Nevasa Storyline IV - Sakarra Tyrax

"Nevasa" Part V

[Pelasht, Shi‘Kahr, Vulcan]

18th Day in the month of T'ke'Tas , YS 9014

To an off-worlder she was merely a Vulcan adjusting the meters of heavily draped fabric, but to Solkar she was quite clearly fidgeting.

“Tell me again, Osa’mekh’al, why do I have to wear this? It seems blatantly illogical. They are Betazoids. They neither know nor care about...”

“It is appropriate for a diplomatic occasion, ko-kan” Solkar said kindly, pulling part of the elegant formal robe 0.65 centimeters up his grandchild’s shoulders until it was perfectly placed.

They stood outside the main gates of Pelasht, the former fortress now serving as banqueting hall and ceremonial house for the Science Academy, and waited for T’Leia and Rel Tyrax to arrive before they joined the delegations already inside. The evening winds provided a welcome respite from the heat of the day but Sakarra could already feel how they unraveled part of her perfectly braided hair. Not that her curls ever submitted to any hairdo for long in any case. She had already considered having it straightened and cut into the very practical style favored by the majority of Vulcans, but cousin T’Para had objected most strongly. Logically, so T’Para had pointed out, Sakarra would be rejecting her heritage by such a radical alteration, but the young woman suspected that T’Para simply derived an un-Vulcan amount of fun from shaping her cousin’s wild mane into dozens of different traditional hairstyles. Today she had actually gone what one can safely refer to as ‘bonkers’, creating an all new way of combining ancient Vulcan with traditional Betazoid and tossing in some gold pins for good measure.

The effect, combined with the heavy clan robes, was rather astounding but Sakarra felt that if she stepped onto a pedestal now and stood really still, sooner or later someone was going to come at her with a dust cloth.

Her sensitive ears picked up the chatter from inside - a large number of Betazoids loudly voicing their admiration for their magnificent surroundings or complaining about the climate, sometimes both in the same breath. It had been some time since she had heard such sounds and she smiled inwardly.

Of course she was the logical choice for a liaison, if only for the duration of the conference, but she was not quite sure what she was supposed to do. Officially, she had been asked to provide “diplomatic assistance” to the Vulcan delegation, whatever that was supposed to mean, and aunt Lwanissa had of course jumped at the chance to have a family member as her negotiating partner. Now she was going to be stuck with Vulcans alternating between miffed and puzzled and Betazoids who .. well, would just be their happy selves if Sakarra judged the noise correctly.

Splendid.

Nevasa had completely set by now and the sky shimmered in red and gold over the desert outside the city, when Sakarra saw two familiar figures walk up the path to Pelasht. She couldn’t help but smile a little at her father, whose voice carried all the way up to where she and Sa’mekh’al were standing.

“Now I thought you said banquet hall, T’Leia. This looks like a small mountain.”

“It was a fortress, once. And partially carved out of the stone that held the only water within many days’ travel. Are you certain you feel better?”

“That Tri-Ox is doing wonders, dear. Not to mention the fact that inferno you call a sun has finally made a graceful exit ... Ah, Little One!”

Sakarra waved back at her father who gave the steep ascent towards the gate a resignated look “I don’t suppose anyone has ever thought of installing some type of elevator for alien visitors?” “Indeed not” T’Leia quirked a brow at the gray-haired Betazoid “since in an emergency any Vulcan present is fully capable of serving as an escalator”

“By the Holy Rings, I missed your humor.” Rel Tyrax chuckled and started climbing with the same determination he would have exhibited if there was a mountain with a rare plant on top.

“Let me guess, everyone else is already inside?” Rel’s breathing was slowly getting back to normal and he held his daughter’s hand with all the signs of a very proud father, but maybe just a touch of melancholy. “To my knowledge, yes” Solkar stated and then politely indicated for the Betazoid and the young woman to precede them, before he held out his paired fingers to his wife.

“Right. Time to make our grand entrance then” Rel smiled again, looking at the vast passageway leading to the inner part of the fortress “You could drive a flock of Theocondts (large ostrich-like bird with flat feet, native to Betazed) through here … ah, little one, so you CAN still laugh.”

Sakarra did her best to look serious but the mental image of honking birds fluttering through the ancient gates in search of a fine buffet just was too much. Her low, resonant laugh, however brief, echoed through the gateway and she tugged on her father’s hand. “Let’s go daddy, before you give me any ideas”

She let her gaze wander over the assembled Betazoids, Vulcans and occasional representatives of other species, while the young man by the door announced the latest arrivals, and her father took in the spectacular sight of Pelasht’s great hall in the light of hundreds of lamps and candles.

‘Little one, if I stare like an idiot please step on my foot’

“I thought you’ve been here before” she said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. But she had to admit, even for one who had seen the impossibly high ceiling, the walls of volcanic basalt and the sheer vastness of the space before them a dozen times, the sight was rather impressive.

“Uh-huh. But never like this” he said in the same low voice, indicating the warm light of the candles and the crimson red shimmer that fell through the doors on the far side of the hall, the last rays of sunlight before purple darkness would fall over this part of T’Khasi.

Most of the delegates were clustered in the area around the fountains, either strolling, talking or helping themselves to some of the food and drink laid out on several tables strategically positioned around the shallow pool that marked the center of the hall. The sculpture on the pedestal in the very middle of the pool was as ancient as the fortress itself and several Betazoids seemed to be debating whether the 3-meter tall stone Shavokh with the wide spread wings was some sort of good luck charm or rather the insignia of some long forgotten warlord.

