A Mission Post by Lieutenant Commander Jin Rha-Yaleii
Mission: Coil of Darkness
Location: Vulcan
Timeline: some days prior to the Romulan delegation leaving ch'Rihan
~Hills near Thanar Sea, Kir province, Vulcan ~
"M'aih! Mhë dhershĩs edhéik!"
"Indeed? Well done." She caught the little girl just as she launched herself over a rock and with the ease of long practice settled the energetic child against her hip. Small, sun-warmed arms wrapped around her as the girl chattered on excitedly, detailing today's adventure and giving special praise to her brother's skill in knocking gespar off the branch with one well aimed stone.
Nodding solemn acknowledgement, Sakarra picked her way down the hill to where Nveid waited patiently, a bright smile suffusing his features despite his best efforts to adopt at least a dignified posture. Nearing his sixteenth year, her son stood head and shoulders above her and his simple, sand-colored travel tunic adorned the athletic, well proportioned form of ancient Vulcan statues.
He had been awkward with it at first, uncertain what to do about suddenly long limbs and unexpected strength; and the Vulcan suspected somewhat dismayed at finding himself towering over his mother. Over the past year he'd grown to be more at ease in his skin, adopting a deft and graceful bearing that despite his protestations owed a great deal more to his character than the V'Ket exercise regimen he insisted on continuing even when his mother was off world, twirling about the paved square in the garden with his practice blade like a meditating warrior-priest.
He had confessed, with a child's wonder, that though his parents had of course seemed tall to his ten year old self, he never recalled them being quite this … imposing. And with a grown man's melancholy, he had reasoned that hard lives had likely taken their toll on Sienae and Lyirru, bowing their shoulders and dimming their spirits, long before he had been born.
One evening, with his little sister happily fallen asleep on Warya's paws and the perfume of favinit in bloom wafting through the garden, he had sat by Sakarra's feet and leaned his head against her knees like he'd done since the earliest days on Charon.
"Is it a cruel joke, m'aih? That I see what they could have been, should have been, when I look in the mirror? Why? Why did they never get the chance? It's not fair!"
"No love, it is not."
She had run her fingers through his thick, silken hair and waited patiently for the shuddering of his shoulders to subside. Why. Perhaps one of the oldest questions, one shouted at the universe in a myriad tongues, and if ever there was an answer, Sakarra did not know it. All she knew was that the poor Rihannsu farmers had raised a brave, generous and loving child, one who had become her joy and pride and strength in difficult times, and that she would forever be grateful to them.
All this she had told him, in a quiet, even voice, while T'Khut's bloated sphere had risen over the sea and an old sehlat's content snore had echoed across the hills.
"We found some wild hirat, too. Grandfather Rel wanted to bake muff'heenz and they should do nicely." Nveid shifted slightly on his feet, a hand tugging on the jet black hair that fell in shiny profusion to the middle of his back as he seemed to try very hard indeed to not gather the small woman into his arms and whoop in joyous greeting. Realizing her thoughts had likely shown on her face, Sakarra quirked an indulgent brow and lightly wrapped her free arm around her fidgeting son's waist. "So they should. If we manage to deliver them before he runs out of room to put his finished 'snacks'. Again."
"Wrrrarr. Mrf."
"Yes I am certain you wouldn't mind, Warya."
"Should I...?" Nveid smiled down at the little girl who had taken the opportunity to get some well deserved rest, her berry-smeared face resting contentedly against her mother's shoulder, and eyelids fluttering closed.
"I have her." But for a moment, she leaned against Nveid's chest, allowing the tension and weariness of another long journey to seep from her bones, wrapped in the happiness of having her children close again. And they might have stood there for a while longer, had not a huge sehlat butted his furry head into the embrace with a plaintive rumble, feeling decidedly left out.
~Meanwhile at the little villa overlooking the Thanar Sea~
"I do apologize, but my daughter is … yes, of course. Listen, I have chocolate cake in the … I'll make sure to give her the letter. No I don't know when … oh, Four Deities. Son, have you ever considered just asking her out? She's not going to lop your head off. Probably. What? Yes, you're welcome. And prosper." The steel-grey haired Betazoid shook his head at the now blank comm screen and chuckled softly to himself.
