Calculated Risk Ch. 01

She was so thirsty, frequently lifting her respirator to take swigs of water but trying not to use it all up too fast. Her head ached and her muscles were shaking as they labored to pull her up and down the baking rocks. She was thankful for the goggles, boots and gloves protecting those more sensitive parts of her body, but she was sweating far too much beneath her clothes for it to be a good thing.

At one point Madeleine wasn't sure whether or not she'd missed the specific valley where she'd seen the Vulcan. She was gasping as she turned around tiredly in a circle, vainly hoping to see footprints or some other tracks. She didn't see anything. Was she in the right place? How could she hope to catch up to him, being so much smaller, weighed down by gravity, injured, tired, scared...?

On impulse she drew in the deepest breath she could through her respirator, lifted it from her nose and mouth, and projected at the top of her lungs, "SKAAAAAAUUUN!"

She drew in breath before covering her nose and mouth again and immediately started coughing. Oh, she was so not in shape for this...

At least she'd heard an echo of her voice off the hills.

She caught her breath with the respirator and tried again. "SKAAAUUN! GOLTOR!"

God, she hoped he heard her.

****

Skaun had just found the shuttle and was investigating. He saw footprints arranged in a chaotic pattern just outside the wreckage, noted they led away from the shuttle, and decided to take that extra moment to look inside. He saw the single body inside, probably dead on impact, and was not sure what he could determine about the one other that had been here amidst the dislodged cargo and supplies tossed around in the crash.

But there had been one more, and that one was alive.

Not seeing any supply that was worth the added weight, Skaun left the crash site, following the tracks of the survivor. He was not even out of eyesight of the wreck when he thought...

Though that he heard his name.

Someone was calling his name?

Skaun stopped, his internal conflict growing as base fear added to his imbalance.

Was it sun delusion that he heard his name on the wind?

The voice had been female. Was it instead another trick on his perception from Pon Farr, one he had never experienced his first time through this? He had exhausted himself in the running, had put himself under so much strain, it was reasonable to think so.

Goltor. The voice was speaking his language, asking for help.

The young Vulcan shook his head and continued following what tracks he could see, sensitive eyes straining in the bright light. If it was not a delusion, then the tracks would lead him to the same source as the voice. Yes, he could trust that logic. Ignore the sound and focus on the physical shapes in the ground....which seemed to be stumbling a lot, supporting his theory that they were the tracks of the survivor.

Skaun had nearly returned to the point where he'd left his path, just a little farther to the west and in the direction of his tribe, when he finally crested the last hill and could see a small humanoid form on its knees and sitting in direct sunlight with no shelter, the essential picture of confusion, pain, and exhaustion.

*We are of a pair, then,* he thought and began to approach.

He determined she was female fairly soon, but knew she could not be another Vulcan; the legs and stature were not long enough and she was too small for even the shortest among his race that wasn't a child, and she most certainly wasn't that; her breasts fully mature.

"I greet you without ill."

Her bowed head jerked up too quickly in surprise, and her body flinched as if it pain. Her eyes focused on him quickly from beneath the visor on her helmet, though, and she slowly got to her feet; he could see she was immensely stiff. She barely reached the level of his chest in height, and the female curves of bust and hips were measurably larger than he was used to seeing; normally those measurements were in proportion only on a much taller Vulcan woman.

He did not consider it a physical flaw or deformity on this one, but a simple contrast. She was human for certain, and he knew from his trips to the city that human women possessed greater variety of form, primarily, he'd learned, because the human home world had a much greater variance of climate and resources than did his own. It made logical sense; the different environments necessitated the different forms.

"Are-are you Skaun?" she asked in accented Vulcan, her voice muffled through a respirator.

He could not see her eyes as dust had layered over dark-lensed goggles to protect her more vulnerable eyes. To her, his expression didn't change. To him, her expressions never stopped.

"Yes. How do you know my name?" he asked in return, glad they could communicate.

"A message from your tribe in Ta'Ralor," she answered, seeming to weave for a moment as if she wanted to collapse. "I was trying to find you. I was too late to...int...intercept before you left again. I saw you running and we made to land—"

The corners of Skaun's mouth tightened and he had to interrupt. "What was the message?"