But even the good 70 Betazoids and about equal number of Vulcans looked rather lost in the hall that was by earth standard a good half-mile long and quarter-mile wide.

Sakarra briefly froze when she picked up the resonance of one she had not quite expected to be here, but before Rel Tyrax could inquire what had prompted his otherwise so calm daughter to startle, a grand Betazoid lady drew everyone’s attention - and elicited a good natured groan from her son.

“Little One!” Lhorexa Tyrax had spotted her grandchild and made her way through the hall with her usual self-assured, royal bearing. Vulcans and Betazoids alike stepped out of her way as she strode on like a galleon under full sails. The effect would indeed have been that of an empress walking among her underlings, had Lady Lhorexa not spoiled it by happily waving a handkerchief and cooing excitedly “Oh just LOOK at you, little one! All ambassadorial dignity and what a lovely tan you have … T‘Leia dearest! Four Deities stand witness, you haven’t aged a day. It is entirely unfair. Greetings from the Twelfth House of Betazed although I’m sure the rest of us will officially annoy you later.”

T’Leia returned the exuberant greeting with the Vulcan salute and Solkar followed suit a mere 0.7 seconds later. “My, I almost didn’t see you there Solkar, still moving silently as a Nightwind. Or are you just hiding behind your magnificent wife until you get a chance to escape those utterly irritating Betazoids?”

With a mischievous smile, Lady Lhorexa pulled an elegant, laced fan out of her lavish dress and started fanning herself vigorously “Rel my dear, stop looking at me like a Fogcat with a toothache. What do you mean, tone what down? Don‘t you think at me in that tone of voice!”

“Hello, grandmother.” Sakarra decided to intervene before the seventy pair of raised brows in the hall climbed all the way to the ceiling.

“My, my. Am I even allowed to still call you ‘Little one’?” Lhorexa Tyrax snapped her fan shut and lightly tapped it against the house sigil on the young woman’s heavy robes “Or do I have to refer to you as…”

“You are, and no, you do not have to. In fact, I would appreciate if you did not.” Sakarra stated plainly and with a brief nod to her father who did indeed look both amused and embarrassed, maneuvered her grandmother towards the Betazoid delegation.

“Why don’t you introduce me, I believe there are actually some people I do not know yet.”

“Well, we shall be diplomatic then.” Lady Lhorexa laughed, her vibrant voice echoing through the great hall. It was an unusual sound to be heard in such dignified surroundings, but if there was anyone who’d be unimpressed by millennia of history, telling of both bloody splendor and brilliant scientists in long robes debating the nature of the universe, it was this Betazoid. “Lwanissa! Look who’s finally here!” She happily waved her fan, managing to get the attention of every last person who was not already staring. To Sakarra’s mild surprise, most looks however were displaying puzzled amusement rather than annoyance.

Before the young woman had a chance to get her bearings, she was surrounded by happy Betazoids and bombarded with telepathic and spoken aloud questions, greetings and overall comments. Thankfully, aunt Lwanissa asserted herself as spokes-Betazoid rather quickly and while even she could not stop the others from being their curious, loud, friendly selves, at least she managed to bring mere disorder into what had been complete chaos.

It had taken only two hours, one spilled drink, eight interruptions due to cultural differences and five due to Betazoids getting themselves into trouble (Solkar had reminded the one responsible for arranging the buffet rather sternly that not ALL species appreciated spicy foods and then gone off to sort out the matter of food spilled over robes and a hastily summoned healer for the coughing Betazoid). But they had finally come to an agreement over who should be on the committee for the telepathic species exchange. Sakarra had just so managed to dodge that particular honor, claiming she was hardly qualified as a mere student of the Science Academy, when there were professors available for the task.

Now she silently moved away from the group who was chatting both aloud and telepathically over some finer points of the agreement, and found a niche near the doors to the balconies where she stopped to briefly rub her temples.

Just as she felt her weary mind begin to settle and began to enjoy the cool night air drifting in through the open doors, the one she had managed to avoid until now suddenly stood next to her. If she hadn’t been so used to his stealthy ways, she might have jumped.

“Good evening, Sovar” she said quietly, her gaze still fixed on the few stars managing to outshine the looming bulk of “The Watcher” T’Khut.

“Good evening, my lady” the low, even baritone had its usual mildly mischievous undertone, but right now there was an unspoken question lingering in it as well.

“I really wish you’d stop that. And yes, I am somewhat tired but I will be fine.”

“You would wish me to address you inappropriately in public?” she couldn’t see his quirked eyebrow but knew it was there all the same. And as always, he managed to elicit that silent chuckle from her that only manifested itself outwardly in a small twinkling of her night-black eyes.

Before she could match his friendly tease with a remark of her own, Sakarra felt his fingertips brush against her heavy robes. He didn’t say ‘You look like you could use some fresh air’ or ‘I was concerned about you’. He didn’t have to. Nodding briefly at his again unspoken suggestion, she strode out onto the gallery overlooking the Academy and the desert beyond, savoring the sweet, clean air and the magnificent view while Sovar moved along silently.

T’Khut was almost full, bathing this side of Pelasht and the sands below in her dark crimson light. Sakarra leaned against the railing which prevented anyone strolling on the balcony from suddenly dropping over a hundred feet and gave the soft exhale that qualified as a Vulcan’s small sigh. “As usual, cousin, your logic is indisputable. This is indeed quite helpful.”

