would be an interesting conversation starter, wouldn't you agree?"
Both eyebrows rose to his hairline, and he turned to his friend. "Perhaps," he said as neutrally as he could. "I do believe I want to go into this medical field to serve. I have no desire to serve the High command for another two hundred years of my life. It was an agreeable life but given this is the place where our…where Carl placed us, I believe he meant for us to make our lives here. Do you have any ideas or suggestions?"
Strom pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows, thinking about the skillset the admiral had. Then it hit him and his eyes brightened. "First responder. The schooling is two years, and you already have many skills that will aid you. You are a good pilot and driver, which is needed when flying into potentially hazardous spaces to find the victims you will be helping. You are Vulcan, so strong and adept at lifting. The schooling will aid you in learning things such as you saw this morning, among other lifesaving and stabilizing skills."
Sopek gently nodded as Strom spoke. They had such people on Vulcan as well, and in the military. It was a noble way to serve life." Sopek agreed, and it would be a start in this medical field which seemed more appealing to him.
"I can have the schooling set up for you." Strom offered.
"If it is no trouble," Sopek said with a nod of gratitude.
"Admiral, you served all of Vulcan, as the humans say…it is the least I could do. Now, would you join me for mid meal and tea?"
Sopek nodded. "I would be grateful for that."