Surefoot 51: Kith and Kin

Srithik took notes hurriedly as he listened.

C'Rash sat back, watched and smiled.

*

It wasn't long before the couple was summoned back to the house, Pedalk meeting them in the foyer. "Xanax has arranged for UPS to transport the medal collection here from his home. It involved some expense on his part - as he will no doubt inform you himself."

"Acknowledged." T'Varik paused, and then stopped in place and faced Pedalk. "Brother, I must apologise if I have not offered you sufficient support towards your writing. You have every right to pursue your goals, as I have done."

He blinked. "I... thank you for your apology, Sister. Does this mean you have changed your opinion on my work?"

"No. It remains appalling. You have at best a minimal grasp of plot, character, motivation, structure and pacing, and your love scenes are a mix of the unerotic and the incoherent, indicative of a writer with no direct experience and barely any indirect knowledge. Previous attempts to locate a race or culture within the Galaxy who would be compatible with your unique style have proved unsuccessful.

Your culinary skills, however, are exemplary."

"They- They are?"

"Indeed. I recall that you were the one in our household who did the majority of the cooking after Mother died. Clearly your talents have improved over the years, and the restaurant work you mentioned having undertaken since then is proof of that."

"She's right," C'Rash added, smiling. "My Uncle Esek would probably hire you as our Ship's Chef."

Pedalk looked back at T'Varik. "You are implying that I should now give up on those goals you apologised for not supporting only seconds ago?"

"I am stating that while you have my support, I owe it to you to tell you the truth, a truth driven not by lack of understanding of literature, or by envy, or by any desire to hurt you. I would also point out that artistic talent can be expressed through many instruments: the writer's pen, the painter's brush, the designer's schematics... and the chef's knife."

"And you can always write a cookbook with all of those new recipes you've created?" C'Rash suggested, smiling.

"I offer only recommendations," T'Varik clarified. "The final decision is of course yours. And regardless of your decision, know that I will remain your sister... and I will always love you."

She held up her right hand, fingers outstretched.

He mirrored her, their fingertips touching. He looked at a total loss for words, and mercifully was saved by the voice of Xanax calling out, "Pedalk, retrieving our sister should be a task even you are capable of performing adequately..."

*

The trio returned to the study to reunite with Xanax, Nivor and Isaath, T'Varik striding forward to her other siblings. "You have Father's medals?"

Xanax handed her a long box crafted in a dark, mahogany-like wood. "Here. The cost of hiring a transporter beam through Universal Parcel Service at short notice was considerable; it will be deducted from your share of the property sale."

"That is acceptable." T'Varik lifted up the lid of the box, examining the ten medals she remembered Father showing her many times: the Starfleet Medal of Commendation, the Silver Palm, the Award of Valour, the Extended Tour Ribbon-

"Look at you," Nivor sneered. "You are practically slavering over those reminders of Father's criminal acts."

T'Varik turned the open box to face her, indicating each medal as she spoke. "Father earned this one for the criminal act of saving the lives of 470 colonists on Boradis III when their fusion generator threatened to overload. And this one was for the criminal act of being wounded while participating in a rescue operation at Minos Korva during the Cardassian Border Wars. And this one was for the criminal act of delivering life-saving vaccines to quell an outbreak of Saurian Virus on-"

"We are not interested," Xanax informed her coldly. "Father is dead, and no longer of any consequence to us. The medals are yours: take them, rescind any claims towards any items which may or may not have been removed from the family estate without your knowledge or authorisation, and sign the sales agreement. It is preposterous to delay matters any further."

T'Varik stared at him, closed the lid on the box, and turned to hand it to C'Rash. Then she looked to Nivor. "I had the privilege of meeting Srithik outside. He is an intelligent, inquisitive young man; you should be proud of him."

"He serves his purpose as and when required," Nivor responded. "Why do you care?"

"Because he is my nephew. He is family. As are you both. There are people onboard my ship with whom I share no genetic or racial commonality, but whom I consider Kith and Kin: they are brothers, sisters, godchildren..." She glanced once at C'Rash. "And a partner. We support, nurture... love each other. But meeting Srithik, I find that I do not wish to leave here with outstanding animosity, if I can help it."

