CHAPTER TEN
Time seemed to pass slowly on Vulcan, but then, it was difficult to see the passage of time since the changes in seasons were not as dramatic as they were on the other planets he had lived on. Tammas passed the time well enough, filling it with holosuite games, music, and lots of schooling. He advanced through school so quickly that he found himself at the Vulcan Academy of Science by the age of ten. He performed so well in everything he did that his accomplishments seemed to him to be just one long, monotonous chain of events. Days, weeks, and months blended together, as did the people in his every day life, as there didn’t seem to be much variety in Vulcan culture, surprisingly, since the IDIC philosophy emphasized the importance of variety in nature and life. The philosophy the Vulcans seemed to practice more than IDIC reminded him of a saying from Japan, of old Earth, “The raised nail must be beaten down.” The Vulcans expected conformity, and held a lot of resistance and hostility to “different” and change, and Tammas felt like he was often the focus of that hostility. He didn’t feel like he was going out of his way to be a nonconformist, it just sort of worked out that way.
Perhaps that was why he instantly fell for her. She was a refreshing change, a taste of color in an otherwise world of black and white.
Her name was Persis and following the Vulcan ways of logic, he quickly deduced he had no choice but to be smitten. Persis was Deltan, and Deltans are, by nature, highly sexual. And humans were simply vulnerable to the ways of Deltans! It wasn’t just that she was exotic, or that she was bald, or that her nose turned slightly up, or that she seemed to be in a perpetual pout like a Japanese anime brought to life in one of his holosuite games. It was that her biological presence, an almost magical essence, stronger than even pheromones, clouded the air, reducing even the strongest, human male to a whimpering puppy. She would have turned heads even if she wasn’t Deltan, wearing that old style Vulcan dress that fell mid thigh level, and had thin straps holding it to her shoulders, branching out to cover her chest but leaving much of her back exposed, revealing no tan lines. The material reflected light with a metallic sheen, sparkling as she moved, breathed. It conformed to her waist, and she wore with it a matching necklace, bracelets, and gleaming metallic boots. Since Tammas was the only human in that particular class, though not the only one at the Vulcan Academy of Science, and his Vulcans classmates were either immune or unimpressed, he naturally assumed that they would be smashingly good friends.
“Tammas Garcia?” the professor called, taking the first role call.
“Tam,” he corrected the Professor, pronouncing “Tam” the same as “Tom.”
“What?” the professor looked up.
“I go by Tam,” Tammas said, pronouncing his name again.
“Tom? It’s spelled T A M,” the professor said.
“Think short A sound, like ah,” Tammas explained. “Tam, as in Uncle Tam’s Cabin, Tam Cat, or Tammas Covenant.”
“Who’s Uncle Tom, and what does his place of residence have to do with the pronunciation of your name?” the Professor asked.
Persis looked at him. Everyone was looking at him.
“It was just an old Earth literary reference that I thought you might know, being human, and well educated,” Tammas said, instantly regretting saying it the way he did. The last thing he needed was to antagonize the professor, especially one of the few human professors at the Vulcan Academy. Well, at least none of his peers would be able to accuse him of being favored by the human professor, he mused.
“I’m a biologist, not a literature professor,” The professor said, moving on through the role.
Persis smiled at Tammas.
Tammas noticed his internal alarms going off, such as increased breathing rate, blood temp going up, his palms becoming sweaty, and he noticed these things before the implant in his head started giving him feedback. The implant’s warning bells flashed, alerting him to his changing state that he was already aware of, as if he were outside himself watching. It was similar to the pangs of desire he had experienced when he first laid eyes on Deanna Troi, only significantly magnified. Before Tammas knew it, the class lecture was over and the bell rang, and he marveled at how fast the time went. He hardly remembered what happened in lecture, which was unusual for him. As everyone was gathering their things and leaving, the professor asked Tammas to approach him, which allowed Persis time to escape. Tammas had hoped to catch her, and speak with her, and he watched her slipping out the door even as the professor was trying to speak at him.
“Tammas Garcia,” Professor Heart snapped. He was well known for being strict, among other things, but Tammas wasn’t sure the professor’s current displays of emotions were appropriate. “Are you paying attention to me?”
