Chapter Text
After he stepped out because he needed “a minute” he paced the hallway for some indeterminate amount of time (probably a minute) whisper-cursing like a crazy person. The second time he passed the security guard posted outside the conference room the poor guy gulped so loud it sounded like he’d swallowed a golf ball. Kirk gave him a captainly nod, like all’s well, or good job mister, and then strode off, hiding his own embarrassment in purposeful action. In truth, he had no idea what he was going to do or where he was headed, only that a quiet, formless rage was coursing through him and he needed to walk it out.
Any decent person would think the literal objectification of small children was wrong. Right? That wasn’t a hard call. But Kirk also knew what it was like to be a small child at the mercy of capricious, neglectful, self-serving, or otherwise self-absorbed adults whose care was predicated on conditions that were never entirely clear and changed on a whim.
Eventually Spock found him peering at the Romulan commander’s supine form through a transparent Medbay wall. He’d dismissed the security detail. There was no point having them there. Kaol would not be getting up anytime soon and would be no threat even if he did.
“McCoy’s gunning for whoever dislocated this guy’s shoulders, so fair warning,” Kirk said without turning around.
“It was not intentional.”
“Tell that to the guy who didn’t help you do it.”
“I am not proud of my actions, Captain.”
“Nor particularly regretful?”
“To my shame.”
“Wow. Pride? Shame? What’s next on the emotional spin-the-wheel?”
“Spite? Petty revenge? I do not know. This is … uncomfortable for me.”
“Spock,” Kirk said gently, “I was teasing. Inappropriately. I’m clearly in no position to judge.”
“May I ask why you are here?”
“Spite. Petty revenge.” A hand waved listlessly at the bad guy in the biobed. “Driven by a pointless urge to beat the crap out of a vegetable.” He rubbed his eyes, emitting a soft groan. “Where’s Uhura? She annoyed with me again?”
“I think not. She is preparing a report of her observations during the interview with Dr. Mas. And, also, enjoying a much-needed meal.”
“Nice. And the interviewee?”
“Lt. Beghaii has found Dr. Mas an extremely secure berth.”
“Our security personnel will be earning their keep for the next few weeks that’s for sure.” He paused, pulled at his lip. “I can’t figure her out. Dr. Mas, I mean. That whole business about Talu and her being lovers threw me off. I think she knew it would, but…” He trailed off, no longer clear about the track they thought they were on.
Before the interrogation, while they’d been waiting for Uhura to make herself presentable, Kirk had taken the opportunity to ask the Vulcans about their Romulan doctor. The harried yeoman who’d been prepping quarters for them had only just arrived and their relief morphed into exhausted resignation as they realized he wasn’t going to let them go just yet. He’d tabled his guilt about it. Just a few quick questions: Was she good at her job? Did she treat them well? Did her fellow Romulans respect her? Was she military or civilian? What did she know about the operation or its purpose? He’d been hoping for a glimpse into Mas’s character as well as an edge going in.
It was clear from the moment he said her name, they did not like her at all. They were reserved in the expression of it, carefully acknowledging her expertise in obstetrics, that she was not military as far as they knew, but— “The only Romulan in the compound who was not a convicted criminal was the commander,” offered a woman named Vareshi. Another, T’Maru, pointed out that although many were conscripted from prisons, some of those were political prisoners. Did they know if Dr. Mas was a political prisoner? They did not. However, “In certain behaviors she has proven to be unscrupulous in a manner that suggests crimes of fraud or medical malfeasance. She has been coercive in her dealings with some of us. We also suspect Dr. Mas betrayed Talu to Commander Kaol and is complicit in his assault upon her.”
Then Tes came tearing out of McCoy’s office and everyone got … distracted.
So, the information Kirk, Spock and Uhura ended up taking into the conference room was 1. possible criminal, and 2. possible betrayal and complicity in grievous assault. Nothing about a relationship, sexual or otherwise.
