Star Trek - NF - 10 - Excalibur 2 - Renaissance

by Renaissance(Lit)

  Vulcan was not quite as easy as it appeared; for offworlders, the heated air could be very trying on the lungs. Selar wondered if

  Burgoyne's time on the planet had made the adjustment any easier for hir.

  "Xyon is mine as well as hers," Burgoyne said.

  And then s/he stood there.

  Selar and Giniv exchanged a puzzled glance. They waited for Burgoyne to continue, but nothing more was forthcoming. Even Slon looked a bit surprised.

  T'Pau arched an eyebrow. "Is that all?" she inquired.

  "Madam," Burgoyne said with a slight bow, "there are only two oratorical paths open to me. The first is to explain the shortcomings I feel characterize Selar's mothering techniques... and Selar as a person, in general. I... was prepared to do so. But I find now that I cannot. I would rather not. So that path is closed to me. The only remaining avenue is to argue for my rights as-in this case-the father, although, admittedly, the concept of 'father' is one that my own race does not quite recognize. Even if I did that... it would not matter, would it?"

  S/he paused, and when T'Pau did not respond immediately, s/he prompted again,

  "Would it?"

  "No," T'Pau said slowly, dragging one syllable into three. "It would not.

  Because you are an offworlder, you have no truly recognized rights in this matter. When it comes to matters of who is the proper guardian for a Vulcan child, the answer according to law is a Vulcan. There is no disputing that."

  "Then why are we here?" Slon blurted out. Despite his veneer of stoicism, he seemed a bit annoyed. "Was all this just... just some sort of ritual?"

  "Rituals," T'Pau told him, "are the very essence of society. The Judgment

  Council did not consider the offworlder's claim to have merit on its face, but was willing to assign me to hear the plea and judge accordingly."

  "With all respect, T'Pau," Slon said, squaring his shoulders, "that does not seem fair. Your mind was already made up."

  "Has the offworlder lost the power to speak for itself?" asked T'Pau.

  "Hirself," Burgoyne corrected reflexively.

  T'Pau leveled a gaze at hir. "You are male and female... and neither. 'It' is the proper word. We have no use for semantic games on Vulcan."

  Burgoyne's jaw twitched reflexively-in contained anger or mortification, Selar could not tell. But she was surprised to discover that she actually felt some small degree of pity for Burgoyne. She had no idea why she should. After all, it was Burgoyne who had decided to press the matter. Everything that had occurred, s/he had brought on hirself. Selar's conscience should have been perfectly clear.

  For a long moment, nothing was said. It was as if something was waiting to spring, some invisible beast of prey that no one was capable of perceiving, but which was lying in wait there all the same.

  "If that is all that remains to be said on the matter," T'Pau said finally,

  "then the course is clear. My judgment-"

  "That is all that is to be said... but not done," Burgoyne suddenly interrupted.

  T'Pau clearly did not appreciate being cut off in the middle of a sentence. Her face darkened, but rather than verbally castigate Burgoyne, all she said was an icy, "Yes?"

  "I claim the Ku 'nit Ka 'fa 'ar."

  "What?" Selar looked blankly at Giniv, who seemed equally puzzled. The words were confusing to her. She recognized them as ancient Vulcan, but she was not flu- ent in that particular aspect of their tongue. She couldn't make out the meaning of them. "S/he claims the what?"

  Slon likewise appeared perplexed. Even the ceremonial bell-bearers who circled the judgment center were baffled.

  Only T'Pau understood. And she did not appear to appreciate it at all.

  "Offworlders," she sighed. "Half-breeds. I have some small experience with both

  ... and always, always, very little goes smoothly with either. You truly seek the Ku'nitKa'fa'ar?"

  "It is a ritual, T'Pau," Burgoyne said evenly. "Only moments ago you spoke of the importance of rituals. The Ku'nit Ka'fa'ar has never been officially repudiated. You've never turned your backs on it in any sort of formal manner."

  "Because it is a ritual that is obsolete... that has not been used in millennia...."

  "The specifics of it may be moot... but it still exists. And the Ku'nit Ka'fa'ar makes no mention of offworlders... only parents."

  "At the time, there were no offworlders, so there is no reason for them to be mentioned in the description of the rituals, one way or the other."

  'True," said Burgoyne. "But silence in the matter implies consent. Because offworlders are not specifically forbidden... we are implicitly allowed. No one here is disputing that I am, in some measure, Xyon's parent. This qualifies as a dispute under the Ku'nit Ka'fa'ar, and if you are the civilized society that you claim yourselves to be, you must honor it."

  Even from where she was standing, Selar could practically feel daggers flying from T'Pau's eyes into and through Burgoyne, but the Hermat simply stood there, patiently, as if s/he had endless amounts of time to do so.

  "She may refuse," T'Pau said finally. "She has that option."

  "Yes," Burgoyne said. "She may. In which event, the child goes with me automatically. You know that."

  "That is correct."

  "That is correct?" Selar had gone from not understanding what she was hearing to not believing what she was hearing. "T'Pau... what is Burgoyne talking about?