They could still hear the happy voices from inside, but the vast emptiness in front of them seemed to simply swallow all excessive noise, putting any mind at ease simply by being there in its grand, dark beauty. The young woman briefly experienced another moment of amusement when she thought of how very differently others perceived her home though, words like ‘hotter than hell’ and ‘as comfy as a cactus’ were among the more moderate used by the Betazoid delegation.

He was standing so close, she could feel the warmth radiating off his skin and for the briefest moment, it was all peaceful and right the way it was.

After all, what did it matter. What could or should be said? Nothing. Everything. And still she did not look at him but rather watched the passage of the Watcher’s Eye across her rugged surface.

“Sakarra…” finally, she turned and tilted her head at the dark eyed one, surprised at the unusually soft undertone of a voice that had been known to send people scrambling.

But she never found out what he was going to say. Three Betazoids, one of them a grand Lady with an impeccable sense of timing and incredibly protective of her favorite grandchild, stepped out onto the balcony, loudly voicing their astonishment over the magnificence of Vulcan’s sister planet.

“I thought Vulcan has no moon?”

“It doesn’t. It has a nightmare.” Lhorexa Tyrax stated firmly, giving the copper red giant a disapproving look that by all rights should have made T’Khut melt out of sheer embarrassment.

“Little One! We were wondering where you disappeared to! Have we all been giving you a headache, dear?”

“Not quite, grandmother. However, you were certainly trying.” Sakarra said levelly while Sovar greeted the Betazoid lady with a formal bow.

“Uh-huh” Lady Lhorexa sized up that tall, lithe, pointy eared one with the impeccable manners with a sharp look that spelled ‘NOT on my watch, dear’ and then wrapped her arm under that of her grandchild.

“Lwanissa needs you little one, but I promise we’ll behave. Well, try to, anyways. If you’ll excuse us, dear.” she said over her shoulder to Sovar who had not moved save for another brief half-bow.

As Sakarra moved back into the great hall, surrounded by Betazoids who more and more seemed like fluttering birds of paradise with their lavish dresses and musical voices, she heard Sovar in her mind.

‘Ki'nam-tor nash-veh heh kwon-sum dungau nam-tor t'hai'la t'du’

“I thought you said they’re related, Lhorexa” another Betazoid in a shimmering blue dress inquired “They certainly don’t look it.”

“They’re about as closely related as the two of us, Virixa. And you know, sometimes I think that’s not distant enough.” This remark earned Lhorexa Tyrax a bout of laughter and saved Sakarra from both more curious looks and having to be the center of attention. Silently, she sent a wave of gratitude towards her grandmother whom she’d been ready to curse just a minute ago. But she most likely knew that already, as she seemed to have sensed a few more things as well.

‘Kaiidth’ - what is, is.

Sakarra looked out across the warmly lit hall and yes, there she was. Sovar’s betrothed, since they had both been children. One point eight three meters of perfection floating over the ancient floor. Not a hair out of place, features like one of those ancient statues that made you think the artist must have dropped his own chisel afterwards and sworn to never disgrace it with touching another stone after creating such a marvel.

And then there was this half Betazoid, the wild child, the troublemaker, with her exuberant kin. Cousin, protégée. Ne ki’ne. Someone who in the other woman’s mind was obviously unsuitable company for a handsome V’Shar agent with a promising career.

Illogical.

Deciding that the unexpectedly painful tug in her heart was understandable – who wouldn’t be distressed over a dear friend being torn in his loyalties – Sakarra put the matter on the “can’t do anything about it right this moment but just you wait 'til I get around to it” shelf and returned her focus to the Betazoid who was eyeing her speculatively.

“Say, grandmother, have you ever tried Pla-savas? I believe you’d find it the next best thing to Uttaberries.”

He watched her leave with the Betazoid Lady and the others, so dignified, so like them and yet not. A being all of her own, and yet it was her Vulcan name, her true name, that defined who she was better than anything Sovar could think of. His features were so perfectly composed, not even his own mother could have told what he was thinking.

But inwardly, he already thought he would not receive an answer when she turned for a mere second and looked back at the shadowy figure on the gallery.

‘As I shall be your friend. Always.’

"Nevasa" Part VI

[Village of Xen‘tal, Gol Province, Vulcan]

3rd Day in the month of Tasmeen , YS 9014

The silver haired Betazoid lady in her lush, magnolia colored sundress exited the old Inn and immediately opened her parasol. Not that it helped much, the all encompassing heat was like a soft punch hitting her body everywhere at once. But she did strongly object to instant sunburn.

Her entourage, three more Betazoids in varying states of exasperation, cast one glance at the fiery disc high over the village and as if by unspoken agreement, let out a collective sigh.

“I don’t suppose it’s going to be an inside ceremony? As in, say, a place with air conditioning?” The woman making the inquiry sported not only a quite revealing sky blue dress and a matching hat that could have supported a flock of birds on its wide brim, but the most astonishingly auburn hair to go with it.

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear. This is like a spring day at Lake Cataria to the natives. Why would they want to freeze their eartips off?”

“I’m sure they’ll try to accommodate their off world guests, Lwanissa” the only male in the group reassuringly patted his sister’s arm. Incidentally, he also seemed to be the calmest, and least affected by the harsh climate. “They usually do, you know.”

