Star Trek - NF - 10 - Excalibur 2 - Renaissance

by Renaissance(Lit)

  "Oh, really. And what did you know of me before we met in the bar?"

  "I knew that which my sister told me."

  "And who would your sister b-" But then s/he stopped, as pieces suddenly tumbled together in hir mind. "Of course," s/he whispered. "Selar. Your sister is

  Selar."

  "That is correct."

  Still on the floor of the corridor, Burgoyne backed up as if s/he wanted to put distance between hirself and Slon. "She sent you. This was all some sort of... of setup."

  "No," Slon said firmly. "That is not the case. She knows nothing of my seeking you out."

  "Seeking me out?" S/he couldn't believe what s/he was hearing. "You came looking for me? How... how did you know where to find me?"

  "There is a very small number of bars on Vulcan, as I am sure you have surmised.

  I was reasonably certain that you would be there..."

  "Also based on what she told you about me?"

  "That is correct."

  "So what was all this?" s/he demanded, waving vaguely in the air. "Some sort of test to see whether I was going to be faithful to a woman who doesn't want to be with me?"

  "No. I did not have a specific direction that I intended for this evening to take. I simply wished to get to know you, and in so doing, understand you."

  "Well, you came pretty close to knowing me as well as someone can." To hir surprise, s/he actually smiled ruefully. "So do you understand me any better?"

  "Somewhat. I think you are wrong, however."

  "Wrong about what?"

  "Selar. I think she does wish to be with you."

  "Well, if that's the case, she's certainly doing an excellent job of covering it up."

  "Yes. She is."

  S/he stared at Slon, trying to figure him out. "All right," s/he said slowly.

  "You're her brother. You say you know her so well..."

  "I do not know her 'so well,' or at least as well as you would wish. Selar has always been somewhat... guarded. Even more so than most Vulcans."

  "But why?"

  Slon sat down opposite Burgoyne. A Vulcan woman on her way to her own apartment passed between them without giving them a second glance, as if people sitting on the floor was something fairly routine.

  "Have you forgotten," Slon told hir, "that you yourself tried to end your relationship with her shortly after (he child was conceived? You spoke to her of the Hermat inability to commit to one relationship. You spoke of many partners

  ..."

  "1 know, I know. But... I was concerned... because I really did feel something very unusual, even rare, for her. And I didn't know-"

  "You did not know if your feelings were genuine or not. Whether you were behaving in a manner 'out of character' for you, and your species, due to the bond that was formed between you as a result at pon farr."

  "That's right, yes," said Burgoyne.

  "Burgoyne... I am going to tell you things now. Some you may know, some you may not. But I think it reasonable to say that I know my sister as well as any, and better than most, and if you desire my insight, I will present it to you."

  "I would indeed. I'd make one request of you before you start."

  "And that would be?"

  "With the understanding that we are simply going to talk... can we do this in your place? It's going to be a hell of a lot more comfortable."

  "Very well."

  They rose and entered the apartment in which Slon resided. Burgoyne stopped dead and looked around. There was practically nothing in it. No furniture, no possessions of any sort. Not even a light; the room was illuminated by moonlight. "Were you robbed?" s/he asked.

  "No. I simply lead a minimalist life."

  S/he peered into the adjoining room, which s/he took to be the bedroom. There was nothing there. "Where do you sleep?"

  "On my back."

  Realizing that they could just as easily have remained in the corridor, Burgoyne shrugged and slid back down to the floor. Slon followed easily, settling into a cross-legged position that looked quite contemplative.

  "Selar," he began, "was joined at a very young age with a Vulcan male named

  Voltak. At the time of the pon farr, the urge that drives most of our race brought them together. However, during the initial amorous stages of their joining, while they were already bonded on a mental level and were in the process of doing so physically, Voltak suffered a massive heart attack and died. Selar literally felt him slip away. She not only experienced his loss, she sensed the finality of death, the blackness that awaits us all, the endless nothingness of-"

  "I get the point," Burgoyne interrupted. "It was bad."

  "Quite bad. The experience had an adverse effect on Selar. At a fundamental, psychological level, she associates the act of love, of being loved, of joining

  ... with loss. With death."

  "She's reluctant to be with me full time because she thinks I'm going to die while we're making love?" Burgoyne was unable to keep the skepticism from hir voice.

  "No. It is a bit more complicated than that."

  "I hope so, because if that's what it is, it's pretty stupid."

  Slon frowned. "We are speaking of my speculations as to my sister's mental state, Burgoyne. There is nothing 'stupid' about it, and I do not appreciate the condescension."

  "My apologies," Burgoyne said sincerely. "I know you're only trying to help. I'm sorry; it won't happen again."