And now Spock seemed uncertain how to interpret his own observations of Dr. Mas as well. “I am aware the term ‘lovers’ can refer to a strictly physical sexual arrangement without the sentiment of love. Yet, Dr. Mas appeared to demonstrate genuine concern for Talu’s welfare.”
“Abusers often convince themselves it’s love.”
“We have no actual evidence she is an abuser, Captain.”
“If you coerce someone into a sexual relationship that’s abuse.”
“We have no evidence of coercion either. Until Talu is able to give it.”
“I don’t think it matters if it’s a genuine emotional attachment or not. Dr. Mas was attempting to use vulnerabilities she perceived in us to manipulate her circumstances.”
“Vulnerabilities such as sentimentality about the emotional attachments of others?”
“Yes.”
Kirk pondered how he’d never once assumed Nero was representative of Romulans as a people. But if Dr. Mas and Commander Kaol were examples of the average Romulan citizen, that didn’t bode well for future relations with citizens of the Federation either.
There was that asylum seeker though. Kirk resolved to have a chat with that guy at the soonest opportunity.
Spock, sunk in his own thoughts, had been staring at the bio-monitors over Kaol’s bed, where all the condition-indicators hummed along unchanging. He blinked like he was coming out of a trance. It had been a rough couple of days, for him especially. “Captain. It might be best if we allow Lt. Beghaii to take charge of all interrogational interviews and we merely observe and offer direction from a distance.”
“Maybe.” Kirk turned his back on Kaol’s sightless eyes, carefully arranged limbs, and semi-discreet catheters. He leaned against the see-through wall with his arms crossed over his chest. “Have you contacted your dad about all this yet?”
It was a bold question considering he hadn’t even started the report he’d be making to Starfleet Command about this spur-of-the-moment mission. That report would be much easier to write if the Vulcans happened to mention how satisfied they were with the mission’s outcome.
“I – I have not contacted anyone on New Vulcan yet.”
“They’re going to be good with it though, right? Receptive? Welcoming?”
Spock cocked a brow at him, trying to decipher the hyper edge to his queries. “The women will be welcomed. Of this I am certain.”
Of course, they would. A bunch of demonstrably fertile women on a colony of people near extinction? Open arms all around. (He made a quick mental note to find them an advocate as soon as possible.) But the phrasing of Spock’s response pointed at another concern.
“You’re worried about the little kids.”
“Worried is perhaps the wrong word.” Spock examined the toes of his boots a little too long. “I acknowledge my concerns are grounded in my own experiences as a child and, as such, are biased and likely unfounded under the circumstances in which we Vulcans currently find ourselves.”
“You’d think. Jesus. I mean, beggars can’t be choosers. Or picky or whatever the saying is…” that I shouldn’t be saying at all I now realize.
“Although we are currently dependent on the good will of other species in the galaxy and could reasonably classify as recipients of charity, we have not yet needed to resort to outright begging, Captain.”
Kirk cast a baleful eye at Spock’s inescapable pedantry. “How about this then? ‘Logical people shouldn’t be prejudiced assholes.’”
The corners of Spock’s mouth twitched up a fraction. He creatively rephrased. “New Vulcan would certainly be foolish to reject any child who might, in adulthood, contribute viable genetic material to a diminished population.”
“Damn straight! If anyone had the right to reject those kids it would be the women forced to give to birth to them. But they didn’t! They don’t even seem resentful which is more than I can say about my own mother and she got pregnant with me on purpose. All those kids were healthy and happy when Delucca checked them over, and that’s a freakin’ miracle, and a tribute to superior mothering.”
Spock seemed to have a knee-jerk reaction to the word “happy,” but let it slide. “It would be illogical to resent a child for the circumstances of its conception.” He gave Kirk a pointed look. “Or its birth.”
It was Kirk’s turn to contemplate his boots, suddenly embarrassed to be so caught out, seen. This simple gift of acknowledgement felt huge, and he was awash with gratitude at a kindness he wasn’t sure he’d earned or even deserved from the man. Spock probably didn’t see it as kindness. After all, he’d only pointed out the obvious.
