CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Traveling aboard the Stargazer, Admiral McCoy was on his way to planet Vulcan to meet with Ambassador Sarek over his potential break through dealing with the Legaran situation. Sarek was the only one in Star Fleet that the Legaran’s consistently spoke with when it came to border issues between the Federation and their system, and McCoy was invited to be a part of the current dialogue. They were very concerned at the rate of expansion and believed that at the rate the Federation was growing there might not be anything remaining for them to explore and colonize when they advanced to the equivalent technological footing. They were perhaps still years away from sitting down at a negotiating table, but at least they weren’t shooting at each other.
Five light years out from Vulcan, the Stargazer was diverted from Vulcan by Star Fleet. To keep McCoy on schedule, a Captain Jean Luc Picard, agreed to escort the Admiral via the “captain’s yacht,” Stargazer’s only long range shuttle, the rest of the way to Vulcan. Picard was confident that his crew could handle their assignment and return to retrieve him without too much difficulty, and it was a pleasure escorting a living legend, even if the Admiral was determined to sleep the whole voyage away. The Admiral arose from his nap as they entered Vulcan space and joined Picard at the helm, taking the copilot seat.
“Can I get you something to drink?” Picard asked.
“No,” McCoy said. “Thank you. You could turn up the heat.”
“Sure,” Picard said, adjusting the environmental controls. “You should notice a difference in a moment.”
“How long till we get there?” McCoy asked.
“I just got clearance from STC,” Picard said. “They’ve just expedited us straight to Vulcan prime. Well, they did that after I told them who I was escorting. Thirty minutes to orbit. Another twenty five minutes from there to space-port.”
“You didn’t have to do this,” McCoy said, yawning. “But, thank you. Brother, I’m getting old.”
Picard didn’t know how to respond. He could argue, which was a human custom, or he could agree with McCoy’s observations, or he could give some trite saying about you’re as old as you feel…
“It’s good to have someone not argue with you every time you say something,” McCoy said. “Yes, I am old. Not complaining, mind you. It beats the alternative.”
“Yes, I suppose it does,” Picard said, glad he hadn’t jumped right in with a comment. “Should I arrange for accommodations for you at the Earth Embassy?”
“No, I will be staying with Ambassador Sarek,” McCoy said. “I’m kind of their adopted family, so, they would be insulted if I did anything less. I’m looking forward to it, actually. There’s a young man, Sarek’s foster child that I’m really looking forward to meeting. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him. I need to change that. You never know how long you got. Anyway, he’s proven to be quite a genius.”
Picard nodded. “Sounds like he’s important to you,” Picard said.
“More than I let known,” McCoy said. “That’s another thing I’m going to have to change.” McCoy leaned forward in his chair to scrutinize the planet growing in front of them. “It looks the same as always.”
“It’ll be my first visit, actually,” Picard said.
“Well, I’ll make sure you get the grand tour. I’m sure the Ambassador will put you up as my entourage,” McCoy offered.
“I don’t want to be a bother. I can sleep on the shuttle,” Picard said.
“I can sleep in the shuttle,” McCoy mimicked. “My god, man, do you think I would allow that? You start sleeping in shuttles, you’ll be doing it for the rest of your life. I insist.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Picard said. “It’s really an honor…”
“Don’t blow it so soon,” McCoy said, patting him on the shoulder.
An alarm went off.
“Brace your self,” Picard said. “Collision alert…
Picard’s reaction was almost instantaneous, spinning the shuttle about and applying full thrust. There was no way to avoid collision, his only hope was to sow them appreciatively enough to survive the impact. It was when he started to turn the shuttle that he realized the moon in front of them had no mass and that there was no need to burn out the engines. Had the moon had any substance, their course would have already been skewed by the new gravitational forces. McCoy grabbed the console in front of him.
“Pull up,” McCoy ordered.
“It’s a hologram,” Picard said.
“It looks pretty solid to me, pull up!” McCoy said.
Intruder alert alarms sounded and Picard turned to survey their shuttle compartment. There were obviously no intruders. He ran a quick diagnostic on the ship board computer.
