Kith and KIn

(Warning: Contains profanity and sexual situations)

Lieutenant C’Rash Shall, Chief of Security, USS Surefoot, stepped out into the thin, dry Vulcan air, her loose black civilian clothes giving access to her sable tail at her rear, letting it swish with approval behind her as she took in the collective scents around the spaceport. “Lovely. Simply lovely.” She bounced in place, commenting loudly, “You’re right about the gravity! I’m gonna have to let you be on top while we’re on honeymoon, Marmalade!”

Commander T’Varik approached, identically dressed, carrying their luggage. “Please refrain from employing personal nicknames and sexual innuendo in public while we are here. I will also remind you that I am not your valet.”

The Caitian looked to her betrothed, batting her eyelashes coquettishly. “But you said I had to take it easy until I grew accustomed to being on your homeworld. I’m so frail...”

In a murmur meant for their ears alone, the Vulcan replied, “Intimate experience with you has taught me otherwise.” She raised the bag she held in her left arm towards her lover.

C’Rash finally accepted it, but made a dramatic and ostentatious show of its apparent weight now on her shoulder. “This- This is just the start- the start of you domesticating me into married servitude- isn’t it?”

“Don’t be absurd,” T’Varik adjusted the shoulder strap of her own bag. “Attempting to domesticate you would be an exercise in futility. Come, there will be a queue for ground transport.”

“Transport? You mean your family isn’t here to greet us?”

“No. They did offer to meet us here to complete the legal proceedings immediately upon our arrival.”

C’Rash smiled, her tail quickening. “That was nice of them, not wanting you to waste your time.”

“They offered it so that I could leave Vulcan that much more quickly.”

C’Rash’s tail drooped. “Oh.”

“I declined. I wished to visit my home… one last time.”

*

As it happened, the wait for an autotaxi was not as lengthy as expected. C’Rash stared out of the window at the architecture of the city around them, which proved more varied and vibrant than many might expect. But then, her relationship with one particular Vulcan had long ago altered her initial impressions of these people as unemotional and boring. “It’s cooler than I expected.”

T’Varik stared ahead, her face a stoic mask. “The Nesh-kur Province sits in the higher latitudes on Vulcan. It possesses hot springs that are popular with visitors for their therapeutic and meditational applications.”

“Are we far?”

“Approximately 18.93 minutes, under current traffic conditions. The estate is in the outer districts, overlooking the Shamayam Basin.”

C’Rash nodded. “Well, 18.93 minutes is plenty of time for you to finally let me in on what’s going on.”

“Explain.”

“I shouldn’t have to. I came here to marry you; you tell me we have some ‘legal matters’ to complete first-”

“I believe I said that I have legal obligations to complete first, not we.”

C’Rash reached out and took her betrothed’s hand. “Oh, Marmalade, after tonight you’d better get used to using the plural pronoun more. As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me, we have some legal matters to complete first at your family home.”

T’Varik nodded. “That is a succinct itinerary.”

“No, that’s a pathetically scant itinerary. I’m assuming that there’s family waiting for us at your family home?”

“Yes.”

C’Rash waited for her to elaborate, and when nothing was forthcoming, she hissed, “See? And now that we’re about to marry, I realise that I know next to nothing about your family! You’ve never talked about them, except for your father. I’ve not even picked up any stray thoughts about them when we’ve mind-melded.”

“We mind-meld during moments of sex,” she reminded the Caitian. “Thoughts of family at such times – particularly my family – hardly makes for an efficacious aphrodisiac.”

“Point taken.” C’Rash adjusted her sitting position and freeing the tip of her tail to curl up onto her lap. “Okay, so I know I’m not the sharpest claw on the paw, but it’s logical to guess from your behaviour and responses that there’s some bad blood between you and the rest of your family.” She paused, clarifying at T’Varik’s reaction, “Proverbial bad blood. But if I’m going into potentially hostile territory, it’s logical for me, as your Chief of Security if nothing else, to have as much data as possible on the situation beforehand.” She reached out and squeezed T’Varik’s hand. “We’re about to be married, Marmalade. It’s logical to take me into your confidence.”

T’Varik’s expression changed slightly. “I find your recent infatuation with the word ‘logical’ as vexing as your nicknames for me. But that does not invalidate your argument. The family estate is co-owned by the four surviving children of our father, Lenek. My siblings are seeking to sell the property to a private individual, for a lucrative sum; as per the conditions of our father’s will, the agreement and signatures of all four children are required for any sale.”

