Chapter Text

Chapter Four: Ties

Replicated food simply didn’t taste like the real thing. Nora Laas had never been more painfully aware of that fact until now. She looked down at her plate that contained what remained of the large omelet she had decided to have for dinner. She found it quite a miracle that she had managed to eat half of it but now she could simply no longer stand it.

She sat on the upper level of The Nest at a table near the panoramic windows. Her favorite spot, not because she could glance out into space but because she sat exactly in the eye line of Goldie, the nickname the crew had given to the golden statue of a life-sized Haliaeetus albicilla, or more commonly known as a white-tailed sea eagle.

The impressive animal stood on a large rock, its wings majestically unfolded and its gaze fixed forward as if it had laid eyes on prey somewhere out in the infinity of space.

The man-high statue was surrounded by tall green vegetation that was commonly found on Earth or at least that’s what Nora had been told.

The animal and namesake of the starship she served on had always impressed her and she enjoyed its company when having a meal.

“I’m not sure if I should be thankful to the captain for throwing that great dinner or curse him for having ruined my taste for replicated food,” she said and looked at her more lively dinner companion, So’Dan Leva.

The half-Romulan had just finished with his own plate, seemingly unconcerned with the artificiality of his meal. He took a large sip of his beverage and merely shrugged his shoulder in response to her dilemma.

“You know, you haven’t talked much today,” she said.

“Do you know where Farga is?”

“Sigma Hydra sector,” she said.

So’Dan nodded.

“Close to the Romulan border,” she realized. “How close is it to the planet you grew up on?”

“Close.”

Laas understood. So’Dan was coming closer to his home than he had been since he’d left it as a boy. Laas and So’Dan had become friends years earlier when they were stationed together on the same starbase. They had found that they both had left their homes at a young age and had never returned. It was one of the many things they had in common.

Laas didn’t know how she would feel if she was to return to Bajor now, the world that she had left behind so many years ago. She wouldn’t feel any great pleasure, that she knew for certain.

“We won’t be entering Romulan space,” she said. “We’re just going as far as Farga.”

“I know and yet I can’t help thinking about Henaka. The things that happened there–“ his voice trailed off.

Laas didn’t know much of what he had experienced on his home world. It had been a topic the half-Romulan had always tried to avoid. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

“Do you still have family or friends there?”

He shook his head but she could see in his eyes that it wasn’t the whole truth. She was almost relieved when she spotted two people enter The Nest she had not expected to see. She was certain they would cause sufficient distraction to get his mind off his depressing thoughts.

“Did you have a chance to speak to any members of the delegation yet?” she said with a smirk.

He aimed a frown at her. “In case you hadn’t noticed, they’re all Vulcans.”

“I know,” she said and nodded eagerly. “Perhaps they can offer advice on how you can overcome your most irrational phobia concerning Vulcans.”

“It’s not a phobia. I just have certain difficulties feeling comfortable around them. That’s all,” he said.

“Sounds like a phobia to me,” she said, looking at the patrons who had recently entered. They noticed Laas’ look and had apparently decided to approach her table. One was a young woman, wearing a formfitting suit and unusual blond highlights in her hair, the other a man of similar age in a green robe.

       “Laas, your starting to–“ he stopped himself when he noticed the two Vulcans approach. He quickly shot Laas a glare but she just smiled.

       “Excuse the interruption,” the Vulcan woman said when they had stepped to the table. “But my associate and I were wondering if we could join you.”

       “I don’t see why not,” said Laas and looked at her companion. “Do you have any objections?”

       He let out a small sigh and then shook his head.

       The two Vulcans sat down at the table. The woman spoke first. “This is Nakaar and my name is K’tera. We are part of the delegation to Farga.”

       “Nice to meet you both,” Laas said. “I’m Lieutenant Nora Laas, I head security on Eagle and my friend here is Lieutenant Commander So’Dan Leva, tactical officer.”

       Both Vulcans nodded.

