A reiteration: T'Khar means teacher.
My father, not unexpectedly, was oblivious. He had an ambassadorial conference to attend. It would not have gone to him if the ambassador to Tellar had not been ill and T'Pau had not exerted her influence, and he had much research to do beforehand. Therefore it was simplicity itself for Captain April to convince him to let me stay with the family of one of Captain April's officers. On being assured that the proposed house belonged to a responsible family and was in a quiet neighborhood without anti-alien sentiment where I was unlikely to be harassed, he agreed quickly and returned to his studies. He had not the faintest idea why T'Pau had insisted I accompany him, he thought my presence superfluous, and he did not know the true state of relations between Jim and myself. Had matters been otherwise, he might have objected.
He might also have objected if April had identified his 'friend.' I approached the captain about this later, troubled. He chuckled, and said lying by omission was acceptable in some circumstances, such as when the goal had been approved by the victim's parent, as T'Pau had in fact approved in this case. That evening I meditated for hours on the question without reaching a satisfactory conclusion.
I took advantage of my father's intellectual absence and the crew's indulgence to tour the ship extensively and spend hours scanning the library computer. On my previous trip, I had had time for neither of these occupations; I had been busy assisting the doctor and being with Jim. I now had nothing but time, but I was satisfied with my use of it, spending most of my time in the science labs and the engine room. The chief engineer assigned an ensign to instruct me in the function of the Jeffries tubes, and that took up an entire morning. I was satisfied with my pastimes, and with the anticipation of seeing Jim, and with my father's nonpresence. It was a gratifying trip.
We arrived on Earth slightly ahead of schedule. In consequence of this, I accused Captain April of sentimentality. He cheerfully pleaded guilty, and walked with me and Commander Kirk to the transporter room. My father would be beaming down later. When I asked why, it was explained to me that resetting the coordinates was still an arduous task, although matters were slowly improving. Captain April offered to carry my bag, but I turned him down. As a Vulcan, the bag seemed lighter to me. As Captain, it would have been undignified for him to act as porter.
Kirk stepped onto the platform, and I followed. So did Captain April. In answer to my silent question, he smiled, and said that he would not miss Kirk's wife's cooking for all the world. Kirk rolled his eyes. I asked which world he was referring to, and what it had to do with Mrs. Kirk's cooking. I was about to ask why Mrs. Kirk cooked when replicators were readily available when the transporter operator sent us down.
Although I had occasionally traveled on diplomatic journeys with my parents, I had never set foot on a planet other than Vulcan. I was not prepared for Earth. It is very, very cold. There was a heavy wind, and this was cold, as well. There was water being hurled drop by drop from the sky, and not only was that the coldest of all but it stung. The weather has not stopped yet, and it has been many hours. I had the sensation that small animals were nibbling at my nose and ears and cheeks and fingers. I was grateful for my thermal layer. I stood very still and began the Night Chant, in t'Khasi. "Pain is a thing of the mind. There is no pain. There is no pain. I am a Vulcan. My heart is flame. My blood is flame. Heat of itself passes to a cooler appendage. There is no pain. Pain is a thing of the mind..."
Captain April chuckled sympathetically at me. Kirk commented in a friendly manner, "Never thought I'd see a Vulcan swear. The house is this way, let's go."
"My blood is flame," I chanted, determinedly relaxing the muscles in my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering.
"I think he just repeated himself, Rob."
"Oh, yes, George, but you can't blame the poor tyke."
"That's Iowa weather for you." He sounded proud. It seemed a ridiculous thing to be proud of.
We walked over a bridge. To my astonishment, the water beneath was not entirely frozen.
"I do hope he brought appropriate clothing," April worried.
"Jimmy never wears his coat anyway; he'll be glad to fob it off on him."
"What? That quilted polartec-lined windbreaker we brought for his birthday?"
"He likes it, Rob, he just doesn't wear it much."
"Hmph."
"He's just contrary. Watch the black ice, it always collects here."
"Hmph."
"Come on, Rob, he walks around in t-shirts in late fall. He wears it in blizzards, Wynn says."
"Oh, if you say your wife says, it can't just be to make me feel better, I s'pose, can it, now?"
"Uh... well..."
"Pain is a thing of the mind..."
By the time we arrived at 'the house,' I was wondering if I would ever see my nose again. I also had serious doubts about the tips of my fingers and the points of my ears. I opened my slitted eyes wide enough to take in the house. It was yellow. It was not a desert yellow, nor the reddish yellow of Jim's hair, nor the gold of Captain April's shirt or of his braid, nor was it the mustard yellow of some of the little cubes that were served occasionally on the Enterprise. It was a bright, pure yellow, unadulterated by any color, including white. I slitted my eyes again.
