The Pon T'Keshtan

CHAPTER 10:

Nyota was awake and out of bed before Spock, which was unusual. His internal-clock and work ethic typically got him up and moving before most crewmembers, so his sleeping in was anomalous. Nyota, freshly showered and in uniform, was standing before his bathroom mirror, putting her hair up in a high ponytail when he approached, still in his pajamas, eyes rimmed with sleep and hair mussed. His beard, which grew quickly and heavily, was a dark shadow of stubble. In public, Vulcan males were always tidy and clean-shaven, so Nyota enjoyed the momentary treat of seeing her Vulcan looking 'natural' and scruffy. She smiled at his reflection and said, "Good morning, sleepyhead."

"Asal rom ish-veh, k'diwa," (1) Spock muttered. He moved her hands aside and finished putting up her hair.

Their previous night had been relatively quiet. After Spock had awakened suddenly from his dream, Nyota had convinced him to go to bed. She had helped him shed his uniform and into his night clothes, and then they sat on his bed while he finished his light supper of soup and kap. Although he'd made a few perfunctory overtures to initiate sex, she didn't press him, and they simply ended up in each other's arms: he kissing and nuzzling her, she stroking his length to relieve some of his tension. Nyota then massaged his back, neck and shoulders until he released himself to much-needed sleep, then took up the spot beside him on the bed and drifted off herself.

He had been sleeping so soundly when she awoke she didn't want to disturb him, especially in light of the fact he hadn't slept well the past several months. Instead, she'd slid away as quietly as she could to check on Pa'shu. The sehlat had been snoring away in the front room. Either she was exceedingly comfortable already, or she was recovering from her ordeal of the last year or so, which had culminated in a bath and a pair of vaccinations yesterday afternoon. Remembering the sehlat's reaction to the shots - a roar so loud it nearly blew out the veterinarian's new hair plugs - made Nyota giggle a bit.

"Do I amuse you?" Spock softly asked her image in the bathroom mirror.

"Always," Nyota said with a gentle playfulness. "But I was actually reliving Pa'shu's date with the vet last night."

"She is enceinte," Spock said in defense of the animal. "Which makes her more sensitive."

"I hope you're this understanding when I get pregnant -" Nyota quipped before biting her tongue. "Oh, I'm sorry, Spock. I shouldn't joke about that."

Spock shook his head, but she wasn't sure if he was dismissing the subject or scolding her about her jest. "The subject is not prohibited. In fact, I believe it is something we should discuss when time permits," he said, smoothing her finished hair with both of his hands. "Will I see you at lunch this afternoon?"

He hadn't mentioned her work schedule for the day, or his. She was being allowed back at the Communications Station on the bridge, while he was still on restricted duty, prohibited from making any command decisions or assuming his normal post. Although he would never admit to feeling irked or despondent, Nyota knew he prided himself on his job performance, and the restrictions due to his current mental difficulties frustrated him. He had assigned himself busy-work in Engineering to occupy his time and mind, and although he felt all work was valuable and worthwhile; she knew he regretted not being on the bridge. She answered him with, "When and where?"

"My quarters, thirteen-hundred hours?" he suggested.

She turned to him, smiling. "Your quarters, thirteen-hundred," she agreed. "You have an appointment with Dr. McCoy for the bio scan today, right?"

"Yes. I am also hoping to be able to schedule another appointment with Dr. Surrey."

"About your dream -"

"Yes," the among other things was implied in his tone.

Nyota put her hands to Spock's chest, working her fingertips through the material of his pajama shirt so they could make contact with his skin. "I am - I am meeting with Dr. Surrey myself later this afternoon," she said. She wasn't sure if she should tell him but she didn't want to lie to him, and she didn't want him finding out from someone else. When Spock's expression told her nothing, she asked him, "Is that all right with you?"

"Yes, of course it is," Spock said, not entirely convincingly. His head then tilted slightly to one side, and straightened up again. Then he asked, "Are you having difficulties? Is there something I can do to assist you?"

"No," she tried to make light of the situation. "I just want to get some information from him; clarify some things. It's not a big deal, really. I know he's your doctor, so, if you want me to, I can take my questions to one of the other ship's counselors."

"That is not necessary," Spock said. He looked her over, straightened the collar of her red over-shirt, pulled her long ponytail forward over one shoulder, and said, " I know my present dysfunction has caused us some... complications, k'diwa. And... I admit, as of late, I have been less than exemplary in my performance as your mate, so if you need to seek couns-"

"Oh, Spock, that's not true," Nyota assured him honestly. "Have you heard me complain about 'us'? Don't be so hard on yourself. You're allowed down-time just like everyone else, you know."

Spock's dark eyes smiled at her as the rest of his face remained expressionless. "Sybok said much the same thing," he said.

Nyota's heart sank. He has been hallucinating about his half-brother.

She was going to ask Spock to identify who Sybok was, talk about him more, but then decided against that. She already knew who Sybok was, and to pretend she didn't would have been a lie. She couldn't, wouldn't lie to Spock. After several beats she asked, "Oh? What did he say to you?"

"That I am too demanding on myself; that my standards for performance are too high," Spock answered. "I do not entirely agree with the assessment; however, I am keeping his cautions - and yours - in mind."

"Well, good," she said, trying to keep the tinge of sadness from her tone. At least the hallucination was supportive and not encouraging him to damage himself, she thought.

Nyota didn't want to leave him, but she was going to be late if she lingered any longer, so she pulled his pajama shirt open slightly between the buttons and kissed him softly on the chest. She reached up and traced his stubble-roughened cheek and jaw line as she slipped past him toward the bathroom door. "I'll see you later," she said. "I love you."

"Taluhk nash-veh k'du,"(2) Spock replied softly with a nod.

Nyota, assuming her station behind the captain's chair and to its right, was aware the eyes of some bridge crewmembers on her. Chekhov, Sulu... They wanted to ask about Spock, but at the same time didn't want to intrude. And she wasn't sure what to say to them if they asked. She felt she had to defend Spock in the face of whatever came up, but at the same time, she knew he was deteriorating and she feared for him. So, she kept her back to the bridge and focused on her station, running unnecessary diagnostics and making nonessential scans of the local transmissions to keep herself occupied.

When the captain stepped onto the bridge, she acknowledged him, but otherwise remained silent. Nyota was grateful he didn't step over to chat. Instead he took his chair, running through superfluous, routine checks of the ship's status with the helms crew. It was extraneous work for him; he didn't need to do it; both Sulu and Chekhov were more than qualified to run status checks themselves. Like Spock, however, Kirk wasn't complete if he didn't do his job to the fullest extent, hit all the points, find value in even the smallest tasks. She admired them both for their belief that there were physical, mental and moral benefits to a job well done. In fact, she admitted, Kirk surprised her. Within the short period since he assumed captaincy of the Enterprise, he had set aside a large chunk of his boyish recklessness and was maturing into a fine fleet officer. When she had first met him - in a bar in Iowa while she was still a cadet and he hadn't yet joined Starfleet - she wouldn't have believed it possible.

"I'm impressed… I thought you were just a dumb hick who only had sex with farm animals," she'd said to him.