“I see. And you’re happy to go ahead with it?”

T’Varik glanced outside, as if now interested in the view, as they left the city for the rugged desert countryside. “It is a financially sound transaction, and I could employ my share of the profits towards-”

“I didn’t ask about the financial aspects.”

T’Varik looked back at her. “It is not rational for me to respond emotionally about a property I have not resided in for 28.78 years. And yet… the thought that someone else would soon call my home their home produces in me… melancholy.” She made a sound. “No doubt my continued association with you is degrading my self-control.”

“You’re welcome. And what feelings do your siblings generate in you?”

T’Varik didn’t respond.

“Tell me about them. Your siblings, that is.”

“My older brother Xanax is a currencies investor, and initiated the proceedings for the sale. I know little else about his current circumstances, nor do I possess any exigent desire to learn more.”

“Why not?”

“He is an irritant.”

“Excuse me?”

“There is no more appropriate descriptive word for him. I cannot recall any significant period in our shared past when Xanax did not irritate or offend me on multiple levels with his attitude, his opinions on just about every subject imaginable, and/or his actions. As he affected my ability to maintain emotional control from a very early age, I endeavoured to minimise my interaction with him.”

“Sorry to hear that. And the others?”

“My older sister Nivor is a minor politician with a District Assembly in another part of Vulcan, representing a party that is anti-Starfleet, and possesses the ensurient personal ambition and perfidy of a Romulan. She would sell me to the Dominion for a seat in the Vulcan Parliament.”

C’Rash smirked. “Exaggerate much?”

“No. She told me this herself.”

“And I used to think my sister was a bitch for stealing my fur brushes. And the last one?”

“My younger brother Pedalk is an alleged author.”

“Uh… ‘alleged’?”

T’Varik nodded. “It is perhaps more accurate to state that he takes words and places them together in the hope that they will spontaneously form into patterns of artistic significance. He consistently hopes in vain.”

“And what does he write?”

The Vulcan breathed in deeply, bracing herself to answer, “Romance novels.”

C’Rash blinked, making sure she heard correctly… and then laughed. “You’re kidding me!”

“I fervently wish I was.”

“I didn’t realise there were such things as Vulcan romance novels!”

“They exist, though as one might expect for a race which suppresses visible displays of emotion, examples of the genre will read to offworlders as dry. My brother’s efforts, however, go beyond dry to anhydrous, even to Vulcans. To his credit, his many other deficiencies as a writer will often disguise the dessicated nature of his more explicit scenes.”

“That’s meant to be something to his credit? Is he that bad?”

T’Varik looked to her again. “I believe Misha could produce a superior work. Pedalk has self-published on numerous occasions, always to overwhelming indifference, though all attempts to critique his work are met with assurances that everyone is intellectually unqualified to appreciate his talent.” Her tone suggested what she thought of that notion.

C’Rash regarded her lover for a moment, before finally responding. “Marmalade… before we arrive, may I make a suggestion?”

“It would be futile at this point in our relationship for me to refuse.”

“Futile, and inappropriate. You and your siblings sound like you’ve been feuding for longer than I have been alive-”

“Vulcans do not ‘feud’. We are not hillbillies.”

“What in the Seven Hells are ‘hillbillies’?”

“Never mind. Continue.”

“What I’m saying is that you should be prepared for the possibility that, after all these years, your brothers and sister may no longer be the a-holes you remember.”

“I have never employed rectal-based descriptives.”

“I was paraphrasing. And I’ll remind you that we’ll be returning to duty in a combat zone, a situation where you and I might not survive. So I’d urge you to use this rare opportunity to at least attempt to make peace with your siblings. If not for their sake, then for your own peace of mind.”

T’Varik stared ahead. “Your Aunt Kami would be amused by your co-opting her role as Counselor.” Still, her expression shifted, ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly to someone who did not know her intimately.

C’Rash leaned closer to her, murmuring in her ear, “Promise me you won’t let yourself get provoked by them while we’re there, and I’ll make you scream on our Wedding Night.”

T’Varik trembled slightly, and she swallowed while trying to retain some measure of composure. “I am a Vulcan. I am too disciplined to scream.”

Then C’Rash let the tip of her long, narrow Caitian tongue stroke along the peaked outline of the Vulcan’s left ear, purring in it and promising, “Challenge accepted, Marmalade...”