“Yes, Sir,” Tammas said, giving up on catching Persis.
“You did read my syllabus prior to coming to my class, did you not?” Professor Heart asked.
“Yes, Sir,” Tammas said.
“Just because you’re younger than the average person in attendance here does not excuse you from following the rules set forth in that document. I expect you to bring a notebook to class and a writing utensil,” Professor Heart said.
“Yes, Sir,” Tammas said.
“Now, I have heard of your proclivity to reference songs, literature and media, but I won’t have it in my class. This is a science course, and I expect you to know the material outside of a literature reference,” Professor Heart said.
“I don’t understand,” Tammas said. “What difference does it make to you how I learn the material, as long as I get the right answers on your tests?”
“First reason, fiction often exaggerates, or flat out gets science wrong,” Professor Heart explained. “A crude example would be space ships having sound in space during a dog fight. There is no sound in space.”
“Well, there’s no sound transfer in a vacuum, but if you’re inside a nebula you would hear sound,” Tammas tried. “And since sound is still propagated through conductance, if we were wearing space suits and I touched the glass of my helmet to yours, you could hear me.”
“You’re missing the point entirely,” Professor Heart said. “You’re in my class, and I expect you to have a good grounding in the biological sciences, and you won’t get the solid base you need from quoting examples from literature.”
“And again, why not? H G Well’s War of the Worlds, beyond showing that man isn’t the ultimate force in nature, clearly reveals the hazards an alien race might encounter if they were not cautious about local viruses and bacteria,” Tammas said.
“Wrong!” Professor Heart said. “The bacteria and viruses that evolved on another planet would have no effect on an alien species because they evolved on two different systems.”
“There are too many examples of that not being true for you to make a statement like that,” Tammas said. “You might as well say Vulcans and Humans can’t mix because they’re two different species. Well, I wouldn’t be here if that were true, now would I? Though I do see your point, and believe what you’re saying should be true, it suggests too me that perhaps we humanoid species are more closely related than scientist currently agree.”
“You aren’t suggesting we all have a common ancestor, are you?” Professor Heart asked.
“No, I wouldn’t suggest a thing like that in a ‘science’ course,” Tammas said. “Statements like that could flunk me out of school.”
“Just keep that in mind when you’re doing your research paper,” Professor Heart said, gathering his stuff to leave.
“I don’t know why we even bother with research if you aren’t going to be open to new ideas,” Tammas mumbled.
“What was that?” Professor Heart asked.
“Nothing, Sir,” Tammas spoke more clearly.
“I’ll expect you to pay more attention to me next class, and less of Persis. You’re dismissed,” Professor Heart said.
Tammas blushed. Had he been that obvious? Because of his talk with Professor Heart, Tammas was late to his next class, and he had been so hopeful of seeing Persis in the hall. He was feeling extremely obsessive about seeing her again, and he knew he should not want to follow the obsessive part of it, but then, he could think of no logical reason not to explore it. He spent his evening at home, surfing the net to see if he could learn anything about her, which he couldn’t without breaking privacy laws. It was two days later before he saw her again. She was by a fountain, standing amongst several other Vulcans, two males and one female. Tammas didn’t hesitate. He walked right up to her, acknowledging the other Vulcans with brief nods, and said “Hi.”
Persis smiled, and returned her focus back to the Vulcan that was speaking.
“My name’s Tammas Parkin Arblaster-Garcia,” he continued, holding out his hand.
“Persis,” she said, not taking his hand.
The Vulcans standing about seemed a bit put out by his interruption, but they didn’t say anything to him directly. Tammas had already been feeling a bit awkward, but when she didn’t shake his hand, he became even more aware of his growing embarrassment. He used his hand to comb his hair back. He pressed on, ignoring the fight or flight response.
“You’re new here,” Tammas stated the obvious.
“Yes,” she said, suppressing a smile. The Vulcans seemed even more annoyed than usual.
“We really should be heading to class, now,” one of the Vulcans said, in Vulcan.
“Okay. Well, nice meeting you, Tammas,” Persis said.
Tammas followed. “I was just wondering, since we’re in the same biology class and all, maybe we could study together?”
