Chapter 5 – Mossy, Targ of the Universe

His mother had named him Mozinarah Orionoth Clefthoof of the Green Expanse, and his siblings, of which there were many, referred to him Mossy for short. His mother was a Great Matron of the Targ[1] Tribe, and had given birth to many generations of Targ in her lifetime.

They were not unhappy with the Klingons. Long had their tribe served as their pets and companions, but the garden of the Xyrillian ship[2] was too tempting to ignore. It had soil instead of gravel and living plants instead of straw, and after visiting nobody wanted to leave. Even after the flaps closed, plunging the plants and soil into darkness, it was still preferable to the freeze-dried kibble they had grown used to in space. His great uncle, a Targ of great wit and guile, had charmed the Xyrillian computer into allowing them access to the garden space. In return, they were to work with the bees and other plants and insects, to cultivate and consume their own share, in exchange for assisting their new hosts.

However, the migration of the Targs had aroused the Klingons to the presence of the hidden ship[3], and they had come in as far as the garden. Mossy was unsure of what he could do, if he should do anything, and decided to ask the one person he always turned to for advice.

Esmerelda Mozinorionoth Bristleback Clefthoof was an older Targ of great renown, and Mossy was one of her many, many, many children. She was carefully pulling out some pesky but delicious tangle root when she saw him approaching.

“May warm salutations find you in the cold of space, Great Mother of Many Generations!” Mossy began with the usual formalities common with Targs. “Did you know there’s a Vulcan on the lower ramp? I believe he is a warrior. I can smell the rosy[4] blood on his sword.”

“Greetings, exalted young Mossy, honored descendent and favored child. Your greeting warms me in the cold of space. Yes, I smell the Klingons, I smell them falling dead in battle. But there is also the scent of copper in the air. Green blood, Vulcan blood.”

Targs don’t see very well, and many are blind in old age. Their hearing and sense of smell are acute to a degree many described as clairvoyant, and can even detect genetic anomalies in living beings.

The garden was dark, but filled with scent and sound. Their ears and noses twitched with calm interest as the Klingons and a single Vulcan appeared, rising from the metal ramp that led into the center of the garden from downstairs.

The catwalk leading up from the spiral ramp shook and rattled. Two Klingons stumbled backward, one already bleeding from a deep cut in the leg, the other clutching his side, but still holding his sword in a guarded position and trying to give his friend cover to escape.

Vurkhen had served two tours with the Klingon warship, which was almost ten years. Today he watched this fearsome Vulcan, and his strange blue eye as he mowed his way through his crewmates. Like any of them, he was looking forward to a warrior’s death.

At the same time, he thought, if only he could live to tell this tale.

The port back to the Klingon ship was nearby, and it seemed like he would have the misfortune of survival.

Mossy and Esmerelda watched the scene with calm interest. Several other Targs had also taken notice, and raised their heads from their vegetable beds and flower rows.

“Great and honored Matron,” Mossy said, “are we returning to the Klingon ship?”

“We are not, my faithful and inquisitive son.”

“Will the Klingons keep the garden if they take the Xyrillian ship, Honored Matron?”

“I expect not, oh son, who speaks of the future.”

“Then we should aid the Vulcans and Xyrillians, and forsake our Klingon hosts.”

“Your conclusion is wise, my honored son, and I would counsel the same.”

Throughout the course of this calm and measured conversation, the Vulcan had driven the two Klingons along the narrow path in the center of the garden towards the door the Klingons had used as an access point. Smears of pink and dark green followed them down the steel pathway.

The room was still dark, but Selek knew he was in the garden from the smell. Dirt, grass, fresh water, and something else he couldn’t place. It was damp and rank, dug from the deep earth and left in the sun for a day. Pungent but not unpleasant.

The flaps were still closed, but the lights along the catwalk were at his feet, and shining that dull yellow didn’t reveal very much other than what was immediately in front of him. All that was in his field of vision now was two wounded Klingons in a reluctant, stumbling retreat.

Whatever had driven Selek up through the access ramp, which contained several members of the Klingon crew, was ebbing from the various wounds on his body and leaving a trail of distinct footprints along the floor. Blood mixed with sweat started to drip from his temple and past his naked eye.