"What?" she asked, taken aback and sounding uncertain.

"The message from my tribe."

"Oh...no...it..." She paused, trying to collect thoughts that were doing no better than his own at the moment. "Was for me. The message. Only asked me to take you on the shuttle. Nothing else, just that it was important."

No mention whether or not Srill still lived. Skaun was quiet, making the obvious logical leap that the shuttle was now scrap and that attempt to pick him up had failed.

It would have solved much had she intercepted him in Ta'Ralor. Or had the crash not occurred. He was almost sorry for having learned it.

That heavy feeling returned when he'd thought about his brother lying sick two running nights hence to the west. This small, injured human could not run like a Vulcan; it would take as many as five nights to reach his tribe escorting her. It was not possible; he would be taken by madness by then. Even an attempt to return her to Ta'Ralor may take two to three nights; not much better. The only benefit of doing that for Srill may be if....

"I will take you back to Ta'Ralor, starting this evening," he said abruptly. "In exchange, I need you to provide another shuttle to fly me to my tribe. Can you do that?"

She stared at him; she didn't seem to be following his reasoning. "Wait....what?"

Skaun shook his head, see he was confusing her. "The sun is too hot, we are both tired, let us find shelter. We will discuss."

There were many caves Skaun knew of between the city and his tribe; it was not difficult to find one deep enough that would offer protection from the scorching rays and heat of the day. He helped her climb, physically supported her when she seemed too weak to pull herself up or hold her balance. Tired as he was, he did not find her to be that heavy.

After they were inside, they did not discuss much. Skaun watched the human fumble around in the dim and ultimately remove her goggles and turn on an energy lamp. She searched inside her pack for medicine pills, which she swallowed with some water from her canteen. She'd needed to take off her respirator to do that, and he finally saw her face; it was a reasonably handsome one, with eyes that were large and very dark and skin that was a smooth, uniform brown. She removed her helmet before long, seeming irritated at getting it off and gasping a breath when she did. He saw short-length black hair, matted down with moisture just before she ran her gloved hands through it massaging her scalp and making strands of hair stand up in random places. Her mouth and face moved expressively as she did so; the act seemed to provide some relief or pleasure.

She looked back at him, the lost, confused look still present before her face fell as something occurred to her. "I'm sorry for delaying you, Skaun. Your tribe said it was important I find you and bring you back. Now I'm not sure what you'll do. I'm...sorry."

The Vulcan didn't reply at first and didn't make any motion toward her. He was in trouble regardless, but when he thought on it further, the humans' crash hadn't only added complexity to his plight. It had also created an opportunity.

He may still make it back home in two days if this human could get him a shuttle. It might result in no net delay when compared to him running the trek on his own.

Assuming he could fight Pon Farr for long enough.

It was unfortunate that she was not an unmarried Vulcan.

"Will you find me a shuttle once we return?" he asked again, and she nodded almost immediately this time. He nodded back. "Apology accepted. Now I need to sleep. I recommend you do the same, and we will begin travel once the suns have gone down."

She looked hesitant as she settled down on the hard ground, and he caught a frown cross her expressive face. "My name's Madeleine Coupiska, by the way. Thanks for asking."

Skaun tilted his head slightly. "I did not ask, Madeleine Coupiska."

She huffed a breath. "I know, I know, exactly...why not? Vulcans are normally polite and you have greeting rituals, don't you?"

He looked down in thought and felt only confusion, a drifting sensation as he pondered her question. Indeed, why not? He had a simple theory—exhaustion and distraction—but did not see the point in analyzing it. Humans were inquisitive, he'd heard, asking many questions that didn't always make sense. This reasoning could lead to probing questions which were very private for him.

"My apology for the oversight, Madeleine. Well met."

She squinted at him but appeared to accept the answer. "Okay, then. Well met, Skaun. Thank you again for helping me. I guess I will see you in the evening."

She turned off the lamp.

****

Skaun slept deeply, his body far too taxed to do anything else, but his mind wouldn't stop roaring.