He'd replied with an inebriated grin, "Well... Not only."

The silvery ear bud connected to her station pinged softly, and she set it firmly in her ear in order to hear the incoming transmission more clearly. "Captain," she said. "I'm picking up a transmission from the shuttlecraft Rala (3). It's Ambassador Sarek, sir."

Spock kept Pa'shu with him as he went about his morning duties. Some crewmembers gawked at the large beast following the First Officer through the ship's corridors, stepping aside, ducking down adjacent hallways or climbing into service tubes to make room for it. In Engineering, while Spock ran diagnostics on the dilithium (4) chambers with Mister Scott - who was still under the weather, but didn't want Mr. Spock tinkering with 'his bairns' without supervision - some crewmen avoided the sehlat while others sought to interact with her and make her a mascot.

The animal enjoyed their attention, and responded with gleeful huffs when two engineers played a modified game of "catch" with her using a disk of insulation as a Frisbee. Pa'shu bounded along the lower deck, chasing and bumping the disk from its flight path with her muzzle in order to make it crash against a wall or into a console. Once downed, she scooped it up gently in her mouth and carried it back to the crewmen for another toss. Later, a female engineer applied an "Able Seaman" pip she had manufactured to Pa'shu's collar. Spock ignored the jocularity but appreciated that the sehlat was receiving the consideration she desired and deserved as an unofficial ambassador of her breed.

By oh-nine-fifty, Spock had to leave Engineering for his appointment with Dr. McCoy, for the follow-up scan on his pelvis. He intended to take Pa'shu to Medical with him, but some of the engineers protested her removal and Spock reconsidered. He decided to allow Pa'shu to remain in Engineering with the stern caveat that he expected the staff to complete their duties and assigned projects by the end of their shifts. If their tasks were not finished to his satisfaction, he would withhold their shore leave privileges until the work was done. They agreed, rushing off to their various assignments, each one encouraging Pa'shu to follow him or her. Pa'shu gave Spock's hand a nudge with her muzzle then loped off after a Junior-Grade Lieutenant with a joyful vlie.

When Spock entered the Medical Bay, Dr. McCoy and Nurse Chapel were at the main com-station talking to Captain Kirk.

"- The Ambassador says his pilot, S'Risha, is having some kind of problem with her pregnancy," Kirk said over the link from the bridge.

"S'Risha," McCoy replied. "I remember her. Bright lady. She piloted the Keswick when we were escaping from New Vulcan. I didn't know she'd been subjected to the Ek'tevan edict." (5)

"Well, she's now spotting and in quite a bit of pain. And for a Vulcan to admit they're in pain, you know it has to be pretty severe," Kirk said. "Even with the Rala at full power, they're still a day away. The Enterprise is a lot faster, and we could get to her within a few hours. I can pull our people from Jagusch-McGillis and we can rendezvous with the Rala, and - "

"That may not be necessary, Captain," Spock interjected. Both McCoy and Christine, startled by the unanticipated sound of his voice, turned to him. He continued, "The Haulat is quite capable of making the journey. On short excursions, Sa'aat's vessel can match or even exceed the speed of the Enterprise. Perhaps Sa'aat would be willing to ferry a medical team to the Rala. That would allow the Enterprise crew to continue with their shore leave, and provide time for the engineering teams to complete the maintenance checks required."

"Sounds like a good idea, Mister Spock. Thank you," the captain said with an appreciative smile.

"I can speak with Sa'aat as soon as my appointment with the doctor is completed," Spock said.

His head tilted and straightened up again. Kirk saw the movement, but said nothing about it.

"I can go look for him," Christine offered as an alternative. She glanced over to McCoy. "You do still know how to run bio scan without me, right?" she joked.

McCoy rolled his eyes, feigning offense, "I think I can manage, yes. Thank you, Nurse."

Christine chuckled, patted him on the shoulder, and said to the captain's image on the com-link before she left, "I'll let you know as soon as we're set."

"Thanks, Christine," the captain said before signing off.

McCoy turned to Spock. "Well, I guess you're with me. Come on. This won't hurt a bit."

"That is what you always say," Spock responded.

Christine scolded herself for her insistence on fetching Sa'aat. Anyone else could have done it; in fact, he might have been more receptive to the idea if Spock had asked him to make the run to the Rala. Still… Just thinking of the him and his glacial stare made her insides tickle, and caused rapturous sensations to trickle down the insides of her thighs to her feet. Damn it, she thought to herself. He'd gotten to her. For all his restraint and indifferent attitude towards Humans, and despite the fact she knew he was sa-ka-ashausu, Sa'aat had found his way under her skin. Now, if he could find his way into my - She cut the thought off mid-stream. Damn Vulcans and their damn handsome men...

She found Sa'aat in the Shuttle Bay on top of a tall scaffold, as he finish scrubbing the Haulat's living sheath with a concoction of mild soap and emollients. Sleeves rolled to his elbows showed off the cables of lean muscle running through his forearms.

"I need your ship for an ambulance run," she called to him from the framework's base.

Sa'aat, some of his long hair falling forward over his shoulder, stepped to the edge of the platform and looked down at her. He dried his hands on a towel as he stated, "There are medical teams on the planet." He pulled his sleeves back into place and fastened them.

"The patient isn't on the planet; she's on the Rala. It's S'Risha."

Sa'aat's eyebrows arched. "She is pregnant." He slid down the scaffold using the sides of his feet to slow his decent down the pipes, and walked toward her. While Christine tried to ignore the fact his movements alone were provocative, he asked, "Has there been some difficulty?"

"Apparently. She's spotting, and says she's in pain." Sa'aat disengaged the scaffolding from the Haulat and as it drifted to a spot on the floor on the opposite side of the Shuttle Bay, Christine continued, "I didn't want to say anything in front of Spock, but... I was worried this sort of thing might happen."

"What 'sort of thing'?" Sa'aat asked, wondering to himself again how Spock managed to tolerate working with and around beings so imprecise with their thoughts and verbiage.

"Problem pregnancies. None of us have a clue what was in that plak-tau inducing drug the males were given during the Ek'tevan Prerogative." Christine paused, frowning at him; Sa'aat often seemed to have more information than anyone else did. "We don't have a clue, do we?"

"No. The formula was secured beyond my clearance level."

"Okay, then. As I was saying: although it was never openly addressed, complications arising as a result of the drug's influence were always there."

"Speculation," Sa'aat said dismissively.

Maddening bastard. Christine hated - and loved - his quiet way of exerting power and control over a conversation with a single word. She said, "If the other women on New Vulcan are experiencing the sa-"

"Extrapolation," Sa'aat countered. To Christine's half-angry, half-aroused glare, he said, "Consider your facts, Nurse Chapel. You are basing your hypothesis on a solitary female having difficulties during her final trimester. Females in situations unrelated to the plak-tau inducement have had similar problems during pregnancies, have they not?"

"Well, yes."

"And have you received any transmissions from New Vulcan indicating other plak-tau females are experiencing similar complications?"

"No."

