Chapter Text
It was logical to support the Terran Empire, her parents used to say. That while their situation was unfavorable at best and unsafe at worst, the alternative was to throw one’s life away on a lost cause that would only prolong violence and suffering. Even those guided by logic didn’t always agree. There were extremeists who believe than any open acts of defiance, even when unsuccessful, would slowly break down the Empire in the hopes that maybe their children’s children could have a chance at freedom. Her father called it a crude perversion of the old adage “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.” These people were her family’s enemy, and her parent made a decades-long career of finding the shadows were those people lurked, and while the information they gathered led to a massive uprising being suddenly stopped, they had given their lives for it. Even logical pascifists had a point at which they could be moved to use lethal force.
T’Ralia never thought much of her parents’ line of work, but after their death learned that their accomplishments earned them a sort of reverence that Terrans rarely showed toward offworlders. T’Ralia had less than two weeks to process her loss and learn to adapt to life as a homeless twelve year old orphan before she was informed that there was an Imperial ship in orbit and that the director of Imperial Intelligence meant to posthumously honor her parents with a medal of valor.
In every way a person could be out of place, T’Ralia was. Her plain clothing looked inappropriate in a sea of gilded Terran uniforms, and there were no other Vulcans gathered in the ship’s assembly hall, only Terrans. She stood beside Director Van Der Broeck a man with whom she was incidentally familiar, as he spoke in a booming voice that dripped with arrogance and gravitas.
“Today we are gathered to honor two of our finest agents who gave their lives in service to the Terran Empire. Sivek and T’Mirin were offworlders who knew their place and worked for most of their lives to ensure the proper rule of order…”
He continued on, nearly shouting, and repeating the same few points over and over with different phrasing: that Imperial rule rested on the backs of obedient subjects, that agents like her parents were the reason colony worlds like Vulcan didn’t need to be destroyed, and that in time everyone would fall in line and these little uprisings would be a distant memory.
As he handed the medal to T’Ralia, his bold speech was met with only polite applause. The crowd was dismissed, and T’Ralia wanted only to get out quickly and return to the planet’s surface to whatever difficult life she faced, but from behind her she hear Van Den Broeck voice calling for her.
“T’Ralia. I need to speak to you.”
She turned to face the director and saw that he his face had softened in a way that sharply contrasted the imposing man from only moments earlier. “I take it your parents informed you of our arrangement?”
T’Ralia raised a perplexed eyebrow. “I was never informed of any arrangements.”
“Then your parents misjudged the risks inherit in their line of work. I know you have no surviving family. We agreed that you deserve a better life in Terra Prime.” He paused, “I have the necessary documentation, if you don’t believe me.”
“Am I correct in assuming that even if I am unsatisfied with the documentation I will still be in no place to refuse?”
“It’s already been done, T’Ralia.” His tone was sterner. “I am your legal guardian. If I let you return to the planet, I would be letting my child walk right into danger. You have no family, nowhere to go, and a not insignificant portion of that’s planet’s population thinks your entire family are traitors. Vulcan has nothing left for you.”
T’Ralia nodded as she considered this. “Then the logical choice is to stay with you, but I still wish to review the documents.”
“Perfectly understandable.” The harshness was gone from his voice. “I have one more question. The vegetarian diet, is it a biological necessity, or is it cultural?”
“Cultural.”
“Good. I’d hate to have to deal with the hassle of accommodating that.”
Van Den Broeck was thorough in his documentation. He had not only the necessary legal documents, but had kept recordings of conversations he had with her parents. This was all her fathers idea, and T’Ralia could see the sincerity when he humbled himself and asked what any Terran would see as a massive imposition. There was logic in it, for a person in a dangerous career with no friends and family to look after his child. f there was any deception, the effort and resources required would have been astronomical. There was no logical reason to go to such lengths.
The ship had left Vulcan and began its return journey when the time for the evening meal arrived. Van Den Broeck had insisted on on using the meal to celebrate the start of their new family. T’Ralia had been given a new set of clothes: formal attire in dark blue velvet trimmed in gold and red braid. He offered her a warm smile as she joined him at the table. “You know, you nearly look like a Terran girl, aside from the unflattering hair cut. I take it you’re decided to trust me now?”
“I believe that the arrangement was made legitimately and with full consent. I have yet to pass judgment on your character,” she answered as a Kelpian servant served the food and poured red wine into Van Den Broeck’s glass. T’Ralia looked down at the plate: some kind of grain, some kind of green vegetables, and some kind of meat. T’Ralia recognized none of it.
She began to sample the vegetables, and Van Den Broeck wasted no time before he began to interrupt her with questions. “Tell me what your education was like.”
T’Ralia set down her fork. “I had no formal education, but my mother values knowledge and made the best attempt with the resources she had….forgive me, I find this conversation unpleasant. The Vulcan custom is to consume a meal in silence.”
He took a sip of wine. “And you have new customs to learn. The sooner you adapt the better.”
He gave her an expectant look, and T’Ralia never broke eye contact as she cut a small bite if meat and ate it in spite of the instinctual reaction that made her feel as though she was trying to consume something inedible.
“But, anyway, I, too, value knowledge. I’m hopeful that once the gaps in your education have been addressed I can get you into a top academy, even though they don’t normally admit offworlders.”
There was a lull in conversation station, which T’Ralia used to focus on her food. The meat she avoided, but the vegetables and grains were palatable if unfamiliar.
Van Den Broeck set down his fork and had another sip of wine. “Tell me what you think of the Kelpian.”
Again T’Ralia raised a perplexed eyebrow. “We did not interact. I cannot yet…”
“That’s not what I meant.”
For all of the control she usually had over her emotions, she couldn’t keep an expression of shock from appearing on her face. There was no logic in ending a life for food when equally nutritious and more sustainable options were readily available. To consume a sentient life form was unthinkable. He knew that this was the first she would be eating meat, and he served Kelpian. Without uttering a word, he mocked her.
“Director Van Den Broeck.” She began.
“I’m your father now.”
“Father. I have the sudden suspicion that you are trying to mold me into a different person. Someone more Terran.”
“Nothing like that.” Fine clothes, fine food, and fine wine yet there was still something uncivilized about the way he talked between mouthfuls of food and gestured with his fork. “I don’t mind that you’re logical and emotionless, if that’s really what you want. I can see the advantages in always keeping a cool head. All I want is to be sure that you’re behaving in a way that’s a little more acceptable. Now finish your dinner, a Kelpian died for that meal.”