The sound was raw, loud, and dangerous. It filled his dreams to their very borders, swelling and surging, and with it came an image of someone standing in silhouette against a rising moon. He was screaming at the sky, at the stars, arms raised and fists clenched.

Each time the sound would pause, he thought, *No more, my throat is so soar, no more, please...*

Then after he'd drawn breath, it began again.

Never in his life was he so frightened than when this need which would not be denied overtook his sense of reason. The first time he went through it, they'd been prepared; his tribe was there to help him, and he'd only suffered for a few hours. This was only his second time, and it had been many years during which he'd just grown into his adult body. During those years he'd learned the wisdom of reason, balance, control, and clarity.

For this second Pon Farr, he was alone. Unless he did the unthinkable, the unspeakable...he may die from the suffering.

How could he succeed in returning the human woman to the city? How could he make it back to Srill, if all he was doing, all he could do...was scream?

Perhaps if he'd known it would be like this, he would never have left.

****

They had not fallen asleep near each other, of that Madeleine was certain. The young Vulcan had even moved away from her to the other side of the cave before settling down in the dim to rest. Even though she'd thought she would be too wired to sleep, too upset from the crash, too worried or guilty or sore whatever else was swirling through her mind...the painkillers she'd swallowed had worked to make her more comfortable and she actually did fall asleep.

Some hours later when the cave's mouth was not blazing nearly so bright and the cave itself was even darker than before, her lethargic consciousness registered a tugging sensation down by her waist. It was followed by harder jerking and a cooling sensation on her skin. She groaned when she moved her limbs and twisted her neck; the painful soreness woke her up more quickly and she opened her eyes but couldn't see anything.

She could sense a presence above her, though, and she could feel tough, dry hands touching her skin, following her thighs up to her hips and to her waist. She realized her pants were already bunched around her knees and the hands were preparing to tug down her underpants.

"Wait," she gasped, her mind foggy and disoriented. "Who's there? What—?"

Was she dreaming?

The thin fabric was jerked from beneath her backside and quickly slipped down her legs. She tried to catch it, to halt its progress but missed by a long shot, her muscles whining in protest. Air touched her bare pussy as fingers trailed back up her inner thighs, palms pushing her legs farther apart, which were bent at the knee with her ankles locked together by her pants. Thumbs quickly reached her core and started stroking her lips. Then one pushed an inch or so inside and she felt her flesh give and wrap around the digit.

Fear surged and she fully woke up, truly panicked. Not a dream at all, this was real!!

"Stop!" she cried, twisting violently to the right to get on her stomach, trying to draw her limbs beneath her and belly-crawl out from under her attacker before ideally scrambling to her feet. She wouldn't have gotten far with her pants now down around her ankles, but the large shadow fell upon her the next instant anyway and the air whooshed out of her lungs.

The unfamiliar feeling of dust and grit pressed to her bare belly and into her pubic thatch nearly succeeded in distracting her a moment. Then she could feel an erection wedged between her naked butt cheeks—still restrained by clothing, thank God—and someone was breathing hard well above her head as he clasped tightly to her. Whoever it was, he was at least a head taller than her, and much, much heavier. There was no way she could get out from under him; she could barely breathe.

Who had entered the cave while they were sleeping? Why attack them, attack her? Was Skaun okay, was he even still alive?

Her captor humped his straining ridge along her crack several times, his breath deep and shuddering, before the weight shifted to one side and she thought he was fumbling with his own trousers.

"Please, don't," she wheezed at first before the other seemed to raise off her some to let her breathe. Her lungs filled and her voice was much louder the next instant. "Don't, don't hurt me! Skaun, help!"

She struggled ineffectually and started hyperventilating; before she knew it she'd worked herself into a horrible coughing fit. The Vulcan air scratched at her lungs even at her research office and it seemed every time she started breathing harder her lungs gamely challenged her to hack up her very toenails. It was one of the reasons she had put off adjusting to the gravity by working out.

This time was no exception and indeed was worse because she was in a full-blown panic. She'd probably be coughing hoarsely the entire time he raped her and she couldn't stop him, she could barely control her bladder and that was probably ready to let loose...

Madeleine almost didn't notice that the weight had lifted off her completely until someone was rolling her coughing self over and pressing something to her nose and mouth.