“Maybe,” she said, lagging behind her friends who didn’t hide their contempt for him.
“You must be a genius, too, being admitted to the Academy so young,” Tammas continued. “Or, are Deltans just advanced?”
“Humans and Deltans develop about the same rate,” Persis said. “Um, look, Tammas, maybe we can talk later?”
“Okay. Would you like my number or email address?” he asked.
“I’ll look you up,” she said, waving.
Tammas watched her as she caught up with her friends, and suddenly he felt really bad, as if he had done something wrong. “Is that a definite no,” he mumbled to himself, wondering if her elusiveness was due to her company, or she just wasn’t interested in him. Frustrated, he turned around only to discover a Vulcan, and fellow classmate, pressing right behind him.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the Vulcan asked. His name was Sendak, and he had reputation of his own. He seemed just as shunned by the other Vulcans as Tammas felt he himself was.
“Making a new friend,” Tammas said.
“Maybe you should just keep to yourself,” the Vulcan said.
“Or what?” Tammas asked, allowing his frustration to fuel his anger.
Tammas was so surprised that a Vulcan would actually hit him that he didn’t even raise his hands in defense. He sat there, on the ground, completely baffled by what just occurred. Sendak warned him to stay away from Persis and then stormed off. Tammas went to the restroom, confirmed his eye was indeed blue-black, and beginning to swell, and found he was too embarrassed to finish the day of classes. He returned home where Perrin met him as he entered the kitchen.
“My god, Tammas,” Perrin said. “What happened? Sarek, would you come in here a moment, please?”
“It’s nothing. Just a slight disagreement with Sendak,” Tammas told her.
“Are you telling me a Vulcan hit you?” Perrin asked.
“No, you’re inferring a Vulcan hit me based on circumstantial evidence,” Tammas said.
“A black eye is not circumstantial,” Perrin said.
“I will have a talk to Sendak’s parents,” Sarek said, having picked up enough of the conversation to make a reasonable evaluation of the situation.
“No,” Tammas insisted. “I will handle this.”
“Good for you. You have my permission to hit him back,” Perrin said.
“I would rather you find an alternative solution,” Sarek said.
“Honey, you can’t repay evil with kindness, for then what would you repay kindness with? Repay kindness with kindness, and evil with justice,” Perrin began.
“You’re quoting Confuscious,” Sarek said. “And I happen to agree with that quote, however, there must be a better solution in this particular instance. Perhaps if you filled me in on all the details.”
“I would like to handle this,” Tammas said.
And so, the subject was dropped temporarily.
The next day in biology class, as Tammas was taking his seat, Sendak came close enough to him to say, “You even look at her, I’ll kill you,” and continued up to his seat. That sort of threat was criminal, and Tammas knew he could take it to a whole new level if he wanted to, but he wanted to handle it himself. He started to say something, but Professor Heart called him out.
“Tammas, did you bring your notebook?” Heart asked.
Tammas produced the archaic item Heart had requested, along with a pencil. Why anyone would want people to take notes on a lecture when it was possible to record it was beyond him, but he was determined to fulfill the demands as outlined in the syllabus. He opened it up to the first blank page, and took up the pencil as if he were ready to write. As the lecture went on, the Professor walked by to confirm what he had been observing. Tammas wasn’t taking notes. Not only did Professor Heart expect Tammas to take notes, but he expected the whole class to be artists! They were instructed to draw each of the micro organisms being studied, including all body structures, such as organelles and vacuoles, and it couldn’t be some vague representation. It had to be exact, and detailed, and labeled.
“Tammas, you are going to flunk my course if you don’t take notes,” Heart said.
“I’m listening to you,” Tammas said.
“Your listening to me is insufficient. My syllabus requires you to take notes,” Heart said.
“No, Sir, it doesn’t,” Tammas corrected him. “The syllabus specifically says to bring a notebook and pencil, it says nothing about actually taking notes. Though technically one could assume note taking is inherently implied by the directive, it isn’t necessarily a compulsion to do so.”
The class was quiet. True, Vulcan classes were usually quiet, but not quiet like-everyone was holding their breath- quiet. Professor Heart silently steamed. “Are you recording my lecture?”