"Then let us not hasten to conclusions. There is no factual basis, as yet, on which to form a conjecture that the plak-tau inducement was in any way responsible for S'Risha's current condition, or that the pregnancies of the other females have in any way been compromised by the drug."

"It's still a possibility."

"A remote possibility at best," Sa'aat tilted his head. "Is it typical of Humans to dwell on worst-case scenarios rather than applying themselves to the most obvious and most uncomplicated course of action?"

"We do, as a species, tend to get ahead of ourselves, yeah. But mostly because, in our past, when we ignored the worst-case scenarios, they came to fruition and we weren't prepared for them."

"So you are predisposed to hyper-vigilance."

"Something like that, yes."

"I see," said Sa'aat.

"So, will you make the ambulance run for us?"

"I will assist, yes," Sa'aat said. He looked up at his ship and said, "Haulat dator trashuik." (6) The Haulat settled itself on the deck, and opened an access orifice through the skin on its side. Sa'aat stepped inside, activated some consoles, and then came back out, saying, "What experience do you have with Vulcan pregnancies?"

"Very little;" Christine admitted, "only what I've read in the manuals and practiced during simulations. Vulcans are pretty tight-lipped about sex and reproduction." She smiled at him.

Sa'aat remained expressionless, "These are matters of privacy. Nevertheless, I may be able to augment your knowledge."

Yippee, Christine thought, before telling her brain: Down, Girl.(7)

Sa'aat continued, "I can supply you with a primer on Vulcan parturiency, and aid you in putting together a suitable medical kit for neonatal emergencies."

"Bless you," Christine said. She leaned forward and pecked the Vulcan on the cheek.

For several seconds, Sa'aat stood silent, stunned. When he had recovered he said, "You do that on purpose."

"Do what?" Christine asked, feigning innocence.

"You deliberately use your Human wiles to attempt to keep me discomposed."

"Oh, as if you as a Vulcan could ever be 'discomposed'," she swatted him playfully on the forearm.

"Why must Humans constantly engage in this intrusive and undesired physical contact?"

"Loosen up, Sa'aat," Christine quipped as she headed out of the Shuttle Bay toward the turbolift. "It's all in fun -" Besides, she liked touching him.

Sa'aat followed her. "Fun? Must everything be amusing to you?"

"Amusement makes the day brighter."

"Nonsense. Humor has no effect on illumination."

Christine stepped into the turbolift. "Why do you take everything so literally and so seriously?"

Sa'aat trailed after her. "I am a Vulcan. It is our way."

"And being humorous and inexact is the Human way. Medical Bay," she said to the elevator, and the lift headed in the proper direction. Christine added to Sa'aat, "If you're going to be around us a lot, you'd better get used to it. Spock has."

"Spock is younger and more – resilient – than I," he admitted.

"Maybe that's something you should work on," Christine smiled, "I can help, if you'd like." Sa'aat gave her a long steely look in reply.

When Nyota arrived at Spock's quarters for lunch, he and Pa'shu were already there. The sehlat was settled in her nest of blankets in the front room with a bowl of fresh fruit. She bit a grapefruit, causing juice to squirt all over the nearby wall and then used her broad flat tongue to clean the wall.

In the bedroom, Spock had a small lap tray with fruit salad, cheese and frozen yogurt for Nyota, but had nothing for himself. He wasn't particularly hungry he told her, taking a seat at the head of his bed with his back against the wall. Nyota didn't mind lunching in his bedroom; any time with him was a gift, but it concerned her a little bit that he had either been too distracted or too preoccupied to set up a table for them. Without a comment about the arrangements, she placed herself at the foot of the bed putting the tray between them, just in case he changed his mind and wanted to snack. Spock seemed distracted and unfocused, as though his mind was going in a dozen different directions at once. She could tell he wanted to say something, but was having difficulty finding the right words or the right avenue which to approach the subject. She didn't press him, waiting for him to direct the conversation.

"The Haulat should have rendezvoused with the Rala by this time," he finally said.

"Yes, probably," Nyota said over a mouthful of the yogurt. She swallowed. "I hope S'Risha is all right. I liked her."

"Vulcan women are very adaptable, and most often recover quickly from any malady. Child-bearing is usually quite manageable for them," Spock said as though quoting a medical journal. His head canted slightly to the right, then went upright again. He then focused on Nyota and added, "We spoke briefly this morning about the possibility of children."

"Yes."

"Do you want children?"

Spock had never asked her directly, and Nyota was taken aback. She grinned and blurted out an unrehearsed, "With you, yes. Tons," and smiled.

"Vulcans seldom have more than two offspring in a lifetime," Spock said, his own tone flat.

"I know." Vulcan families tended to be small. Because they came from a desert environment that did not support an overly large population, Vulcans were taught that having multiple offspring was uncouth and repulsive. (8) However, Nyota knew Spock didn't strictly conform to the will of his society, and, she said, "I also know some Vulcans, when living away from their homeworld, have larger families."

"Occasionally," Spock admitted, looking out the bedside portal into the star field outside the ship. "And with our population in its present imbalance - with females largely outnumbering males - and the current push to procreate rapidly in order to reestablish our race, multiple births may become not only a necessity, but the new norm for my people..." He looked back at Nyota, "We have yet to speak in detail about the subject, but in the wake of the Ek'tevan Prerogative and the prospect that several females to whom I was bred may be pregnant, I believe we need to discuss the possibility I may already be a father."

"Yes," Nyota agreed. "What do you think about that? The possibility of having children by those women?"

"I am torn," Spock admitted, his head tilting briefly. "On the one hand, I resent having paternity thrust upon me in such a fashion; I do not know or hold any affection for the women of the edict. On the other hand, I cannot, in good conscience, condemn the children of the edict for the loathsome happenstance of their conception. Therefore, I am reft between a desire to be done with the women and bond more fully to you, and a desire to do my duty as a father to any child that may be born of my blood. Can you understand this?"

"Of course, Spock. I can't imagine how difficult this must all be for you."

"Some of the immediate burden may be negated if I could, with your permission, seek the identities of the women and discover if any of them became pregnant."

"No one's told you anything yet?"

"No."

Nyota bit her bottom lip. She didn't want to keep what she knew from Spock, but had been told by the captain and the others to withhold information from him until everyone could get together and speak to Spock as a group. She wasn't sure how he might react if he discovered she already knew the plak-tau women's identities; and if she was honest with herself, she was somewhat afraid of his strength should he become angry or upset. He just wasn't himself, lately; so she said instead, "Sa'aat can probably get you that information."

"Yes, that was my conclusion as well. May I have your permission to proceed?"

"Absolutely, Spock. You didn't really have to ask my permission."

"K'diwa, any question regarding my genetic offspring concerns you as well. If there are children of mine that are not ours, I want to know what you think and how you feel about that."

"I don't know what I feel, Spock. It seems surreal right now, you know," Nyota said honestly. "I mean, I know you were subjected to the edict; I even saw some of what happened..."

Spock turned away, as though embarrassed.