       “I have heard about you, Mister Leva,” K’tera said. “You are half-Romulan, I understand.”

       “Yes, that is correct.”

       “Fascinating,” said Nakaar.

       “He is the only half-Romulan who serves in Starfleet. At least the only one I know of,” said Laas.

       “What made you decide to join Starfleet, Mister Leva?” said Nakaar.

       The Romulan gave him an incredulous look. He had not expected the conversation to turn this private that quickly.

       Nakaar’s colleague sensed his reluctance to answer that question. “I must apologize for Nakaar’s straightforwardness,” she said in a much softer tone. “We are both very interested in Romulan culture and we were hoping to gain some insights from you. However, if you do not wish to speak about this matter, we completely understand and respectfully withdraw.”

       Only now did So’Dan get a chance to really look at K’tera and he was surprised by what he saw. She was unlike any other Vulcan he had ever met. Her facial features were much softer and her face had more color than he had expected. He had to admit that she was an attractive woman.

       He slowly shook his head. “I was not prepared for that question.”

       She nodded understandingly.

       “Well, I’ll let you to it then,” said Laas, took her plate, and stood.

       K’tera looked up at the Bajoran. “My apologies to you also, Lieutenant. We did not intend to exclude you from our conversation.”

       Laas smiled. “That’s quite all right. I do have a meeting to get to. I’m sure Commander Leva will be delighted to keep you company,” she said but found her sarcasm to fall on deaf ears.

All of a sudden, she wasn’t even quite sure if So’Dan was not actually wanting to stay. She had not been dishonest, however, and was due to meet with her deputy. She gave everybody a short nod and then departed.

       “Why exactly are you curious about Romulans?” So’Dan said.

       “Romulans and Vulcans are related as I am sure you are aware,” said Nakaar. “Our interest is scientific in nature.”

       So’Dan studied Nakaar for a moment. He was not a typical Vulcan either but it was more difficult to point out the differences with him. He certainly spoke and dressed like most.

       “You are scientists, then?”

       “In a manner of speaking,” the woman said, a small smile forming on her lips.

       “Forgive me for saying so, K’tera but I have to say that you’re not as I expected.”

       She cocked her head slightly. “Please elaborate.”

       “I have met Vulcans before. I work with them here on Eagle and you are … well not quite like them.”

       Her smile widened slightly.

       He found it intoxicating. A beautiful Vulcan woman smiling was almost like a long-forgotten myth. Something one could easily imagine but had never been witness to. “Your smile for example.”

       “I can understand your confusion,” she said. “Nakaar and I do not share the same beliefs as most of our people. We embrace logic but we do not hide all our emotions. Our philosophy is not widespread among Vulcans but our order has several followers.”

       “Now that I find fascinating.” He noticed the two Vulcans exchanging a glance. “Are you two by any chance involved in some manner? If you don’t mind my question.”

       Now it was K’tera’s turn to look uncomfortable. Not anywhere near the way So’Dan had looked just a minute ago but her brow tightened and she glanced away for a few moments.

       “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

       “No need to apologize, Commander,” said Nakaar. “K’tera doesn’t like to be reminded that we were to be married a week ago.”

       “What happened?” said Leva, not immediately realizing that their private life shouldn’t have been any of his concern.

       “There were matters to consider that had not previously been revealed,” he said with a slight inflection in his voice. “Excuse me, while I will go and obtain a beverage,” he added and then stood to head for the replicators.

       It was quite obvious that Nakaar was upset. He suddenly felt uncomfortable for having caused this unease amongst the apparently troubled couple.

       “Perhaps I should leave,” he said and began to stand up as well.

       But K’tera put one of her hands over his. She looked at him. “Please, don’t.”

       So’Dan was surprised to feel her touch. It was smooth and warm. He looked at her hand and then at her. She quickly withdrew it. “Nakaar’s assumptions are erroneous.”

       “I’m not sure I understand.”