The lever that would open the flaps was at the end of the catwalk, where there was also a convenient access point. He could not see it yet, but the Klingons knew where it was and he followed them. A blue archway faded into view, activated by their movements, and he took a moment to pull the metal lever on his left side.

The two Klingons stumbled back through steel archway. Selek was still hungry for their blood, and stinging from the heat of fighting. He took a long stride to follow them.

The steel flaps that blocked out the light of a nearby sun began to rise. Heat and light crept into the garden. Insects stirred among the leaves and plants.

A familiar voice cracked over the speaker behind his ear.

“Too far, buddy,” he recognized Ah’zhen’s voice through the speaker. “Take two steps back.”

Selek could feel his head getting light, but he managed to take two careful steps backward, his sword carefully held in a guarded position.

One of the Klingons lay on the floor, holding his leg. The other sank to one knee as Selek backed away.

The airlock door closed, and the Vulcan disappeared. They heard a hiss as the ship uncoupled.

The Vulcan was gone, and the Xyrillian ship with him. All that was left was a muddy imprint of his foot on the metal catwalk.

Captain Ah’zhen was roused from sleep by the computer, as she expected, but she was surprised by the urgency of the computer’s voice.

“Status report!”

“I’ll debrief you later.” The computer’s voice chirped. “Right now, you need to get upstairs. He’ll bleed out unless the medics reach him in time.”

Ah’zhen knew what she meant immediately.

“Where is he?”

“The garden, by the access portal.” Ah’zhen was already moving and barely heard the computer’s voice continue, “Just follow the trail of green blood.”

Strips of white light began to move and rise along the steel catwalk. There was a beeping sound, and the emergency beacons along the floor slowly faded, their sensors triggered by the light of a yellow star outside. Mossy watched the door close, and carefully walked toward the Vulcan, who was hanging on to his sword with one hand and leaning heavily on the steel railing with the other.

Mossy slowly trotted towards the swordsman carefully, better safe than sorry after all. He was likely still dangerous.

The Targ breathed deeply.

It was difficult to get past the rank odor of copper. Mossy envisioned a sea of dark green at the edge of a moonless night, a moving ocean of sand and lava on a hot and dry desert planet. A Vulcan indeed, but there was something more, beneath the smell, and within the marrow of the blood. Mossy listened closely, and he could hear it before he caught the scent; a line of steel cutting across space from the arms of a young star, a burning mark that was dipped in water and became a mass of clouds and rain.

A planet of iron people, powered by water and steam.

He had heard of them, but could he be one? A Terran? He couldn’t wait to tell his mother!

Mossy was startled out of his thoughts when the Vulcan, or Terran, fell to one knee. He was still holding his sword and seemed to be admiring the greenery and warmth that was now clearly visible all around him. Then his eyes fell, and he seemed to notice the Targ for the first time. Mossy was standing next to him, easily within arm’s length.

The Vulan-Terran reached out and gently put his hand on Mossy’s snout.

“You must be that smell,” the creature said, a strange smile on its face. “Are…there…vegetables?[5]”

The Targ did not sense fear or pain, but only a tranquil, quiet gratitude.

“Bags,” he mumbled, “Vegetables. Beautiful.”

The hand slipped away, and Vulcan-Terran slumped over on his side, unconscious on the catwalk.

Mossy snorted, unsure of what do next.

Then he heard a strange sound by the steel archway. A light, metallic, tapping, and what sounded like a voice. He trotted over to investigate.

Ah’zhen told the computer to set Evade/Retreat Plan #4, taking them away from the Klingon ship at a zippy Warp 3. She sent a team that included her second in command to the bridge to see that it was carried out. The power was coming back, and they would need some evasive manoeuvres once the Klingons figured out what had happened. The scanners clearly showed Selek in the top level, in the garden most likely, but he had stopped moving. His vital signs were still on the tracker but getting weaker. Luckily, there was a service hatch underneath the access point, and that’s where they were heading now.

The top of the shaft was dark, however, and the hatch was not opening.

She hit the computer’s intercom. “I need this hatch open.”

“I’m trying to bypass the systems that the Klingon’s cut to get in here,” the computer replied. “They gutted the hydraulics on each side. There’s a release but it’s on the upper floor.”