Nyota, setting her lunch aside, reached out to put a tentative hand on his arm and continued, "- But through all of it, I never doubted you; I never doubted your feelings for me and the commitment you've made to me, to us." She caressed his arm to his hand, wishing she could read him. "Sometimes I think that trying to anticipate everything is counterproductive, you know? You get so caught up in the 'what ifs' that you don't pay attention to what's really happening around you. In something like this, I guess... I'll just follow your lead, be as supportive of you as I can and take the rest of it - if there is any more to it - as it comes along."

Spock turned to her and for the first time since she had met him, she saw actual tears standing in his dark eyes. She had seen him on the brink of such a display before, but never like this. Vulcan tears were rare, not only because Vulcans refrained from outwardly expressing emotion, but also because their desert-born bodies were loathe to giving up life-sustaining fluid in such a non-essential way. For Spock to be moved to such a display, he must have been under tremendous internal stress. The idea both distressed and terrified her.

Spock half-lowered his eyelids to hide the wateriness and muttered in a ragged voice, "Please, excuse me." His head fell slightly to the right and then up again.

Nyota, stirred by compassion against her fears, wrapped her arms around him. Vulcans didn't like to speak about uncomfortable things - like emotions and self-doubts - they felt paying attention to such thing gave them a strength and focus they shouldn't have. So Nyota remained silent. Spock didn't cry, his body and breath never shuddered with sobs and the tears didn't fall from his eyes, but he leaned against her and let her support him for a few moments. Along with his physical weight, his emotional weight was palpable. Nyota put a hand into his hair and stroked the back of his head and neck. "Spock," she whispered against his elongated ear. "My Spock…"

He turned his face to her and kissed her, firmly and deeply, once and then once again, their lips clinging to one another briefly before parting. He rested his forehead against hers for a moment and sighed. When he sat back, he was himself once more, poised and self-contained. The tears were gone, absorbed unshed into his body.

"Your yogurt is melting," he said softly.

"That's okay. I like it that way," Nyota said, smiling at him.

Sa'aat flew the Haulat to the Rala in record-setting time, and rather than sitting in space while McCoy examined S'Risha, Sa'aat beamed the Rala's passengers and crew aboard the Haulat, engaged the tractor beam and headed back toward the Enterprise as quickly as possible. Dr. McCoy had been concerned about beaming the pregnant woman from the shuttle, but Sa'aat had proceeded without waiting for his approval, and S'Risha seemed grateful to be out of the smaller vehicle.

She was much as McCoy remembered her: self-assured and sedate despite her current pain and the obvious staining of her clothing by her green blood; but her distended belly was new. When he had seen her last, her pregnancy wasn't showing. "Were all you gals subjected to the edict?" he asked.

S'Risha didn't need him to explain himself. "All of us who were both fit and in-cycle were bound by law to participate in the induced plak-taus."

"I feel like someone should apologize to you for that."

"There is no need. Given the current circumstances of our species, being pressed into reproductive service was an inevitability. Whether the demand came earlier or later, it still would have come. Now that the child is developing," she stroked her belly with one hand, "I am less averse to the idea of maternity."

"Well, I really admire you for that," McCoy said. He looked back at Sarek and the male pilot, a Vulcan named Gilgreni (9). "We're going to need some privacy. So, if you don't mind: vamoose!"

Not fully understanding the directive, but accepting the gist of it, the male Vulcans took the turbolift up to the command level of the Haulat, where Sa'aat was busy piloting the ship. Christine unpacked the medical gear, making it ready for McCoy's use. Before turning on the medical scanner, however, McCoy employed the old-fashioned technique of palpating S'Risha's abdomen. "On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst, where is your pain level right now?" McCoy asked.

"An eight," she said, although he wouldn't have been able to tell from her voice or her expression. She wasn't wincing or sweating, and her eyes were calm. Amazing beings, these Vulcans, McCoy thought to himself, and what a nightmare they must be for their doctors: internalizing everything, loathe to speak to their discomfort. He pressed lightly on a spot, "Does that hurt?"

"Yes - "

"More or less than before?"

"Slightly more... an eight-point-one."

"Okay," McCoy withdrew his hand and accepted a scanner from Christine. "This won't hurt a bit. I promise."

The preliminary readings were not good.

"I didn't know what to do, Dr. Surrey," Nyota said even before she had taken a seat in his office later that afternoon. "I didn't know what to say. He mentioned Sybok, and then asked me point-blank about seeking the plak-tau women's identities, and... I hate lying to him." She turned to the doctor and clutched his forearm. She knew she should report what she saw to him, but also felt a responsibility to protect Spock's privacy. "There's something else, and I'm not sure I should tell you about it."

"Will you're not telling me put Spock in danger?"

"I don't know... Maybe..."

"Then tell me."

"He almost started crying at one point. Tears filled his eyes and... And even though a part of me would love to see him emote, I know Vulcans don't do that unless... unless..." She couldn't finish the sentence; there was no way to complete it without verbalizing a fear or making a detrimental inference about Spock's sanity. "I don't know what to do."

"Well, the first thing to do, right at this moment, is to sit," Dr. Surrey said, allowing her to choose whichever seat in the room she preferred.

Nyota took a deep breath, sat on the sandy-colored couch and pulled a pillow onto her lap to give herself something to clutch. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just feeling so - " She stuck her tongue out and put her open hands to either side of her head, mimicking a motion that suggested her skull was going to explode.

"No need to apologize. In fact, you don't have to apologize for anything you say or do in this room. How's that for neat?" Surrey said with a touch of becalming humor. As was his norm when he saw patients, Surrey was dressed in the standard uniform black undershirt and pants, but not his Science Blues or the black boots. Instead, he wore soft loafers and had a long-sleeved, un-ironed, unbuttoned flannel shirt that flapped and trailed after him as he moved around the room. He shut off some PADDs on his desk and then turned the tartan-plaid chair to face Nyota before sitting in it. "Okay," he said, slapping his thighs. "I'm all yours."

Nyota hugged the pillow against her stomach. "What can I do for him, Doc? It kills me to see him deteriorating like this. He's struggling so hard to keep a grip on himself."

"I understand you love Spock, but you have to keep in mind it's not your job to hold him together; it's not your job to pull onto yourself whatever burdens he may be carrying. Your job is to take care of Nyota." He could tell from her expression she was already rejecting his advice, and he quickly added, "I know, I know, that sounds like psycho-pabulum to you."

"You're right. You're telling me I have to take care of myself so I can take care of him… Blah-blah-blah. I know that line, and it's not helpful."

"I appreciate your honesty," Surrey said truthfully. "You get right to the point… So, let me do the same. Whether you find the 'line' helpful or not, it's accurate. You can't help Spock if you're falling to pieces or caught up in your own mental litter. You can support him, and you can guide him, but you can't fix him, you can't carry his troubles for him. He has to do that work for himself. And he is trying to do just that. He contacted me earlier and set up an appointment with me at the end of his duty shift today. So, let's allow Spock to deal with Spock, and you deal with you."

"He had a dream last night," Nyota said. "It wasn't like the others. He wouldn't tell me about it, but... I could tell it wasn't a nightmare. It was something else."

She's deflecting; trying to put the focus back onto Spock. "And how did you sleep last night?"