*

The house was larger than C’Rash expected, a sprawling stone edifice more fortress than domicile, with narrow slitted windows and parapets that overlooked a vast expanse of ochre desert that possessed a layer of oatmeal-grey mist.

“The Basin is a geothermal curiosity,” T’Varik explained. “With vents releasing carbon dioxide during the cooler night periods, the gas lying low in the depressions and slowly evaporating during the course of the day, to repeat the cycle at night. It possesses a miniature ecosystem of small animals especially adapted to close off their respiratory systems for extended periods and navigate through the mist. Do you wish to remain here?”

“What, and miss out on meeting your family?” C’Rash slipped an arm around her lover’s and guided her towards the front door. “Lead on, Macduff.”

“The proper quote from Macbeth is ‘Lay on Macduff’.”

C’Rash purred. “We can talk about getting laid later. Come on, let’s get it over with, I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think. In fact, I’ll bet my tail that you get a much warmer welcome than you expect.”

*

They had barely time to enter and drop their bags on the floor before a tall, swarthy Vulcan female approached, broad-shouldered and broad-jawed, with dark hair peppered in iron grey, and clad in a sober grey business suit. “T’Varik. You are late… again.”

T’Varik straightened up her expression taut. “I was late when we last met, 25.48 years ago, following Father’s funeral. I have endeavoured to be prompt since, but circumstances do not always make it possible.”

Nivor made a sound that was almost a grunt. “Xanax and Pedalk are awaiting us in Father’s study, along with the legal Advocate. Leave your bag with your servant and accompany me-”

T’Varik stuck out her chin. “This is Lieutenant C’Rash Shall, my betrothed, not my servant.”

“Though, as she outranks me, she does order me around from time to time,” C’Rash clarified, smiling. “Sometimes I even obey her. A pleasure to finally meet my future sister-in-law.”

Nivor offered the Caitian the barest of acknowledgements, peppered with bafflement, before focusing on her sister again. “She is not Vulcan.”

Her tail swishing behind her with amusement, C’Rash leaned in closer to T’Varik, saying in a mock whisper, “How’d she figure that out?”

Nivor ignored her. “Were you not engaged to a Vulcan female when we last communicated? Her name was Sakuth, if I recall. She appeared a much more suitable partner for you.”

“My engagement to Sakuth was for a very brief time, while studying at Starfleet Academy,” T’Varik informed her, aware of C’Rash’s gaze. “But we proved irremediably unsuitable.”

“Xanax will not approve of her.”

T’Varik raised an eyebrow. “I have never chosen my lovers based on the approval to be expected from our brother. You appear well, Nivor.”

Her sister offered a look that was dangerously close to appearing smug. “I am. I was elected earlier this year to the Assistant Chair of the District’s Parks and Recreation Committee. It is a prestigious and demanding responsibility, one you will be ill-equipped to properly appreciate.”

“You may be correct; I am only second in command of a starship that frequents combat zones.” She looked to C’Rash. “Please follow me.” Then she moved towards the large set of stairs.

Nivor observed the pair ascend, calling after them, “That is not the direction to Father’s former study.”

“I am aware,” T’Varik called back, without looking back. She waited until she rounded a corner, when she stopped and offered C’Rash, “Please accept my apologies for her comments… and my warning that this is unlikely to be the last such example.”

C’Rash slipped an arm around T’Varik’s and smiled. “That was nothing; I should tell you what my relatives have said about me at Caitian Clan Gatherings.” She gave her lover’s arm a squeeze. “I didn’t know that you and Sakuth had been that serious.”

“The less said about Captain Sakuth, at any time, in any place, under any circumstances, the better.” She stopped outside one door and slid it open, stepping within, the chemical lights reacting to their entry by coming to life.

C’Rash walked around; the room was well-maintained, but starkly furnished and almost free of any fresh scents. But she didn’t have to be a Vulcan to recognise it as, “Your room, Marmalade? My mother would give up her tail to have a daughter with a room as clean as this.”

“I was always organised by nature, as you may have guessed. After Mother died, Father encouraged us towards this… with varying degrees of success.” T’Varik moved more slowly around the interior, stopping at the desk and chair, the bedside table, the wardrobe. When she stopped at the wardrobe, however, she slid open the door.

C’Rash smiled. “Is that where you kept your posters of sexy actors or musicians? Or do Vulcan girls moon over mathematicians and physicists?”