       She smiled again. “He becomes emotional sometimes.”

       He turned to look at the Vulcan who was now standing by the replicators at the far side of the room, seemingly considering his choices. So’Dan turned back around. “You call that emotional?”

       “For a Vulcan it is.”

       He nodded.

       “The truth is that Nakaar still seems to believe that I will marry him. I am afraid he has not yet understood that that is not the case.”

       “Is that the matter that had not been previously revealed?”

       K’tera sighed. “It is complicated.”

       And then her eyes opened wide as she looked at the doors.

       He followed her glance and spotted Xylion who had just entered the room. The Vulcan science officer quickly proceeded to approach them.

       K’tera stood and So’Dan followed suit. Even though he wasn’t sure what was happening.

       Xylion stopped by the table. “Commander Leva, I request to speak to K’tera in private,” he said.

       “You two know each other?”

       Xylion faced the Vulcan woman. “K’tera and I are betrothed.”

       So’Dan’s mouth popped open in surprise.

       “I told you it was complicated,” she said. Her smile was now gone, her face as serious as that of any Vulcan.

* * *

Lieutenant Junior Grade Lif Culsten had found himself with little to do for five hours while sitting at his post on the bridge.

 The ship was traveling at warp eight on a course for the Sigma Hydra sector and all he had to do was to keep an eye on the navigational sensors, making sure Eagle was not going to run into a meteor or another ship.

Considering the vastness of space, a very unlikely event in any case, numerous automated processes were in place to make sure something like that wouldn’t happen.

Lif had hoped that his recent promotion to chief flight control officer would bring with it more interesting aspects but in reality, the only thing that had changed was that his hours were now longer and that he had more responsibilities than before.

He wasn’t complaining. His promotion had also meant coming one small step closer to making it to the top someday.

After his shift had ended he had decided to drop by The Nest and get a bite to eat before returning to his quarters to look over the new flight protocols that were to be put in place on Eagle soon.

He had just reached deck nine, where the entrance of the upper levels of The Nest was located when he spotted a Vulcan man turning a corner and walking away from him. He did not wear a Starfleet uniform and even though Lif was well aware that Eagle usually carried about a hundred fifty civilians, he knew immediately that the Vulcan man was not one of them.

He wore a knee-length green robe and Lif figured that he belonged to the delegation that had come aboard earlier. He guessed that he had visited The Nest and that he was now on his way back to his quarters. What startled him, however, was the fact that he was walking in the wrong direction.

       The helmsman followed the Vulcan, slightly increasing his own pace to catch up with him and help him find his way. But it became quickly apparent that he didn’t seem lost at all. In fact, he seemed to know exactly where he was going.

       Lif slowed down.

Of course, he thought. Wenera was right. These delegates are not who they say they are.

       He continued to follow the Vulcan but he dropped back a little, giving him more room and most importantly, staying undetected.

       The delegate remained on deck nine.

Lif contemplated what he might be looking for. Besides the Nest, deck nine also contained the quarters of several senior officers, including his, as well as the main entrance to the large stellar cartography section. The Vulcan didn’t seem to be interested in any of those destinations.

       Lif could feel his heart rate fasten slightly. There was an undeniable element of excitement in following somebody without their knowledge. He had never done anything like it before but he thought he could get used to the thrill of it.

       Perhaps I should consider a job with Starfleet Intelligence. A small smile came over his lips.

       And then, with no warning, the Vulcan suddenly stopped. Lif spotted an intersecting corridor and quickly dashed into it. He pressed himself against the wall and slowly peeked around the corner. It seemed the Vulcan had not noticed him.

Lif retracted his head just as the man was about to look his way.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he saw a young female Trill crewman looking right at him with a questioning look on her face.

Lif was suddenly painfully aware that he was still pressed against the wall. He quickly stepped away from the bulkhead and smiled at her.

“Long day,” he said with an awkward laugh that didn’t sound at all convincing.