“No, Sir,” Tammas answered. “The use of any electronic recording devices, or any other technological means, beyond the note book and writing utensil, is strictly forbidden, according to your syllabus.”
“So, why aren’t you taking notes?” Professor Heart demanded.
“May we discuss this after class?” Tammas asked.
“You will answer my question now, or leave my class,” Profesor Heart said.
Tammas stood to leave.
“Sit down,” Professor Heart shouted. “I don’t like your sense of humor, Garcia. I want you to answer my questions. Is my lecture not stimulating enough for you?”
“Is that a new question, or do you want to return to the previous question?”
“Answer me! Is my lecture boring you?”
“Your lecture is typical, less Socratic in method than I prefer, but sufficiently paced to keep my attention,” Tammas said, not wanting to meet his eyes.
“Really. What did I lecture on last class?” Professor Heart asked.
“Do you want me to summarize, or repeat everything you said verbatim since the beginning of class, including role call?” Tammas asked.
“Verbatim,” Profesor Heart said.
“No,” Tammas said.
Professors eyes grew in amazement. “No?”
“I don’t want to play this game,” Tammas said.
“Game?” Professor Heart repeated, blinking. “You think this is a game?”
“Of a sort, yes, and one I can’t win. If I summarize your lecture for you, you’ll merely say I wasn’t paying close enough attention, but if I give it back to you verbatim, you’ll only make me out to be more of a freak than I already appear to be and further alienate me from my fellow classmates, whose class time, I might add, you are wasting over a trivial thing as to whether or not I am in compliance with your note taking compulsion. I have an excellent auditory memory, and I will remember everything you say, and if you give me a chance, I can demonstrate my ability to master the material you’re presenting to us,” Tammas said. “Now, do you want me to leave, or are you going to continue to single me out in this fashion, even though it’s a game you’re not going to win either.”
“You will take notes, or you will get out,” Professor Heart said.
“If I’m writing, then I am not listening,” Tammas said. “Just like when you’re talking, you’re not listening.”
“I want to see something written on your notebook before you leave today,” Professor Heart said.
Tammas shook his head in frustration and disgust, but also he felt an overwhelming sense of embarrassment. He noticed Persis was looking back at him, but she turned back to her notes, and then he noticed Sendak staring at him, with a look that very nearly completed his threat of killing him.
Tammas doodled in his notebook, creating a strange set of pictographs that might have resembled a strange, alien script. Professor Heart wasn’t convinced that Tammas was writing in a foreign language, but dismissed Tammas anyway, with threats of contacting his parents. Tammas managed to avoid Sendak the rest of the day. He returned home and slipped into his room with out being seen, or so he thought, and very nearly started to cry. He sat down on his bed, practiced his breathing and neural feedback until he felt calm. Sparky sat beside him on the bed, always his friend.
Perrin had seen him slip into his room, and she knew he was upset. She had considered trying to talk to him, but knew he wasn’t ready. Tammas excused himself after dinner and went to the HoloSuite, which was run by a Ferrengi franchise, though the local office was run by an Andorian. He had never even heard of the Ferrengi until through correspondence one of them had picked up one of his holosuite games for redistribution, at a small fee which he received royalties. Tammas was a regular, and his holsuite time was now all comp, because the Ferrengi that carried his contract was hoping he would continue to create outstanding programs to redistribute through the galaxy. He wondered what the Ferrengi looked like, but so far, no human had seen one. Perhaps in his next contract he could make that a stipulation. He wanted a picture of a Ferrengi.
Once inside the room, he visibly relaxed. The outside world was so tiring at times. He was tempted to run the aviation program, and go for his next rating, but he felt he needed some music to help relax. He called up an old Broadway musical, chose a character, and played it to the hilt. Being the monster behind the mask felt somehow appropriate. If only life’s answer were as easy as they were in musicals.
After that, he should have gone home, but he was still filling out of sorts, and not tired. He figured instead of playing, he would focus on school work. In order to practice surgical techniques, he re-created a M.A.S.H unit, dressed for the O.R. setting, and fell into his role playing. The holo-characters wheeled in another patient for him to operate on and he got to work.