“None of the above.” She withdrew a cylindrical instrument on a tripod, setting it out between them, staring intently at it.

Her lover drew closer, curious. “Is that a telescope?”

“Yes.” T’Varik dropped to one knee beside it, her fingers reaching out to touch the main tube, the azimuth and altitude clamps, the eyepiece and various setting scales. Her voice took on a transfixed tone. “A present from Father. I had many questions about space, and was not content to simply accept what the educational texts provided.” She even bent over the eyepiece and peered through it, though the cap was still covering the objective lens. “Father was an empiricist. He advised me to accept the knowledge that I was taught… but whenever possible, to also observe it myself first-hand.”

She played with the focusing knobs along the sides. “I would often stay up outside at night, viewing local bodies such as P’Jem and Delta Vega, as well the occasional meteor showers, starships in orbit, and the like. Sometimes, Father would join me, identifying the various systems and providing stories about his travels to them while in Starfleet. I… cherished those times, that he shared with me, and no one else. I was selfish.”

C’Rash leaned against a wall and crossed her arms, smiling warmly. “Not selfish, Marmalade. Just a cub appreciating the attention of a parent who loved her. I didn’t know you were into astronomy.”

T’Varik drew back from the instrument. “At first, yes, though later I recognised what it truly represented for me: a dream of a life beyond what was around me. Later, as I pestered my instructors for answers on this, and indeed many more subjects, I became fascinated more by the education process… hence my desire to become an instructor when I graduated from the Academy.” She touched the main tube again. “But it began here, with this.”

C’Rash studied T’Varik, liking this newly-uncovered aspect of her lover. “Did he know of your plans to join Starfleet before he died?”

“Yes,” she replied absently, rising to her feet again. “He was in the minority in our household, however… at least, with those who displayed any interest in myself or my plans-”

The door slid open again, and a short, portly Vulcan male in plain white linen robes lightly stained with various colourful food sauces entered. He had olive skin, a rather stubby nose and shiny sable hair, and eyed C’Rash for a second, emotion flashing across his features, quickly suppressed as he focused on T’Varik. He offered the Vulcan Salute. “Peace and Long Life, Sister.”

T’Varied copied him. “Live Long and Prosper, Brother.” She dropped the gesture. “It is pleasing to see you. You look well.”

He dropped his own hand and raised an eyebrow at her. “I am not fat, T’Varik.”

“My remark was not about your weight, Pedalk.”

“My Body Mass Index measurements confirm I am at an acceptable weight in terms of fat percentile,” he informed her.

“I have no reason to doubt you, Brother-”

“My bone structure is demonstrably greater than others of my height and age. Clearly your prejudices against me go beyond your lack of appreciation with my art.”

“I think you look great,” C’Rash interjected.

Both Vulcans looked to her, T’Varik introducing, “Pedalk, this is my betrothed and shipmate, C’Rash. We are marrying tonight at the Registry Office in the city, after our business here is concluded.”

Pedalk finally acknowledging her… sucking in his stomach as he did so.

C’Rash hid a smirk. Oh Uncle Esek, you might have a friend here… “Pleasure to meet you, Pedalk. T’Varik’s told me you’re a writer, with a unique style. I’d love to read some of your work.”

“You would?”

C’Rash approached him, smiling and ignoring T’Varik’s reaction. “Of course! It’d be quite an accomplishment to tell people I have a brother-in-law who’s an actual published novelist!”

Pedalk puffed up visibly, looking to his sister again. “She is a vast improvement over your previous paramour, who referred to me as a ‘talentless imbecile who should be banned from possessing any means of publishing his drivel’.” He nodded to C’Rash. “I will arrange for a hardbound collection of my novels in Federation Standard to be delivered.” He returned to T’Varik. “Provide me with the address of your hotel accommodation… and I will also include the audiobooks, narrated by myself.”

“You are being too generous,” his sister informed him flatly.

From the open doorway, an unfamiliar male voice reached them. “Pedalk, have you located T’Varik, or have you managed to get yourself lost here as she obviously has?”

C’Rash smirked. “Xanax, I presume? I didn’t know he had a funny side.”

T’Varik looked to her. “He does not. He is being serious.”

“Yes,” Pedalk agreed. “We should not tarry.”

“Yes.” But T’Varik maintained a leisurely pace as she returned to the wardrobe, retrieved what turned out to be a case for the telescope, and proceeded to slowly dismantle the object and place the components in the appropriate places.

