World of Ice

Chapter 7 - Family Ties

Author's note: The part about D'Orvak and T'Seil is from the story Three Months on Vulcan by Misplaced. It is used with the author’s permission.

Warning: this chapter deals with Pon farr and other difficult and uneasy events, which is why this story is R-rated.

Thanks as always to my beta, EntAllat.

Part One

Green. They were all waiting for the green trucks to arrive to bring them to the mines. Every morning Trip stood here in the cold wind along with all his fellow workers, in front of their living quarters on Farel Moon, gray flakes falling on his head. He had never gotten used to the cold.

His fellow prisoners were standing in rows: three rows to his right, four rows on the left. But even the walls of people next to him couldn’t protect him against the cold wind that was blowing. It penetrated his clothes and turned his body into ice. He tried to concentrate on the good things in his life, to distract him from the cold: his love for T'Pol, the wonderful news of their baby, his newfound friends. The thoughts warmed his heart, at least. 

Trip looked to the end of the road, expecting to see the battered transport trucks that always brought them to the mines. Instead, he heard the familiar sound of a descending space vessel, followed by a huge gust of gray and white flakes.  As it settled down, Trip was finally able to see the contours of a small vessel landing near the officer’s building. Muttered sounds rose up from his fellow workers who observed the same. The hatch of the vessel opened and what seemed to be vehicles emerged, heading in their direction.

When the shadows of the “vehicles” came closer, Trip could see it was actually one small brand new truck, the usual green in color, but of a different design than the trucks used in the facility. The truck was accompanied by four snow scooters, driven by men wearing black helmets and snow-jackets.  The truck and the scooters stopped in front of the crowd of waiting workers, right before Tucker's row.  Seeing the almost robot-like soldiers, Trip swallowed. On impulse he started to breath in and out in the pattern T'Pol had told him in an attempt to calm his growing anxiety. He wasn't the only one who felt unease. The other workers also picked up the tension in the air and all chatter ceased at once. A deathly silence fell. 

From the corner of his eye, Trip could see the head of the facility, Sub-commander Hinan, walking to the truck, accompanied by several guards. Two men stepped out of the truck, also dressed in black uniforms, faces also hidden behind black masks. They exchanged a few words with Hinan, before turning to the group of gathered workers.

One of the black uniformed men marched right up to Trip. A mixture of fear, anger and confusion washed over him and he wanted to run away as fast as he could. But the next second the black masked man clutched his right arm, turned Trip around and had him handcuffed. The man moved with such precision and focus, Trip had no doubt he was military trained. “What're doing?” Trip asked him angrily, as he tried to free himself from the iron hands of the soldier holding him. The man tightened his grip and started to drag him over the hard frozen, bumpy road towards the truck. He was scraped against the rocks in the road, causing bruises on his body. He couldn’t see, but could hear the screams and cries of other workers, voices he recognized as those of his friends.

Without a word, Trip was chucked down into the loading compartment of the truck. He landed hard on his stomach, scraping his body on the floor. He bumped against a female form. As he turned his head, Trip looked straight into the face of Mita, her eyes widened with fear. Behind him, he heard heavy breathing and as he tried to look in that direction, he was able to see a glimpse of Skrov, next to him, his antennae rigid and upward, a clear indication of the stress he must been feeling. An expression of restrained fury showed on the Andorian’s face. As Trip tried to lift his head further, he noticed that his friend Gel was scrambling next to him on the floor. Next to Gel lay V'Ran, who appeared wounded. Trip squeezed his eyes to look at him better and could see that green blood dripped from a wound on V'Ran's head. As he watched V'Ran, Trip heard a sizzling sound. He rolled to his side, craned his neck and saw that a force field had been created to seal off the truck.

Skrov started to call out, and Mita also protested loudly in a language unknown to Trip. They were joined by the others. Then the truck started to move, and they all started rolling.  Trip almost hit his head against the wall, but he was able to avoid it. His shoulder was hit by an elbow and he felt a foot against his thighbone. He heard a crack, a cry of pain and anger, spoken in Andorian. Skrov must have hurt his leg or arm. The truck moved upward, tossing Trip and his friends even more to all sides, banging against each other, cries of agony coming from all in five different languages.

The truck finally stopped and so did the rolling and tossing. Through the force field Trip could see that they were parked in some kind of cargo bay. He felt a familiar vibe of the warp core coming to life.  The ship took off to the stars, and for a brief moment he felt himself floating, before he was smashed to the floor again. But at least he didn't roll any more. Feeling bruised and sore in every part of his body, he lay on the cold floor.

“What happened? Where are we going? Who are those guys,” Trip gasped. 

“I don't know,” V'Ran said in a hoarse voice.  He was lying on the floor, next to him. “But they are dressed as Romulan military police. That isn't a good sign.” With difficulty, he moved upwards. “But first we have to help each other to get to a sitting or standing position. We can't see much on the floor.”