“You think ‘Kara really likes it here?” the youngest of the Betazoids squinted into the horribly bright light, tilting her red parasol a bit to gain the maximum amount of shade. Apart from a slightly more voluptuous and taller frame, she might have been a younger version of the woman in the blue dress.

“It’s her home, Olixinna.”

He raised a hand to shade his eyes from Nevasa’s glare and looked over the small village nestled amongst the hills. From this vantage point one could overlook every one of the low, golden colored buildings and the sprawling complex of the Institute of Defensive Arts with its amphitheaters and wide open courtyards. Right before them the main street led down into the old artisan quarter, passing residential homes and finally ended at the tiny shuttle port. The middle aged Betazoid with many more silver streaks in his dark hair than his years would have warranted pointed towards the large open area to their right. Roughly half a square mile of red-golden sand, on three sides framed by graceful stone arcades and looking out into the plains of Gol on the fourth, this was obviously the hub of activity and therefore their destination.

“We might want to get going, it looks like the V’Ket are already forming up.”

“The who? And Betazed is her home, uncle Rel. It’s where she grew up, too, for Deities’ sake.”

“The humans have a saying, Olixinna.” Rel offered his arm to his mother who by now had snapped open her laced fan and drawn herself up to her full height of one point six meters, obviously intent on showing this place how a lady meant to deal with hell itself.

“And what would that be?”

“Home is where the heart is.”

It had taken a little longer that Rel had anticipated, mostly because his sister and niece had insisted on investigating and commenting on every small aspect of the village that they deemed noteworthy - be it the abundance of little fountains and gardens or the exquisite jewelry in a shop window - but also because the increasing heat slowly permeated every pore and made both breathing and, well, moving, a bit of an effort. Thank the Deities for tri-ox compounds.

At last they were guided through the sprawling complex by a most courteous young woman in the uniform of the V’Kor and found their seats right at the center of the main arcade- as Rel had suspected, there were not only cushioned seats next to a cheerfully bubbling fountain but in fact carafes with ice cold water awaiting them.

And right on the other side of the little fountain… reflexively, Rel bowed in a manner that a daughter of the Fourth House could not have faulted in any way, while the ladies of the Twelfth House merely waved their fans in greeting, for once too exhausted from the heat to display their usual exuberance.

“T’Leia. T'nar pak sorat y'rani.”

“Osa-fu. T'nar jaral.”

A heavy-set male with iron-gray streaks in his night-black hair followed the brief exchange, but not one muscle moved while he sat as still as one of the ancient statues decorating the arcades. Although his bearing was just as regal as those statues, they did not radiate the same sense of energy, held in check by an almost frightening control.

Even without the black and silver tunic, Rel would have recognized him immediately. The small frown crossing the Betazoid’s face dissipated when the tall, slender figure of Solkar emerged behind his wife and the elder Vulcan with the ever serene face raised his hand in greeting. But before Rel could return the gesture, the low, rhythmic sound of drums signaled the entrance of the V’Ket honor guards and Lwanissa tugged on her brother’s sleeve.

Rel sank into his pillow, reaching for the glass of water his niece held out to him.

‘Uncle Rel?’

‘Yes, dear.’

‘Who…’

‘Don’t worry about it, Olixinna. Look, those are the V’Ket.’

‘They look... different. And are those real Lirpas?’

The Betazoid nodded, smiling ever so slightly as the Vulcans in their dark red and gold formal robes marched across the plaza in perfect sync with one another, the fierce sun glinting off their deadly weapons. He found the one he was looking for leading the third column, a tiny woman by many standards, but she carried the staff with its crescent blade with astonishing ease and grace.

As usual, T’Para’s tightly braided black hair held a reddish shine and she moved with near playful elegance. Hard to believe that no three decades ago the stunning beauty down there had been the second most inquisitive child Rel had ever encountered, toddling after her funny uncle wherever he went and Deities have mercy if he didn’t pick her up at the first sound of “Toz’oooooh”.

Rel’s silent reverie was interrupted when the V’Ket had reached their positions and announced that fact by simultaneously slamming their feet and the heavy Lirpas into the ground. To the Betazoids, the sound was deafening. Rel didn’t want to know the effect it would have on Vulcan ears.

For several seconds there was silence, and the only sound echoing between the stone arcades was the gurgling of the small fountains and the rustling of flags in the light afternoon breeze.

Then the drums picked up again, slow and steady, reverberating through the Betazoid’s bones and putting him slightly on edge for reasons he could not quite figure out until his intuition overrode what his ears told him.

Below the heavy, strong sound, now accompanied by the footfalls of the graduates marching through the gate, led by - oh goodness, his little one - there was the echo of more drums, much faster, inaudible to his less sensitive ears in this thin atmosphere. He knew the speed, the rhythm of those drums as intimately as he did his own heartbeat. He had fallen asleep with its melody gathered to his chest for many years.

‘Look uncle Rel. Oh, she’s gorgeous!’

‘Yes, dear. She is.’

Fatherly pride aside, the young woman with the lambent black eyes leading her fellow graduates out into the plaza was indeed one that drew quite a bit of attention. To Rel’s dismay, the hawk-eyed man in the dark tunic of V’Shar displayed a keen interest as well. Not that he moved, but his sharp gaze was fixed upon the protégée of Sovar and now top of her class, despite a most rocky start.