  "There is a reason I said 'loss' before 'death.' 'Loss' is the true stumbling block here. I believe that, consciously or unconsciously, she does not wish to let anyone become too close to her because she is afraid that person will leave her. The method of the departure- death, boredom, what have you-is incidental, secondary. She fears that she will lose anyone who becomes dear to her. She does not wish to take that risk. She considers it-"

  "Illogical?"

  Slon nodded. "So when she feels herself being pulled in that direction, it is her instinct to pull back."

  "Which is why she's been running hot and cold."

  Slon looked at hir questioningly. "I beg your pardon... ?"

  "Don't worry about it," Burgoyne waved him off. "I shouldn't have interrupted.

  You were saying?"

  "Yes. Indeed, as I was saying, when one is in a position where loss is undesirable to the point of obsession, then there is only one reasonable alternative. One must discard or push away someone before they can depart. In this way, Selar can guard herself from ever again experiencing loss by always being the one who initiates the separation. She can once again feel in control.

  Control is very important to her."

  "Yes, so she's told me," Burgoyne said ruefully.

  "It is one of the reasons, I suspect, that she became a physician. It made her capable of controlling the fates and fortunes of others. Healers do have a tendency to play God. They hold people's lives in their hands, and their decisions and skills affect whether people will live or die. It is a very heady sensation, so I am told. Selar prefers to be in control. She always has. That predates her union with Voltak. When she returned here due to the drive of pon farr, she was not-I can assure you-pleased. She was offended, even dismayed by being held a captive to hormonal impulses dating back thousands of years. She did not desire to cede control of herself for even a moment. Because of the loss of Voltak, that tendency has only become more pronounced for her. So, if she allows herself to enter fully into a relationship predicated on trust, she immediately runs into trouble. Her instinct is to demolish it before it can thrust her into a position of vulnerability."

  I

  "And what am I supposed to do about Xyon?" demanded Burgoyne. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, but what you're telling me doesn't bode well for our son in the least."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Why? How could I not! Look at the scenario you've described for me," s/he said, leaning forward and extending two fingers. S/he ticked off the alternatives, one at a time. "You've outlined for me the psychological profil
e of someone who lives only in extremes. Either she is going to be so determined to control every aspect of his life that she is going to suffocate him, robbing him of any shred of independence that he might develop. Or else she is going to be so in dread that he will eventually leave her or reject her in some way, that she will reject him first. She will shunt him aside out of some deep-seated need to protect herself. A true parent, a real parent, doesn't adopt such extreme attitudes. Real life, a normal life, is lived in gray areas, in the middle. But you Vulcans don't think that way. It has to be pure logic for you, logic or nothing. You can't live lives that are normal blends of heart and mind. You operate solely through your mind and act as if the rest of the galaxy is inferior because the rest of us poor residents there burn with passions that you can only guess at."

  "Your fervor is appreciated, if misplaced," Slon said easily. "I am not the enemy here."

  'Technically speaking, you may not be. But you're here on her behalf."

  "No. I am not. I told you, she is unaware of my presence here."

  "Then why are you here? To convince me to give her another chance? Or to find some way to work matters out?"

  "Matters will be worked out," Slon said calmly. "The only question is whether they will be worked out in accommodation with everyone's desires. I am beginning to think that may not be the case." He paused, and then added, "You are aware that Selar is not the enemy here, either."

  "Then who is the enemy? Me?"

  "I do not think she perceives you as an enemy. I think, in some way, she admires you your passion. Even envies you, as much as her nature allows her to do so.

  The situation is a tragic one, fraught with peril for all concerned. I ask you to consider carefully your next actions."

  "I have been considering them, believe me." S/he shook hir head. "You know... she once told me she thought that, considering our personalities, we deserved each other. How's that for a ringing endorsement?"

  "She may well be correct. Then again..."

  Slon's voice trailed off, and the sudden silence caught Burgoyne's attention.

  "Then again what?" s/he prompted.

  "It is nothing."

  "Don't do that. Don't start a thought and then refuse to finish it. It's rude."

  "I am simply wondering whether there is some aspect of self-flagellation in her actions."

  "You've lost me," admitted Burgoyne.

  "The loss of Voltak, considering the circumstances, would have hit anyone hard.

  But it may have hit her harder than most. She is, after all, a doctor. Her mate died in her presence, and she was unable to do anything to prevent it. As illogical as it may seem, it is possible that she is carrying with her some degree of guilt over the incident."

  "You mean... she's punishing herself?" Burgoyne shook hir head. "You can't be serious."

  "I am very serious. Perhaps she feels that she is not entitled to happiness.

  That she is, as you say, punishing herself for her inability to save Voltak.

  Every time some measure of contentment is within her grasp, she pushes it away.

  To move on, as it were, would give her closure on the wound, and she cannot allow herself that closure because she does not feel she deserves it."

  "That," said Burgoyne, "would be a really screwed-up attitude to have."