Standing up was easier said than done with their hands tied up behind their backs, but with some shoulder to shoulder brushing they managed to get up. From where he sat on floor, Trip called out, “Any one out there? Where're we going?” Their captors wouldn't understand what he was saying, but Trip just wanted to get their attention. He kept shouting, demanding answers and asking why this group of military police had abducted him. The others joined him and started shouting as well.

To his surprise, their action had result. A black-masked man showed himself in front of the force field. He placed a metal object directly on the field, creating a round opening.  “Lhiu, kllhes!” he screamed through the hole, clearly annoyed.  When the noise ceased, he continued in a loud voice, “Hwii Daise'Erai'Riov Martek”.

Mita answered, “Hwii Rihanha, sthea'hwill” in what seemed the same language. In sharp, rapid sentences she continued her protest, no doubt demanding an answer.  

The masked man wasn't impressed. He just raised his phaser, pointed it at Mita's head and growled. It silenced her at once. Satisfied, the angry man turned to Trip. “You're Tucker,” he said in heavily accented English. “I am Commander Martek.” Trip thought Martek’s accent was strangely similar to the accent of an old aunt of T'Pol’s.

“Commander Martek,” Trip asked, taking this opportunity to get some answers. “Why have we been arrested and where are you taking us?”

“The High Command has ordered your death. We are going to Hasanov.”

Trip heard V'Ran’s sharp intake of breath, a reflection of his own shock. Fear crept into his throat, but he tried to stay calm. A few weeks ago he had faced the reality of death, but he had been spared in a miraculous way. Now it seemed there was no escape.

“Hasanov?” he heard Mita asking aloud.

“Zahal-tar Ara-Ka'fa'ar” P'pil-lay-Volos,” Martek replied calmly, as he closed the hole in the force field. Mita paled, sitting frozen in place as Martek turned and marched out the cargo bay.

“What did he say?” Trip asked Mita, but V'Ran answered.

“He quoted a Heterian verb, the language of Mita. It means, ‘We follow the right path’. When the Heterians left Vulcan in the Great Rupture, they wanted to follow the way of balance. It's called the Ara-Ka'fa'ar.”

Trip was confused. “Some Vulcans left and founded their own world? When was this?”

“A long time ago,” Mita answered shortly. Her complexion had returned to normal.

“He called you Tucker, Rokel,” a grim looking Gel interrupted, his eyes fixed on Trip. “Is that your real name? Who are you and what have you done?” Skrov also gave him a suspicious look.

Trip took a deep breath. “I have done nothing wrong, Gel,” Trip said calmly. “Trust me, it isn't my fault we're here. But if we don't work together, we’re never going to escape. If I can get these handcuffs off, I could try to disable that force field. If that works, we can escape, find us some pods and get out of here.”

Gel didn’t look convinced. “Those guards are probably monitoring our every move.”

Trip had no doubt they were. With more courage that he actually felt, he answered “So what if they are? Do you want to sit there with your hands tied until they come to execute you? C’mon, if someone comes, there’s five of us – we can overpower ‘em.”

“I know this type of vessel,” Mita responded. “There's a corridor between the bridge and the cargo bay. We’ll find escape pods on both side of that corridor.”

“That's good news,” Trip said.

Mita nodded. “But these vessels are also heavy armed. Their top speed is about warp 7, at least a few years ago.”

“With that speed,” V'Ran added, “It will take approximately 28 hours to fly from Farel Moon to Hasanov. That gives us time to develop and execute a plan.”

“Against six well trained military men!” Skrov said. “But Rokel is right. I am not going to die without a fight. I am in.” He moved his body sideways, showing the tied hands on his back. “Gel, you can help us with the handcuffs. I have seen you at work.”

Gel grumbled, but slid behind Skrov. With the tips of his fingers he tinkered for almost a half hour on the lock, but finally opened it. At once, Skrov rubbed his stiff arms but then quickly placed them behind his back again. It looked like nothing had changed, but he wasn't cuffed anymore.

Thanks to Gel's unexpected skills, Trip and the others were freed quickly. The other stood guard while V’Ran and Trip started working on the force field. It was soon clear to Trip that he didn't have any clue how to disable the force field – not without being fried in the process any way – but he kept working while he tried to think of a solution. He would find one – it was his only way to escape certain death. 

Part two

Green. The night before that fateful morning she and her friends were taken away by force, Mita dreamed about her home planet, Heteria, that green marble in the sky.

She saw the green valley she had grow up in, the fields with the fruit plants and green vegetables, the green hills with all the life stock that surrounded the fields. It had been raining. The rain poured down while Mita struggled to climb up one of the hills in the subtropical humidity. As she reached the top, the rain stopped. Warm sunshine filled the valley. From her spot on the hill Mita could see the Great Forest in all his shades and colors. She even heard the cry of the vetala in the distant.