The drums fell silent again as the graduates lined up and Rel leaned forward a bit, trying not to miss a second of the brief but very beautiful ceremony.

When their little one was presented with her sword, Lhorexa Tyrax gave a small “Oooh” and nudged her son “Is that…”

‘Shhh, mother. Yes, it definitely looks like T’Shonra’s handiwork.’

‘Deities, I didn’t know she still makes them.’

‘Only if it suits her, mother.’ he smirked just a little ‘She’s very much like you in that aspect. If she doesn’t want to, all the latinum of Ferenginar won’t change her mind.’

A small ‘harrumph’ followed that statement, but thankfully it was drowned by the instructors dismissing their now former students. Well, all but one because traditionally, the head of the class could pick one final fight with his or her chosen adversary.

‘Kinda like one last round for old times’ sake? Settle old scores?’

Lwanissa chuckled quietly, and Rel joined in her silent laughter.

‘More like: Thanks for everything buddy, let’s show them what a good job you’ve done.’

The only thing that worried Rel a little was that traditionally, the class leader would pick the best fighter among the instructors present and yes, there was his little one, gracefully accepting a Lirpa - was that T’Leia’s? A brief glance to his left confirmed Rel’s suspicion; the Vulcan matriarch looked about as satisfied as a mother Le-Matya whose favorite cub had just scored its first kill.

As expected, Sakarra leveled the blade towards the still figure of Sovar and again, Lady Lhorexa let out a huff of air. Sometimes, being an empath was a real pain in the paracortex.

They watched the two young Vulcans charge each other with a ferocity that had Olixinna wince while Lwanissa’s eyes grew wide “Rel my dear, tell me those things are only practice weapons.”

“Afraid not.” he had another sip of the cold water to calm his nerves, just as Sakarra leapt into the air and executed a forward somersault over Sovar’s head. There was definitely amusement radiating off the stone-faced young man as he ducked and turned faster than the laws of physics should allow, but always in sync with the slowly beating ancient drums of Vulcan battle.

For a brief moment, Rel felt the hair on his neck stand up.

Lwanissa simply snorted in response to her brother’s statement.

“Mild-mannered ‘bred-to peace’ my ass.”

“Nissa!”

“Sorry, mother.”

Sovar blocked a series of blows that blurred in the air, his counterattack however drove the lithe, but much smaller young woman halfway across the plaza. For a few seconds, they came close enough to the Betazoids sitting in the shade that Lhorexa could physically feel the combined heat of their bodies as they charged each other relentlessly under the sun that somehow just seemed to get more scorching by the minute.

“Go get him, ‘Kara.”

Olixinna jumped excitedly in her seat, eliciting a few quirked brows and a silent chuckle from Solkar’s direction. And indeed, the little dark haired woman managed to gain some ground again, if only for a brief while before her opponent’s Lirpa stopped just a fraction of a millimeter from her throat.

With a sigh Rel put down the glass he had clutched so tightly he was afraid he might have broken it any minute now, when a look of utter satisfaction appeared on Sovar’s face.

Puzzled, the Betazoid leaned forward again and saw Sakarra’s blade resting against the other Vulcan’s neck with the lightness of a feather.

“You’re kidding me. A draw?”

“Are we allowed to cheer now?” Olixinna whispered and nudged her uncle when a calm but firm “Kroykah.” echoed between the arcades.

The two combatants lowered their weapons and bowed to T’Leia, who emerged from the shadows to express her satisfaction. As if some signal had been given, all the visitors followed suit and poured into the square to retrieve their family and friends.

“A party, at least?” Olixinna mumbled while trailing behind her grandmother who swooped down towards her Vulcan counterpart and snapped open her parasol with one decisive move.

Just as Lady Lhorexa was about to intercept the tall, dark Sovar from getting closer to her little one, he lowered his head and murmured something into Sakarra’s ear that sent waves of amusement from the young woman, although her face sure was just as unmoved as those of everyone around her.

Well, this was going to stop right here and now.

Sakarra noticed the approach of her Betazoid family - not that it was difficult, Lhorexa Tyrax parted the crowd of Vulcans twice her size like a battleship under full steam. Quirking a brow, she half turned to greet them when she felt Sovar’s hot breath close to her face and heard his low baritone, barely loud enough to drown out the noise of pleasant conversations and rustling robes.

“Nam-tor du bifik ri wak na'kur-bosh plem-at.”

Despite her aching bones and bruised muscles, it took all the composure she could muster not to laugh out loud. DAMN that man.

"Nevasa" Part VI

[Science Academy, Shi’Kahr, Vulcan]

16th Day in the month of D'ruh , YS 9015

Sunlight was filtering through windows in the golden colored stone and the massive table of precious dark wood was covered in ancient star maps. Sakarra circled the table, lost in thought. How had her ancestors been able to draw such accurate maps, working with the proverbial stone knives and bear skins? She leaned forward, one hand resting on the beautiful carvings of the table’s edges while the other pulled one of the larger maps closer. Every little detail of T’Khut accurately mapped, from the giant lava-spewing volcanoes to the tiniest crater, long before the first craft had hurled itself past this planet’s atmosphere. Astonishing.

He wandered towards the library’s ancient astronomy section, nodding friendly greetings to students and teachers, and found her precisely where he had suspected she might be. Smiling ever so slightly, the tall Vulcan with the mahogany-colored hair leaned against the doorframe to the high-ceilinged room that was empty save for a young woman completely absorbed by … well, something. Maps, apparently.