“We’ve been infected by a computer virus… It’s a holographic program designed to produce the illusion of moons by hijacking communication-laser projection equipment,” Picard said.
The shuttle passed through the lower end of the moon, clipping the point of the sliver.
“You had to be pretty confident in yourself to fly through that,” McCoy said. “I would have steered clear of it.”
“Had it had any mass, we would have been pulled off course by its gravity,” Picard said. “Um… Oh, dear. Admiral, you gave me an order to pull up and I didn’t do it. I’ll turn myself in for disciplinary action as soon as we land.”
“Nonsense,” McCoy said. “I wouldn’t have listened to a back seat driver any more than anyone else would. Besides, it is adventures like these that keep the heart pumping.”
“Aye, Sir,” Picard said, smiling.
“Don’t do it again,” McCoy said.
“Aye, Sir,” Picard said, his smile fading.
“And stop calling me sir, Captain. And find out what’s going on,” McCoy said.
Tammas woke to find himself in a holding cell. His head hurt so much that he couldn’t sit up. He rolled off the bed so that his feet hit the floor, but his chest stayed on the bed. He stayed in this position until he was sure he wasn’t going to be sick. Having decided he was indeed going to be sick, he fell to the floor, and went through the motions, arms barely able to hold himself. There was nothing in him to sick up. He leaned against the bed, and wondered what that horrible sound was that was filling his ear like a cicada. He squinted in the direction but couldn’t see anything specific, his vision blurred with pain. He closed his eyes. For a brief moment the sound stopped and then he felt hands on his arms lifting him up
“Easy, Son,” came the old, country draw. “Nurse! Captain, help me get him on his feet.”
Picard took Garcia by the arm and lifted him up.
“Pa Pa?” Tammas asked, trying to look up, but the sound returned, and he grimaced, drawing his hand up to his forehead.
Picard looked to McCoy for instructions, but he was busy reading his medical tricorder.
“Damn it, would you turn that force field off,” McCoy snapped. “Nurse, the hypo. Damn Vulcan mind melds. And you, don’t call me Pa Pa in mixed company.”
An analgesic was injected into Tam’s arm and the pain reduced enough that he didn’t have to squint. His posture improved, but he didn’t release his grip on the man holding him. He realized now that the fierce humming that had been torturing him was the shield harmonics of his cell. The sound quit when the guards turned off the shield, further alleviating his pains.
“Lucky for you, the family Doctor just happened to be in the neighborhood,” McCoy told him.
“Just happened to be?” Tammas asked.
“What, don’t want to see me?” McCoy asked.
“So, I’m not dreaming?” Tammas asked. “You’re really here?”
“I wish you were dreaming, boy,” McCoy said. “Why did you go and pull a damn stunt like that for? Surely you’ve been around enough Vulcans to know they ain’t got a sense of humor. And I’m getting too old to come pull your ass out of the slammer every time you get in trouble.”
“I didn’t mean any harm,” Tammas said
“Not intentionally,” McCoy said, patting his shoulder. “But when that little virus of yours broke through the security safeguards, it set off intruder alert alarms on every ship in the Vulcan system.”
“Ooops,” Tammas said.
“I’ll show you oops,” McCoy said, indicating that he wanted him back on the medical bed. Picard assisted Tammas with that endeavor. “Neither Sarek or I will be able to white wash this one for you. You’re going to have to do some time. A year of public service, probably.”
“I understand,” Tammas said. “Um, there was this girl with me. Is she alright?”
“She’s fine,” McCoy said, his voice even softer than usual. “We’ll talk about her after you’re feeling better. Right now, I’d like to take you home and get some food in you, if you can tolerate the journey. Sarek should be finishing up the paper work for your release.”
“I’m sorry,” Tammas said, nearly calling him Pa Pa again.
“If your headache is anything like mine, well…” McCoy began, and when he was certain the guard was not paying much attention, he leaned over and whispered to Tammas, “If you ask me, Vulcan needed a moon or two. Brightens up the place.”
Tammas laughed, coughed, and rolled to sick up. The nurse brought a container.
