Chapter Text
It was early summer when T’Ralia arrived on Terra Prime, but San Francisco felt like the depths of winter. People, she was convinced, were not meant to live on this planet, at least not now after centuries of devastation left the sky heavy and filled with dark clouds and the air cold and damp.
After months of testing and private tutoring, T’Ralia was ready to start her first term at a proper Terran school. Even the middle school uniforms in this planet were ornate: grey wool with trim in gold braid, and her sleek black hair had grown longer (though, Van Den Broeck still said it looked “all too Vulcan”). He escorted her to school on her first day of class and sent her off with the most heartfelt words he could manage.
“I went to great lengths to get you here, T’Ralia. They had to change admission policy for you. Prove that all the effort was worthwhile.”
“Yes, Father.”
Van Den Broeck reached out to put a comfortung hand on T’Ralia’s shoulder, but she pulled away. Ever since her parents’ death T’Ralia had been starved for touch, but she had no interest in what little Van Den Broeck offered.
Her morning was uneventful. Math and physics she expected to excel in. Terran literature was entirely unfamiliar, but at least the other students would also be reading and studying those works for the first time. Lunch, she dreaded, as she still was uncomfortable with the Terran habit of using meal time as a social activity. She sat alone at an empty table with the expectation that she would to be disturbed, but before she began to eat a group of three girls approached.
“Excuse you.” The girl who spoke couldn’t possibly be more than two years older than T’Ralia, but she carried herself like a child trying to seem very mature. “This is our table.”
T’Ralia stood and picked up her tray. “Pardon my mistake. I was unaware.” She tried to step away, but the girl blocked her.
“Beg for forgiveness, Vulcan.”
“I offered a sincere apology, was that not satisfactory?” Her calm demeanor was a stark contrast to the way the Terran girl began to seethe.
Apartently not. The Terran dropped her tray hard on the table and shoved T’Ralia with both her hands. T’Ralia lost her balance and dropped her own tray, but she recovered quickly and slammed the Terran onto the table. As she held her down, T’Ralia whispered in her ear, still calm and steady. “I have three times your strength. I would advise you not to start an altercation that you cannot finish.”
T’Ralia released her, and when she stood there was a trickle of blood from her nose and food caked in her hair. She was in a daze as she looked around in shock at every face that stared at her: peers who once respected her and now witnessed her undignified defeat.
Silence hung heavy and tense until one boy dared to shout out. “Holy shit!” He was lanky and pale with his hair shaved on the sides and back and growing wild and curly on top. “That Vulcan kid just beat up Karen Hadley!”
For all of the uproar that the fight caused, T’Ralia never heard another word about it, at least not expressly. Terran adults seemed content to sit back and let their children violently work out their disagreements on their own. The other children had quiet ways of acknowledging the sudden shift in power, like a respectful nod as they passed in the hall, and Karen had grown withdrawn and quiet. Her friends had abandoned her.
She moved through the halls between classes when a slim girl with light brown skin and coily hair cut in front of her to block her path. “T’Ralia. I need to speak to you,” Her tone was forceful. T’Ralia had never introduced herself to this person, it seemed her reputation proceeded her.
“Go on.”
The girl leaned in close and whispered harshly. “You need an ally. Sooner or later someone is going to try to challenge you.”
T’Ralia had never wanted any of this, her actions were a logical response to a threat of violence. The possibility of bodily harm was the only thing that made her wish to avoid such a confrontation, her pride would not be hurt in defeat. “Are you threatening me or offering advice?”
“Neither.” Her voice was still soft but less forceful. “I’m looking out for my own interests. I’m an outsider too, and I want to be on your side.”
“I will consider it. We haven’t formally met, I don’t yet know your name.”
“Micheal Burnham.”
Together they were unstoppable. Despite Micheal’s warnings, weeks passed without any challenge. Instead, their peers found subtle ways to try to get a little closer. Was Micheal a friend? Maybe not. Her father (either of them) believed that it was foolish enough to care about a person enough to call them a friend. Still, she felt closer to Micheal and trusted her more than anyone else on the planet. It eased the sense of isolation.
Students vied for a spot at their table, in the same way they once vied to be close to Karen and her friends. Micheal, however, was less discerning in who she chose to let into her inner circle. When T’Ralia arrived one day, only one spot remained. Micheal stood up and crossed her arms before T’Ralia had a chance to set down her tray.
“I don’t need you anymore. You aren’t welcome here.”
T’Ralia blinked. She wasn’t hurt, but this was unexpected. “I seem to recall that you felt like an outsider before we formed our alliance.”
Micheal narrowed her eyes. “That’s quite a way to twist the truth. When I said you aren’t welcome here, I don’t mean just this table. You don’t belong in this school or on this planet. I’d say you’re only here because Van Den Broeck wanted to show off his new pet.”
T’Ralia shrank back. She had no reason to lash out, there was no logic in escalating hurtful words to violence, and the way Micheal stood still and unyielding seemed to prove that she understood she was safe so long as she didn’t make the first move. Without another word, T’Ralia turned to find another spot.
They had all been correct. Terrans were not to be trusted, and once again T’Ralia was alone aside from the telepathic link that joined her to the Vulcan boy she was bonded to at the age of seven, and she doubted if she would ever see him again.