"Pretty good," Nyota said, shrugging, releasing the pillow a bit. "I waited until he went back to sleep before I drifted off myself; and I was up before he got out of bed."

"Is that unusual?"

"It's not unusual for me to get up early, no; but it is unusual for him to sleep in. He never does that."

She's still focusing on him. "Maybe his body just needed the rest."

"I guess."

"And what do you need?"

"Answers. Guidance. And about fifty gallons of whiskey."

Atta girl! "I may be able to help you with the answers and guidance stuff, but I'm not allowed to prescribe alcohol."

"Damn it, you're no fun," Nyota said in jest.

"Yeah, well…" Dr. Surrey put his hands up in defeat. "What can I say?"

"So, Doc… What answers do you have for me?"

"Well, before I can give you the full benefit of my prodigious knowledge," Surrey said with a self-mocking smile, "I'd like to ask you a few questions and get some answers myself, if that's okay with you."

"Do I get to charge for the answers I provide, like you do?"

"I get to charge for this?" Surrey joked, looking around the room.

Nyota laughed lightly. Her body seemed to relax a bit. "What did you want to ask me?"

"You're a handsome woman; you're bright, articulate, nurturing, funny... I'd dare say you've had dozens, if not hundreds, of men pursuing you. Why then, out of all of them, did you choose Spock?"

"Because I love him," her tone and expression implied the answer should have been obvious.

"A man who, by his very nature, suppresses everything he feels?"

"See, people get that wrong all the time," Nyota said leaning over the pillow. "Spock is not emotionless. He shows me what he's feeling all the time. You just have to pick up on his cues; that's all."

"So, he was an intellectual challenge to you. You had to learn how to decipher him - like one of your languages. "

"He was never just an intellectual exercise to me," Nyota said, leaning back and gripping the edge of the pillow. "I love him; we're a good match."

"Really? How so?"

"He is... handsome, and bright, and articulate, and nurturing, and funny," Nyota said, echoing Surrey's words back at him.

"A funny Vulcan?"

"Yes, funny. Spock has a marvelous sense of humor. Most people just don't bother to look for it."

"Are you defending him? Or are you defending your reasons for being with him?"

"Neither," Nyota said, acknowledging, even as the word escaped her mouth, that she was doing both. "I don't have to defend anything." Her face pinched in a frown. "Quit using your psycho-stuff on me."

"Using my psycho-stuff is my job, Nyota. If you didn't want a psychiatrist, you could have gone to the MD's or a botanist or someone else. You came to me because you wanted to talk to a psychiatrist."

"- About Spock; not about myself."

"Well, that's the interesting thing about psychiatry: you see, even when you think you're talking to me about Spock, you're not talking about him; you're talking about you." When Nyota's scowl tightened, Surrey explained, "Everything you say and feel in reference to him is always within the confines of your experiences, your values, your perceptions. You're talking about what you want, what you see, what you need, what your concerns are. And that's okay. By telling me that, I get a better understanding of who you are and how you relate to Spock. Once I have that information, I'm better able to provide you with some answers and guidance that might help you interact with him and support him in ways beneficial to you both. But we can get to that point quicker if you talk to me about yourself."

"You could have just said that in the first place," Nyota said, her face and grip on the pillow unclenching.

"Yeah, I could've, but I'm a psychiatrist. Talking in circles is - kind of my 'thing'." Dr. Surrey sat back in his chair, making himself more comfortable. "So. Tell me about you."

McCoy closed the medical scanner and handed it back to Christine. S'Risha looked him over and concluded, "Your expression does not bode well."

"Yeah, I was never very good at poker."

"Poker?"

"It's a card game, uh, played for gambling purposes. One technique used in the game is to bluff your opponents into miscalculating how good your hand is - um, the value of the cards you're holding at any point in the game - by employing what's called a 'poker face,' a forced, unrevealing stoicism."

"A 'Vulcan' face - " S'Risha said.

"Yeah, something like that," McCoy smiled. "You're a natural! But I'm not very good at it."

"That is quite true," S'Risha stated, meaning no disrespect. "So, what is the diagnosis?"

"It looks like the beginnings of a placental abruption caused by placenta previa. Do you know what that means?"

S'Risha shook her head. "I am a pilot, not a doctor," she said, paraphrasing what he had said to her during their last encounter.(10)

McCoy chuckled. "Is that Vulcan humor?"

"An attempt. How did I do?"

"Pretty good, actually," McCoy said with a grin. He really liked this gal, he thought to himself. He wished he had better news for her. Serious again, he said, "Let me see if I can explain it to you. In a normal pregnancy, the placenta - I think it's called the flutash in your language - attaches itself near the top of the uterus - the, uh, sudef. In your case, the flutash attached itself to the lower portion of the sudef. That's what we Human doctors refer to as placenta previa. Now, because of the placement of the Vulcan heart," McCoy pointed to where a Human's liver would be, "Vulcan women tend to carry their babies lower Human women. It's not uncommon for the flutash to attach itself to a spot in the sudef that's lower than it might be in a Human. The problem with this placement, however, is the fact that there are more blood vessels in the lower part of the sudef, and as the fetus develops and drops, and the flutash stretches, it tends to press on these vessels, causing bleeding. The spotting we're seeing is consistent with that kind of a bleed. By itself, that wouldn't be too worrisome; bed rest can help to alleviate the pressure. However, in your case, it's a bit more complicated."

"I see. Continue."

"In your case, the flutash is starting to tear away from the sudef. That's what we call placental abruption."

"Is it dangerous?"

"It can be; for both you and the fetus. If the flutash tears away any further from the sudef than it already has, the pain and bleeding will get worse, and the fetus will be deprived of the nutrition and oxygen it needs to survive. If there's enough blood loss, it can also cause you to go into shock. Your organs would shut down, and both you and the fetus would be in jeopardy. We'd have to deliver it by Cesarean Section, or have it beamed from your body, and then do what we could to keep you alive."

"The fetus is not yet fully developed. It has only been seven months and nine days. If you had to remove it, it would be premature."

"Yes. Your fetus currently weighs eight-hundred and ninety-eight grams; not quite two pounds. If I were your doctor, I would have told you months ago to start eating more and fattening that kid up. By the way, I can tell you if it's a boy or a girl, if you'd like to know. Then we won't have to keep referring to it as 'it'."

"Tell me…"

"It's – he's a male."

S'Risha looked away for a moment but McCoy wasn't sure if it was because she was getting emotional, or if it was because she had a moment of pain. Either one wasn't good news for a Vulcan. "I suspected as much," she said, looking back at him. "With females currently outnumbering males, many of us suspected that the majority of the children born of the Ek'tevan Prerogative would be males."

"Nature's way of restoring the gender-balance in your population."

"Yes. So if he were born premature, what would happen to him?