The next time Tammas awoke, he was on his left side, on his bed. Spock’s old bed. And Sparky had climbed up to lie beside him. The sehlot generated so much heat that Tam’s entire back was soaked with sweat. He sat up, carefully, mindful of his prior headache, and scratched Sparky behind the ears. He hugged the big bear like dog, very happy to be home. Every muscle in his body ached, as if he had had the flu, but hunger was driving him so he forced himself to his feet and clumsily made for the door. Sparky got up on his old sehlot legs and followed. The two of them walking together was an interesting spectacle. Admiral McCoy, Sarek, Perrin, and a Vulcan female Tammas had not formally met were present in the family room. They appeared to be waiting for him.
“Did we call a family meeting?” Tammas asked.
“Come in and sit down,” Sarek said.
Perrin got up as he entered and headed into the kitchen. There was an uncomfortable silence, where he was certain everyone was scrutinizing him beyond normal. “What?” Tammas asked. Perrin returned with a bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich cut into quarters. She sat the tray of food in front of him and asked him to eat. She didn’t have to ask for he was starving. He couldn’t remember ever being so hungry. He dunked a slice of grilled cheese in the soup and ate a bite. He looked around waiting for someone to start the conference. He ate two quarters of the sandwich, before giving up on them to start.
“Okay, who wants to go first?” Tammas asked, his mouth still full. He wiped his hands on a napkin.
Sparky barked.
“Do you remember the discussion we had with Ti-Ar?” Sarek asked, giving Sparky a treat that he kept on the table beside him. “Well, one of those situations where you will be held to the scrutiny of Vulcan laws has occurred.”
“And, so, are you my probation officer?” Tammas asked, directing the question to the new girl.
“I am not,” she said. “I am Selar.”
Okay then, he thought, as if that was supposed to mean something to him. The room returned to silence. He ate another quarter of a sandwich. “Alright, I think I can handle whatever you need to say. Should we start with my punishment?” Tammas asked, starting on the third quarter.
“Your punishment has not been decided, yet,” Sarek said. “We’ve been asked to present ourselves to T’Pau later this day. She will decide what is to become of you.”
Tammas swallowed his bite of sandwich wrong, coughed. “Was my crime so egregious that I must see T’Pau?”
“You are being charged with creating, harboring, and unleashing an intrusive and disruptive computer virus, as well as hacking into the Vulcan Central Computer Network,” Sarek said. “All of which are serious crimes.”
“I didn’t actually write the program,” Tammas said.
“So Persis told us,” Sarek said. “You will be required to disclose the origins of the virus to T’Pau.”
Tammas cringed. “And if I refuse?”
“Why would you refuse?” Perrin asked.
“I found it in one of Spock’s antique tricorders,” Tammas admitted. “I assume he had been accessing information, perhaps about V’Ger, and it had become infected. Then it was turned off, and sat on that shelf until I reactivated it.”
“It is okay to disclose this information,” Sarek said.
“I don’t want to implicate Spock,” Tammas said.
“It is your choice, of course,” Sarek said. “However, I am sure Spock will not be implicated.”
McCoy had dozed off and woke with a start at hearing the name of his companion. “Spock? Oh. Sorry,” he said. “What time is it?”
“We were just about to discuss Tam’s relationships with females,” Sarek said.
Tammas blushed. “Is this really necessary,” Tammas asked.
“No one is more uncomfortable verbalizing these issues than I am,” Sarek said. This hesitancy didn’t come from a fear of speaking on the subject, but rather, as a telepathic race, they chose to leave the more intimate exchanges private. There was no need to discuss that which everyone knew, and often Vulcan mates knew each others thoughts and desire better than any other coupling of species. “As you have learned, Vulcans are extremely conservative when discussing matters of reproduction.”
“You are not in trouble, Tammas,” Perrin said. “You just need to know a few facts. Facts related to your special biological situation.”
“What are you talking about?” Tammas asked.
“Tammas,” McCoy took over. “To make a long story short, you are a Human Vulcan hybrid. More human than Vulcan, but none the less, a hybrid, and the chemistry gets a little out of balance once in awhile. Your friend, the Deltan and you biologically clashed. Your attempt at a mind meld didn’t help matters, but basically, the analogy is you had an allergic reaction that nearly killed both of you.”