Professor Heart decided to give an impromptu test. The odd thing was that the test was given in an unusual format. The professor actually passed out a paper test. Tammas felt his temperature rising and a bit of discomfort in his stomach. He looked around, noticed Sendak staring at him, as smug as a Vulcan might look if he displayed such emotions, and then he turned back to his test. Persis was in front of him, which only increased his anxiety. He really hated looking like a fool around her. He took two minutes two push through the letters of his name, handed the papers to the Professor, and headed for the door.
“Excuse me, Tammas,” Professor Heart interrupted his flight. Tammas was finally starting to accept the rumor that the only heart the professor had was his family name. “I want you to sit down and finish this.”
“I am through,” Tammas said.
“You’re not through until you write something down on this paper,” Professor Heart said.
“Then I guess I’m through, because I wrote my name on the paper,” Tammas said. “Other than that, I won’t be complying with your request.”
“You willful, insolent, spoiled, little brat,” Professor Heart snapped. “Sit down and finish this test. Or has the little genius been so coddled by technology that he doesn’t understand the format?”
“I won’t do this,” Tammas said, quietly. The end was coming. He felt like he was going to die and there was no way out. He glanced up to see Sendak again, but instead of seeing Sendak, he saw an actor who was famous for his role of Iago, from Othello, the play by William Shakespeare. Tammas did a double take, but Iago was gone. It was just Sendak.
“Can’t is more like it,” Professor Heart said. “Don’t look away from me when I’m speaking to you. You’ve been cheating, and I will see you punished to the fullest degree.”
Tammas was shocked. “No,” he said, forcing a deep breath. He was going to die, right here in front of everyone, but he met the Professor’s eyes. “I have never cheated.”
“Then how do you explain you only take computer based tests?” Professor Heart challenged. “I will see that you’re thrown out of the Academy, and your Academic career finished.”
“We’ll see,” Tammas said, turning to flee the classroom.
“I’m not through with you yet,” Professor Heart said, following Tammas.
“Sir, I’m walking away from a hostile situation, and your pursuing me is more than harassment. I’m feeling threatened and I will defend myself,” Tammas said, facing Heart, his hands up in an “I surrender” gesture.
Professor Heart reached out to take Tammas by the arm in order to drag him back into the class. “You won’t leave until I’ve dismissed you, and…”
“Never apply a joint lock on a conscious man,” were the words in Tam’s head as he saw the Professor reaching for him. Tam’s arms were already up and ready to strike. He struck once at the face, stunning the Professor more out of surprise than hurt. He flowed right into the joint lock, making it all seem like one motion, strike, joint lock, expert precision. Tammas twisted the professor’s hand around in a controlled joint lock, just as he had rehearsed it a million times. Had he wanted to he could have broken Heart’s wrist, but his intention was not to severely hurt him. He just wanted to extract himself from this situation. The pain and pressure against the professor’s wrist should have been enough to drive him to his knees, but instead he staggered, and leaned against the digital chalk board.
“I’m going to let go and walk away,” Tammas said. “We can discuss this later with the dean.”
Tammas let go, turned to leave, but the professor struck out with a foot, tripping him. Tammas landed, face down, staring at Persis’ ankles. One thing he would remember later was having the thought, “what attractive ankles you have.” He was flushed with embarrassment, mostly at his thoughts about Persis, and anger at being attacked. Without further reflection, Tammas retaliated against Professor Heart, opening up all the flood gates. At this point, he didn’t care if he killed the “good” Professor. Heart grabbed Tammas by the collar and pulled him to his feet. The knee to the groin was probably sufficient to incapacitate the professor, but since Tammas was no longer thinking simple survival and retreat, it was followed by a knee to the face as the Professor doubled over in pain. As the professor collapsed, Tammas spun and kicked the man, pushing him back against his desk. The desk moved several centimeters and the stuff on the desk slid towards the professor. The Professor’s coffee cup, closest to the edge, fell off the desk, hit him in the head, and spilt coffee in the Professors lap. Hitting the desk did double damage points, as the professor’s head hit the desk. It was either the coffee cup or the desk that rendered him unconscious. Two classmates immediately tried to restrain Tammas. Tammas drove his foot into the closer of the two, scoring just above the knee cap, instantly shattering the student’s femur. He stepped around the classmate going for the second, grabbing his punching arm and jerking it forward while striking with the other hand, a two move lop-sau from his practice of Wu Wei Gung Fu. Not only did Tammas manage to pull the student’s arm joint out of place, but the punch hit the jaw with the full force of the punch, plus the jerking forward motion pulled the student’s jaw into the fist for added momentum. The student fell to the floor unconscious.