He would have been content to just stand here and watch her for hours, as she rustled through ancient papers, biting her lower lip every now and then when she was thinking hard or making those funny little noises when something interesting caught her eye.

Right now the way her fingertip was tapping against the surface of the old table indicated that she found something mildly puzzling and very soon she would…

“Hm.”

Do precisely that. Make a sound indicating she was about to pursue the matter and one could be certain she would get to the bottom of it. Even if it meant she would spend another night at the library, or two, or until all the galaxy’s cows came home.

Taking great care that no rustling of fabric gave away his presence, the young Vulcan in the casual robes slowly pushed away from the door frame and walked towards Sakarra. She had her back turned to him, leaning further across the table to reach for another scroll and he had the leisure to appreciate the way she rose on her toes and twisted her slender frame ever so slightly until her outstretched fingers grasped the ancient paper. Logically, she could have just gone around the table to retrieve it, however this was just another of her little funny ways that one simply had to find endearing.

He chuckled silently at the sight of one foot moving backwards to keep the woman in the bronze-colored robe from toppling over and a strand of her coal-black hair came loose as it always did, no matter how diligently she pinned it into respectable, severe braids and knots.

Finally, she succeeded in placing the scroll next to the map and her small huff announced her satisfaction over a maneuver come to the desired end.

He would have loved to just stand behind her like this for a little while longer, watching the sunlight on her hair and tanned skin that spoke of many days spent outside under Nevasa’s scorching heat, but their friends would be waiting and besides… yes. She had picked up his presence at last, even though her focus remained on the charts and texts. His silent greeting was answered by a good natured telepathic nudge, indicating that she was well aware he’d been appreciating her appearance in a way some of the more conservative people might find… slightly inappropriate.

“So what is it that has made you forget all about our excursion to the T’ralor preserve?” he asked in his low, even baritone, leaning over her shoulder to cast a glance at the map. Not quite close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the warmth emanating from her skin and pick up the clean, spicy scent of her hair that somehow always reminded him of the small desert flowers she was so fond of.

“Hm?” Sakarra had just figured out how they might have done it, considering the technology available at the time but still, there were details that remained unclear, somehow there had to… well, would you believe this one? First he’d been sneaking up on her and now he was pretending to be interested in ancient maps.

The proper response would of course have been something mildly scornful, but truthfully, she didn’t mind his presence in what was by all accounts her personal space. So what if his approach was rather bold, it was precisely that which she found most endearing about him.

Just then his words sank into her consciousness.

“Oh, Silek. That was today?” She turned to face him, completely forgetting of course how close he was standing and found herself looking up, face to face with a Vulcan whose dark turquoise eyes displayed barely veiled amusement.

“Not was, Sakarra-kam. Is, in fact” he tried to sound stern but failed miserably, and of course she simply tilted her head at him in her ‘don‘t even try it’ gesture. Their close proximity however might give anyone happening to walk by the wrong idea - well, not entirely wrong from where he was standing, but this was hardly the time and place. With a silent sigh, Silek stepped back.

“If you still wish to accompany us, T’Para and Warya are waiting outside. And before you ask, T’Para has taken the liberty to bring your clothes and boots.”

“Of course she has”

Having caught some of what Silek was thinking, Sakarra finally decided another small nudge was in order.

“Shall we go, then? If you would wait for me to put these away…”

“Logic would suggest that if I help...”

“No. No offense, Silek. But the last time you ‘helped’ Sa’mekh’al in the house it took us weeks to repair the food stasis unit.”

He sensed the laughter bubbling inside her and simply made a ‘suit yourself’ gesture, figuring that scrolls were rather different from the vexed technology in Solkar’s house, but if she preferred to do it herself he wasn’t going to argue.

She swiftly put away the maps and scrolls and then the two of them made their way through the library towards the old gates of the Academy.

Walking down the stairs in the bright light of the early morning sun, Sakarra spotted Warya taking a nap under one of the few tall trees while T’Para was standing next to-

“Silek, are you meaning to tell me we will take THIS to get to T’ralor?”

He shot her a glance that contained both amusement and promised retribution for any insult directed at his desert flyer. “I remember you making a quite appreciative comment concerning this particular flyer’s speed and maneuverability.”

“So I did, but how do you propose we get a Sehlat in there?”

“The same way we got Warya in earlier today” he pulled out a piece of what looked like one of the Sehlat’s favorite biscuits and waved it in the direction of the sleek, silvery vehicle.

“However, we may have a problem getting him to come back out.”

[Near T'Ralor Nature Preserve]

“Rrrrrrroowwwffff”

“Well, I am pleased that you are happy, Warya. However, for safety reasons I recommend you refrain from sticking your head out the window. Or push your back paw against the controls. Again.”

Sakarra was not sure whether she should find this situation amusing or irritating. The cramped interior of Silek’s desert flyer was not meant to hold a full grown Sehlat, let alone one of Warya’s impressive size plus three Vulcans. As it was, T’Para was seated in the baggage compartment (although ‘folded’ would have been a more apt description) while Sakarra had to contend with a happily purring Sehlat trying to climb on her lap.

She would have liked to appreciate the landscape, since Silek had opted for the ‘scenic’ route across the Kir lowlands towards the Khomi coast of the Thanar Sea and kept the flyer on one of the lower traffic lanes. It was somewhat difficult however to appreciate anything with a huge, fanged, furry face trying to do the same thing. Namely, get a good look at the dazzling change in landscape, now that they had crossed over into Han-Shir and were rapidly approaching Vulcan’s largest wilderness area.

