CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Tammas was feeling ambivalent about being home. Sure, he loved being home, but at the same time, he wanted to be else where. It was actually kind of nice being on the Star Ship, and other than Perrin, no one here seemed to notice that he was gone. At least, you couldn’t tell based on their behavior. He wondered if being safe at home and bored was causing him to romanticize his trek on a starship. He didn’t have enough fingers to count up all the bad things that could have happened, even subtracting the dangerous situations he did encounter. He focused on his feeling of isolation and boredom, and used it to drive his medical simulations, resisting his urge to recreate the best part of the whole trip, meeting Kors. He had even dreamed of her a couple times.
To distract himself from thoughts of Kors, he threw himself fully back into his school routine. School hadn’t changed. It was the standard game of politics, as far as he could see. Perhaps even more so. Living on the Starship had changed him and he had come to appreciate learning in the field as opposed to in the class room. Unfortunately, life experiences didn’t count much in academics. He wasn’t going to get credit for assisting Doctor Chu during her medical emergency.
Professor Heart was technically on a leave of absence, but it was quite likely that he would never teach at the Vulcan Academy of Science again. Consequently, Tammas was taking some fall out from the students that were fans of Professor Heart and who were also surprised to see that Garcia had returned. There had been cold, distant stares before, as if people were looking at him as if he were a big-headed alien, but now he imagined animosity in their eyes. As he traveled between classes, he counted those who openly stared at him as the enemy and he had no idea what form the potential retribution would take.
The one thing that hadn’t changed during his sabbatical was his attraction to Persis, but he was able to function better and within a week of being home his grades had returned to their normal perfect scores. He achieved the highest test score of all the medical students in a simulated emergency surgery exercise. The scores had been publicly posted, but since he never checked the postings, he was the last to know. He was sitting in the cafeteria suffering through a text that he was trying to read without using his Morse Code translator, when Persis and several Vulcans approached him.
He looked up at them, saw their faces, and wondered, “Crap, what did I do now?”
“May we speak with you?” Persis asked.
Tammas shivered. Her voice still got to him. Perhaps thinking of Kors would help. The way Persis asked, coupled with the fact that she had her Vulcan posse with her, made him think this was one of those intercession-group therapy meetings, as opposed to a friendly welcome back committee. Thinking of Kors became easier. After all, his thoughts of Persis were simply fantasy. Kors was real. She liked him. He liked her.
“I’m not stalking you anymore,” Tammas said. He had given up even trying to talk to her, even walked right past her a couple of times without any hint of whiplash. He was still very much infatuated with her, but he was now in control of his impulses towards her. Mostly because he was substituting compulsions using the holosuite as a relief and a demystifying tool. Not that anyone needed to know that, he thought.
Persis actually smiled. “It’s not about that,” Persis said. “May we sit?”
Tammas made a hand signal that told them to sit and then he consolidated his study materials and food so as to provide his guests more space. Persis sat directly across from Tammas, with a Vulcan on either side of her. One Vulcan chose to stand behind her. The one standing was a female by the name of M’Shaw. She had that classic Vulcan look, a frailness in appearance belying her great physical strength, hour glass figure, long, dark hair, and pointed ears that the hair parted to reveal, like a water fall around a flower. She reminded him of one of the Elven characters in one his holosuite adventures. He blushed realizing just how familiar she suddenly seemed to him. Persis’ companion on the right was named Koshant, and he was a short, husky Vulcan, with beady little eyes in a fat face. To her left sat Hilar, who was very tall and thin. Put side by side with Koshant they might make the Vulcan equivalent of old Earth’s Abbot and Costello.
“How did you do it?” Persis asked, obviously chosen to speak for her group.
Tammas wondered if she was chosen to initiate the contact because of his weakness for her. It was definitely no secret that he had feelings for her. And, he considered it a remarkably good strategy. Had to be M’Shaw’s idea. “How did I do what?” Tammas asked.
“Don’t play this humble game with us,” M’Shaw said.
“M’Shaw, please,” Persis interrupted her. “Tammas, are you not aware that you got the highest score on yesterday’s surgical exam?”