Ah’zhen gritted her teeth. Someone would have to go around and up the ramp. She checked Selek’s vitals. They were fading.

She opened a channel and yelled into the intercom speaker.

“Do we have anyone in the garden?”

Rising out of a succulent plot of clover and dandelions was a round, metal plate. On the bottom of it, near Mossy’s right hoof, was a smaller metal circle. It was flashing with green light, a regular rhythm like a heartbeat, and Mossy could hear noises on the other side of it. He knew, just from the sound, that these were the ship’s residents and therefore, the growers of this garden.

Their news hosts, in their new home, and he was honoured to be the first Targ to welcome them. He stepped on the green circle.

It clicked, and the metal disc rose and opened.

[1] A small to medium sized pig-like animal commonly kept as a pet in Klingon culture. They’re adept at caring for gardens and are historically used to clear farms and crops of invasive plants, insects, and pests.

[2] Xyrillians keep gardens on their ships for recycling air and fresh veggies, especially Dutara root.

[3] Xyrillian ships rely mainly on defensive powers, like cloaking devices and stealth technology, and carry few weapons.

[4] Klingon blood is pink. This is why Star Trek VI is rated PG13 instead of R.

[5] This is a reference to when Selek and T’Nedara first met.

Chapter 4 – The Kumari

Posted by Kristy Ambrose

“Open a channel.”

Archer had expected a more dramatic message from the Andorians, who kept their contact at a minimum unless there was some kind of emergency, so he was surprised when he found out that their concerns were of a research and scientific nature.

He was so surprised that he opted to take the call in private, in his office. He sensed that there was something else that Shran wanted to tell him.

Jonthan Archer slumped angrily into his favorite office chair. Selek stood across from him, tempted to sit down but still fighting the need to stay aloof.

“Shran,” he said curtly into the monitor, “did you really stop me for this?”

“Wasn’t my idea, Pinkskin,” Shran was secretly grateful for the ability to speak freely. “But the Andorian Imperial Guard does have some pertinent ongoing scientific concerns, believe it or not. My opinion is that this mission is beneath the Kumari, but the high command says otherwise.”

The explanation given on the bridge, that the Andorians needed help taking some readings from the nearby star and a fledgling planet for its potential as an energy source, which is something that would benefit the Federation, was believable enough. But why did they need help from Enterprise?

“Is that why you need our help? Because the Kumari doesn’t have the facilities?”

“It’s not about the science,” Shran explained. “Our ships are built mainly for battle. They can maneuver well enough, but this young star is dangerous, unpredictable. We haven’t lost any scouting ships, but a few have been in distress in the midst of their research. The Kumari can’t get close enough, but we think the Enterprise can.”

Their location in space was nearing the HD 100546 star system[1], a galaxy that Terran astronomers had first discovered in the 20th century. Its young stars and forming planets were a source of fascination among scientists on a galactic level.

Selek recalled what information he knew about the star system, which Vulcans had already been studying for a long time. At a mere 10 million years old, it was the astronomical equivalent of a gurgling baby, a rare find in a universe of old red dwarves and hot yellow stars. New planets formed in the large belt of gas and dust that surrounded HD 100546. It burned so brightly humans could see it from the confines of planet Earth, a fuzzy smear in the constellation Musca, an ancient constellation deep in the southern sky.

In the early days when it was first mapped and named, the constellation was called The Fly, but it was renamed the Bee in 1603. Celestial globes of the period often depicted it as just out of reach of the nearby Chameleon, and even in the 24th century, it remained the only constellation in human history that depicted an insect.

The absence or collapse of insects on a planetary level means the death of whole ecosystems. Bees in particular are crucial to plant life, the basis of most life on any planet where photosynthesis and a food chain also exist.

A perfectly logical coincidence in a galaxy with a million billion stars.

Selek had to admit that despite Archer’s suspicions, this could be productive from a research standpoint and earn a gold star for a mission that remained controversial on earth.

“Planet B has surprised even our scientists, but the gravity of the star makes studying the planet at close range difficult. Our engineers have a plan, however, and all it would take is a small and temporary addition to your ship.”

Archer leaned in closer and let Shran continue before another terse interruption.

“…and of course you won’t object to the Chief Engineer’s close personal supervision?”

