Star Trek - TOS 38 Idic Epidemic (12 page)

“Sendet!” T’Pina exclaimed. “Surely you cannot
believe it is an error to educate all those who have the
ability and the desire. As for offworlders ‘overrun
ning’ Vulcan, statistics prove you in error. Fewer than
one-hundredth of a percent of Vulcan citizens are of
other races; less than one-half percent of the popula
tion, whether temporary residents like students and
researchers or the few who have sought citizenship,
are non-Vulcan.”

Although he kept control of his facial muscles,
Sendet’s eyes showed surprise.

T’Pina could not understand why he would expect her to accept his assertions when they were patently
untrue.

At the same time that her mind rejected Sendet’s
false assertions, she regretted her sharp reaction. The
conversation had begun pleasantly. Why was it deteri
orating?

“In the past generation,” Sendet said flatly,
“outworlders have gained a strong foothold. What is more serious, their influence on Vulcan grows
daily.”

“How can that be detrimental?” T’Pina asked. “Do
you not believe in IDIC? The combinations of diversi
ty have produced only good. On Nisus, where every
one is different from everyone else, scientific progress
occurs at a rate never seen before in the history of the
galaxy.” She searched his face. “Sendet, I fear you and
I have a basic disagreement in philosophy which
neither is likely to overcome. If you will excuse me, I
shall return to my quarters.”

“You will not stand your ground and fight?” Sendet
asked.

“… fight?”

“With words,” he explained. “I do not suggest the
lirpa.”

The
lirpa.
Today it was a ceremonial weapon, although every Vulcan male was trained in its use
because of the possibility, however rare, that he might
one day face a ceremonial challenge.

But the heavy, awkward
lirpa
was not a woman’s
weapon. Between a man and a woman it had no
function today, but historically it had been the meth
od used by a male warrior to strike off the head of a
woman who betrayed him. During the Reforms, sis
ters, daughters, even the occasional wife who followed
Surak against the will of male clansmen, were sometimes executed thus.

Sendet’s words drew a chill up T’Pina’s back …
and yet there was something paradoxically pleasant in
that chill. For all her experience of people of widely
varying cultures, T’Pina found Sendet like no one she had ever met before.

“Will you abandon the field,” he challenged her now, “or stay and refute my contention?”

“I have no need to refute it,” she replied. “The people assembled on this very ship refute it. The
captain and his first officer—Human and Vulcan, and
it is said that they command the finest ship in
Starfleet. Sarek of Vulcan and his human wife Amanda; Sorel and Corrigan—”

“And Daniel Corrigan’s wife, T’Mir,” Sendet inter
rupted, his voice so cold T’Pina
did
shiver—and this
time there was no pleasant aspect to the chill. “There
you see the hidden vice within the virtue of IDIC,” he
continued. “Vulcans intermarrying with outworlders,
polluting our blood—”

“I will hear no more of this,” said T’Pina, carefully
controlling a growing anger. “I did not think any person trained in logic, as surely a scientist must be,
could so easily deny fact. Good night, Sendet.”

T’Pina left the observation deck, fighting down an
illogical sense of loss. How could someone so young,
healthy, attractive, be so
wrong?
And, when he was so
determinedly wrong, why did she feel such an attrac
tion to him?

It was true she had not managed to terminate the discussion with courtesy and dignity. Perhaps that
was why she was dissatisfied with herself.

She must meditate. Therefore she did not go back to the reception, but took the turbolift to the deck
where quarters had been assigned to the passengers.

She palmed the plate outside the room she shared with her mother, and the door slid open.

But the room was not empty, as she had expected.
In the outer office area, with its desk, terminal, and
two chairs, sat T’Kar and the healer Sorel.

T’Pina grasped control. “Good evening, Mother, Healer. Do you desire privacy?” The open-work screen between the work area and the sleep area did nothing to prevent voices from being heard through
the entire cabin. “I shall return to the reception.”

“No, T’Pina—stay,” said T’Kar. “Sorel has been
telling me about the man you met at the reception.”

“Do not be concerned, Mother. I know what Sendet
is.” For a healer to feel compelled to warn them, as surely Sorel had been doing, something was badly amiss—and that suddenly caused T’Pina to put to
gether facts she had known, but not connected before.
“He is not part of the medical mission. He is a
Follower of T’Vet.”

“He told you?” asked Sorel.