She took in Xanax now. "I cannot identify a specific incident which initiated the emotional rift now between us... and perhaps it does not matter. I know I have been abrasive and aggressive to you both today. And I apologise for that."

Xanax and Nivor glowered back, Xanax finally responding with, "And so you should. It has been a long-held belief between my sister and I that you are a pitiful excuse for a sibling: constantly behaving in a superior, self-aggrandising manner, cravenly currying favour with Father, abandoning Vulcan and traditional Vulcan values as he had by enlisting in Starfleet. The only real advantage that we could perceive by your joining your band of warmongers, beyond the obvious one of taking you away from our presence, is the possibility of your being killed in space, and our not requiring your participation with the sale of this property-"

"That's enough!" Now C'Rash stepped up, her tail snapping in anger, teeth bared. "I don't care what your opinions about Starfleet or anything else are, you can't talk to her like that! She's tried to make peace with you! The least you can do is be civil to her, as a fellow Vulcan, if not your sister!"

Xanax fixed an icy stare on the Caitian. "I am not interested in engaging in discourse with talking animals."

T'Varik stepped between Xanax and C'Rash, offering a solid, unblinking stare as she took a step forward towards him.

Xanax raised his chin. "If you are seeking to intimidate me, you will find- you will find-"

She stepped forward again.

He stepped back.

When she finally spoke, her voice was a cold murmur. "You exceed even your own considerable capacity for offensiveness: congratulations. There is nothing further to be gained by remaining here." She turned to C'Rash. "We are departing."

"You cannot leave without signing the agreement," Nivor reminded her.

"I am not signing."

Xanax's eyes saucered in shock. "Preposterous! You agreed to sign if I gave you the medals!"

"No, I agreed to consider signing. I have considered it... and I have rejected the notion."

"You... You planned this course of action all along," Xanax accused, his olive complexion darkening. "You had no intention of ever signing!"

T'Varik stopped, turned back to face him, and frowned in thought, before responding, "I did intend... until you insulted my betrothed, again. I warned you earlier today that you would regret repeating such an action."

"She did warn you," Pedalk reminded him.

"The input of an abject failure is neither required nor desired," Nivor chided Pedalk, turning to Isaath. "Advocate, under the terms of the will, a majority of the surviving children of Lenek can override the decision of a minority. She has nullified herself with her petulance."

"There is no majority," Pedalk corrected her. "I now rescind my earlier agreement to sell."

"Preposterous," Xanax told him acidly. "You have already signed."

"I may be an abject failure, Brother," Pedalk countered. "But I am literate enough to recall the clause in the will that requires a recount of the decision in the event of a challenge to override."

"Pedalk is correct," Isaath confirmed.

Nivor glowered at Pedalk. "You require the money from the sale more than the rest of us, to supplement your pathetic literary career."

Pedalk stared back. "I believed that, once. Now, thanks to my other sister, I am considering a change of direction."

Xanax scowled... and turned back to Isaath. "You will immediately raise an injunction in the Civil Courts to remove their required approval of the sale!"

Isaath regarded Xanax and Nivor coolly... and began packing away his paperwork into a case. "My firm is withdrawing its services with immediate effect."

"What?" Xanax practically exclaimed. "Why would you do that? The sale would represent an appreciable profit for you!"

"Perhaps... but our reputation would almost certainly suffer from our association with you. You will receive an invoice for our services to date." He walked past them, stopping at T'Varik, C'Rash and Pedalk. "Peace and Long Life to you all."

T'Varik nodded. "Live Long and Prosper, Advocate."

Xanax watched the man depart. "This is preposterous!"

"You keep using that word," C'Rash noted, smirking. "I do not think it means what you think it means."

"I shall take my leave as well," Pedalk announced. "There is a restaurant in Vulcana Ragar that has offered me a permanent full-time position in their kitchens. I believe I shall accept it."

T'Varik extended a look of well-being. "You do not necessarily have to give up your writing, Brother. Perhaps your culinary experiences will lend you inspiration?"