"As it is, if we had to deliver him now, he would have a rough go of it. His lungs aren't finished developing yet, so he'd have to be put on supplemental oxygen and a respirator. He lacks body fat, so he would be highly susceptible to any kind of a chill, which means he would also have to be placed in an incubator to keep his core temperature up. Because his body is still growing rapidly, he would require special nutrition to keep up with his developmental needs. And there's a whole array of other possible post-natal problems that could crop up: liver failure, jaundice, anemia, apnea, nervous system disorders, heart problems. So, we don't want this baby to be born premature if we can help it. The longer he can stay in your body, the better his chances are of surviving its birth." (11)

"What can be done then?"

"We need to keep the placenta, the flutash, from disengaging further. No more flying around the galaxy or fighting the good fight until after Junior is born. And you'll need to let me - or your favorite Vulcan doctor - keep an eye on you through the rest of your pregnancy to make sure everything continues on course from here."

"There are no Vulcan doctors presently available to me. They are all on New Vulcan, and I, along with the other Fonn Vuhlkansu, relinquished my citizenship when we fled that planet seven months ago. I would be pleased and honored, Dr. McCoy, if you would assign yourself to my case."

"Okay, then. First order: You're going to be confined to a bed until I say otherwise. And I'll see if I can't work some gravitational magic with the biobed to keep your flutash from moving, and keep pressure off the lower part of your sudef."

"Magic?"

"Well, it's not magic, but I'm pretty damn fantastic with a biobed, if I do say so myself."

S'Risha looked to Christine for confirmation. Christine grinned and said, "You'd be amazed at what he's come up with for his patients. You're in good hands, honey. Don't worry."

S'Risha nodded, and looked back to McCoy. "One more question - ?"

"Sure."

"What is a 'junior'?"

On the Haulat's bridge, the communications nodule signaled an in-coming transmission. Sa'aat glanced at Sarek, who recognized the signal, and then opened a channel saying, "Sa'aat, la'. Stariben."

A female voice through the com-link replied in Vulcan. "Ki'afer-tor T'pau etek."

"Wilat ha?"

"Sv'i eshikh ish-veh; sv'i ne-solektra tauk."

"Tan-tor t'nash-veh kethellar."

"Sasaya palikaya."(12)

Sa'aat waited for the coordinates to transmit then pulled a copy onto a small, tubular communications device that looked like cigarette lighter, which he slipped into a loop at the waistband of his trousers. He paused for a moment before facing Sarek again. Sarek said nothing, and in his silence Sa'aat suggested dispassionately, "Let me deal with it. Your hands must be kept clean."

"If there is a child - "

"No danger will come to any child of Spock from my hand."

Sarek thought for a moment, and then gave Sa'aat a nod of unspoken approval.

"Over the next few days and weeks, things are going to get harder for Spock - and for you. And I'm going to ask you to walk quite a tightrope on Spock's behalf," Dr. Surrey continued.

"What do you mean?" Nyota asked with a slight frown.

"You have a strong personality, Nyota. That's part of what made you attractive to Spock; he admires that in you. But for right now, he may need you to curb it a bit so he can feel strong within himself. You're going to want to be doubly strong for him, to shelter him, hold him and defend him. Those are all facets of your character. You're the idealist-teacher type; what, in psychobabble, we sometimes refer to as an 'enfudge' or an ENFJ.(13) But you have to be careful. Too much power from you may make Spock feel emasculated. Too much sheltering and holding, even with the best of intentions, may make him feel as though you're mollycoddling him, treating him like a child; and as much as he may want that, he may also resent it."

Nyota mumbled, more to herself than to the doctor, "I have to be like Amanda."

"You have to be like his mother in her love for and understanding of him, yes," Dr Surrey said. "But I don't want you 'mothering' him. He's going to need you to be there; but more importantly, for his recovery, he's going to need you to let him get back to the point where he can stand on his own and face what's happened to him.

"So, how do I help him do that?"

"By playing a kind of psychological ping-pong."

Nyota shook her head, confused. "What - ?"

"One minute Spock may need you to hold him, and two seconds later he may need you to back off," Dr. Surrey explained. "One minute he might want to touch you, and the next minute he might feel he never wants to touch another person for as long as he lives. He may want to express his anger with one breath, and with the next, stuff all his rage back into himself. Back-and-forth. Ping-pong. Get it?"

"I think so... a little bit."

"In some respects, his recovery is going to be as hard on you as it is on him. You have to prepare for just about anything. Sex, for example, will be tricky. Spock may want you one moment, not want you the next, and then want you again five minutes later. Don't press the issue with him, but at the same time don't assume he doesn't want to be touched. Take your cues from him and be willing to go with whatever his needs are, even if they change from instant to instant."

"That sounds awfully complicated."

"It is. And it will probably get a lot more complicated before it gets easier. Spock's dealing with a variety of issues here, and we're just focusing on the aftermath of rape right now. He also has loss and grief to deal with, humiliation, and survivor's guilt, physiological pressures caused by the loss of his homeworld, hallucinations and nightmares. In the case of Vulcans, it's quite possible their own innate propensity to suppress emotions may make things even more difficult and dangerous for Spock. Imagine having this knot of emotional stuff inside of you, and coming from a culture that tells you to leave the knot alone. All of us - me, you, the captain, Spock - we're all treading on uncertain ground here. So, we're going to have to tread carefully."

"It seems overwhelming."

"It can be. But don't look at the big picture; let me do that. You just take things minute by minute, item by item. Think of it as solving a huge math problem: it's scrawled all over the whiteboard, there are arguments piled on top of arguments, A equals X, Y to the fifth power... the whole shebang. If you try to wrap your brain around the whole formula at once, you can get immediately overwhelmed. You have to remind yourself that, regardless of the length of the calculation, you're always working with just two numbers at a time. This plus this, that minus that. Eventually, the whole thing gets solved; you just attack bit by bit."

"And what two numbers do I start with, Doc?" Nyota asked.

"Spock will let you know. Actually, since he brought up the issue of the plak-tau women, that's obviously calculation-one for him. Go with that. When that gets solved, we can go on to the next one."

Nyota sighed deeply, and nodded. "Okay," she said.

"Further down the line, I may also want joint sessions with both you and Spock. Are you up for that?"

"Sure. Whatever he needs."

Dr. Surrey paused for a moment then said as something else occurred to him. "Oh, before I forget. He'll probably get around to telling you himself, if he hasn't done so already, but Spock made you his medical proxy. That means that if he's ever physically or mentally incapacitated and unable to make decisions for himself, you get to call the shots about his medical and psychiatric treatment."

"I know what it means, I'm just…" Nyota said, dropping her hands to the sofa cushions. "I can't believe he's thinking in those terms. I mean, I've been assuming all along that he'd just get well, y'know? If he's thinking about the possibility of not recovering, then… That can't good, can it?"

"It depends on the individual. Spock is the kind of man who always thinks ahead, likes to cover his bases. This isn't necessarily an indication that he's anticipating 'failure'; it may just be an indication that he's efficient… Can you handle it, being his proxy?"

"Yes, I think so. I'll have to. So, yeah."

"Good. Keep that can-do attitude. Spock's going to need to trust you implicitly and feel that you're in his corner, no matter what."

"I am in his corner, no matter what," Nyota said, somewhat defensively.