This time, it was Selek that leaned in. Shran exhaled, a reaction that Archer took for resignation.

“This is a delicate device, Captain,” Shran answered. “I expect your Engineers to treat it with respect.”

Archer didn’t have a good reason to say no. If he was to refuse out of caution or suspicion, the Andorians might take it as an insult, or even worse, judge him as a skittish coward. Besides, it wasn’t like Andorians hadn’t been on the ship before.

“I’ll put you through to Commander Tucker. He’ll direct your team.”

Shran had not exhaled in resignation, but relief. It seemed that Archer was going to allow the installation of their research device. Tucker could look all he wanted; he wouldn’t find anything strange about it.

Archer snorted and stormed out of his office. Selek followed him, anxious to get a look at the bridge.

“Reed, what’s the status on the Andorian research party?”

“Currently heading towards Engineering, sir,” the Lt answered curtly. “Everything seems to be in order.”

“Keep an extra eye on them,” He spoke to both T’Pol and Reed.

After a long and contemplative look at the bridge of the Enterprise, Selek followed.

[1] This is a real thing – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HD_100546.

Chapter 3 – Stowaway

Posted by Kristy Ambrose

“Didn’t Hoshi say she was going to the bridge?” Selek asked as they walked into Sick Bay.

Dr. Phlox was standing next to a bushy potted plant crowned with a few spiky purple flowers, peering at a small wooden box mounted at eye level on the wall. A light bulb that was suspended a few feet above it was fading, so slowly that the change was barely perceptible.

Another person was bent over the wooden box, peering at it with some interest.

“How is she, Doctor?” They asked, leaning close to one of the few bits of natural wood anywhere on the ship.

“Sealed up for the night, as you predicted,” Phlox replied cheerfully. “The incandescent light and the 24-hour cycle seem to be helping. But this plant you thought of? It’s lovely! So fragrant. What’s it called again?”

“Basil.” The bent figure carefully rose into a standing position and turned around. “Much easier to grow than orchids.”

Selek’s eyes widened. It was the Chief Engineer of the Enterprise, Charles Tucker III.

“Are you checking on Dilemma at bedtime too?”

The two of them chuckled at the nickname that Trip had given the insect, which was a reference to her Latin name, Euglossa Dilemma, a type of green orchid bee.

“It’s become a habit, but I give the same attention to this whole menagerie at night. You seem to have a special bond with her.”

“Well, I admit, I feel responsible,” Trip replied.

The bee had appeared in Tucker’s quarters, likely a stowaway in his luggage. The species was common in his central Florida home.

By the time she was discovered, they were already well out of space dock, and it was too late to send the bee home. After rescuing her from the perils of the neon lights, she was brought to sick bay and made as comfortable as possible.

The Doctor already had several unique animals in his care and the Green Orchid Bee was a natural addition to the ship’s menagerie. Between him and the Engineer, they were able to construct a suitable home and produce a suitable diet for their guest.

Her next stop, outer space.

The bulb was dark and cold now, and the small opening at the top of the box was sealed with something that looked like wax.

“The ironic thing is, they got to Florida the same way,” Trip said softly, as if to avoid disturbing the small resident within. “As stowaways in wooden pallets, almost 200 years ago.”

“Chef loves it,” Phlox turned his attention back to the plant nearby. “He’s been coming down for leaves almost daily.”

Selek recognized the same kind of plant that his mother had given as a donation to the temple when he had taken up his duties. The one T’Nedara had asked him about it when he met her in the kitchen that night. It was difficult to keep his mind from wandering back to that fateful evening.

“Speaking of Chef, I’m late for dinner,” Trip straightened up and headed for the door. “Take care, Doc.”

He nodded towards Sick Bay before walking through the sliding doors.

Selek watched him leave and resisted the urge to follow. He waited a moment until the doors shut, then turned his attention back to Ah’len and Phlox.

“I should bring him a cutting,” Phlox thought out loud, thinking of the Chef, as he squinted at the leaves. “The ship needs more plant life anyway.”

A sharp whistle sounded over the comms.

All crew are ordered to return to their stations. This is a yellow alert.

“So much for dinner,” said Phlox.

“Why the alert?” Selek asked, as they stepped calmly back into the corridor.