"Breathe, Madeleine."

Her next breath wasn't as bad as the one before, but she still coughed as she absorbed that it was Skaun, and he was strapping the respirator in place for her. His voice had sounded strained and when she raised a hand to touch his wrist in relief and thanks, she felt that his hands were shaking.

Shaking? Vulcan hands didn't shake unless it was something truly beyond their control.

"Are you hurt? Did someone—? Who just—?" she stammered.

"Peace, calm," Skaun said. "What is wrong with your lungs? Why are you coughing like this?"

"Huh?" She was incredulous, now a little irritated and a lot embarrassed as she remembered that her crotch was still open to the air. She pawed at her pants and underwear to pull them back up as she croaked, "No, answer me first! Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Good. The one who attacked me, is he gone?" She coughed again, slapping some of the dirt and grit from her belly and crotch before tugging her clothing back up over her full backside.

The Vulcan was quiet for a moment, leaning back from her to sit on the ground. "No, he's not gone. He's still here."

She tensed in fright. "He is? Where?"

She wasn't sure in the darkness but she thought she saw a vague outline of him tilting his head. "In front of you. I attacked you. I'm sorry, Madeleine, I was...sleeping. Your coughing sounded...familiar. I became aware of what I was doing and stopped."

She was stunned into silence for several long minutes. He did it? He had stripped her from the waist down and touched her, stuck his thumb inside? He was the one who jumped on her and started dry-humping her ass? He had been about to push down his own pants to—

"That's impossible!" she exploded. "Vulcans don't act like that! Not even in their sleep!"

When Skaun made no reply, Madeleine turned to search haphazardly for her pack. Anything to give her something to do. "I need my night torch, I need some light..."

"Your pack is behind you and to your left."

Begrudgingly she followed his direction and found it quickly, her fingers finding the familiar shape and retrieving it, turning it on. Skaun flinched when she put it right in his eyes and he raised his unsteady hand to shade his eyes.

"Please do not shine that in my face," he said.

Her own hands were shaking a little bit as well. "You ask what's wrong with me? Well, what's wrong with _you_? Why on Earth would you try to rape me in my sleep?!"

"We're not on Earth. We're on Vulcan."

"You know what I mean!" she retorted hotly. "Answer my question!"

"Pon Farr," he said quietly.

She stared at his lit face, with those sharply-angled eyebrows and keen, pointed ears and gaunt face. His hair was dark but not quite as dark as hers, cut about the same length but without the curl, and his eyes she remembered in sunlight had been a beautiful sky blue. He was not as pale as some Vulcans were, and she expected that was in part due to his being a tribal runner; he just spent more time outside, even with the suns up. She could not, even now, read any familiar emotion on his face.

Finally she said, "I do not know that word."

"That is as it should be."

She suppressed the urge to fling the torch at his head and said instead between clenched teeth, "So define it. Please."

"It is highly private."

"Well, it is 'highly private' to stick your thumb inside my birth canal, isn't it?" she growled at him.

He sighed softly. "Did I?"

"Yes, you did."

"Point accepted. It is when an individual Vulcan experiences a neurochemical imbalance. It occurs in a rough seven year cycle and is the time where our own race's drive to procreate cannot be ignored. We hold to a ritual so as not...to do what I did. We do not normally talk about it with outsiders, as there are many misconceptions. Again I apologize to you, Madeleine. In truth, I do not want to harm you."

After a few moments, Madeleine finally pulled the torch from his face and aimed it on her pack to make sure everything was there. She considered the scrap of information he'd given. And she would be traveling with this loopy Vulcan for the next day or two back to the city?

"So...will you be able to control yourself?" she asked. "Until we get back to Ta'Ralor?"

The following silence was not encouraging, and she saw an unguarded expression on his face when she brought the light of the torch closer without blinding him again. It chilled her.

She'd never seen despair on a Vulcan face before.

"What?...what haven't you told me?" she asked.

Skaun didn't answer at first. When he did speak, it was as if he was making the effort to sound emotionless, rather than it just being the way he was. "My brother is ill. I must return as soon as possible."