The Trill nodded, clearly still befuddled, and then moved on, deciding that the lieutenant’s unusual behavior was not worth her time.

Lif waited for a second until the crewman had disappeared before he returned to spy around the corner again.

He was just in time to see a green-clothed person turn into another corridor.

Lif jumped out from behind his cover and hastily made his way to the next corner. But he found the corridor in front of him empty. There were three doors, one on the left and two on the right. It seemed unlikely that the Vulcan could have reached the end of the corridor already so he decided to check the doors.

He carefully approached each door to read the labels and keep them from opening: Stellar Cartography Storage III, Tertiary Transporter Emitter Station, Deck Nine Gravity Sub-control.

What could a diplomat want in any of those rooms?

He decided against looking inside. If he found the Vulcan, he would have been hard-pressed to explain his own presence and potentially reveal that he had been following him. And while he could not imagine any reason for a civilian to visit any of those rooms, they were not exactly sensitive areas and therefore, strictly speaking, not off limits to him.

Then he heard one of the doors open. He felt his heart pounding in his chest. He quickly turned on his heel and walked away slowly, hoping that he would not cast any suspicion.

“Lieutenant Lif Culsten?”

Busted.

       The helmsman froze. It took him a second before he had mustered up the courage to turn and face his accuser. “Yes?”

       The Vulcan man approached him. “My name is Nakaar. I am a member of the delegation to Farga.”

       Lif nodded. And then a curious thought struck him. “How do you know my–“

       “I have studied the names of all senior officers on this vessel before coming on board. I like to be aware of who will be responsible for the safety of my colleagues.”

“Right,” said Lif. Nakaar did not appear upset but then, of course, he was a Vulcan and if he was he would not have shown it. “I was just … um,” he began and faced away, racking his brains as to think of something that would sound plausible. “I was just going to visit a friend of mine. Her quarters,” he said and pointed in the direction he had been going. “They’re over there.”

He couldn’t believe how clumsily his words were coming over his lips. He quickly decided that Starfleet Intelligence would do much better without him.

       Nakaar did not seem to be irritated. “Perhaps I could walk with you. It would appear I have taken a wrong turn somewhere.”

       Lif quickly nodded, eager to move on, and they both continued to walk.

       “I am very interested in your vessel, Lieutenant,” Nakaar said. “Starfleet ships have always fascinated me. I understand that the USS Eagle is a Nebula-class vessel?”

       “Third generation.”

       “Cruising speed: warp six point zero five; maximum speed: warp nine point six two; emergency speed: warp nine point nine three.”

       Lif shot the Vulcan a surprised look. He hadn’t even been aware of the exact figures and he was the helmsman. “You’re very well informed, sir.”

       “I have spent some time familiarizing myself with starship statistics. I am, however, less knowledgeable with Eagle’s armaments.”

       “We have eight, hull-mounted type-X phaser arrays and two torpedo launchers in a standard configuration. We can double that when Eagle carries a weapon’s pod,” he said. “But that is not really my specialty. You should speak with Commander Leva about that.”

       “The Romulan officer.”

       Lif nodded.

       “Let me ask you a question, Lieutenant. Do you believe it is a wise decision to put a Romulan in charge of a Starfleet vessel’s weapon systems?”

       “He is not fully Romulan,” Lif said quickly. “Besides, he is a really good tactician. You should watch him in action sometime. I bet you anything that he could have those phasers shoot off somebody’s hat from orbit.”

       Nakaar raised an eyebrow.

       “Not that …. we would ever have any reason to … you know, do that.”

       “It would be difficult to imagine a scenario in which what you have described would be necessary.”

       “Yeah,” Lif said and then stopped when he spotted Louise Hopkins’ quarters. “Anyway, this is me,” he said pointing to the doors. “The turbolift to get you to your quarters is just down the corridor.”

       The Vulcan stopped as well. “Thank you, Lieutenant. It was a pleasure meeting you,” he said and proceeded toward the lift.