Before Kirk could mortify them both, he clumsily joked, “Subtle, Spock, real subtle.”
“I am seldom accused of subtlety.” Spock’s expression indicated he didn’t know why he was being accused of it now.
“I can never tell if you actually don’t comprehend facetiousness or if you’re just yanking my chain.”
“Why would I—"
“Never mind!” Kirk threw his hands up and laughed in surrender. “Okay. So, what are your other reasons for not contacting New Vulcan just yet?”
“One is the fact that I have not told any of the women that Vulcan is no more.”
“Oh, shit,” Kirk whispered. “Shit. I didn’t even – you think they don’t know already? I thought everyone – I mean I heard even the people on your colony worlds could feel it when it, uh… went.” But then again, these women had suffered so many losses before Nero exacted his vengeance against an entire world for the sins of one man, maybe that enormous loss didn’t resonate the way it had for every other survivor.
This was going to be hard.
“I’m so sorry—” “I am a coward—" they said at the same time.
“How are you a coward?”
“Why do you apologize? It is—"
“Illogical. I know. But I’m sorry, Spock. I am. Can’t help it. It’s a human thing. And you are not a coward for wanting to save those women more pain.”
“Yet I have caused pain myself. Tes is correct to be wary of my assurances about her mother’s condition. I have not been entirely forthcoming about the chances of treatment and recovery.”
“To spare her pain.”
“Jim,” Spock huffed out a rueful sigh. “None of this is about their pain. I am attempting to spare myself. I want them to already know so that we need never discuss it. I hope that they have searched for news from home and are even now viewing impartial accountings of events. Or perhaps someone will unwittingly express sympathy for the loss, or they will overhear a mention of it in passing and only then seek confirmation from me because confirming it after the fact will be easier – for me. Is that not cowardice?”
“You’re reluctant to open up a great gaping wound. That’s a healthy impulse toward self-preservation.”
“Not for a Vulcan.”
“Yeah, well, I’m calling bullshit. You can’t tell me other Vulcans aren’t struggling to cope with this.” He quashed an impulse to rattle off recent suicide numbers among survivors. “Spock. You always do what’s necessary, what’s right and what needs to be done. And not just because you’re Vulcan. Because you’re you.”
“Your opinion of my character, though generous, does not reflect my own at this time.”
Survivor’s guilt was a force unto itself. A self-destructive one too often. Kirk’s own mother was a living example and she’d carelessly burdened him with it throughout his life, (though he tended toward survivor’s resentment now). In a Star Fleet officer, survivor’s guilt was a dangerous liability. Which was why his mother now worked as an engineer in the private interstellar shipping sector.
He gripped Spock by the shoulders tightly, locked eyes, and refused to let go. “Listen to me. You don’t need to make this your sole responsibility. You absolutely do not have to take this on. You’re the only reason these women were found at all. If you weren’t familiar with that play, if your research had been less thorough, if you hadn’t been willing to act on a hunch they wouldn’t be here now. You’ve done enough for today, tomorrow and into next week. Maybe sometime down the line you can share your own story with them, but in the meanwhile, let me help, okay? Let me act in my official capacity and be the one to regretfully inform them—”
“No.” Spock tore his gaze away, shook his head. “That would be – I cannot.”
“All right. How about this? I’ll be the one to let it slip somehow, send them to you to confirm it. You can tell them about the new colony, everything that’s being done, let them know about the efforts to locate more survivors, any of the positives. All you.”
Spock opened his mouth, thought better of whatever he was going to say and then surrendered with a murmured “thank you.”
***
Tes sat cross-legged on the floor of the rooms they’d been given. She was clean, her hair brushed and braided, her clothes new, if uninteresting. She had not eaten yet. Everyone else had eaten but she would not eat until she had spent sufficient time meditating on her shameful behavior. Her brother and one of her baby cousins crawled and climbed on her, poking her in the cheeks, putting their fingers in her ears, but she refused to acknowledge them. She was still too anxious and frustrated and did not want to put negative emotions onto babies.