“An incoming Andorian ship,” Ah’len replied. “It’s a battle cruiser, but so are most of them. It’s the Kumari, under the command of friendly enemy Commander Thy’lek Shran. He’s come before, but this time we’re ready and the plan was set.”

“Wait, how did you know they were coming? What plan?”

“A plan within a plan,” she smiled.

“I recognize the Frank Herbert quote, despite the slight variation.” Selek raised an eyebrow at her.

“I suspect you’ve already figured most of this out,” she said, partly to challenge him. He replied without a shred of doubt.

“I deduce that Shran has a legitimate plan to gather scientific information, but he secretly wants access to whatever Hoshi is working on. This is connected to what you, myself, and the Klingons want on Romulus.”

She nodded, smiling. The communications officer was likely translating the verbal component of the initial contact at this moment, and any information about the ship was essential to handling the situation.

“It’s uncloaked and approaching at low speed, so first glance seemed to indicate that their intentions weren’t hostile.”

The Andorians weren’t enemies with the humans, but the two races were on suspicious terms.

“Selek,” she turned to her guest. “I’m sending you to follow Captain Archer around for a while. I know you want to see the bridge anyway. Everything you see really happened. You can even ask your mom.”

Before he could respond, Selek blinked and found himself in the Captain’s private office. There was a hiss, and a visibly agitated Captain Archer strode in and flipped a switch on his desk. An Andorian flickered on the viewscreen.

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Euglossa_dilemma

Chapter 2: The Enterprise NX-01: Star Date 2152

Posted by Kristy Ambrose

Selek stared with some trepidation at his surroundings. His friend seemed to notice his discomfort.

“You can speak and move freely,” she explained. “This is just a memory. Think of it as a dream, or what do they have on earth? Pretend it’s a show. You’re safe in hibernation mode for the moment while I…”

“Where? What happened to…”

“I’ll explain later. For now, I can tell you the crew is safe, in long term sleep just like you are. I’m Captain Ah’zhen, and I’m accessing the dream sequence in your brain with the help of some Xyrillian technology to recreate this reenactment. Sorry about the Kir’Shara, but there was nothing we could do. You can build another one.”

Selek barely had time to raise an eyebrow before she continued.

“Your mother is going to finish her briefing near the Mess Hall. Here we are. See that lady over there?”

Selek blinked and recognized one of his mother’s crewmates, Communications Officer Hoshi Sato.

“Go and find out what she’s doing. I’ll see you again soon enough.”

Hoshi was sitting with a fork in one hand and her tablet in the other, a colorful pasta salad remaining mostly untouched in favor of the monochrome screen.

Selek was shocked, to say the least, but understood he was safe for the moment, and was distracted with a view of the antique Enterprise.

He walked over to the table, paying close attention to the details he’s read so much about in school and heard about at home. He recognized other faces and understood generally where he was located on the ship.

Nobody else took any notice of him.

Travis Mayweather came to the same table, carrying a dinner tray. Selek stood next to them, listening carefully.

“You busy?” He asked, nodding at the tablet.

“Actually, no,” she squinted at the screen, which was scrolling through what looked like a large catalog of schematics and letters of non-Terran origin. “Just going through some of the information we found during the mission to P’Jem. How’s the bridge tonight?

Mayweather and Hoshi chatted idly for a while, enjoying dinner and ignoring the tablet, which seemed to be running on its own.

After a few minutes, it stopped and flashed from green to blue, prompting Hoshi to pick it up again.

“Oh, it’s done,” Hoshi smiled and leaned closer to the tablet. “Fascinating!”

“It?” Mayweather raised his eyebrows as he spoke.

“The ship’s cryptologists have been working on the pictograms. It looks like my team has deciphered most of it.”

“Was that the Vulcan data that mentions the Sanctuary? The one the Andorians say is a front for a surveillance network?”

Selek tensed up and leaned forward. The destruction of P’Jem was the first incident to put his mother on the Vulcan High Command’s radar, and the attention was not positive. However, it seems that this was early in the history of the Enterprise, and P’Jem was still intact.

“It is. These fragments seem to pre-date Surak, and we’re not sure how that’s possible. Are you going back to the bridge?”

“Heading back now. See you up there.”