       Lif looked after him as he headed down the corridor. He had to admit that he found the man quite pleasant and not at all what he had expected. A stiff, joyless Vulcan diplomat. But he felt proud that he had managed to keep his efforts of shadowing him so expertly discreet.

       The doors next to him slid open and chief engineer Hopkins stepped out, almost running right into the helmsman.

       “Lif!”

       He turned in surprise.

       “What are you doing here? Come for a visit?”

       The helmsman looked at the sandy-blond woman for a moment and then shook his head. “No time, Lou, I’m working on a very important case. Can’t talk now,” he said in an overly weighty manner and rushed away, leaving a puzzled Louise Hopkins behind.

* * *

There was a perfectly good reason why Michael Owens had decided to spend more time in his ready room instead of his quarters. And it was not so he could be closer to the bridge.

The guest quarters that housed his father happened to be on the same deck as his own quarters, in fact, they were just a short walk apart from each other. Putting his father so close to himself had not been his decision at all. The ship’s designers had decided–for reasons completely lost on him–that the VIP quarters had to be close to the ones of the captain.

Of course, he could have given his father one of the less luxurious residences on the lower decks but those were hardly fitting for a man of his rank.

       None of this mattered if he simply stayed in his office on deck one, right next to the bridge, and a long way from his father down on deck eight.

If he was lucky, perhaps he could go through this entire mission without having to run into him again. It seemed a futile hope, it even seemed slightly immature but he didn’t care about any of that at the moment. There was going to be a time when he was going to face his father and address all the issues that he felt needed to be addressed. But that time was not now.

       Michael had thrown himself into work to keep his mind on other things. Reviewing status reports, looking through personnel files and recommendations as well as condemnations and censures. He had to admit that all this paperwork was causing his eyelids to grow heavy and he was relieved when the annunciator heralded a much-needed distraction.

       “Come in, please.”

       The doors parted and Eagle’s first officer stepped inside.

       “Ah, Commander, take a seat.”

       The first officer nodded and proceeded to sit down by the desk.

       “Were you aware that Ensign Chendren’eck in astrophysics has been working much less efficiently in the last two weeks? I’ve just finished reviewing his performance review and I have to say, it’s a bit concerning, wouldn’t you agree?”

       Edison looked at his commanding officer with surprise. Owens was not usually in the practice of closely scrutinizing crew evaluations. He leaned forward and let the captain give him the padd he had been reading. He glanced over the file.

       Edison nodded. “Chendren’eck is a Gorgrosian. He is currently entering his hibernation phase. He will be working less and less in the next few weeks until he will begin to hibernate properly.”

       “Hibernate, really? For how long?” said Michael, having realized his mistake, he was more curious than worried.

       “Three months.”

       He leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. “He’ll be sleeping for three months? Isn’t that a bit excessive?”

       “Not when considering that Gorgrosians do not sleep for the rest of the year,” said the first officer with a smile.

       Michael nodded. “Indeed. Three months of sleep? I wish I could do that,” he said more to himself.

       “Sir, if I may ask, why are you reviewing the personnel reports? Have you been unsatisfied with the way I handle them?”

       The captain quickly shook his head. “Not at all, Commander. I think you’re doing a great job. But quite obviously I need to freshen up my knowledge of the crew. I didn’t even know we had a Gorgrosian on board.” Michael couldn’t deny he felt a little bit guilty for that oversight.

Crew rotations, especially in the lower ranks were quite usual and commonplace on a starship of Eagle’s size and it would have been near impossible for him to be well informed about every member of his nearly eight-hundred-strong crew. Not with all his other obligations as a starship captain.

       “I’d be more than happy to brief you in detail about the current crew complement,” he said with a little, boyish smirk.

       “Maybe some other time, Commander. Am I right in assuming that you came in here for another reason than to remind me I don’t know my own crew?”

       “You’re a regular mind reader, sir.”

       “Comes with that fourth pip. Now tell me, I can’t take the suspense.”