It wasn't that Rel Tyrax had an issue with Vulcans preferring to stick to traditional ways in the matters of courtship, or that most of the men showing perfectly logical interest in a lovely young V'Ket from an ancient High House - and a lady with a fascinating reputation at that - weren't decent enough lads. But his little one's utter disinterest in the matter aside, he knew her well enough to understand that the poor men making absolutely sound and rational cases for why they'd be suitable candidates weren't likely to catch her attention.
Maybe he should tell them to try with chocolate cake.
~~~~~~~
Much as Vulcans like to pretend it is their reason that guides them in all things, there are matters where this most rational of species (if one believes that) is more prone to fall into ancient behavior patterns than others. As a woman of the Sundered once mused, perhaps their embrace of peace has somehow, paradoxically, made their fierceness more accessible to them.
In any case, when a man of the sun-scorched world circling Nevasa is on the lookout for a suitable mate, he'll start with reason, or try to.
A number of common interests is certainly a sign for a good match – though not too many, as one always needs areas of distinction to keep mutual interest in play – as are similar views on politics and spirituality, and a genetic profile far enough removed from one's own to ensure healthy offspring, if such is desired. And therein lies the crux.
Deep within the Vulcan mind lie imprinted countless millennia of struggle for survival. Of needing to increase the clan's numbers, or to keep those steady at least, so as to not become another whisper of memory and bleached bones not even worth a footnote in history.
Logically (and contrary to what some might think, logic wasn't a thing that suddenly arrived on the planet with Surak, but has always been part and parcel of Vulcan thinking), for that you need strong, healthy children. Any woman able to provide one or more of those was thus reckoned a coup, and if not already bonded or – as all too often happened – bereaved of her mate because of nature's cruelty or yet another war, would find herself with more suitors than she could shake a sehlat at.
Add to that the ancient clan-structures with their strong reliance on family – and family need not always mean DNA in the turbulent ways of the planet - and you get a species who'd merrily have a dozen offspring if they could, and adopt another score if sufficient water, food and shelter allowed for it. If you were lucky, perhaps half of them would even make it to adulthood.
Of course modern Vulcans are far too sensible to fall into this trap and will carefully plan to have just as many children as they can provide for, and provide for well. Still, the ancient instincts run deep and, as a bemused Betazoid lady once noted, make 'those Vulcan boys probably the most enthusiastic, sweetest and fiercest dads in the galaxy, bless their stubborn hearts'.
Today the clan is no longer the sole means and reason for survival, but it still is an important factor in many a Vulcan's life. The peace which has held sway on the planet since Surak's days has not diminished the desire for family, but in a way allowed the Vulcans to actually enjoy having one for the first time in their history.
As a result, the practical Vulcan male in search for a mate looked at an unbonded, well educated, far traveled young V'Ket Subcommander with two children and saw not only a most interesting match, but a whole family to be had in one fell stroke. The ancient blood beating in his veins saw a healthy female able to provide strong offspring, and capable of caring for them.
In short, Sakarra fit the bill of a highly eligible lady and it was beginning to become a nuisance.
~~~~~~~
Rel sensed them coming down the northern path without having to look out the arched window, which was just as well what with him up to his elbows in muffin dough.
Now then, if they were taking the little path up near the dun-yar, he'd still have time to … no. They were taking the shortcut through the narrow ravine, and Warya didn't seem all that happy about it. Hopefully he wouldn't get his furry behind stuck again. Oh, and they were bringing hirat, the thoughtful children.
Anyone who didn't know a great deal about Betazoids would have been puzzled by the stately elder man's sudden stillness while a jet black gaze turned inward and a radiant smile played across his lips. Someone at least a little familiar with the species might have guessed that Rel was silently speaking to someone, and very happy about it.
It would have taken another Betazoid to sense the outpouring of joy when his feather light telepathic nudge received an answer. An answer that was so utterly Vulcan in its vibrant warmth, it brushed across his mind like heat from a fireplace during a rainstorm.
She was home.
And about time, too. All that food wasn't going to eat itself.
~to be continued...~
Subcommander Sakarra
V'Ket
&
family
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