Selek was tempted to follow Mayweather. He was secretly hoping to see Jonathan Archer and get a good look at the helm, but resisted the temptation and continued to follow Hoshi. He was also looking for fragments that pre-dated Surak. The humans seemed to have found something similar and it led them to the Sanctuary.

They walked towards the computing and data storage section of Engineering, a section of the ship that Selek didn’t know very well.

Hoshi opened the narrow panel and squeezed into the enclosed space. Not all of the computers on the Enterprise were designed for optimal human interaction. The ones in the computer core, located in a section one deck below the bridge, were service consoles with a limited interface.

The cryptology team consisted of several members, and today each one was working at a computer console to translate and sort the files from P’Jem. She took a briefing from each.

“Are these the files from the Sanctuary?” Selek asked, looking over Hoshi’s shoulder.

“Yes,” Ah’zhen answered, “these files are related to what you’re looking for, but whatever is hidden on Romulus must be even older.”

The two of them went through the same panel to leave the room, but Ah’zhen motioned Selek in a different direction.

Vulcan Biometrics – Part Two

Posted by Kristy Ambrose

Chapter 1 – The Xyrillians

Selek couldn’t see anything, but the sound of two voices nearby made him feel like a child hiding in a dark closet, eavesdropping on a private conversation.

Go ahead and look, you’re the one with a human ancestor. Careful, it’s your first Vulcan.

Another replied after a few moments.

Lots of great stuff here. Military and survival training, a real sword master. He’s the type who knows when to keep his mouth shut.

Don’t get too distracted. What else?

There was another pause before the voice continued.

Some fun details. He likes spicy noodles. His favorite band is The Smiths. Typical Vulcan, likes males as much as much females. Prefers melee to ranged fighting but he’s a decent archer. Interesting times at the Military Academy. The stars in the desert are something else. But…oh? Wait…

Selek didn’t feel it, but he heard something like a metallic thud, and had the distinct impression that someone had just walked into a wall mid-sentence.

The first voice replied with a laugh.

I warned you, Vulcans can do that. What did you see?

He fought the Kal If Fe recently. Some of the scars are permanent. I can see his mate, but…She’s wearing some kind of bag? Ow, it smacked me hard!

He’ll never let you in there. They teach them how to block almost everything in childhood. Vulcans are composed until it comes to mating, then they literally go insane. Come on, we don’t have much time.

The darkness shuddered and broke, dissolving like a thousand insects disturbed by a sudden light.

It’s not exactly a dream, the second voice said, it’s a memory. You can’t get hurt. Don’t be afraid.

Selek opened his eyes. He thought he was back on the ship for a moment.

He was standing in a corridor, behind a door with a large window, and had a clear view of the room inside. It was not filled with his Vulcan crew, but lined with humans, and they were wearing a vaguely familiar uniform.

A row of cadets was standing at attention to his left. His eyes ran down the line and stopped at the end. The last cadet in line was looking at the window, towards him.

Except that they didn’t seem to be a cadet. Selek didn’t expect every ensign on the Enterprise to be human, but this was a Xyrillian, and although this race was known to humans they weren’t serving on each other’s ships. Those kinds of partnerships were still at least decades away.

Plus, she seemed to be wearing a Xyrillian uniform, and with the symbols that denoted her as Captain of her own ship. He guessed from her size that her sex was female.

What was she doing here?

What was he doing here?

Where was here?

She smiled and waved.

Selek jumped a bit. It was not a mistake or coincidence. She was looking straight at him.

Then she discreetly pointed to the person who was speaking to the troops and walking towards the door he was standing behind.

There was a hiss, the door opened suddenly, and Selek caught his breath. A younger version of Sub-Commander T’Pol strode through the door and down the hallway. A line of cadets followed and the one that had spoken to him was the last to leave.

“Selek!” The Xyrillian smiled at him as they strode by. “Welcome to the Enterprise!”

And she gestured for him to follow.

Vulcan Biometrics – Part One

Posted by Kristy Ambrose

A Star Trek Enterprise Fanfic

Land acknowledgement: This book was written on the unceded territory of the Mixtec Nation in Oaxaca State, Mexico.

Copyright notice: This is a work of independent fan fiction and is in no way affiliated with or used by Paramount or its affiliates.