“Really?” Tammas said. “That would explain the extra hostility today.”
“You really didn’t know?” Koshant asked.
“I don’t ever look,” Tammas said.
“You have the second highest Grade Point Average in class next to mine, and you don’t follow the postings?” M’Shaw asked, incredulously.
“I am not my GPA,” Tammas said. “I’m a human being.”
“As if that is something to brag about. I examined your work,” M’Shaw said. “The quality did not warrant the highest grade in class. I believe there is a mistake in the grading process.”
“You missed the point of the exercise,” Tammas said. “It wasn’t about quality, it was about quantity. It was an emergency situation, meat ball surgery if you will. There was an abundance of wounded and time was of the essence. You don’t have time to worry about cosmetics. Focus on removing debris, repairing organs and tissues, close the wounds, and pass the cleaning and dressing over to the nurse, leaving you free to work on the next patient. Scars can always be removed or fixed up later.”
“I think we understand that, Tammas,” Persis said. “But still, you did twice the number of patients that we did. This just seems, well, quite frankly, impossible.”
“It is impossible. I should be able to outperform you in every aspect of surgery,” M’Shaw said. “How did you pull this off?”
“Practice,” Tammas said.
“Practice?” Perisis asked.
“Since I’ve returned from my vacation, I’ve spent the last couple of months immersed in emergency surgery simulations,” Tammas said. “I recreated the setting of a M.A.S.H unit, an acronym for mobile army surgical hospital. It’s a war scenario, and I’ve been playing the role of one the chief surgeons. I have literally performed thousands of simulated emergency surgeries, even forgoing sleep, so that I could better understand the role of my character and what he, and other doctors in that sort of setting, went through.”
“You did this to improve your surgical technique?” Persis asked.
“Yes,” Tammas said. “As well as to better understand the social structure of health and illness as related to emergency medical attention in a war setting. I used this role playing as field experience to write a sociological thesis. The surgery time was simply extra.”
“I find this difficult to believe,” M’Shaw said.
“Perhaps all of you would like to join me. I’m scheduled tonight from 1900 to 2350 hours,” Tammas offered.
“May we?” Persis asked.
“Absolutely,” Tammas said. “I’ll email you the costume requirements, so you can be prepared, though I just typically wear the holosuite clothing, and change back into my outfit when the simulation is finished.”
“Alright, I guess we’ll see you later then,” Persis said, standing up. “Thank you for speaking with us.”
“Sure,” Tammas said. “Um, anytime.”
Persis smiled and headed off with her friend. Only M’ Shaw looked back with somewhat of a scowl on her face. He wondered why Vulcans found it so much easier to display signs of contempt and displeasure, as opposed to the simple neutrality that would encompass a true lack of emotions.
M’Shaw arrived early, but decided to wait on her friends. Several times she had thought perhaps they had already entered the suite, but they finally arrived five minutes late. Only Persis was dressed according to the profile Tammas had provided them. They entered the holosuite and found Tammas washing up, preparing for surgery.
“You’re late, we have lots of wounded, with more choppers on the way. Get prepped, now!” Tammas said.
“What are choppers?” Hilar asked.
“It’s an archaic cutting utensil,” Koshant answered.
“This is barbaric,” M’Shaw said. “No one could operate in this sort of environment.”
“Tammas, it’s freezing in here,” Persis said.
“It’s winter. Get prepped and join me in the O.R.,” Tammas said, following a nurse through the double doors.
M’Shaw and Persis peered through the windows on the door, their breath fogging the windows. “He really goes all out for this, doesn’t he,” Persis said.
“Overkill would be an understatement. I can’t work in these conditions,” M’Shaw said. “Look! He’s using metal instruments!”
“Choppers?” Hilar asked.
“It’s just a simulation and if it makes us better surgeons, by god, I’m going to play along,” Persis said, and started scrubbing up.
The posse began to dress. They were all equally having trouble figuring out how to don the appropriate medical clothing. A nurse appeared and said, “Let me help you with that, doctors,” and began the tutorial for surgical wear of this time period and culture. She then ushered them into the operating room where tables and patients awaited them. As they took their place at their respected tables, the holographic doctors that were there disappeared so that they could take over.