"The idealist in you says that now, but, Nyota, what if he decides that he wants to return to New Vulcan and be a father to the kids he may have produced?" Dr. Surrey challenged her. "What if he decides he can't bear to look at you anymore because you saw him at his weakest, and every moment he's with you is a reminder of that weakness? What if he goes off the deep end and it takes him years to recover? What if he never recovers at all? In order for you to be the helpmate he needs, you need to ask yourself every one of those tough questions and answer them truthfully. All of the ugly what ifs… Can you do that?"

Nyota didn't even have to think before she responded, "Yes. I can."

When they arrived at the Enterprise, the Haulat towed the Rala into the Shuttle Bay where an emergency medical team was in position with a gurney. Once Sa'aat and Gilgreni placed S'Risha on the gurney, McCoy, Christine and the rest of the team rushed her to the Medical Bay, leaving the Vulcans to fend for themselves. Captain Kirk galloped in moments later, giving the Vulcans his breathless apologies for being late, and explaining that Spock would have met them, but he was in a meeting. Kirk shook hands with Sarek and Gilgreni and nodded at Sa'aat. "Well, first things first; you'll need to report to Medical for a quarantine check and then I'll find you some quarters and something to eat if you're hungry."

"Have you no crewmen who can perform these tedious tasks for you, Captain?" Gilgreni asked.

"On the Enterprise, we have the tendency to believe no job is menial. I think if you're too stuck up to clean a toilet, you need to clean a lot of them, know what I mean?"

Gilgreni simply looked at him.

Kirk shrugged it off saying, "Besides, I like greeting guests; it lets me practice my hosting duties. This way, gentlemen," he said, gesturing in the appropriate direction. "If you please."

Spock deliberately avoided conversation about Nyota's earlier meeting with Dr. Surrey and kept his comments and questions focused on his dream from the night before. He stood near the shelves holding the miniature figures, somewhat pleased to discover the Vulcan figurines were as he had previously arranged them: in a parade line across the front of the otherwise cluttered shelf. The Evil Queen however, was missing from her perch, and Spock wondered what had become of her. He covertly looked around the room for her. The fact that she had disappeared was a bit disconcerting, but he did not press the matter.

Dr. Surrey had seated himself in the tartan-plaid chair and watched Spock without comment for several minutes, letting the Vulcan reacquaint himself with the room and find a spot he felt comfortable in - as comfortable as he could be, given the circumstances. In his notes, Dr. Surrey mentioned that Spock looked rather pallid and drawn. Rather than challenging the doctor with postures and body language, he seemed to have shrunk into himself, moving around the room like a disembodied spirit. Although he was clean and well-groomed, sehlat hair clung to his trousers - something Spock would not have tolerated and would have carefully removed before - and he had acquired an unconscious tic from somewhere: the odd habit of canting his head to one side for no apparent reason; his head tilted, then quickly going level again without any obvious cause.

"Does your head hurt, Mister Spock?" Surrey asked finally.

Spock gave him a slight, confused scowl, "No, Doctor. I am in no pain whatsoever." He tipped his head and straightened it again.

"How did your scan with McCoy go earlier - if you don't mind my asking?"

"Dr. McCoy was unable to discover any medical cause for my pelvic discomfort. I have, therefore, chosen to block the input, as I assume it is erroneous."

"You 'blocked the input'?"

"Yes, Doctor. I have set my mind the task of ignoring the signals emanating from my pelvis," Spock explained.

He's got the flow wrong, Dr. Surrey thought to himself. The signals aren't going from his body to his brain; they're radiating from his brain to his body. It's unlike him to make such an incorrect assessment. Although he didn't like it when his patients diagnosed themselves, Surrey was curious as to whether Spock had a scientific answer for the dysfunction. "What do you think may have caused the flawed signals?"

"I do not know." Spock's head titled once more, and straightened immediately. "Perhaps it is psychosomatic."

"That's possible, yes," Dr. Surrey allowed. "But a psychosomatic reaction would suggest there is an unresolved emotional issue. When the brain can't find an answer to a deeply disturbing emotional puzzle, it often manifests that frustration as a disruption in the body's energy fields; and the outward actualization of that disruption is sometimes a symptom like a tic, a compulsion, or some undefined pain. When you block the pain with your mind, you're blocking just the errant signals and not rectifying the underlying cause."

"I am aware of the implications, Doctor," Spock said with a hint of pique. "I did not say I had cured myself. I simply stated I had blocked the flawed transmissions."

"When you shut off one channel, the mind usually finds another," Surrey suggested.

"What are you inferring?" Spock asked.

He's not consciously aware of the tic, or of the fact that his mind has found another outlet for its distress. Dr. Surrey shook his head slowly. "I'm just making an observation."

Spock picked up one of the Vulcan figures and held it in his closed fist as he walked around the room. "I did not come here to talk about my medical appointment," he said. His head canted briefly again and then came upright.

"All right. What did you want to talk about?"

"I had an odd dream last night."

"Odd in what way?"

"It was unlike any I have had since leaving New Vulcan."

"How was it unlike the others?"

"It had no nightmarish quality. I was not afraid in the dream, even though I was in unfamiliar territory and faced with what might seem to others to be a rather formidable and ominous figure."

"Tell me about it - this figure."

"It was entrenched in darkness; all film and shadow; black on black. I could not see its features, but I was certain it was a male." Spock unconsciously lifted the Vulcan figure to his mouth and tapped its head against his lips, "I had read Johnson's dissertation that a 'Shadow' figure can appear in dreams. Could this creature have been such a thing?"

Interesting; he equated the figure with a Shadow and not with Death. That suggests he's still searching and receptive, rather than fatalistic. "What do you think?"

"I requested confirmation from you," Spock said, annoyed.

"I know you did," Surrey purposely acknowledging the truth of Spock's statement without answering the question. "But I can't confirm the identity or meaning of anything in your dreams because your dreams come from you. They're creations of your mind. Only you can make a proper identification of the beings appearing in them. We touched on that before, remember?"

"Somewhat -"

To help the Vulcan out a bit, Surrey added, "However, what you've described sounds like it could be a Shadow figure to me."

"And Shadows," Spock started walking again, "can be projections of the Unconscious, correct?"

"In Jungian psychology (14), yes. Freud had a little different take on it. According to Jungian theory, the Shadow is the part of the mind holding all the junk the Conscious mind can't or won't deal with: doubts, fears, excuses, unfinished tasks, weaknesses, instinctive reactions... But it can also hold some really great stuff such as qualities in ourselves we haven't acted on, or things we haven't yet acknowledged within ourselves. It often manifests as an archetypal image, different from but connected to the Persona, Anima or Animus."

"The Persona being the personification of the corporeal Self or ego, and the Anima being the personification of the Spiritual Self."

"Something like that, yeah." He's done his homework.

"Is the Shadow always dark?"

"Not always, but most of the time. Some people see their Shadow as a darker-than-dark image, some see it as a person with dark skin or dark hair, or a person dressed in dark clothes. Jung also believed the less integrated the Shadow was within the conscious mind, the darker and more dense it could appear. It can be a very frightening figure; but once integrated, it loses some of its formidable quality and is more approachable."