“Well, that’s why they say, hot like Vulcan!” Dr. McCoy, “Amok Time.” (Star Trek: The Original Series, S2E1 “Amok Time.”).

Chapter One – Shi’Kaar, Vulcan, Stardate 2167

His eyes might change, Trip said. Sometimes it happens with human children. They are born with blue eyes, but they change.

The months passed by and his eyes stayed blue. T’Pol decided it was easier and safer to hide him than to explain him.

Nobody in this era would have believed it even if she had tried to name Trip as the father, never mind the social and political implications. The former Chief Engineer of the Enterprise was supposed to be dead, and his present circumstances were a dangerous secret.

T’Pol was a controversial figure on Vulcan for working so closely with humans already. Rumors that she had given birth to one had deepened the rift.

Those hysterical, illogical, smelly things. The Vulcan High Command was wise to keep them out of space.

How could she have lowered herself?

And what kind of dangerous creature would it be?

Glasses or lenses would hide her son’s eyes, turning them the same lightless hue as any passing Vulcan.

Officially, Selek was the child of Koss, T’Pol’s former husband. Despite him being incredulous initially, since a Vulcan-Human hybrid was thought to be a biological impossibility, he agreed to play along. Just for the sake of scientific curiosity, of course.

Tinsha Monastery, Khomi Province, Vulcan – Star Date 2197

Selek could still hear the blood rushing in his ears and the echo of the gong. The thin, dry air was heavy with the smell of copper. His lungs contracted, shortening his breath. The pain of his wounds only seemed to enrage him further, as if his muscles could contract and burst from his own skin.

It is said the body is in torment, but the mind remains unclouded.

He remembered everything vividly. The memory of the duel was still fresh, and it was flooding his mind like the pool of blood open and growing on the warm stone.

His breath was short again, and he was choking, gasping to breathe, and failing. The sound was drowned out by a jarring memory of his own rage and the whistle of the tirpan as it swung through the air.

Selek felt the cold of an infirmary bed against his back and understood. T’Nedara was nearby.

The sea of dark green that had reached up to consume him thinned, and the bells and gongs faded. A coolness touched his forehead and spread to his eyes and mouth.

The rushing in his ears stopped and he heard a familiar voice.

The mind controls the body

Control The Mind

And the Body will follow

Selek exhaled heavily, and felt his joints loosen and his muscles unravel. He took a deep breath, and the air in his lungs seemed to draw him upward.

The prayer was based on Surak’s teachings and was repeated often in the temple. He pushed some air through his mouth and found he could speak again, and repeated the chant.

The mind controls the body

Control The Mind

And the Body will follow

Light came back into his eyes and his vision cleared. She was kneeling next to him, a bowl of watery green liquid and piles of cloth bandages were close at hand.

Her index and middle fingers were pressed against his forehead. It was a chant derived from the Way of Hakihr, a monastic tradition descended from the Kolinahru. This was an ancient Vulcan sect that turned its psychic energy inward as an interpretation of Surak’s teachings.

The chant had revived him.

“T’Nedara,” he spoke carefully, his breathing still painful.

“Selek,” She answered him calmly, but her hands were visibly trembling. He tried to sit up, but he moved too quickly and winced in pain.

It was difficult to hide her alarm.

“No, don’t move,” she said, trying to sound like the calm and logical expert in Biometrics that she was every day. She touched her fingers to his forehead again.

He closed his eyes and raised his hand to take hers. He said nothing, but he could feel her nerves humming at the same rate as his own. His eyes were blurred sweat and tears, but he was able to give her a questioning look.

“My blood burns with yours,” She said softly. “You have defeated your rival, as the Vulcan laws are written.”

Selek wanted to speak, but the air caught in his throat. She pressed her two fingers against his mouth, and not only to silence him. For a Vulcan, this was a moment of passion, a frenzied kiss in a rushed moment.

The light touch of her fingers and the air from her mouth brushing against his face calmed his nerves from the duel, yet drove him into another frenzy.

She undid the clasp of her robe. It slipped away from her body. They lay down together in the infirmary bed.

“I claim my Champion,” she held him close, and their burning blood was cooled.

The gong sounded. The trial of the Kal If Fe had ended.