Mestral’s Legacy: Chapter 25

December 12th, 2119
Vorak’s Quarters, Vulcan Consulate
San Francisco
5:42 am

Vorak awoke with a start; his neck throbbed and he could feel a couple of bruises forming where the neck pinch had been applied. He sat up, unleashing a wave of dizziness. From his perch on his bed he saw that his roommate’s half of the room had been vacated and a newly installed keypad glowed blue by the room’s only door. When he judged that he could get up without collapsing, he went and tried the door and confirmed his suspicion: he was locked in.

He tried to remember what had happened before he had lost consciousness. He remembered Alaia being dragged away by a Vulcan guard, and he remembered a scuffle. He closed his eyes and tried to reach out to her, but there was nothing. Either she was unconscious, asleep, or too far away. His thoughts were interrupted by the keypad beeping once and turning yellow. Surai entered the room with a mediscanner in his hand, motioning to a guard stationed outside of the room to stay where he was.

“What have you done with Alaia?” Vorak asked before Surai could utter a word.

“If you are referring to the Terran whore, I was rather hoping that you could tell me where she is. She assaulted a Vulcan guard.”

“No doubt she was severely provoked,” Vorak said, a weight lifted from him as he realised that Alaia had got away.

“Torin was severely injured; the Healer doubts that he will regain the ability to sire offspring,” Surai said indignantly. Vorak kept his opinions on the improvement to the Vulcan gene pool to himself as Surai continued his diatribe.

“A pity she did not do the same to you. I am surprised that she allowed you anywhere near her.” Surai looked at him expectantly.

“I did not assault her, charges to the contrary notwithstanding,” Vorak said, bitterness tinging his voice. He was exhausted; he had been unable to meditate these last few days.

“You are charged with mind-rape.”

“I did no such–” Surai waved off his response. “You will have time to present your defense when you return to Vulcan. I have come to talk to you about other matters.” Vorak waited patiently for Surai to get to the point.

“Still, I can see why you chose her. A partial Vulcan woman is better than none at all I suppose,” Surai said, indicating that it would take very dire circumstances for him to lower himself to accepting anything other than a Vulcan woman.

Vorak looked at him blankly.

“Surely you knew,” Surai said. “Did you not do a genetic scan before deciding to ‘tutor’ her?”

“It is against her beliefs,” Vorak said, trying to make sense of what Surai was telling him.

“All Vulcan citizens are genotyped at birth.”

“She is not Vulcan.”

“Isn’t she?” The room tilted precariously; it was only by force of will that he did not react. So much made sense now. He was startled to see Surai’s face in front of his, centimetres from his nose.

Surai looked at him suspiciously. “You really did not know, did you?”

“Genetic scans are against her beliefs,” Vorak repeated numbly. That comment earned him a scornful look, but Surai tossed Vorak the mediscanner so that he could see for himself.

“Well, at least you weren’t withholding information from the High Command. Perhaps your punishment is too harsh,” Surai noted grudgingly. Vorak looked up at this. So he was being punished for something else, that seemed more logical than what he had been led to believe.

“We may be able to come to an arrangement,” Surai said. “Perhaps reduce the punishment to deportation and expulsion from government service.”

“And what do you want for this ‘leniency’?” Vorak asked dully, poking at the controls of the scanner.

“I want to know where that Terran bit–” Surai reconsidered his choice of words at Vorak’s look, “I want to know where she is.” He was close enough that Vorak could make a reasonable guess as to what Surai had eaten for dinner. Vorak listened dispassionately as Surai continued, “Where does her kind live?”

“Why?” Vorak asked. “Can you not simply leave her be?” Obviously the answer was ‘no’ but he could not quite grasp why that should be. Vorak turned his attention to the mediscanner with Alaia’s scan that he had been searching for information. There it was: a healthy baby–a boy.

Surai was talking again and some of what he was saying was starting to filter into Vorak’s consciousness, but it was the mention of repatriation that snapped him back to reality.

“You want to repatriate her?” Vorak asked, making no attempt to hide the incredulity he felt.

“She is a Vulcan citizen.”

“She is Terran!”

“All descendants of Vulcans are citizens and subject to our laws.”

“And if they do not wish to be repatriated?”

“There is no alternative. If the Terrans find out that Vulcans contaminated their gene pool and before First Contact, relations between our species will suffer. That is something that the High Command cannot allow,” Surai said fervently. “Our allies are limited, we cannot afford to lose even one, even if they are technologically inferior.”

“She does not appear to desire repatriation.” Vorak pointed out dryly, wondering if he was the only logical Vulcan left in the building.

“Her desires are of no concern to me,” Surai said shortly. “Her kind will be repatriated. A compound will be prepared so that they can live out their natural lives where they will be of no concern to anyone.”

Vorak sickened at the thought; knowing the history of her people made the prospect all the more repugnant. “The Terran government will object.”

“The Terran government will not know, and in any case aliens do not have any rights on Terra–fortunately.”

“Why are you telling me this?” He needed time to think and Surai’s gloating was becoming tiresome.

“I need to know where she is.”

“I don’t know,” Vorak said truthfully, glad that he could not betray her.

“Tell me!” In his urgency, Surai brought his face close to Vorak’s. Although it was not his first mistake of the day, it was his last. He did not see Vorak raise his hand; he might have realised what was happening as Vorak’s fingers brushed the nape of his neck but by then it was too late.

A short while later, the guard opened the door to let Surai out. If he found it odd that Surai had pulled the hood of his cloak up so that his face was in shadow, or that the prisoner was fast asleep in his bed, he did not mention it. If he noticed that Surai was slightly taller than when he had entered, then the guard betrayed no sign of it. The term jailbreak was not in the Vulcan lexicon; it was a uniquely alien concept.

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