The door swung out towards us just as Kirk was reaching for the sphere attached to it. I stepped backwards quickly, and nearly slipped. Captain April chuckled. I approved of Captain April, but I was beginning to weary of being chuckled at.
Behind the door was a woman. I unslitted my eyes again, and they opened wide of their own volition. This was obviously Jim's mother, could not possibly have been anyone else. Her face was softer, her hair and eyes nearly as dark as mine, her skin seemed naturally to be darker than Jim's had been tanned, and her eyes had a more distinct epicanthic fold, but Jim's features leapt out at me. In addition to the physical resemblance, she bore Jim's air of quiet presence and almost his coiled grace.
She and Commander Kirk began a mating ritual. As I had had no attention to spare for the view as we walked, I turned around to observe the way we had come.
It was very, very white. In many places the whiteness concentrated into pinpoints of colored light. In less thickly spread but larger places the whiteness broke to reveal patches of color. Snatches of the white stuff were being whipped by the harsh air like sand in a whirlwind. I could see the scuffled line that had been our path, although the wind was fast obliterating it. According to our footprints, we had not come as far as I had thought.
Lady and Commander Kirk had discontinued their mating ritual. Captain April was asking where Jim was.
And there he was.
It was not Jim. My eyes insisted that there he was, but I knew, I knew that it was not he. I recoiled.
My heel hit the slippery spot again.
The white stuff was fluffy, much finer and softer than sand, at least ten centimeters deep where I was sitting, and it was like fire on my unprotected skin where it flew up and landed on me. I had scraped my legs in my retreat, and bruised myself, and skinned my knuckles on the railing. More importantly, they were staring at me.
"Slick spot?" Kirk inquired.
"What is that," I demanded, pointing a finger at the imposter and not rising.
"I'm George," it said, in a much deeper voice than Jim's. "Who are you?"
Captain April did not chuckle, for which I was grateful. "This is Spock cha'Sarek. He'll be staying with you for a bit."
"He's my older boy," Kirk amplified proudly to me. "He's just received a scholarship to the Vulcan Science Academy, so you two should get along."
George rolled his eyes. Although I resisted the temptation to return the gesture, I believe that I adequately communicated my sympathy for his exasperation with his father's presumption. "And this," the Commander continued, more proudly yet, "is my wife, Wynn." She smiled at me.
I resisted that temptation, too, but it was harder. "Ah," I replied, dusted myself off, and reclimbed the steps. "Greetings. May your house enjoy peace and prosperity." It was not, in this case, merely a rote recitation. Should prosperity come to Jim's family, he would be able to rectify his academic difficulties.
"So," Captain April repeated, "where is the little nipper?"
"Out," Lady Kirk said expressively. Her husband groaned.
"Was he," Captain April inquired ominously, "wearing his overcoat?"
"I really couldn't say," Lady Kirk replied, with commendable loyalty to her offspring.
"Nope," the brother translated with deplorable cheer.
"Pity, that," Captain April said mildly. "Haven't you any idea where he is?"
"None," she answered.
"He is in or behind this structure," I said automatically.
They were staring at me again. "Woodshed," said Lady Kirk, not taking her eyes off me.
"Carving," the brother added, also staring.
"Probably," Kirk agreed, likewise.
"What makes you say that," Captain April asked gently.
"I know it," I insisted.
"Yes," he pressed, more gently yet, "but how?"
In the absence of anything better to say, I announced, "I am a Vulcan." After a moment's consideration, I added, "He has hurt himself, but not badly." A brief pause, and I nodded, satisfied. "Yes. I hear him now. He is behind this structure, in another structure without a door, there is someone with him, and he is using words I am not familiar with."
The humans looked at each other and snickered.
Lady Kirk said, "You go get him, Bob, I'll dig up the first aid kit your wife gave us. I think it's in the closet somewhere. Georges, help me. It's not often we catch him in the act of being injured," she explained to me.
"That is like him," I agreed.
"You know Jimmy?" the brother asked.
I did not believe that this deserved a response, and I did not care to hear a stranger's voice from Jim's mouth. I repressed a wistful glance at the inside of the house, and began to follow Captain April. "No, no," he chided me as soon as he noticed. "You go in."
"Was that an order, Captain?" I inquired. "If so, I must remind you that I am not a member of Starfleet."
"Oh, no," he smiled at me fondly. "I was just concerned. It is terribly cold out."
"I am Vulcan," I reminded him. "Comfort is irrelevant."
He shrugged. "Come on, then."