  What is the Ku 'nit Ka'fa'ar? "

  T'Pau did not seem particularly anxious to answer, but she did so anyway. "The forging of our society to the philosophies of Surak... was not an easy process.

  There was... resistance. It is natural that such would be the case, for we were a barbaric and warlike people. That was our way of life... and there was no desire to change it, even though Surak showed us the way. There were many tribal leaders who resisted as well, for their strength and power derived from our barbarism, and they feared-rightly so-that they would lose their leadership if a new belief system took hold. Surak's philosophy... destroyed as much as it created. Tribes, families were split apart, as some followed him while others remained behind. And the children-particularly young children-presented a dilemma. In many instances, one parent would desire to follow the teachings of

  Surak, while another fought to maintain the old ways. From these disputes came the Ku'nit Ka'fa'ar... the "Struggle for the Way."

  Selar suddenly started to get an uneasy feeling. " 'Struggle' in what sense?"

  "These were barbaric times, remember. One's worth was measured not in the ability to think, but in the ability to defend by force of arms. The parent who was stronger... was considered the parent who was worthier."

  That was when Selar understood, and she could see from Giniv's expression that she likewise comprehended. And from Slon's next words, it was clear that he got it as well.

  "You cannot be serious," he said, although it was unclear whether he was addressing Burgoyne or T'Pau. "This... this is not a challenge in a mating ritual, where individuals are not in their right mind and the only way to settle matters is by trying to bash each other's heads in. These are rational, thinking people, and there has to be some other way-"

  "There isn't," Burgoyne said, and s/he sounded a bit regretful. S/he looked sadly but with conviction at Selar. "I wish there were."

  "Selar," said T'Pau, and from the sound of her voice, she wasn't simply speaking, but rather making a pronouncement. "The challenge of the Ku'nit

  Ka'fa'ar has been made. So as it was in the ancient times... so is it still, as we remember who we are and the times that forged us. The challenger believes that its philosophies and intentions for the raising of your child together are preferable to those that you would impart to it. You must display strength of mind through strength of sinew, or, in failing to do so, forfeit your child's future to the other parent."

  "This is insane," Selar said. "You are telling me that it has gone beyond merely splitting our time with the child. That it is now all-or-nothing
."

  "That is correct."

  "That if I do not fight Burgoyne... I lose Xyon."

  "That is correct," T'Pau said again. "Insane," Selar repeated. "I will appeal this to the-" "There is no appeal. There is none who knows the rituals better than I, and none will contradict me," T'Pau told her, and her eyes were as cold as the depths of space. "This is what matters have come to, Selar. The challenge has been issued. Accept it, and fight for your child. Refuse... and the child goes with the offworlder. Choose... now."

  MORGAN

  "I DINNA LIKE 'IM."

  Morgan had been lying out on the beach, sunglasses shielding her eyes. It was, of course, yet another glorious day on Risa, Rafe had been lying next to her, and they had been idly holding hands and chatting about nothing of any major consequence. All in all, it had been extremely pleasant. Then, commenting that he had promised to spend time with Nik, Rafe excused himself and padded off across the sand. Morgan watched him go, rather pleased. He certainly had a good look about him when he was walking away.

  So she was understandably startled when the familiar voice with the even more familiar brogue spoke from about a foot away. She peered over the sunglasses and up at Scotty. From the angle at which she was looking up at him, his body was in silhouette, and it seemed as if he was blotting out the sun.

  "I beg your pardon?" she said.

  "I'm tellin' ye as a friend... ah dinna like 'im."

  "Odd way of saying hello, Scotty."

  "Hello. Ah dinna like 'im."

  "Would the 'im in question be Rafe?"

  "Aye."

  She stared up at him for a few moments. "Are you going to sit?" she inquired.

  "Are ye gonna reply to muh question?"

  "Question? Was there a question in there? I just heard a statement. You said you didn't like him. Which, oddly enough, doesn't factor in all that much, considering that you're not the one who's seeing him. Why don't you like him-and furthermore, why am I bothering to ask you why you don't like him, because it's none of your business!"

  "Hey, Scotty!" called several guests as they walked past. Scotty tossed off a salute to them and turned back to Morgan.

  "Ah'm making it muh business," he said.

  "How very considerate of you. Do you do that for all the guests?"

  "Ah would like t'think," Scotty said, "that we'd moved a bit beyond th' greeter-and-guest relationship."

  "Have we?" Her eyebrows puckered in surprise. 'To be honest, Scotty, I wasn't getting that impression at all." She stretched, and then stood. She couldn't find it in her heart to be annoyed with him; deep down, he really was sweet, and he certainly meant well. He was just...

  Jealous?

  How charming. How utterly charming.

  "You're jealous," she said.

  Scotty looked utterly taken aback. His mouth moved, but no words came out of it.

  And then, to her surprise, he turned and walked away. For a moment, Morgan toyed with the idea of letting him just storm off, but something made her follow him. She caught up with him quickly, her towel slung over her back. 'Truth hurt, Scotty?" she asked.

  "What do ah look like t'ye?" he demanded, without even looking at her. Little sprays of sand were being kicked up in his wake. "Do ah look like a schoolboy?"