“Okay,” Tammas said. “So, you can give me allergy shots or something that fits your analogy to cure this?”
“No,” McCoy said. “If you have another intimate encounter with any Deltan, you will die.”
“Are you saying I can’t see Persis anymore?” Tammas asked.
“Listen to me very carefully, son,” McCoy said. “If you are intimate with any Deltan, you will die.”
“Is Persis okay?” Tammas demanded.
“Persis is in perfect health,” McCoy assured him.
“So, I can see her?” Tammas asked.
“No, honey, you can’t,” Perrin said.
“It was more than just an allergic reaction with you and Persis,” McCoy said. “There was a telepathic bond created between you and her and we are concerned that if you were to come into physical contact again at this time, you might have another physiological reaction that could result in your immediate death. You can’t even as much as breathe her air without risking endangering yourself.”
“Surely you’re over reacting. I can’t even see her?” Tammas demanded. “Ever?”
“We’re not sure about ever, but for now, there’s no question. You must avoid contact with her, or risk certain death,” Sarek said.
“This is unreasonable,” Tammas said.
“Oh, you’re just getting the half of it,” McCoy said. “Selar, would you like to tell him the rest?”
Selar looked to Admiral McCoy and it almost seemed that she actually frowned. She turned her attention back to Tammas, brought her hands together, and thought for a moment on how to proceed.
“On discovering you in your condition,” Selar began delicately. “I violated procedures and Vulcan law.”
“So,” Tammas said, shrugging it off. “It sounds like you saved my life.”
“And Persis,” Perrin added.
“So, there you go, then,” Tammas said. “You did what you had to.”
Sarek repositioned himself in his chair as if he were uneasy. Sparky laid his head in Sarek’s lap and looked mournfully at him. Perrin put her hand on top of Sarek’s hand.
“Tammas,” McCoy said. “Do you know anything about Vulcan biology?”
“Of course,” Tammas admitted, not wanting to be specific about how much he did and didn’t know. “I’m a Doctor.”
“Then you know,” Selar said. “When we are seven, we are telepathically bonded to a mate and that we are drawn together for rituals every seven years.”
“Yes,” Tammas said.
“You were never bonded in this fashion, even though you could have been,” Selar said. “Certain Vulcan genes in your genome were activated during your… ritual… with Persis. The specific Vulcan genes activated to couple you and Persis for life.”
“Are you telling me, that every seven year, Persis and I will be drawn together for rituals?” Tammas said. “Even though, as McCoy just told me, if I ever participate in a ritual, your word, not mine, with a Deltan I will die?”
“In order to save you and Persis, it was necessary for me to severe that bond,” Selar explained. “Unfortunately, probably because you were not bonded at the appropriate age of seven, there were complications. I could not severe the bond without killing you.”
“I wish you had!” Tammas said.
“Tammas!” Perrin snapped.
“What do you expect?” Tammas demanded. “You’re telling me that I can never see the girl I love, the first girl I ever kissed, okay, the second girl I ever kissed, but the first girl I ever… participated in a ritual with, and you want me to be happy about it? And then, in seven years, like it or not, I am going to be compelled to be with her, which I can’t, which means I will go mad, and probably die. What’s the difference of me dying now, or seven years from now?”
“Had you died at this time, Persis would have died,” Selar said.
“This is great,” Tammas said. “Just great.”
“Tell him the rest,” Sarek said.
“Oh, there’s more?” Tammas asked.
“Because of the issues concerning severing the bond, and because you were both facing eminent death…” Selar began.
“Okay, I get the death part, you don’t have to keep bringing it up,” Tammas interrupted, sounding a lot like McCoy. McCoy repositioned himself in his chair.
“I redirected the telepathic bond between you and Persis so that I was, and am now, the recipient of that link,” Selar said.
Tammas blinked. He looked at Selar, then Perrin, Sarek, McCoy, and then back to Selar. He opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it. McCoy chuckled. Tammas looked at McCoy sharply. So did Selar and Sarek. Perrin hid a smile.