As Lady Kirk had predicted, her offspring was in the thing called a 'woodshed.' As I had noted, he was not alone. He was waving a lump of something at an extremely young female albino Human, speaking quickly at her in a slightly raised tone and in a language I was entirely unfamiliar with. She was giggling, one hand pressed against her mouth and her other arm wrapped around her waist. They were both facing away from us.
"Very inventive, Jimmy, but you mustn't swear at the locals," Captain April said placidly.
Jim whirled up and around, smiling in such a way that I illogically expected the white stuff to melt away. He flung himself at me.
As Kirk had suggested, his clothing was entirely insufficient to protect him from the weather, and so, unfortunately, was mine. Considering his actual temperature, his warmth was surprisingly immediate. As this was neither the time or the place for the conversation his actions suggested, I stepped back at once, clasping my control to me.
Without skipping a beat, he removed himself and went towards Captain April as though that had been his intention all along. Perhaps it had been. Perhaps I had only gotten in the way. I could no longer read him, and my front was cold where he had been.
"Well," he explained, removing himself from Captain April, "She came up behind me and yelled 'Boo!' while I was carving. I nearly cut my thumb off."
"I see," Captain April said gravely. "What's the young lady's name?"
"Bianca."
"Oh, dear. Could they be crueler, one wonders?"
"I wouldn't be in the least bit surprised. I don't think they actually meant to be nasty, though. Trying to be clever, more likely. But, Uncle Rob--"
"Never mind. Now, listen, Miss Bianca. It's very naughty to surprise people who are working with sharp knives."
"Uncle Rob--"
"No, Jimmy, please let me handle this."
As he spoke, she giggled again and ran off.
"Uncle Rob, she's one of the Amish kids. They don't learn Standard, and they don't even learn English until sixth grade. And the word 'naughty' doesn't figure highly on vocabulary tests. Anyway, she's only eight."
"Oh."
We watched the pale girl's back vanish.
"You still oughtn't to have sworn at her," Captain April commented.
Jim shrugged. "She startled me. I'll apologize next time I see her."
He had not looked at me, and I felt nothing from him, an absolute zero more disturbing than the occasional flares of anger. Even the pain in his thumb no longer registered. It was very cold out, and my stomach was contracting to preserve heat. It was not a pleasant sensation. "Perhaps," I suggested, "we might go in."
"Sure," Jim said, "whatever." He hurled the chunk of material across the room. It impacted with the wall and broke. He strode out, unmindful of the wind. Captain April glanced apologetically at me, and followed.
I picked up the fragments. As they were large fragments, I was able to piece them together. It had been going to be a stalking felinoid. He had not yet gotten to the head, but the body had been well done, anatomically accurate and with a tension of line that suggested quiet movement and fine control. When I held the pieces together, a sense of coiled anticipation brushed over my shields.
I took it apart and put it on a shelf on the wall that held similar figurines. Many of them followed this wild theme, but there was one, of a small drooping-eared animal in a box with its head resting on its youthfully oversized paws, that was softer. The box had English letters etched on it, mostly numbers. Most were crossed out, and of these only four were legible. These formed the word 'free.' Under it, underlined but not scratched, read, 'take one, please.' I touched the small animal's head, and immediately retracted my finger. The sense of desolation was insidiously powerful, slipping through my shields like oil.
Only then did I notice the lettered placard that read 'Hands off, please.'
Feeling a small twinge of remorse behind my eyes, I hurried to catch up with Jim and Captain April, but I stayed a few steps back, that I might watch.
I did not like what I saw.
Captain April had an arm around Jim, but this was not the child who had climbed on him in sickbay. Jim did not return the gesture, nor even lean towards him. The broadening, relaxed shoulders I had admired were halfway to the neat, round ears. The loose, swinging gait was strictly controlled, shuffling a path through the white stuff, arms hanging stiffly by still hips. My eyebrows drew in. I considered saying something, but I could not think what.
I stumbled over something, and went down on one knee to examine it. It was an unremarkable rock. As I cleared it, though, I discovered properties of the white stuff. It was as cold as I had thought it. A brush of my fingers turned it to a clear, cold fluid, but pressure compacted it and gave it protection from the heat. A rough sphere formed from it under my hands without my conscious direction. For some reason, I was seriously tempted to use the sphere as a projectile and hit Jim with it. Although my reaction was overstated, his posture was unacceptable. If I did that, he would either laugh or become angry, and either state would be preferable to this.
I realized that if I continued on and generalized that line of reasoning, I would have to pay a long visit to my T'Khar, and there would probably be a very unpleasant mind-meld in it. There were things in my mind now I did not wish him to see. Jim, for example, despite T'Pau's approval. I dropped the sphere, got up, and followed them into the structure.
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