  "No, but you're acting like one."

  "Ah'm acting like a friend who's concerned about ye, and all ye come back with is that ah'm jealous. What kind of codswallop is that?"

  "It's the truth, Scotty, at least so far as I see it."

  "Then ah'm afraid ye aren't takin' much of a look at it at all." Finally he stopped and faced her. "Morgan... ah won't lie to ye. I'll never lie to ye. I think you're a fine woman, and a damned attractive female. Setting aside that ye look like a woman from days past..."

  "A former lover?"

  "Ach, no. No," and he smiled faintly at the memory. "She had her attentions focused elsewhere, poor thing."

  " 'Poor thing,' meaning that she didn't have the good sense to be enamored of you?"

  "No, 'poor thing,' meanin' that the affection she felt was somewhat unrequited.

  It wasn't about me at'all, and why do ye keep doin' that?"

  "Doing what?"

  "Makin' it seem that every bloody thing in the world has to do with me? I warn ye about this fellow-"

  "Rafe."

  "Aye, Rafe. I warn ye about him, and suddenly ah'm 'jealous.' " He made finger quotation marks around the word. "I talk about Christine, and ye think ah'm talkin' about some lost love. Damn, but ye can be a most ag- gravatin' woman, Morgan. Has anyone ever told ye that?"

  "Only on days when I was awake," she said ruefully.

  "Morgan... unrequited crushes, jealousy and such- those are all activities of the young. For the likes of Robin and ye."

  "The likes of me?" Morgan laughed at that. "Oh, Scotty, believe it or not, I'm a bit older than I look."

  "Perhaps, but not by much, I'd wager."

  "You have no idea how much I'd like to take that bet. But go on."

  He sighed, as if he was anxious to divest himself of a great weight. "All ah'm trying to say t'ye-and ah think ah'm not havin' a great deal of success-is that when one gets t'be muh age, one tends t'leave b'hind all of the excess crap of youth. Ah say what ah mean 'cause that's what ah mean t'say, and there's no deep, ulterior motive. No hidden agenda. That's simply the way it is, that's all."

  "All right. All right." She looked out at the "ocean" lapping up against the beach. Utterly manufactured, of course, with great wave machines propelling it toward the shoreline, but that didn't make it any less pleasant. Since she was in her swimsuit, her feet and legs were bare, and she took a few steps toward it so that the water would lap up around her feet. "Fine, Scotty. You've got my attention. Why is it, then, that you don't like Rafe?"

  Scotty pursed his lips for a moment and then said, "Ye know what humans are?

  Human beings, at their core?"

  "I have my own opinions on it, but I suspect you have an answer already in mind, so go ahead."

  "Machines," he told her. "Finely tuned machines. Probably one of the most sophisticated machines around. Do ye know how ah figure out what's wrong with an engine?"

  "I further suspect you're going to tell me that as well," she said evenly.

  "Ah don't have to run diagnostics. Ah don't need 'em to tell me that somethin's wrong. Y'see, ah know every sound an engine makes. Ah feel it, right down to muh bones. So when something is off with an engine, ah just... know it. And once ah know, ah study it and look it over and see with muh own eyes where the problem is. And ah don't just do that with engines. Ah can do that with any sort of machinery. Ah just have a sense of these things."

  "And you're saying that you can look at a person, and know something's wrong with that person, using that same intuition."

  "That's exactly right," he said. "Ah just know it. Even when ah don't know why ah know it... ah still do."

  "But, Scotty, isn't it possible-just remotely possible-that the way you perceive certain other people might be shaped by considerations that have nothing to do with the people themselves?"

  "Is it remotely possible? Ah suppose so. But ah don't believe that's th'case in this instance."

  "Why not?"

  "Because ah could tell somethin' was up with 'im, that's why. From the moment ah first saw 'im. He felt... wrong. He came by the Engineering Room, and ah did muh usual greetin' business. The moment ah shook his hand, somethin' felt... off. As if he was not happy to see me there."

  "That's silly, Scotty. Who could not be happy to see you?"

  "Ah have no idea. Ah kept trying to figure out if he was some old enemy from the original Enterprise... someone who'd managed to survive, just as ah had managed."

  "Scotty... your imagination is running wild. Don't you see that? Rafe is just a man... a good man... a handsome, supportive-"

  "All right, all right, ah get the idea." He looked down at the water, which was starting to lap at the toes of his boots. "And
ah suppose ah haven't been exciting company. Ah can see where ye'd be interested in him."

  "Oh, Scotty," she said in surprise. "How can you think that?"

  "Because ah was foolish t'think that ah knew what ye wanted," he told her candidly. "Maybe ah'm just too cynical or too tired or too damned old... but ah should have realized that ye'd be interested in romance. Me, ah was just so happy to have someone to talk to that seemed to have a brain in their head-particularly after dealing with the know-nothings who run this place-that ah gave no thought to where yer interests might lay. The day before ye hooked up with Rafe, ah remember... we went for a long walk on the beach, and all ah did was tell ye how the artificial wave machines worked. What a romantic time that must have been for ye."