C’Rash drew up to her. “Uh, you want me to pick up anything else in here?”

“Not here. Father maintained a collection of commendations from his service in Starfleet; I wish to obtain my allocation-”

Pedalk looked to her. “They are no longer in the household; Xanax took them.”

T’Varik turned to him, her face tight. “Explain.”

Her brother reacted to her, stepping back. “There is a private collector in ShiKahr who has expressed an interest in Father’s commendations, and so he-”

“Xanax has no right to make such a decision without my approval!” She snapped the telescope case shut. Unnecessarily loudly.

C’Rash reached out and set a reassuring hand on her lover’s shoulder, noting gently, “I’m sure that is something you can discuss with him in a calm, civilised manner. Yes?”

T’Varik made a visible show of composing herself. “Yes.” She lifted up the telescope case. “Let us repair to Father’s study.”

As the trio departed the room, Pedalk drew closer to C’Rash. “Would you care to hear an excerpt from one of the more passionate scenes from my latest novel, Twilight Passions of the Kivas Merchant Part 3?”

“No thank you,” T’Varik replied quickly.

“I do,” C’Rash countered.

Pedalk ignored his sister as he proceeded. “‘Sandalak was aware that T'Soni was making a mewling sound like an indigenous predator in estrus, as he put his lips to the tightened hub of her right mammary gland and sucked for the requisite 16.893 seconds. Her mouth was at his ear, her tongue travelling along its grooves in the manner of a Ventakian serpent plant excreting waste products, and there was a taste of something on his tongue reminiscent of calcium hexametaphosphate, as his masculine protuberance demanded sanctuary within her cervical Sha Ka Ree…’”

*

The room purported to be the study was a large enclosure, with angular walls and acute corners, and a view overlooking the Basin outside. But C’Rash was drawn to the painting over the cold hearth, that of an Excelsior-class starship, designated USS- “Berlin? Was that your father’s ship?”

She had asked it of T’Varik, but her lover was silently transfixed on the two Vulcan males awaiting them in the room: a middle-aged, lithe figure in a silver and black robe embroidered with script, and a taller, older, sterner-looking male with an aquiline nose and slate-grey hair, who was now busy engaging in a staring contest with T’Varik, before he finally noted, “It is indecorous to not show proper deference to one’s superiors.”

“I agree,” T’Varik responded unblinkingly. “Should I encounter any, I will be prepared to offer such deference.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I am your elder brother, and thus the head of this family. And I am far more successful than you can ever hope to be. Those are sufficient grounds to display deference.”

“Um...” C’Rash started, turning to them.

The Caitian was ignored, as T’Varik raised her chin to him. “Your status as elder brother is an accident of birth, and your self-appointed status as head of this family is not guaranteed. And your definition of success differs radically from mine.”

He reined up. “Clearly so. I have made comparative studies; your salary as a Starfleet officer is only a paltry 35.4% that of my average annual earnings.”

“Then I shall have to content myself with enjoying the meagre non-fiscal perquisites of my career, such as ensuring the safety and security of the Federation and its citizens, and furthering the boundaries of knowledge, diplomacy and trade.”

“Hello?” C’Rash ventured.

Xanax drew closer to T’Varik, his expression steely. “I see your self-righteous attitude remains as acute as ever.”

“I agree.” Nivor contributed, drawing beside Xanax to help stare down their younger sister. “Having studied the subject as part of my job, it is obvious that Starfleet’s importance has always been greatly exaggerated, first by Father, and now by yourself, his mewling lackey.”

T’Varik’s glare focused. “As much as I value the opinion of the Assistant Chair of the District’s Parks and Recreation Committee with regards to Galactic History, I must agree to disagree.”

Now C’Rash literally walked between the siblings and strode up to the only Vulcan whose identity wasn’t yet confirmed. “Hi, I’m Lt Shall, Commander T’Varik’s fiancée. You must be the family lawyer, as, ironically, you’re the only one here not making any sort of argument.”

Standing near a table with plates of food, Pedalk looked up and pointed out, “I am not involved. As an artist I must exist outside of the sphere of petty squabbles.”

“You also exist outside of the sphere of literary competency,” Xanax noted sourly.

Pedalk remained defiant. “I would not expect a mere capitalist to appreciate the written word.”

T’Varik stepped away from her siblings, approaching C’Rash and the other Vulcan, her face composed as she offered the latter the Vulcan salute. “Peace and Long Life to you. Please accept my apologies for your witnessing the unseemly display of emotion here.”