“We might wish to consider putting Warya back here.” T’Para sounded both mildly amused and eager to make that consideration a reality. For what reason Sakarra did not know since at least her cousin had a seat all of her own AND a mostly unobstructed view.

Silek nudged a Sehlat elbow aside and checked his controls “Arrival in 12.75 minutes. Logic would suggest we forego any changes in seating arrangements until our return trip.”

“Silek, not that I would want to dispute your logic.” Sakarra finally managed to look over Warya’s head by clinging to his fur, which produced a happy growl from the Sehlat. “And no, I cannot reach that far, Warya, no matter how much it itches.”

“However…?” Silek did his best to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching. Personally, he doubted that the dark eyed woman next to him was as uncomfortable as she claimed. It was quite obvious that she and the Sehlat shared a bond, after all everyone knew the elderly Warya had even run off from home to find her in Sas-a-Shar. And given a choice, he knew she would have opted for the desert flyer over a slower vehicle any day. Especially considering what she was flying on a regular basis.

“However,” Sakarra said sternly “within those now 11.85 minutes the current seating arrangement may lead to sufficient Sehlat fur on my clothes that I might be considered a relative by a pack of them, or rather a stray cub who needs to be rescued immediately.”

Silek had to admit, he had not considered that. But in his defense, if he’d been asked to name one person who knew how to look after herself, her name would immediately have come to mind. A pack of wild Sehlat was not on the list of things he’d think would elicit more than a raised brow from her and maybe, just maybe, a Look.

After musing over the facts for a little while, Silek decided this was another of her idiosyncrasies called ‘good natured complaining’. With just a touch of dry humor.

“We are approaching our exit. Arrival now in 6.2 minutes. Would you prefer to stop at the Inn for refreshments?”

“With the provisions you brought we could survive in T’ralor for several tendays, Silek.” sounded T’Para’s voice, accompanied by some rustling as the young woman tried to stretch her long legs “Although your thoughtfulness is appreciated, I believe you have mistaken this minor excursion for one of your geological surveys.”

“If this were a survey,” Silek stated matter-of-factly “you would have to share your space with highly sensitive equipment. You are correct however in that I again failed to account for the fact that my two travel companions are graduates of the Defensive Arts Institute. Naturally, you must find my preference for actual food other than ob’taree rather decadent.” He cast a glance at Sakarra, whose small huff at his last statement had suspiciously sounded like a chuckle and almost missed the visitor landing pad in the process.

Warya was mildly disappointed when the flyer’s engines shut down with a pleasant hum, but scrambled out willingly enough when the doors opened. After all, the Sehlat knew he would get to ride with his bipeds again soon. Of course walking home would be fun, too, but there was a bit of a big puddle in the way. It was so nice they had taken him on this trip and he loved they way they got along.

If there was one thing Sehlat knew how to appreciate, it was good pack chemistry and these three had it, occasional growls and playful fang-baring notwithstanding. The energy he got from the male though suggested a certain type of interest in his favorite biped cub, the type that sooner or later would lead to more cubs. Not that Warya objected, the more little bipeds the nicer. But somehow she didn’t seem to pick up the signals. Warya wondered whether he should give the bipeds a few subtle hints, but then an interesting scent came wafting on the air and he decided they’d sort it out themselves sooner or later. For now, there were interesting things to explore. With a happy growl he looked towards a likely looking path leading up into some mountains. Definitely food scents right there. Ah, life was good.

Sakarra brushed some of Warya’s fur off her travel tunic and then accepted the water bag from T’Para. Her cousin had not exaggerated when she’d said there were enough provisions for several more people, but Sakarra strongly suspected that Silek had simply wanted to make sure everyone had their preferred food available. Additionally, the blankets were not required in this quite temperate zone, so he might have planned for a leisurely ‘picnic’ rather than an extended hiking tour. Looking at the heavily forested mountain range ahead, Sakarra found one more piece of evidence to support that theory - this was by all accounts one of the most aesthetically pleasing paths, but for a native far from challenging. Were it not for the occasional steep climb to altitudes where the atmosphere became slightly thinner, it would have made a nice route for off-world tourists.

“So tell me Silek,” T’Para shouldered a bag that she had very sufficiently emptied of anything she had deemed not necessary - by and large, that was most of whatever it had contained - and tilted her head at the turquoise eyed male “do geologists believe in bringing enough equipment to aid a small country which may by any chance have recently suffered a natural disaster as a matter of course… or is it just you?”

“If you must know” Silek seemed completely unperturbed, although he pointedly picked up the rope that T’Para had discarded and stuffed it into his fairly oversized bag “there has been an incident on Levala IV when…”

Sakarra only half listened to Silek diving into one of his stories which sooner or later would involve rocks of some sort or other. Really no wonder his best friend was a Horta. To the large, cheerful boulder Silek had to be the best food critic in the quadrant.

Scratching a happy Warya behind the ears, the young woman started walking towards the path with the Sehlat ambling right next to her. A light breeze was rustling the maroon colored leaves of the trees and tiny, purple blossoms were visible here and there in the tall, pale grass. Even the sky seemed less harsh here; instead of the searing white of the desert one could actually discern shades of mauve and copper.