"Perhaps; I will keep you informed as to my progress." He saluted T'Varik and C'Rash. "Peace and Long Life, Sister... and Imminent Sister-In-Law. Stay safe in space, and stay in regular contact. I shall surely do the same."

As Pedalk left the study, Xanax sneered at T'Varik. "Why do you remain? You have done what you came here for. Leave."

T'Varik stared back, before glancing at C'Rash. "Please gather our belongings and wait for me in the foyer."

C'Rash nodded in acknowledgement... hissing at Xanax as she departed.

When they were alone, T'Varik folded her arms behind her, her tone changing, softening. "Contrary to your beliefs, I did not travel 160 light years to ruin a financial transaction. This day represents a crossroads in my life, for numerous reasons. I came to marry the woman I love. I came to say goodbye to our family home. And I came to see if the rifts that had opened between us could be bridged.

I understand that our personalities and viewpoints have always clashed, and probably always will. But despite all that has occurred today, I would still seek a truce between us. And as a gesture towards that truce..." She moved to the desk, picked up a pen and wrote on a PADD. "There. I have signed the agreement. I will explain the situation to Pedalk, and to Advocate Isaath, should he still wish to be employed to process the sale on our behalf."

She returned, noting their bemused, suspicious looks, before focusing on Nivor, offering the Salute. "Peace and Long Life, Sister. I extend to you some final advice before I depart: spend time with your son, while he is still young and close at hand. These times are precious, and once passed will never be reclaimable."

Nivor sneered, never returning the salute. "It is ludicrous for the likes of you to give anyone advice on children, having none of your own."

"Nor are likely to," Xanax added. "Except for whatever half-breed mongrels you might produce with that le-matya of yours."

T'Varik shot him a look, dropping her hand. "Xanax... go fuck yourself."

*

T'Varik reunited with C'Rash in the foyer, noting an additional package the Caitian was carrying. "What is that?"

"A Kitty Bag that Pedalk put together. Leftovers from what he had made earlier."

T'Varik picked up her shoulder bag, the box of medals and her telescope. "The actual Terran term is 'doggy bag', a means for restaurant patrons to take home what was left of their purchased meals, ostensibly to feed the family canine."

"No canine is getting his grubby paws on these little treats. Oh, and I invited Pedalk to witness the ceremony tonight; he said in his own Vulcan way that he would be delighted... and not bring any of his novels with him." As they exited, blinking into the sunlight, she asked, "You signed the papers anyway, didn't you?"

"You were monitoring our conversation."

"No, but I know you. Know that if you'd left things as they were, you'd end up thinking you were just as petty-minded and nasty as your older brother and sister."

The Vulcan sighed. "The property would have to be sold at some point anyway, the offer is lucrative, and Pedalk will require capital to help establish his independence. All logical reasons."

"Did Xanax and Nivor at least thank you?"

"No," she admitted, looking out at the slope behind the house. "But it is not required; we take the moral High Ground because it is the right thing to do, not to receive accolades. There is an autotaxi stand 973 metres along the main road. We will proceed to it... momentarily."

Then she began walking towards the small figure she saw still sitting out there, compiling notes onto his PADD.

*

The hotel was in the centre of the city, overlooking a skyline darkening with twilight. The room was high up, and cool, designed to accommodate offworlders, with a bland, generic look guaranteed to offend as few guests' taste as possible.

T'Varik emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a plush dressing gown. "I am finished with the sonic shower. You may employ it now."

"No."

The Vulcan looked over at C'Rash, who stood by the window, still dressed in her travelling clothes, looking out. "The appointment with the Registry Office is in 2.12 hours. If you wish us to eat beforehand-"

"We're not going."

T'Varik had been moving to the dressing table for a brush, but now stopped. "Explain."

"We're not getting married... not until I've had my say."

"You have never been prohibited from speaking your mind before. And my prohibitions would be inefficacious with you anyway-"

Now C'Rash turned to face her, her tail swishing angrily. "Do I seem like I want jokes right now?"

T'Varik straightened up. "No. What is wrong? Are you nervous about the impending marriage?"