“I’m sorry,” McCoy said. “I’m not laughing at you, Tammas. I don’t approve of mind melds in general, and this is just another example of why.” Then he laughed again, not sure why exactly it was so humorous to him.
Tammas turned to Selar. “You and I…”
“Will be drawn together, roughly every seven years, from the time of our initial bonding,” Selar said. “As well as an unspecified number of times over the next couple of weeks while our bodies and mind seek to return to their previous balance.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tammas said.
“I am a full blooded Vulcan,” Selar said. “I do not participate in expressions of humor.”
“Oh, good god, Pa Pa, you’ve got to be able to do something for me,” Tammas pleaded.
“I’m a doctor, not a match maker,” McCoy said. “Believe me, if I knew a cure for mind melds, I would have already patented it.”
“This isn’t going to work,” Tammas said. “No disrespect to you and all, I’m sure you are a wonderful person, but I don’t love you.”
“Love is irrelevant,” Selar said. “We will be compelled biologically and psychically to reunite. And soon, judging by your temperament.”
“This is unreasonable,” Tammas protested.
“This comes at no little cost to me,” Selar said. “My seven year cycle has been disrupted, my former bond mate will no doubt be looking for a new partner at the close of his cycle, and I’m facing sanctions for violating medical protocol and Vulcan customs. I think, given the circumstances, you can be a little more tolerant. Being bonded to a human is not my ideal situation.” She looked to Sarek and quickly added, “No disrespect intended.”
“None taken,” Perrin answered for her husband, not ashamed to show she didn’t like Selar’s choice of words.
Tammas felt a little embarrassed by Selar’s suggestion that he was not being reasonable. “So, what do we do?”
“There is a compulsory ceremony the two of you must attend,” Sarek said. “T’Pau will be residing over that as well.”
“Um, what sort of ceremony?” Tammas asked.
“A marriage ceremony,” Sarek said.
“Excuse me?” Tammas asked. “And this is binding?”
“No,” Selar said. “You do not have to accept, but that will not change our condition. We will still be drawn together. If you do not accept the marriage, at our reunion seven years from now, you will have the right to challenge and request another arrangement. I will not obstruct you in your choice at that time.”
“Tammas,” McCoy said. “What they won’t tell you is that this challenge typically ends with a death. You would only know this if you actually attended a ritual where this particular challenge occurs, for it doesn’t happen often.”
“This is just…” Tammas began.
“Unreasonable,” McCoy said for him
“This is our way,” Sarek said. “It has always been, and because of your genes, you must face this. This is life. You are heir to this peculiarity.”
“There’s got to be another option,” Tammas said. “Another way for us to resolve this, break the cycle and bond.”
“There is,” Sarek said.
“Well, let’s do that, then,” Tammas said, enthusiastically.
Sarek nodded his head. “Your other options will be made available to you in seven years.”
“The seven year interval is compulsory to allow our physiology to find its new set point. We have been irrevocably changed,” Selar said. “Most of our balance will be restored slowly over the next few weeks, through rituals, but we will never be the same again.”
Tammas moaned. “I don’t know if I can do this,” Tammas said. “I like sex. Well, except for the whole brain seizure and all. I mean, I don’t know if I can wait seven years before being intimate again…” Though Persis was the first “real” girl that Tammas had participated in rituals with, he was reluctant to share that some of the activities he engaged in on the holosuite were less than innocent. Tam knew that Perrin was aware of Nurse Tarkington program, but did she know that when he was playing Doctor and Nurse that sometimes he was playing Doctor and Nurse? He shuddered at the thought of anyone knowing.
“You went fourteen years before Persis,” Sarek pointed out.
“That doesn’t count,” Tammas snapped. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to snap. Perhaps I’m still suffering from Pon Farr and I am not satisfied enough to wait seven more years. In fact, I’m feeling…”
“Like I said, we will be drawn together an unspecified number of times over the next couple of weeks,” Selar said. “I believe we can make it till after the marriage, though. Do you agree?”
Perrin and McCoy laughed. Sarek and Selar did not.
“As for the seven year interval, arrangements can be made to satisfy your human libido,” Selar said.
“Again, nothing personal against you Selar, but I don’t feel anything for you,” Tammas said.