“So, Tammas, this is what you do for fun?” Persis asked.
“It’s not like I have a whole lot of offers from others to engage in social activities,” Tammas said, blood squirted across his face. “Nurse, hold this clamp.”
Hilar examined the patient before him. “This is my first time to visit the holosuite and I am amazed at the continuity of details,” Hilar said, palpating the patient’s abdomen. “This is much more advanced than the holographic interface at the University’s medical lab.”
“I can barely feel my fingers it is so cold in here,” Koshant complained. “I doubt I will ever have to work under these circumstances and, consequently, do not see the point of this exercise.”
“Do you want to improve your scores on the simulated surgical field exams?” Tammas asked.
“I concede the point,” Koshant said, and got to work on his patient.
“Surely you have some friends,” Persis said, taking a scalpel from the nurse and hesitating before cutting. Though she knew it was a simulation, her senses told her that she was about to cut into a real person. “You can’t really spend all of your time here.”
“It would explain why he is so awkward, socially speaking,” M’Shaw noted.
“Hey, this is my primary tool for practicing social skills,” Tammas said.
“I rest my case,” M’Shaw said.
“Speaking of social engagements,” his nurse said. “Is it my turn tonight, or Nurse Kelley?”
The mask didn’t hide Tam’s embarrassment at the Nurse’s question. “Not in front of the guests,” Tammas said.
“What, no friendly banter?” the nurse asked.
“No unfriendly banter,” Tammas corrected.
“That’s right, we’re just all one, big, happy family here,” the nurse said. “No rivalries or sarcasm in this group.”
“Nurse,” Tammas warned.
“Did you call me, doctor?” she asked.
“Why would I call you doctor? I’m the surgeon,” Tammas said.
“So, what’s your nurse friend’s name?” Persis asked.
“Terra Tarkington,” the nurse answered.
“Interesting,” Persis said, eyeing Tammas mischievously. “Where did you get that name from, Tam?”
“An obscure sci-fi novel, titled the Adventures of Terra Tarkington,” Tammas admitted. “The best space nurse I could find reference to at the time.”
“Why, thank you,” Terra said, with a bit of a drawl.
“Hey, can you minimize the talk,” M’Shaw said. “I’m trying to concentrate here.”
“I’d rather you do more than try for a change,” Tammas said.
M’Shaw looked up. “Did you just disparage me?” she asked.
“Sorry, part of the game,” Tammas said. “Close this up, Terra.”
“Sure thing, Doc,” she said, winking at him.
“What? You’re just going to turn that over to the nurse?” M’Shaw asked.
“She’s competent,” Tammas said, being helped into new gloves by another nurse. He walked over to M’Shaw’s table to inspect her work. “No! You’ve done human anatomy before. You just can’t cut like that. Here, look.”
“It’s my patient,” M’Shaw said, holding her scalpel as if protecting a toy.
“You’re going to kill him, now let me demonstrate,” Tammas said. He took a scalpel and demonstrated how the procedure was done correctly. “There, computer, reset this patient to his pre-op condition. Now, try again.”
M’Shaw emulated Tam’s precision cut exactly, if not a little better.
“Excellent, but remember, don’t spend a lot of time on this. We’re not aiming for aesthetically pleasing results. We got more patients out there, some who might die before we get to them. If you want, I can alter the programming so we get a variety of species, Vulcan, Andorian, etc.”
“Yes,” Koshant said. “That would be good.”
By 2300, they were exhausted and Koshant was the first to complain. “Do they just keep coming?”
“The war machine can turn out an endless supply of wounded,” Tammas said. “How are you doing, Hilar?”
“I’m holding my own,” Hilar answered.
Persis sighed. “I am embarrassed that I find the heat escaping from my patients of such comfort that I can’t wait to cut into the next one.”
“You should practice separating your emotions from your work,” Koshant said.
“My emotions tell me I need a hell of a lot more practice before I will be at a place where my emotions aren’t affected by all of this,” Persis argued. “I just can’t imagine how people did this, in a war, everyday.”