"This creature was quite 'approachable', as you say. Despite its nebulous properties, I felt compelled to engage it."

"That sounds great! If it was a Shadow in your dream, being able to face it and speak with it, is usually an indication the mind is working overtime to amalgamate and balance itself."

Spock looked encouraged by that possibility. His chin lifted; his eyes brightened. The display was very non-Vulcan, but at this point Dr. Surrey didn't care. He just wanted Spock to be focused and determined in his own recovery. "So," the doctor said, patting the unoccupied blue chair across from him, "tell me more about this dream."

Still clutching the toy Vulcan in one hand, Spock perched himself on the edge of the blue chair.

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(1) Asal rom ish-veh, k'diwa: Translated from the Vulcan it means "good morning, beloved"; more literally it means "morning good it is, beloved". Author's note: The Vulcan Language Dictionary (VLD) suggests that "good morning" in Vulcan is "Ha'tha ti'lu", but that phrase was actually written for a FanFic story so I don't know how valid it is. My "good morning" is taken directly from Vulcan words "asal" (morning), "rom (good) and "ish-veh" (it is).

(2)Taluhk nash-veh k'du: This is listed in the VLD and other Vulcan reference materials as a way of saying "I cherish thee", so I'm using it, even though I don't think it's grammatically correct. It's also written in some texts as Taluhk nash-veh k'dular, but that phrasing suggests it's being used in reference to more than one person, rather than "you"-singular.

(3) Rala: the Vulcan word for "wing".

(4) Dilithium: According to Trek canon "...[D]ilitium Li2, is a diatomic molecule comprising two lithium atoms covalently bonded together. Li2 is known in the gas phase. It has a bond order of 1, an internuclear separation of 267.3 pm and a bond energy of 101 kJ mol−1." It looks rather like a large quartz crystal and can range in color from white to rose. According to the Memory Alpha site: "...[A]lso known as radan is an element, a member of the hypersonic series, mostly occurring as crystalline mineral. It is used to power the warp drive systems of many starships. Dilithium regulates the matter/antimatter reaction in a ship's warp core because of its ability to be rendered porous to light-element antimatter when exposed to high temperatures and pressures. It controls the amount of power generated in the reaction chamber, channeling the energy released by mutual annihilation into a stream of electro-plasma."

(5) S'Risha: She appeared in my first story "The Ek'tevan Prerogative" along with her life-partner T'Kela. The two women were/are part of the Fonn Vuhlkansu and loyal to Sarek. When McCoy, Uhura, Spock and the Vulcans they had rescued all fled New Vulcan in the Federation shuttlecraft Keswick, S'Risha piloted the shuttlecraft so McCoy could tend to Spock. S'Risha is younger than Sarek, but older than Spock.

(6) Haulat dator trashuik: translated from the Vulcan it means, "Haulat, prepare for departing."

(7) I have to give credit to my beta Farstrider for this little line. It made me laugh, too. Thank you!

(8) Small families: This is based loosely on Trek canon, and also on the "Introduction to Vulcan Physiology" at the Star Trek Geekipedia, which reads, in part: "...Twinning is very rare in Vulcans, probably as a consequence of evolving on a planet where scarce resources would favor only survival of one infant at a time. Fraternal twins are exceedingly rare, whereas identical twins are the norm. Multiple births beyond three are unheard of. The idea of giving birth to multiple children is considered repugnant to most Vulcans and may be innate. It is unknown how long Vulcan females remain fertile, although it is believed that it lasts well into maturity. Vulcan women on T'Khasi rarely have more than two children in a lifetime, unless they need to replace a child that died, but Vulcans on colony worlds are known to have as many as five children..."

(9) Gilgreni: he's a male Vulcan who is a member of the Fonn Vuhlkansu, and who stood in support of Spock in my previous story "The Ek'tevan Prerogative". His name isn't patterned after the Vulcan norm of using "T", "S" or "V" as the first letter, but was generated by a Vulcan Name Calculator available on-line. I'm sure he has some odd background story that would explain his name, but I haven't gotten into his character much yet... Maybe in the next story.

(10) Paraphrasing: In my original story "The Ek'tevan Prerogative" when McCoy and the other were escaping from New Vulcan, he had said to S'Risha, "In all honesty, Miss, I'm a doctor, not a fighter pilot. If things get ugly up here, I don't know how effective I'll be in the command chair." In this story, she's kind of turning his words around and handing them back to him; her attempt at Vulcan humor.

(11) Medical information: all of the information here about placenta previa, placental abruption and preemies is from a variety of medical websites including but not limited to: The American Pregnancy Association, Google Health, Mayo Clinic(dot)com and others. THE INFORMATION PROVIDED IS FOR STORY-TELLING PURPOSES ONLY AND IS NOT TO BE USED TO DIAGNOSE OR TREAT ANY REAL MEDICAL CONDITION. (You know that, I'm sure, but I thought I should add the warning anyway.)

(12) Vulcan conversation: from the Vulcan this conversation translates as follows: Sa'aat: Sa'aat, here. Speak. Voice Over: We have found T'Pau. Sa'aat: Where? Voice Over: In the desert, in an underground cave. Sa'aat: Give me the coordinates. Voice Over: Transmission commencing.

(13) ENFJ: On the Myers-Briggs test of personality types an ENFJ is an Extroverted Intuitive Feeling and Judging type. According to this theory, ENFJ's "... seek continuity through harmonious relationships and collective values. They excel at picking up on the tone of a situation and acting accordingly, adding warmth to a cool setting or turning sour into sweet. They naturally seek to know what people do well, what they enjoy, and where and how they work. They seem to have an infinite number of acquaintances from all walks of life and are always on the lookout for people in need and those who can help out. ENFJs weave and strengthen the collective fabric of social conventions and interactions. Inclusiveness is important and they are particularly sensitive to those who are excluded. ENFJs focus on others, feeling a glow when those around them are happy, and troubled when something is amiss. They are natural cheerleaders, often expressing support, gratitude, and encouragement, and heaping praise onto those they appreciate. They take note of what is being done and what needs doing, offering their assistance wherever necessary..." I thought that fit Nyota to a tee.

(14) Jungian psychology: A study of psychology based on the theories of Dr. Carl G. Jung. According to "The Shadow Dance": "...The Shadow, is a psychological term introduced by the late Swiss psychiatrist, Dr. Carl G. Jung. It is everything in us that is unconscious, repressed, undeveloped and denied. These are dark rejected aspects of our being as well as light, so there is positive undeveloped potential in the Shadow that we don't know about because anything that is unconscious, we don't know about. The Shadow is an archetype. And what an archetype simply means is that it is typical in consciousness for everyone. Everyone has a Shadow. This is not something that one or two people have. We all have a Shadow and a confrontation with the Shadow is essential for self awareness. We cannot learn about ourselves if we do not learn about our Shadow so therefore we are going to attract it through the mirrors of other people..." Author's Note: Spock's Shadow is actually based on an incarnation of my own Shadow that I encountered in one of my own dreams. In my dream, the Shadow was a female, and Spock's dream it's a male; that gender specification is quite common in Shadows.