Meanwhile, another student had had the foresight to call for help, and had used their personal cell to call school security. Security arrived just in time to see a third student get smashed into the digital chalk board, which left a glowing image of the students face, and a trail of lit pixels as he sunk.
There were three security guards. One held back while the other two approached Tammas, but neither were able to reason with him, much less, restrain him. The first guard to approach tried to administer the Vulcan nerve pinch, but Tammas grabbed the hand, and twirled, breaking the wrist. Still holding the hand, Tammas twisted and kicked the guard in the chest, while pulling the hand. The first guard was on his way to the floor even as the second moved in. Tammas and the guard exchanged punches and blocks, making no head way. Tammas would have continued to attack, but the guard that had held back pulled a phaser out and stunned Tammas and his associate at point blank range. Tammas went down like a sack of potatoes. So did the guard, who gave a curious look to his friend as if to say, “I had this under control.”
Tammas was suddenly awake, and screaming, but no sound came out, and no matter what he did, he couldn’t move. He forced himself to relax, and slowly he began to piece together what had happened. There had been a fight, then a light, and then nothingness. He was pleased to find he wasn’t hurting. He thought about the light and tried to reason through it. Lightening? Phaser light? He had been stunned! He smiled inwardly, thinking, that was another item he could check off his list of things to experience. He mentally probed his body looking for sensation, but it was all a black hole of nothing, like what his jaw had felt liked when he was having a tooth replanted and the doctor had administered a numbing agent. The tooth had been knocked out during a holosuite game when he fell off a motorcycle. This numbing experience was worse, because it was his entire body that was numb. His whole body felt like dead weight, heavier than he ever imagined himself feeling.
A new sensation pierced through his numbness, and he felt as if there was an ant crawling on his foot, and then it was hundreds of ants, creeping up his limbs, and then thousands all over his body. The tickling began to sting until finally he was able to push through the tingling into a larger, almost overwhelming sense of pain. He was now able to stand, and he began rubbing himself vigorously and shaking out his arms and hands to increase the blood flow. It was like his arms and legs were just dead flesh that was starting to warm up and suddenly turn live again.
The tingling pain went away as the numbness from being stunned faded, and he realized that he hadn’t gotten through the fight without some injuries. He was hurting.
The force field which barred Garcia’s exit from the cell, should he awaken early, snapped off and three armed security guards walked in. They did not look pleased. Smiling didn’t appease them, either. Sakkath, Sarek’s personal assistant, entered.
“Tam, are you well?” Sakkath said.
“I guess, Sakkath,” Tammas said. “I’m sorry. I kind of lost my temper.”
“It’s not completely your fault, but I don’t have time to explain. We need to go before the judge,” Sakkath said. “Come with me.”
Tammas complied. He was followed out of the cell by the three guards, and just outside the door, three others joined the escort parade. They were all armed. Tam wondered if they considered him to be that much of a threat or if they were trying to intimidate him. If it were the latter, it worked. He was intimidated. They escorted him to a room where Ambassador Sarek had been waiting. Sitting next to Sarek was his chief of staff, Ki Mendrossen. They stood as Tammas and Sakkath entered. Tammas looked at the floor, feeling quite embarrassed, unable to meet Sarek’s eyes.
Across the table from Sarek sat the Vulcan Science Academy’s Provost, the Dean of Academic Advising, Professor Heart’s immediate supervisor, the biology department chair, and Professor Heart. At the end of the table, sat Judge KarSol.
“Garcia, Tammas Parkin Arblaster,” Judge KarSol said quietly. He was obviously a tall Vulcan, which was noticeable even while he was seated. His age was reflected by the white in his hair, the many wrinkles that creased his brow, and the frown lines cree