The male mirrored the salute. “Live Long and Prosper, Commander T’Varik, Lt Shall. I am Advocate Isaath, and no apology is necessary. This is an occasion contributive towards intense familial emotional activity.” He lowered his hand, and then raised his other, offering T’Varik a Vulcan PADD. “Here are the details of the purchase agreement, if you wish to examine them before signing.”

“She does not,” Xanax countered sharply. “She has already been sent the agreement by subspace transmission before her return to Vulcan. It is preposterous to delay matters further.”

“Indeed,” Nivor contributed. “She has already wasted enough of our time.”

Isaath looked to them, frowning slightly. “It is a legal requirement that I witness all signatories be offered access to the terms of the documentation.”

T’Varik accepted the PADD. “Thank you, Advocate. ‘She’ will peruse the agreement one final time, but will be as quick as ‘she’ can, not wishing to waste your time.” She turned away from them all.

C’Rash considered following her, until Pedalk approached, carrying a platter. “Lieutenant, would you care to sample some of these canapés?”

She almost refused him, but her nose twitched appreciatively at their scents. “Thank you.” She selected one, bracing herself for something vegetarian and bland… but was pleasantly surprised at the sharp, rich flavour. “Mmm, nice.”

“Thank you; I was experimenting with a recipe of my own creation employing Terran red peppers and Vulcan breadmeal.”

“You cook by hand?”

He nodded. “I supplement my income working at various restaurants within the city. My writing has unfortunately not yet provided the level of income it deserves-”

“Others would differ,” Nivor butted in.

C’Rash tried another, making approving sounds. “These are really good!”

“Thank you again. Lieutenant, I would appreciate your feedback on the excerpt I had narrated to you earlier. Did you find it arousing?”

I could actually feel my cervix tilt away from you instinctively as you spoke, she thought to herself, but instead offered aloud, “I... should probably read the whole piece, to get a proper sense of context-”

“Pedalk,” Xanax called over, the disdain on his face clear. “Do not fraternise with T’Varik’s pet le-matya.”

T’Varik’s head shot up from the PADD. “What did you call her?”

C’Rash leaned in closer to Pedalk, asking in a stage whisper, “Is ‘le-matya’ Vulcan for ‘sexy lady’?”

He shook his head, appearing an ashen version of his olive complexion. “A le-matya is an indigenous mountain cat. Quite savage.”

“Oh. Still accurate,  though.”

T’Varik strode up to her older brother, declaring, “If you insult my partner again, I promise you that you will regret it.” Never breaking eye contact with Xanax, she handed Isaath back his PADD. “I officially acknowledge that I have read and accepted the terms of the sales agreement. I am prepared to sign-”

“And about time,” Nivor muttered.

“-Once Xanax returns Father’s medals.”

All heads turned towards T’Varik, Xanax responding first. “What is the meaning of this?”

“The meaning should be explicit, even to the most obtuse. You have taken Father’s Starfleet medals to sell. I want them, and will not consider signing the agreement until I have them.”

Xanax glanced at Nivor before replying. “A preposterous demand. They are meaningless objects, with only monetary value.”

“To the likes of you, perhaps. To me, they represent Father’s decades of service, of loyalty and courage. They inspired me. They deserve more respect than you are obviously prepared to give them.”

“I should have expected you would wish those fetishes of a fascist organisation,” Nivor sneered. “But even I am surprised at how openly mercenary you are behaving.”

T’Varik fixed her cold glare on her sister. “Having returned, I have observed that the family estate has considerably fewer possessions than since I last visited. The logical conclusion is that some or all of my siblings have been stripping it of furniture, appliances and decorations in my absence, to either use in your own residences, or to sell, or both.

None of this was done with my knowledge or approval, as required by the agreement I have just re-read. Advocate Isaath, can you please confirm I would have the right to cancel the proposed sale of the property pending a legal investigation into these allegations?”

The younger Vulcan male nodded. “The Civil Court would most likely uphold the repudiation of the impending sale pending an investigation.”

T’Varik turned back to Xanax and Nivor. “Yes… should I choose to proceed. Or… in recompense, Xanax can simply give me the medals. All of them. Once they are in my hands, I will consider signing the agreement.”

Xanax’s slate eyes narrowed like phaser beams. “They are at my apartment in Vulcana Regar. Sign the agreement, and I will send for them.”