“I do this every night,” Tammas said. “Feel free to join me.”
“May I also continue to attend?” M’Shaw asked.
“Sure,” Tammas said. “All of you are invited.”
“I’m tired of this game. Can we quit now?” Persis asked.
“We still have patients,” Tammas said.
“This is a simulation,” Persis said. “Just save and we’ll come back to it.”
Tammas felt some discomfort ending the program. He was used to playing surgeon for much longer time stretches, but also, he knew that when he ended the program, his company would leave soon after. It felt kind of nice to know that not all of the people in this suite were simulated for a change.
“Yes, we’ve had enough of this for now,” M’Shaw said. “Computer, end program.”
Nothing happened, so they all looked to Tammas who was finishing up on a patient.
“Oh, alright,” Tammas said, handing the tools over to the Nurse. “Here, Terra. Close for me. Computer, save program, and end.”
“Good night, Tammas,” Terra said, before disappearing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Everything in the Holosuite disappeared, leaving only the holographic projection grid behind. Even their O.R. uniforms, the blood stains, and the smells dissipated so rapidly that it was hard to believe that they had just a few moments ago been almost hip deep in blood and guts. Tammas collected the sweater he had left in a corner.
“Thank you for this,” Persis said.
“You’re welcome. Will I see you again?” he asked, and suddenly wished he hadn’t.
“We’ve already establish that we will be joining you again,” M’Shaw said.
“Would you like to join us for dinner?” Persis asked, knowing what Garcia had meant. He wasn’t ready to quit the social gathering yet, and, neither was she.
“Really?” Tammas asked.
“Of course, silly,” Persis said. “There’s a restaurant nearby called the Laughing Vulcan. Have you ever eaten there?”
“No,” said Tammas and all three Vulcans simultaneously, meaning “no” to eating at that particular restaurant.
“It’s a tourist trap,” M’Shaw said. “If it weren’t for the tourist, the place would have been closed long ago.”
“Ah,” Persis complained. “But I like it!”
“I guess it’s not bad if you like eating dog,” Tammas said.
“That’s disgusting,” Persis said.
“And inaccurate,” Hilar said. “Vulcans are vegetarian.”
“Well, there’s an Andorian restaurant across the street,” Tammas offered.
“Is it true that the head cook puts her tears into the soup in order to guarantee her customers fall in love with her food?” Persis asked.
“That would be criminal,” Hilar said. “I am sure it is just rumors.”
“Started by humans, no doubt,” Koshant said. “Vulcans do not gossip.”
Tammas laughed out loud and judging by the look on the three Vulcans, he could see he would have to explain it to them. “Please,” Tammas said. “Vulcans are subject to the same social conditions that all social creatures are privy to. You may be able to argue degree, but you can not, to my satisfaction, eliminate the rumor or gossip phenomena from Vulcan culture. Structurally speaking, rumor and gossip are social tools for isolating an individual or a particular group from society at large. It is a tool that has been quite affectively used against me ever since I started school on Vulcan.”
“Did it ever occur to you that perhaps you are just an isolationist, as opposed to blaming your loneliness on the Vulcans?” M’Shaw asked.
“No,” Tammas said.
“If you would spend half the time you do in here socializing in the real world, perhaps you would have more friends,” M’Shaw said.
“And maybe, if you Vulcans were more warm and accepting,” Tammas said, “I might have some friends.”
“We Vulcans are neither warm nor cold, for that would require an emotional component which is unacceptable,” M’Shaw said. “As to being accepting, I believe we are very tolerant of differences. If there is any issue with accepting diversity it is coming from your inability to accept our suppression of emotion. If you have limited your social interactions with us because you haven’t felt warmly accepted, then it has been based on a misperception on your part.”
“You’re full of crap…” Tammas argued, badly.
“Any organism with a digestive system will have waste accumulation…” Hilar began.
“Trilo Ay!” Persis cursed. “Can we just go get something to eat before I faint?”
“You are not going to faint,” M’Shaw said. “I don’t know which species is more prone to exaggeration, Humans or Deltans.”