“There was no need. His philosophical beliefs told
me. We
…
have nothing in common. When I discov
ered that, I left him on the observation deck.”

“You did well, my daughter,” T’Kar told her.

Then why do I feel as if I’ve done wrong?
T’Pina wondered, shielding her thought—but not strongly
enough. Sorel’s head lifted slightly, and those unread
able black eyes rested on her.

“T’Pina,” said the healer, “I can answer your
question. Shall I speak before your mother, or would
you hear in private?”

T’Kar’s blue eyes revealed surprise as she looked from Sorel to T’Pina, knowing that Sorel had read
something with his healer’s ESP that could be
shielded from any other Vulcan.

T’Pina had never hidden anything from her moth
er. In fact, she had intended to confide her ambivalent
reactions to Sendet if her meditations did not resolve
them. She had often found that private meditation left her mind ever cycling through a problem, while
discussing it with her mother would clarify and re
solve it.

“I know I have done nothing shameful, Healer,”
she replied. “Speak.”

“No, T’Pina, nothing shameful at all,” said Sorel.
“What you are experiencing is perfectly normal. Your
physical examination revealed the first signs: you are fully matured.”

His meaning, to Vulcan ears, was clear. She was
already legally an adult, a citizen, and her graduation
from the Academy had admitted her to the ranks of
those who shaped the future. Now her physical growth
matched her intellectual achievements: she was ready
to marry and bear children.

“It is nothing to fear, my daughter,” said T’Kar.

“I do not fear it,” said T’Pina, only half lying.

Sorel said, “You are unbonded. So is Sendet. The
attraction you feel is normal, but you have learned to
control your desires with rational thought, as do all intelligent beings. Proceed as you have begun, and
you will not err.”

“Sorel,” T’Kar said hesitantly, “do you think I
should actively seek a husband for T’Pina?”

“I do not think that will be necessary,” Sorel replied. “I predict that eligible males will quickly
present themselves once T’Pina sets foot on Nisus.”

Marriage. Bonding. That would resolve these unset
tling feelings. Now that she understood what was
happening, T’Pina recognized her reaction to Sendet:
it was normal for Vulcans to bond, husband and wife sharing a mental intimacy unknown among nontelepathic species. When she met an unbonded male of appropriate age, there was an instinctive
attraction.

Her parents had chosen not to bond her in child
hood, although there had been several offers. Now she
wondered if T’Kar and Sevel had been wise; the
ancient tradition of bonding at age seven meant that
when the pair reached their maturity they already had
one another to rely on.

With sudden insight, she recognized that of the
three Vulcans in that room, she bore the least discom
fort.

Both her mother and the healer had lost bond-
mates; T’Pina yearned for some unknown that she
had never had.

T’Kar had had the presence of Sevel through
all
the
years until his death. It was certainly worse for her,
knowing what was lacking in her life.

And Sorel—his wife had been torn from him unex
pectedly, without the chance for farewells or healing
rituals. His lack must be an agony compared to the
pleasure/pain of T’Pina’s vague yearnings.

Was it possible, she wondered, that Sorel and T’Kar
might find what they needed in one another?

“Thank you, Healer,” she said. “Knowing what is
happening will enable me to control it. It is still early.
I shall return to the reception if—”

“I must leave,” said Sorel. “Dr. McCoy has some new information to share with the medical person
nel.”

“Thank you for your help, Sorel,” said T’Kar.

The healer did not give the standard reply: “One does not thank logic.” It was not logic that had led
him to speak to her mother, T’Pina knew. Instead, he
said, “I am here to serve. Do not hesitate to call upon
me.”

Chapter Twelve

When
Korsal
started home from the power plant,
the clouds had closed in again and it was pouring rain.
Since he now wore a waterproof jumpsuit, he didn’t
get soaked again, but the cold rain on his bare head
made him shiver.

Leaving home hurriedly, he hadn’t been able to find
the helmet that should have been hung on the cycle’s
handlebars. One of his sons was due a scolding: Kevin
if he had misplaced the helmet, and Karl if he had
been riding the cycle. Karl had inherited the Klingon
early growth pattern. He was big enough and well
coordinated enough to handle the cycle, but Nisus law
prohibited anyone less than ten standard years old, no
matter what his species, from driving a powered
vehicle.

Oddly enough, that frequent argument with his
younger son was reassuring to Korsal: it proved that
the boy was Klingon. In the empire, he would have
been operating such equipment for over a year by
now.