“I have made my terms clear. They are non-negotiable.”

“Preposterous!”

“The sooner you comply, the sooner this disagreeable reunion can conclude.” T’Varik turned and joined C’Rash and Pedalk, examining the contents of the tray in her younger brother’s hand, and selecting one canapé. “This is… enjoyable. Piquant. My compliments, Pedalk.”

He blinked. “Thank you, T’Varik. Perhaps now you’ll be in a better mood to offer a more appreciative critique of my writing.”

T’Varik stared at him. “I will need quite a few more canapés.”

*

The huge red sun was rising higher in the sky, but the carpet of mist across the Basin proved tough to burn away easily. T’Varik and C’Rash walked along the upper slope, the latter finally breaking the silence. “Well… that was fun. I never expected to meet a dysfunctional Vulcan family.”

“You are already well past the common misconception of Vulcans as unemotional. Now it has been demonstrated that, in the privacy of our homes and away from outsiders’ eyes, we can be as diverse... and as defective... as any other race.”

C’Rash didn’t respond, except to smile.

“You find that humorous?”

C’Rash slipped an arm around hers. “I find it reassuring. Now when we go to the next Clan Gathering on Cait and Grandpa Mi’Tree corners you and gives you advice on rutting, I won’t be as embarrassed. And your younger brother was kind of appealing.”

“Unlike his writing.”

“Is the rest of his work as bad as the bit he quoted?”

“The total collection might be considered a viable weapon in the war with the Dominion.”

C’Rash chuckled- and then froze, turning towards the Basin, ears and tail twitching. “Do you hear that?”

T’Varik turned as well, listening and looking out into the haze above the mist, seeing out outcroppings of rock. “No. As I previously stated, there is an ecosystem of life adapted to the carbon dioxide-”

Then she heard the coughing.

C’Rash raced down the slope and into the Basin, kicking up the mist like it was water. T’Varik called after her, “The ground is uneven! Do not drop below the mist level and breathe any of it!” Then she followed, taking equally care, her experience growing up in the area giving her more confidence about what to expect – assuming no changes had occurred in her absence. She and her siblings had been thoroughly instructed all their lives against traversing the Basin, and there were plenty of warning signs along the perimeter. But occasionally, offworlder tourists would enter, fall into ditches or gulleys hidden by the mist, and succumb to the CO2.

She caught up with C’Rash, who squatted just long enough to scoop up a small figure and race back, T’Varik following, not stopping until they were out of the basin and halfway up the high slope towards her home. C’Rash set the figure, a Vulcan boy, about nine or ten years of age, into a recovery position, patting him as he continued coughing. “Take it easy, give yourself time to breathe.” Then she twisted to face T’Varik. “That was stupid of you, risking yourself to follow! You should have remained here, monitored my progress safely in case something happened! Don’t do that again!”

T’Varik almost reminded C’Rash of her rank… until she accepted that her lover, and the Chief of Security of their ship, was absolutely correct. “Acknowledged. My apologies.”

C’Rash grunted, looking over the child. “Should we call Emergency Services?”

“N-No,” the boy himself replied, sitting up, wiping his tear-stained eyes on the sleeve of his jacket, as he stared out at the Basin, as if silently condemning it for its assault on him. “I thank you for my rescue.”

“What in the Seven Hells were you doing out there anyway?”

“Locating and studying Basin ecodiversity.” He breathed in deeply, his coughing abating. Then he drew from his pocket a miniature PADD and began inputting text. “I managed to observe several insectoid carrion consume the flesh of a deceased six-legged reptile, before I tripped and fell. It was a most fascinating experience... both the activity of the animals, and suffocating.”

T’Varik moved to his other side, silently examining the boy... and seeing something familiar about him. “You are very fortunate we happened to be nearby. The warning signs along the perimeter of the Basin are there for a reason; it is ill-advised to explore alone and ill-equipped.”

The boy breathed in deeply, before replying, “‘All journeys of discovery are not without risk’.”

C’Rash looked up at T’Varik, who explained, “He is quoting Rinn’Goh, a famous early explorer of Vulcan’s shallow sea system.” She looked down at the boy. “I would remind you that Rinn’Goh was lost in his trademark brightly-hued submersible while mapping the floorbed of the Sea of Monsters.”

“Sea of Monsters?” C’Rash echoed, looking intrigued. “You have a sea called that on Vulcan? Really?”