       “It’s about the mission, sir,” he said, taking on a much more serious-sounding tone. “I’m not sure what to think of it.”

       “It seems rather simple to me.”

       “Too simple.”

       Michael shot him a quizzical look.

       The first officer sat up straighter. “I have tried to speak to some of the members of the delegation and they seem rather deflective when it comes to questions about their job on Farga.”

       “And you think they shouldn’t be considering that all they’re doing is negotiating the release of a medical vaccine.”

       Commander Edison nodded. “In my experience, whenever there is secrecy, there is danger.”

       Michael had to agree with his first officer. He had not given the mission much thought, having been too distracted by his personal problems. But now that he had time to think about it, he felt that more information was not only required, it also should have been provided without question. But Starfleet and his father had been very vague from the very beginning.

       “I see what you mean. I’ll contact Admiral Throl and have him tell me more about what this mission is about.”

       “I have already done that.”

       Michael wasn’t sure if he should feel pride or anger. His first officer had taken the initiative and tried to find out as much as possible about a mission. On the other hand, he had gone over his head to contact Throl.

Michael decided that whatever Edison had done was for the good of the ship and its crew.

       “I’m sorry I should have come to you first,” he added.

       “That leaves us with little more options,” said Michael, perfectly willing to overlook Edison’s minor divergence from the chain of command.

       “There is one other person, currently on this vessel you could approach,” Edison said after a few seconds of silence had passed. By now it didn’t take a mind reader to understand that Owens’ relationship with his father was at best strained. But Edison clearly felt that he needed to suggest the idea nevertheless.

       “To be honest I don’t see the point of doing that,” said the captain a little bit too quickly. He regretted the statement, which he realized was not only untrue but also allowed the first officer too much insight into his feelings for his father.

       “Sir, I’m worried about the ship. Farga takes us fairly close to contested territory. If this mission possess any threats, we need to know about it. We need to be prepared.”

       Michael slowly nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. Is there anything else, Commander?”

       Edison stood, correctly realizing that the mood had shifted, mostly thanks to his suggestion. “That’s all. Thank you, sir,” he said and left the ready room.

       Michael remained in his seat, playing out numerous scenarios in his mind on how to face his father again without getting into another fight.

None of them seemed realistic.

* * *

The arrangement for Xylion and K’tera to be married had been made by their prospective families before either one of them had even been born.

Xylion had been quite surprised to find K’tera on Eagle as part of the Farga delegation. He was not in regular contact with her and had last spoken to her shortly after accepting the position as chief science officer on the Starfleet vessel.

He had already passed the age at which most Vulcans were traditionally married but that didn’t mean that he did not wish to do so. On the contrary, he had no intention to ignore the century-old tradition and had always been certain that he would form a permanent bond with K’tera in the not-so-distant future.

       Xylion had found his betrothed in The Nest and realized that she continued to be as irrational as she had always been.

Although had not chosen her to be his wife, he had always found her stimulating. Perhaps because she was different. But it had made things more difficult for him as she often dismissed the obvious logic that he proposed and instead insisted on behaving unreasonably.

Having served with many emotional species over the last year, Xylion believed he might have been better prepared engaging with K’tera.

It turned out, he was mistaken.

After a very short conversation in which K’tera had declared, in no uncertain terms, that she did no longer wish to marry him she had stormed out of The Nest, leaving Xylion behind.

       The Vulcan science officer was not willing to have her defy tradition that easily. He had decided to face her once more, this time in the privacy of her quarters.

       “Come in,” she said over the intercom after Xylion had activated the annunciator.

       The doors hissed open and he stepped inside. He found the light levels in the room too dark and his eyes needed a few moments to adjust.

He spotted her sitting in a chair facing away from the entrance. He watched as she put down an almost empty glass, containing an amber-colored liquid. He easily picked up the faint smell of alcohol.

       “I have come to speak with you.”