She had shamed her family in front of strangers, and she had no remorse. She might sit here for the rest of her life and still feel no remorse. Her concern for Mother was not wrong. She had expressed it badly, but her concern was justified. And it was still there, a niggling thing at the base of her skull.
Prisu made a scoffing noise. Tes opened one eye and glanced sideways at her sister. Prisu was viewing something moderately entertaining on the com-screen, but her attention immediately shifted. She increased the volume slightly on the vid, and after a surreptitious check that the aunts were still dozing, she scooted across the floor like a conspirator.
“Did you actually strike him?” Prisu whispered. Her expression was disgracefully gleeful.
Tes, who’d opened both eyes when her sister approached, closed them again. Humiliation crawled up her neck, burning her cheeks.
In truth, she had some remorse.
She had hit Mr. Spock. With her fists. And raged at him. And called him a liar.
Though he’d seemed shocked, he merely clasped her wrists to stop her assault, looked into her eyes, and said, “Your mother is alive. She is not alone.” He led her to an array of monitors where Doctor Leonard pointed at the view of her mother lying in a bed, cocooned in a blanket with just her head poking out, eyes closed, breathing softly. Nurse Bast sat next to her. He showed her how to read the data of each indicator on the monitor and what each set of readings meant. Mother was not dying. According to the monitors.
Spock said, “You see now that you have allowed your fears to distort your sense of reality.”
“No.” Then the words tumbled out of her in their own language. “She was in my mind. She called me her little sprout. She wished me peace and long life.”
“That would seem a pleasant reminiscence. A product of your own mind perhaps, seeking comfort in a trying situation.”
“She was saying goodbye.”
“You will be parted for a time, that is certain. This is concerning to you and may have heightened your anxiety about this current separation.”
What he said was reasonable and he had treated her with more forbearance than she deserved. But she knew what she knew. Her mother had reached out to her along the familial bond. She was saying goodbye in a way that felt … permanent.
Jim, the Captain, had also witnessed her lose her composure – for the second time. Dressed in his duty uniform, tawny gold and black, he’d met her eyes briefly, his own a flash of blue like a lara-bird as she stood before her family and the other Vulcans in a posture of contrition. He didn’t seem embarrassed at her or for her, but other than that she had no idea what he was thinking. For all that humans wore emotions like different sets of clothes, Jim could be surprisingly Vulcan.
Her cousin Vareshi and Aunt Sanvi, however, had been mortified. And when Sasav and Balev learned of her behavior she was subjected to their displeasure as well. Later, there would be discussions of virtuous atonement, restoring honor and making amends, but for now she was condemned to sit pretending to meditate, afraid to meditate.
Brother inched his way up her back using her braid as a handhold until he stood triumphant on wobbly legs and tiny feet, smacking her head with tiny hands.
“I wish I had been there to see it,” Prisu said softly. “What did he do to you?”
“Nothing,” Tes squeaked. The tiny hands grabbed fistfuls of the rest of her hair, as he leaned backwards. She reached around trying to disengage him, too aware of her aunts’ breathing, and Prisu’s glinting interest. She pried powerful baby fingers out of the tangle. He fell onto his bottom and then promptly tipped side-ways smashing his nose into the carpet. Twisting around fast, she lifted him onto her lap to comfort him before he had a chance to start wailing. The Halves were more vocal than Vulcan babies. And when Brother got vocal, he was loud. Mother could usually quiet him before he started—
He stiffened suddenly in her arms, eyes wide, little lips quivering. Prisu drew in a sharp breath, blinking hard, then staring into the air at nothing. Behind the partition, Sasav and Balev stirred as the threads of a bond unwound themselves from theirs.
In her secure room in the Medbay, Perren slipped past bio-monitors and quietly disappeared into death before Nurse Bast had returned from fetching a fresh cup of tea.