“The early explorers had a predilection for florid, misleading names: the Sea of Holes, the Sea of Time, the Sea of Science, the Sea of Green. It is irrelevant at this stage.” She focused on the boy. “What is your name? Where is your family? We need to summon them.”

He looked to her. “I am Srithik. My mother is in the residence behind us. Her name is-”

“Nivor?” T’Varik finished, raising an eyebrow. As the boy nodded, she concluded, “I see the resemblance now. You are my nephew. I am your Aunt T’Varik. This is my companion, C’Rash.”

The sable-furred felinoid smiled. “Howdy!” She looked across at T’Varik. “We’re all Kith and Kin here today, it seems!”

“‘Kith and Kin’?” Srithik repeated curiously.

“An archaic Terran term for friends and family,” T’Varik explained.

Srithik looked to the other Vulcan with some undisguised awe. “You are the one who joined Starfleet, yes?”

“Indeed.”

“I have considered joining Starfleet when I come of age,” the boy informed them.

T’Varik nodded in acknowledgement. “You need to be aware that Starfleet does not encourage reckless behaviour-”

“It still happens, though,” C’Rash noted, knowingly looking at her lover.

T’Varik ignored her. “Is your mother aware of your activities out here?”

The boy looked out at the Basin again, before adding more notes to his PADD. “Mother encourages me to spend as much time away from her as possible.”

C’Rash’s tail twitched. “Excuse me?”

Now Srithik regarded her again… and seemingly began taking notes on the Caitian’s reactions now. “Yes, she explained to me some time ago that she conceived me for political purposes.”

“She said what?”

“In order to help foster her image as a mother and family figure. My presence is needed by her only for public appearances.”

“Seven Hells,” C’Rash hissed. “What kussik tells her cub that crap?”

T’Varik waved off her lover’s agitation. “What of your father?”

“Mother obtained suitable sperm from an anonymous donor. She has stated that, in her own experience, fathers are highly overrated.”

T’Varik bristled. “I am… sorry to hear that, Nephew.”

The boy raised an eyebrow. “It is not logical to apologise for circumstances of which you have had no direct or indirect involvement.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely related to you,” C’Rash quipped.

T’Varik continued. “One can feel sorrow for such circumstances, regardless. As a race, we possess the capacity for empathy, even if we are otherwise strongly encouraged to suppress our emotions.”

Srithik nodded at that. “You… are not what I expected, based on Mother’s past description of you.”

“Oh? And how has my sister described me?”

“Aggressive, arrogant, boastful, demanding, harsh, impatient, overcritical, selfish, self-centred, proud, glib, opinionated, constantly late, oversexed-”

“Thank you,” T’Varik interjected, ignoring C’Rash’s snickers. “I believe I get the gist of it.”

Now something almost like amusement crossed his features. “I do not necessarily agree with her assessment, Aunt, about yourself, or indeed other subjects.” He paused, and then added, “I would, however, respectfully request that she not be made aware of my desire to join Starfleet. My last attempt to broach the subject resulted in a 97-minute lecture from her.”

T’Varik nodded. “I understand; a 97-minute lecture from my sister is 97 minutes too long. We will keep this between us. And I would be more than prepared to assist and guide you in any way towards joining Starfleet.”

Srithik looked visibly surprised and appreciative. “Thank you. Mother has ambitions for me to enter the Vulcan Civil Service when I am of age. She believes it would contribute towards her own long-term political goals to have a child on such a prominent career path. I... I wish to honour my family, and taking such a role would of course be of service to our people,  but...”

“But you have other dreams. Dreams of a life beyond what is around you. I have shared such dreams, and I learned that, as noble as it is to want to serve our family, or our people, we must ultimately make our own paths. Of course, this might just be me being glib, opinionated, arrogant-”

“Aggressive, boastful, demanding,” C’Rash contributed helpfully. “Oversexed-”

“Thank you, I remember the rest.” T’Varik turned to sit beside her nephew, pointing to various rock spires rising up above the receding mist. “We are approaching the time of maximum evaporation, which you can note by counting the bands of trillium in the rock spires as the mist dissipates. At such times, you will have the best opportunity to view the Basin wildlife safely, before they return to their burrows. The apex predator is the le-meeris, the six-legged reptile you witnessed being devoured earlier. Unlike most of the indigenous Basin lifeforms, the le-meeris can breathe in large amounts of the carbon dioxide, due to a collection of membranes along the lengths of their bodies...”

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…