“Are you coming?” Persis asked Tammas.
Tammas wanted to go and sulk, but he decided to go and eat with them instead. It was possible, he conceded, that M’ Shaw may be right.
Persis was on Vulcan because of her parents. Her parents were Fleet, and had been stationed there by request. They had requested the Vulcan assignment because they had wanted their daughter to attend the Vulcan Academy of Science, which had previously accepted her based on her academic rating. Her side of the story was her parents were afraid of taking her to a learning institute that was primarily bodied by humans because they were afraid she wouldn’t pay attention to her studies, but rather would focus mainly on boys. Persis had been greatly relieved to find Tammas in her xeno-anatomy class, because she had found the Vulcans rather stuffy to talk to. Why she waited till after the blow out in Heart’s class to confide this little secret with him he would probably never understand. He only saw it as another game or ritual that females universally play to frustrate the opposite sex. From his perspective, she hadn’t started expressing interest in spending time with him until he had stopped pursuing her.
“So, you befriended me because I was the only human male in class,” Tammas repeated back in his own words what he thought she was saying.
“Oh, no, Tammas,” she said. “I would have talked to you no matter what. You have the highest grade point in our initiation group and I like to be around smart people. I think it bothers our Vulcan classmates that you consistently have the highest scores, and I sort of like that, too. Seeing them irked is fun.”
“I’ve noticed,” Tammas said. “For peoples without emotions, they sure can get out of sorts. But your friend M’ Shaw may have a point. Maybe we’re misreading them.”
“I honestly don’t know how you do it,” Persis said.
“What? Antagonize Vulcans?” Tammas asked.
“No,” Persis said, smiling at the “by passing,” the term used for their miscommunication. “Um, maybe it’s better to ask why you do it. You already have a Doctorate in Musicology, and are wrapping up a Doctorate in Sociology, while simultaneously going for your Veterinarian license. Why? Are you that bored?”
“The music was just for fun,” Tammas explained. “It comes very easy. Sociology is just a hobby, but because I love animals, I’m hoping the Veterinarian license will help me get into Star Fleet.”
“The sociology should cover Fleet, if that’s your goal,” Persis pointed out.
“Yes, but it seems most Fleet people are double qualified in something,” Tammas said. “I just find sociology fascinating. I enjoy it much more than I did psychology. Why do people do the things they do? You can’t simply reduce it all down to biological and psychological factors. There is more to us than that.”
Tammas paused for a moment, smiled as he thought back to some pleasant memories, and then turned back to the electronic book he was accessing with his PADD. His lunch went untouched. The cafeteria, though crowded, primarily of Vulcan patrons, was not as loud with conversation as an equally crowded human cafeteria would have been. Tammas had long observed that the faculty and students sat separate, and the students themselves had formed their own eating groups. These groups tended to meet at regularly scheduled times and would sit in the same place, unless Tammas, more out of social curiosity, would arrive there first to occupy their preferred space. This would force them to either sit with him or adjust their seating arrangements. More often than not, they would simply move than sit with him, and it was funny to see just how many people were displaced from their preferred arrangements because of his “scientific curiosity.” He had been accused of purposely upsetting the natural order for no logical purpose several times, but he had never been out right confronted about his casual seat hopping. The other way to trip up the Vulcan regularity was simply to join them, meal in progress. Mostly, they would ignore him until their meals were finished. If he tried speaking to them, they would answer politely, but would keep conversation to a minimum. He had never really been sure if it was because they didn’t like him or this was just their way. Only M’Shaw had offered him an alternative to his paranoia. Either way, he never shied away or became intimidated by the game, he simply played along and observed.
Since Persis and posse had been joining him at the holosuite, three Vulcans had started regularly sharing meal time with him, provided he was already seated and eating when they entered at their regularly scheduled lunch break. He wasn’t sure if it was because Persis or her Posse had said something, or that they were simply comfortable sitting with him. He hadn’t asked. He merely enjoyed the silent company, even though he couldn’t help but wonder if they were as frustrated with his lack of consistency in his eating habits as he was by trying to get them to be more flexible in theirs. He still didn’t know their names. When Persis was sitting with him, as she was now, no one but her or her posse would join them. And today, it was just the two of them.