"No. Well, yes, actually. I was standing here while you were in the shower, thinking about how much I learned about you just today, on our wedding day: your family, your father's Starfleet career, your astronomy hobby, your engagement to Sakuth. All important, personal things you deliberately kept from me-"

"Not deliberately-"

"I've kept nothing back from you! You know all my secrets, all my quirks, my shames and embarrassments, my dreams and nightmares! Things no one else knows! The Good, the Bad and the Ugly! Because I trusted you! Trusted you with all my heart! But it was never a two-way street! Because you've always held back parts of yourself!"

T'Varik stepped forward. "C'Rash-"

The Caitian held up an open palm to halt her. "We've mindmelded during sex. I've seen what you see when we make love, feel what you feel, know your thoughts at those times. But I've been doing my research lately. What we've experienced together is only one level of telepathy available to us. You keep these shields up around the inner parts of your mind, and you don't share them with anyone else. Ever. Am I right?"

T'Varik stared, prepared to deny it, prepared to offer a logical explanation about the limitations inherent in the link between a Vulcan and non-Vulcan mind, prepared to present warnings about the potential dangers, the cultural issues.

All lies.

"Yes," she finally admitted softly. "I have kept a part of me locked away, unseen by you. I... have deceived myself, excused this with the belief that it was irrelevant, that what I have let you know about me is enough, that my life since joining Starfleet is all that matters."

"But it isn't, T'Varik. Because those memories you haven't shared helped shape the woman I fell in love with."

The Vulcan nodded. "I agree. I have ever only fully opened my mind to one other: Sakuth. I trusted her completely. And she abused that trust. In a way that I will never forgive. In a way that has obviously shaped how I have been with subsequent lovers."

C'Rash's defensive posture softened. "I'm not Sakuth."

"No. You are most certainly nothing like her. And I am truly sorry for treating you as if you were. If you wish to postpone or cancel the ceremony-"

The Caitian hissed, rushing to her lover and embracing her fiercely. "Don't talk stupid, Marmalade. We're marrying tonight. You're taking my name."

T'Varik hugged back, once more relishing the soft fur and the musk. "We have already agreed to retain our surnames."

"Only because yours is unpronounceable. Even you can barely say it."

The Vulcan regarded her lover... and then withdrew, walking to the centre of the room, removing her dressing gown and kneeling on the carpet.

C'Rash watched, bemused. "What are you doing? We have to get ready."

"We have sufficient time for this. Make yourself comfortable and join me."

Baffled, C'Rash complied, slipping out of her clothes as well and kneeling opposite T'Varik, their knees almost touching. "So, what's this about?"

T'Varik reached up and placed the fingertips of her right hand against the temple and muzzle of the left side of C'Rash's head, lowering her many mental barriers. "This is about letting my Partner-To-Be... the woman I love... see me.

All of me."

*

In another part of Vulcan, in an opulent home in an affluent district, Nivor sat at the desk in her living room, gaze focused on the Vulcan female on the desktop display. "My business in Nesh-kur is concluded. I will be attending the meeting tomorrow regarding the nominations. Do you believe Tuven still intends to run for District Representative?"

"Yes, however based on the unofficial discussions I have held with the other Council members, you remain the favourite candidate-"

"Mother?"

Nivor looked away from the display, demanding sharply, "What do you require?"

Srithik stood at the living room doorway. "I am informing you that I am retiring to my room for the evening."

She glared at him. "It is obvious that I am engaged in my work. Do whatever you wish. I am not interested."

Her son nodded at that, and left without another word.

Nivor returned to the display. "Excuse the interruption. Nialok has publicly offered his support for Tuven, but it is unlikely that Tuven will accede to his request for a licence to build the clinic in V'Loss District. You will deliver a message, guaranteeing Nialok the licence in exchange for his switching support to me..."

*

Srithik entered his bedroom and switched off his lights, moving to the open window, where a starlit sky awaited. And he knelt beside the telescope his aunt had given him before her departure, adjusted the focusing instruments along the main tube, peered through the eyepiece at a starship he had detected in low orbit.

And dreamed of a life beyond what was around him...

THE ADVENTURES OF THE SUREFOOT WILL CONTINUE IN...