  "As you say," Slon said, offering no argument on that score.

  Burgoyne was silent for a time. "That would indeed be a tragic state of affairs," s/he said. "But it's not going to dilute my intentions to do something about Xyon. I just... I wish I knew whether what I feel for Selar is genuine or a result of the bond that was forced upon me."

  "I will tell you this much, Burgoyne, for what it is worth: I am no expert in such matters, and I have not undergone any sort of specific training. But it is my belief that what you and Selar share could not possibly have been manufactured from thin ah". If you felt nothing for her at all, the bond of the pon farr could not create something from that nothingness. An intensity of feelings for a brief period of time, yes. That is well within the bounds of possibility. But it has been many months since you encountered each other in the blinding state of passion that was the mating ritual. There has been more than enough time for emotions to cool, for matters to return to what they were."

  "It's more involved than that, though," said Burgoyne. "When Xyon was being born, that bond was still in force. I felt the sensations of the labor pains.

  You cannot begin to comprehend how agonizing that was for me. For Hermats, the birth process is almost en- tirely painless. It was something not only outside of my own memory, but beyond my race's physiology to endure."

  "I do not doubt that. That, however, is the point."

  "What is?"

  "By the time your son was being born, you could not have shared that degree, that intensity of bonding... if you did not want to. Furthermore, it had to be two-way. On some level, you desired to maintain your connection to Selar-and she with you-far beyond the requirements dictated by the bond of the initial mating.

  She does want you, Burgoyne. Difficulties and traumas that she cannot easily release, unfortunately, bind her. And you want her. But your own nature as a

  Hermat makes you uncertain of your ability to commit, and she senses that uncertainty. Did you know that, after you initially approached her, she had decided to take you up on your offer to sire her child?"

  "No, she didn't. She went to Captain Calhoun and asked him to 'do the honors,' "

  Burgoyne replied, unable to quite keep the sarcasm out of hir voice.

  But Slon shook his head. "No. Before she went to the captain, she was going to approach you. And she was doing so out of a fundamental sense of attraction for you that was as pure and genuine as any-pardon the expression-'emotion' she had ever felt. But she saw that, after you had enthusiastically presented yourself as a mate to her, you were so undeterred by her rejection that you were already taking up with... what was his name? Oh yes. McHenry. She saw the two of you going off together."

  "She... saw us?" Burgoyne didn't know what to say.

  "Yes. Unsurprising-you made no effort to be discreet It was almost as if you were flaunting it. Perhaps she was concerned on some level that it was a sign of insincerity on your part, and she was put off by the attitude."

  "Certainly she can't fault me for that, though," Burgoyne finally managed to say. "It is my nature."

  "Is... or was? After all," and to Burgoyne's surprise, there was a bit of a smile on Slon's face, "you could have had me. But you chose not to. It may well be, Burgoyne, that your nature has changed."

  "Making me what, exactly?" S/he shook hir head, suddenly feeling discouraged.

  "As a Hermat, I may well no longer fit in with others of my kind. But I am hardly of a Vulcan disposition."

  "That is true. You are unique. Do not be discouraged though, Burgoyne," said

  Slon. "There are worse fates than to be unique."

  "Such as?"

  'To be ordinary."

  Burgoyne nodded and smiled at that. "That would be horrendous, wouldn't it?"

  They were silent for a time, and then Slon inquired, "So, Burgoyne... what are you going to do?"

  "See it through. At this point, I have no choice."

  "One always has choices, Burgoyne. Whether one chooses to see them or not is, in itself, its own choice."

  ROBIN & MORGAN

  "SHAKESPEARE'S TAVERN" WAS ONE of the restaurants Robin had not yet had a chance to sample, and she was pleased that Nik had suggested it be the one they go to.

  The place was made up to look like an old English-style tavern, right down to waiters wearing Elizabethan togs and waitresses costumed as tavern wenches.

  There were decorations on all the walls, including texts from both the human and

  "original Klingon" folios. There were even gleaming swords of the period mounted on the walls. Robin figured that real taverns of the era were probably a lot more run-down and less pleasant, with the fr
ee-flowing alcohol helping to camouflage the fact that the food wasn't especially well-prepared. The Risa tavern, on the other hand, had an old-style look about it while maintaining the appropriate, modern-day levels of expectations. Most amusing of all were two actors who were assuming the role of Shake- speare, stalking the tavern while spouting off lengthy samples of the Bard's work. The reason there were two actors was that one was human, while the other was Klingon. Or at least an actor dressed up as a Klingon, for the owners had not managed to actually locate a Klingon who was willing to go along with the charade. The fact was that the true origin of Shakespeare's plays had become something of an issue between Klingon and Terran historians, both claiming that the other race had swiped the Master's work-and planet of origin- without so much as a by-your-leave.