“So am I to gather you expect seismic disturbances in one of the most geologically stable regions…” T’Para turned when she heard rustling farther off. Of course, her cousin had already started the walk, sure in the knowledge T’Para and Silek would follow once they were done with another of their debates. The tiniest of smirks playing across her lips, she nudged the young man who by now also was looking at the slender figure walking next to the big mass of fur that was Warya. “Logic would dictate we can continue our conversation underway. And while we are on the subject of logic…”

Decisions

Nam-tor rubah bolaya-torek t'ek'nam. (Change is the essential process of all existence. - Surak)

[Science Academy, Shi’Kahr, Vulcan]

27th Day in the month of re`T'Khutai , YS 9015

She walked through the ancients hallways, her sand-colored robes swishing pleasantly with her measured gait. The curiously soft and cool stone under her feet absorbed the sound of her footsteps as she turned towards the library, acknowledging the silent greetings of teachers and students she passed on the way. In her arm she carried some scrolls, ancient writings of T’Plana-Hath and the monks of T’Shen.

Although not officially part of her studies, she had decided to immerse herself in those philosophies, in addition to subspace field geometry and astrogation. The wealth of knowledge contained within these walls was astonishing and available to anyone who so desired. Entering the library with its marvelous high ceilings, the dark-haired young woman let her gaze linger on the endless shelves for a moment. It would take a lifetime to absorb but a fraction of all this and it would not be a wasted life.

She nodded a greeting towards the librarian and went to carefully place the scrolls back where they belonged. Lost in thought, she traced the intricate carvings on the old wooden shelf with long, slender fingers and then made a sudden turn and walked out in the direction of the transporter platforms. T’Leia would be waiting. Not only for her grandchild, but for an answer. An answer the young woman did not have. Of course, neither the matriarch nor the clan were pressing her to make a decision, but they deserved an answer nonetheless.

Halfway towards the ancient gates, the young woman caught sight of one of the Academy’s gardens. Stones and sand arranged in beautiful patterns surrounded a small fountain and benches were placed under hardy desert trees with feathery, maroon colored leaves. Almost without realizing it, she steered towards one of them and sat down. Hands folded in her lap, she simply watched the small whispering waterfall emerging under the talons of a Shavokh sculpture. The air was still but pleasantly cool - no more than 39 degrees Celsius.

Let‘thieri. Everything here was peaceful. Was that not what she had looked for, and found? Finally, some measure of serenity, inner contentment, peace of mind. What was it that prevented her from simply following this course towards something lasting, something worthwhile? Had she become so used to always choosing the road less traveled, to struggling and pushing her way through, that she wouldn’t know what to do with herself if there was no longer a rugged mountain to climb? ‘Can you not do the reasonable thing, choose the safe, gentle, treaded path - at least ONCE in your life?’

Nevasa was beginning to set and a few of the students passing the garden on their way home noticed the still figure on the bench. They all walked past quietly, not wanting to disturb someone so obviously deep in meditation. Only a silver haired Vulcan in the robes of a senior instructor paused briefly, recognizing the young woman with the elegant features and the long hair that was plaited in the ancient style, as one of his quite promising students. But he decided it would not do to invade the young one’s privacy and moved on silently. It was illogical to assume that she would not seek advice should she require it.

She, however, was unaware of any of this. Her thoughts were with her family, who had become as accustomed to her as she to them and who would be as happy as Vulcans dare to be if she’d take T’Meni up on her offer and stay. She’d be able to do what she loved, fly beautiful aircraft designed by one of the best teams the quadrant had to offer, continue her studies at her leisure ... she carefully avoided thoughts of the other career open to her and then mildly scorned herself for doing so. But rather than examine the reason for her reluctance to dwell on that subject, she turned towards the most immediate concern. Silek. Warm, intelligent, and yes, funny, Silek. By any definition, it would be a smart match. Of the same clan but different houses, both unbonded and, truth be told, somewhat unconventional.

So often she had wished her parents had upheld tradition and taken the weight of this decision off her shoulders. How nice it might have been to get the chance and develop a bond with someone over the course of several years, instead of having to muddle through the uncertainty and … ah, useless ponderings. What is, is. And her treacherous mind was circumnavigating the issue yet again.

The truth. Always and only the truth.

Could she? Not only envision this life, but live it? Stay, at least for the foreseeable future, build a home, a career, and most of all, a bond that would last a lifetime? Was that what she was shying away from?

Her dark eyes gazed up at the rising bulk of T’Khut, but the Watcher had no answers for her. A light breeze started to rustle the leaves and all over the city warm lights began to glow in countless houses.

No, there was no fear, no reluctance when she imagined such a life. Only a sense of peace, and mild melancholy. But where will you go from there?

The few stars managing to outshine the rugged giant looming over Shi’Kahr seemed to wink at her, and she savored this perfect moment. Warm winds carried the scents of the desert into the small garden, playing with the tiny waterfall until a few droplets landed on the dark haired woman’s face. In the darkness, she smiled.

To lose the earth you know, for greater knowing;

to lose the life you have, for greater life;

to leave the friends you loved, for greater loving;

to find a land more kind than home, more large than earth-

Whereon the pillars of this earth are founded,

toward which the conscience of the world is tending

- a wind is rising, and the rivers flow.

As the dark-robed figure of Solkar entered the garden, his look of mild concern quickly changed into barely veiled relief and then curiosity.

Sakarra stood up from the bench and approached her grandfather.

Her decision was made.