“You fascinate me,” Persis said.
Tammas brought his focus back to Persis. As always, Tammas seemed puzzled by her flirting, as if he didn’t know how to respond. “Thank you,” he said, and then pushed on with his work, mentally punishing him-self for allowing his tangent to take him so far a-field. He was going to have to reread the last paragraph. “I managed to get reservations for the holosuite so we can practice our surgical techniques for the upcoming final. I asked D’Pau and T’Sha to join us. This time, next week.”
“I think you’ve been on Vulcan too long,” Persis said.
“Why’s that?” Tammas said, not looking at her as he spoke.
“Don’t you miss the moon?” Persis said.
“Vulcan has no moon,” Tammas said, actually meeting her eyes this time.
“I know, but Earth does. Didn’t it inspire romantic evenings, walking along the beach?” Persis asked.
“I’ve never been to Earth,” Tammas stated.
She sighed in frustration. “But you’re human. Your species evolved in the presence of a moon, right? Your genes must be crying out for a moon. Don’t you recall ever having any wistful longing that you can’t vocalize, but the thought of a beautiful woman walking beside you on a deserted beach seems to quell your need? Don’t you ever want to just go look at the stars, not that you can see them very well from the surface of Vulcan with all the light pollution and atmospheric distortion due to the heat, but haven’t you just wanted to fill an emptiness?”
Tammas thought about it and blinked. “No,” he said. He read something important and decided to transfer it to his notes, logging the source and time.
“Don’t you think about love?” Persis asked, deciding to move right to the point.
“What about love?” he asked.
She leaned in closer to him. “Did you know Vulcans do it only once every seven years?”
“Do what?” Tammas asked.
“Love,” Persis said, feeling exasperated.
“Oh,” Tammas thought about it. “Are you using the word love as a euphemism for sex?”
Persis rolled her eyes.
“Because sex is very different than love and though a mating cycle can vary from species to species, that doesn’t mean that there isn’t a bond during the intervals where mating isn’t taking place,” Tammas said.
“You’re too clinical. I don’t know why I even bother talking to you sometimes. What I’m saying is that I couldn’t wait seven years for love,” Persis persisted. “Or sex,” she said, emphasizing sex to see if he would look up at her.
“It’s a good thing you’re not Vulcan,” Tammas said, his eyes never leaving his book. He became aware that his pulse rate had increased and his skin temperature was rising. He started to take inventory, looking for unusual stressors to explain his growing agitation. He started practicing one of his biofeedback techniques. It was possible, he supposed, that he had come into contact with a virus.
“Neither are you,” she pointed out, smiling. He didn’t respond until she kicked him under the table.
Tammas looked up, noted her smile, and reconstructed her last comment in his head. Again, he noticed a subtle increase in temperature and pulse, thanks to his neural implant. “Are you still talking about sex?”
“Could be,” Persis said, once again trying to be coy about it. “You’re not like, bonded to a Vulcan girl, are you?”
“No!” Tammas said, appalled at such an idea. He noticed he got some attention from other patrons on that, and lowered his voice back to a reasonable level. “Hell no. I couldn’t do the seven year thing, either. Well, I guess I could, considering my age and the fact that I haven’t yet, unless you count, um, ignore that… Anyway, I’m hoping it won’t last my entire life…”
“No, what were you going to say?” Persis asked. “You wouldn’t be referring to Nurse Tarkington, would you?”
A group of Vulcans at a nearby table decided they had had enough of Persis and Tam’s conversation and relocated to the other end of their table. Tammas gave her a sharp look.
“Please, it’s not like it’s a mystery to me,” Persis said. “She’s rather cute.”
“Do we have to discuss this in public?” Tammas asked.
“You’re not embarrassed, are you?” Persis asked, taking pleasure in his discomfort.
“The seven year thing just doesn’t interest me,” Tammas said.
“Thank you,” she said, as if she had won. “And, it’s not like you’re seeing anyone, right? No visiting human dignitari