“You will in seven years,” McCoy said, a mischievous smile.
“You are just having way too much fun at my expense,” Tammas protested, giving McCoy a look that suggested there might be a fight.
“You and I can negotiate other arrangements for the long term,” Selar repeated. “But our current situation is inescapable.”
s“Tammas,” Perrin interrupted. “Finish your soup. You’re going to need your strength. And we’re all going to have to leave soon. T’Pau won’t be kept waiting, and we need to meet with some of Selar’s family before T’Pau. And the longer we delay, the more likely you and Selar will be out of sorts.”
Tammas sighed. “My life sucks,” he said.
McCoy laughed. “I’m going to go change,” he said. “It’s been a long time since I met with T’Pau. And even longer since I’ve attended a Vulcan marriage ceremony.”
Tammas groaned.
“Don’t worry. They assured me there will not be a fight to the death,” McCoy said. “This time.”
“Leonard McCoy, son of David,” T’Pau said, turning her attention from Sarek to the human male she had met on two separate occasions now. “You also stand with the accused?”
“I do, T’Pau,” McCoy said. “It is good to see you looking so well.”
T’Pau raised an eyebrow. “You also appear to be in good health, for a human.”
“Good diet and exercise,” McCoy said, patting his stomach.
T’Pau nodded and turned her attention to Tammas. “Tammas Parkin Arblaster Garcia, come closer.”
Tammas took a breath and approached T’Pau, probably one of the oldest and most respected Vulcans still in existence. Though he was guarded with his emotions and thoughts, he knew there was no way he could completely hide his uneasiness from her. It was probably best to just completely open himself up to her and allow her to scrutinize his every fault. He figured she didn’t get to be the oldest, wisest person on Vulcan being easily moved by the small things that creep about in the minds of Humans and Vulcans. She motioned and he fell to his knees
“I have heard of you,” T’Pau said. “You are well regarded at the Academy by your Professors.”
Tammas simply bowed his head, respectfully, instead of arguing the disparity of his perception of his academic career with hers. T’Pau looked down on him from her high chair, studying the creature before her.
“It is said you are human, but that you inherited Vulcan blood,” T’pau said. “What are you? Human or Vulcan?”
Tammas swallowed. “The humans I associate with treat me as if I were Vulcan,” Tammas said. “And the Vulcans I associate with treat me as if I were human. I feel that I am neither.”
“But you are accepted within our culture and by the humans,” T’Pau said. “Standing here with you today are patrons of great character and respect, from both our communities.”
“I’ve truly been blessed by these people,” Tammas admitted.
“And so, to these charges of dispersing a computer virus, hacking into computer networks, and the inappropriate use of public property, the satellite systems and the afore mentioned computer network, creating havoc to a number of systems that threatened the safety and well being of the members of our society, how do thee plead?” T’Pau asked.
“Guilty,” Tammas said, bowing his head.
T’Pau waited three minutes, as if expecting Tammas to start rationalizing what he had done, or perhaps that he would plea bargain. Perhaps she was aware that he wanted to try a defense. He had thought of saying he was doing society a favor by revealing a vulnerability to his particular method of hacking. He decided that it would not go over well and so he kept it unspoken. Watching the time program on his neural implant click the seconds away, it struck him how long three minutes can be when waiting for punishment.
When T’Pau saw that he was fully intending to wait for her counsel, she nodded. “Though I believe your intentions were to cause mischief, not out right harm, the seriousness of this crime demands that you reimburse society for the man hours spent undoing what you have done,” T’Pau said. “I believe balance will be restored if you were to provide fifteen years of community service.”
Tammas bowed, touching his hands and forehead to the ground. Seeing how it could be worse, he decided not to protest. Still, he wondered if T’Pau had heard him mentally screaming, “fifteen years?!” So much for applying to Star Fleet Academy and hoping to beat Kirk’s record as the youngest to make rank of Captain.
“Selar,” T’Pau said. “Step forward.”
Selar stepped forward, bowing appropriately.
“You violated medical protocol,” T’Pau said, and with a wave of her hand, Selar fell to her knees as well. “I would usually not be involved in such mat