       She stood to face him. “I expected you would,” she said with little emotion in her voice. “I did not behave very logically earlier.”

       Xylion nodded; satisfied that she realized her mistake.

       She turned away. “However, my decision remains unchanged. I do not wish to marry you.”

       He followed her deeper into the room. “What you or I wish is irrelevant in this matter. This decision has been made by our families a long time ago.”

       “Not everybody on Vulcan adheres to the old ways anymore,” she said and put her glass back into the alcove. She entered a few commands into a computer panel and the replicator refilled her beverage.

       “I do not understand how that is relevant to our situation.”

       She whipped around and her facial expressions had changed. Her brow was furrowed and the edges of her mouth were uneven. “Seven years ago. Do you remember seven years ago?” her voice unable to hide her anger.

       Xylion cocked an eyebrow but didn’t speak.

       “Do you remember that I came to you, telling you that I was ready?” she continued, calmer now. “And do you remember what you said?”

       “I asked to postpone our wedding so that I could complete my studies. I was about to leave on an expedition.”

       “The expedition lasted three years.”

       The Vulcan nodded. “I informed you of the expected length of the expedition before I undertook it.”

       She sighed and took a sip from her drink Xylion believed to be a distilled liquor beverage from Earth.

       For a moment, neither of them spoke. K’tera discarded her glass and stepped to the window of her quarters, watching the stars streak by. “When you returned to Vulcan your new findings kept you so busy, you hardly had time to see me.”

       “I apologize if I was not as readily available as you may have wished. My work opened up new research opportunities that could not be ignored.”

       “There is a human saying, Xylion. Time flies. It did for us.”

       He didn’t quite understand and didn’t appreciate K’tera using human aphorisms which he found were usually imprecise or plain false. “Time has elapsed at a constant and unchanging rate.”

       She turned to face him. “Things have changed. For me. While you were busy with your work, I learned things I had never been exposed to before. And I made new friends.”

       “You speak of Nakaar?”

       A flicker of dread crossed her attractive features. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “You were aware of him?”

       “I have always cared for you, K’tera. I was always well aware of what you were doing and of the kind of people you surrounded yourself with. I did not know about Nakaar specifically but I was aware that you had shown an interest in another man. When I observed your interaction with him earlier, I concluded him to be that man.”

       A small smile crept on K’tera’s face. “You have always been a very perceptive person.”

       Xylion was not to be deterred, however. “Do you intend to marry Nakaar?”

       She considered him for a moment but soon found that it was impossible to read his thoughts. She then turned away and it seemed there was a hint of annoyance in her voice when she spoke again. “Isn’t it irrelevant? I wouldn’t be able to even if I wished it. I have been chosen to marry you.”

       The science officer found her answer unsatisfactory. Not only had she already stated her intentions to defy traditions, Xylion knew that she was quite capable of doing so. “I implore you to fulfill the role that was intended for you and take me as your husband. It is what our respective families expect,” he said.

       She uttered an almost inaudible sneer. She had never felt it necessary to do what others expected from her nor was she worried about disappointing her family. “How do you see our future, Xylion? Tell me,” she said and faced him once more. “Living together in a house in the Vulcan desert, raising our children, and keeping a pet sehlat?”

       “If that is what you wish.”

       A small smile returned to her lips. “I have difficulties seeing you being satisfied living such a life,” she said and the smile disappeared. “Indeed, I am not certain if it is what I wish for myself. I need more time, Xylion. Please, leave me now and I will promise I will consider what you have said.”

       He nodded and raised his right hand, his palm facing outward as he quietly performed the traditional Vulcan greeting.

       K’tera mirrored the gesture.

       He turned and left her quarters. He hadn’t learned much from his visit. But he now realized that K’tera had strong reservations about her relationship with Nakaar.

And that meant that chances were good that she would soon come to understand that the only logical choice for her was to marry him just as she had been preordained to do.

If that meant that he had to leave Eagle and perhaps even Starfleet, then that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.