Then, suddenly, as it goes in dreams, she was back in her village, Doska, in her parents home. She was sitting at a table loaded with food: Hastari rice with potoki herbs, a viinerine dish, the yellow fruit of the katari tree, the orange veltai fruit, purple hataki vegetables, red sanila vegatables, Lehe'jhm  wine, Mori ale, and the typical green loaves of Heterian bread. It was a feast of colors and she could almost smell the flavors. 

She heard music, the laughter of children and the shattering of voices, the low voices of the men, the gentle sounds of the women. She looked around; she was sitting next to her father, her mother. Her three brothers and two sisters were nearby and they were all surrounded by her aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews. Her father looked up. “Mita, you're home!” he said in his unmistakable Doskian accent, but before he could say more, a distant alarm sounded and everything vanished.

The alarm had come from the real world, beyond her dream. She woke with a cry and, opening her eyes, met her new reality: a workers’ facility in the mines on Farel Moon.

She followed the usual procedure and reported herself in at one of the devices, got some breakfast and walked with the other workers to stand in front of their living quarters, waiting for the trucks to arrive to bring them to the mines to work.

This morning they had to wait longer than normal, but Mita had thought nothing of it. The weather conditions were much colder than usual today and she didn't like to stand outside where the usual gray flakes were falling from the sky, irritating the exposed skin on her face, but she suppressed her frustration. She moved slowly in place, in order to warm up.

V'Ran walked to stand behind her, and offered her his coat. “This would keep you warm,” he said. She turned to look at this man, his brown, warm eyes, and his gentle face. She loved him.

“You keep it. The truck will arrive soon and I must get used to this cold weather. On Heteria it was always warm,” she smiled at him. Her mind went back to her home planet, where she had grown up, where she had met V'Ran and where she had gone from being the wife of a Romulan officer, to being a slave on Farel Moon.

Mita's earliest memories were of sitting around the table with her father, mother and her siblings. Her grandmother would take out a book, filled with stories about her home planet. In her warm, old voice, her grandmother, a Heterian married to a Romulan, would read aloud from the book, telling them about the old times of Heteria's founding, in vivid imagery.

It was in that way that Mita heard about that crucial time, the time of the Great Escape, when the followers of Surak forced logic upon all as the basic foundation of Vulcan society. After the Great Wars and the almost total destruction of Vulcan, both sides had agreed they needed to find a path that would allow them to control their violent emotions.

But not everyone agreed that logic was the way. The clans rooted in the military fiercely fought against Surak's ideas. For them, military discipline was the solution. In one famous meeting between the Surakites and this group, the Rihannsu - the Declared - they raised their voices and declared their vision: mnhei'sahe – the ruling passion.

Others joined them, fearing that the emphasis on logic would deny the emotions that burned in their katras. They feared the tyranny of Surak's followers and asked for a different way: the way of balance. But none of the Surakite rulers listened.  After a bitter battle, any person not fully committed to the teaching of Surak was forced to leave the old home planet, Vulcan. 

And so, a large group escaped Vulcan and set out a course to a new planet. Many of them found a new home on Ch'Rihan. They later mixed with the inhabitants of the planet, the ch’Havran.

Others, like Mita's ancestors, came across a rich and fruitful planet and named it Heteria – the green planet. Later, the Rihannsu, also known as Romulans, founded an empire and made Heteria part of their domain.

There were many connections between Heterians and Romulans, and it was not unusual for a Heterian girl to be betrothed to a Romulan boy. In Mita's case there were already Romulan family ties. So, after her study as a doctor, Mita married Volos, a handsome, well mannered soldier of the Romulan Imperial army.

As a newlywed, Mita often accompanied Volos to special military ceremonies, shining at his side in her sparkling dresses, wearing the family jewelry, the object of men’s admiration and the envy of women. Volos's superiors liked his bold style, his devotion to the military and his burning ambition. He was selected on several missions and, after numerous victories, he was asked to join the flagship of the Romulan military.

Volos was away for long periods of time, writing less and less to Mita with each absence. When he did come home to Heteria, his friends seemed more important to him than she.  Mita felt ignored. Eventually, Volos was passed over for promotion in favor of General's son, which caused him extreme bitterness. Volos started to drink heavily. More and more, he started to blame Mita for all his misfortune. He yelled at her, saying she was a bad wife for not giving him children. That last accusation hurt her deeply. 

That last time she had seen Volos, he had told her to leave. Volos had been sitting behind his desk, dressed in his spotless uniform, his posture perfectly straight, and his expression stern but marked by his alcoholism. His eyes had the same attractive dark brown color as the young man she had married, but his face was now puffed, his skin had an unhealthy yellow color and his flowing raven black hair was now greasy, streaked with gray.  Volos had glared at her with such hostility.  She could still remember the familiar smell of those last ten years, a mixture of sweat, booze and leather. “The house hold of the house of Kel needs a new housekeeper. I am sending you there.”

The clan of Kel lived in Natari, on the other side of the planet, far away from her hometown and clan. She feared that Volos would take this opportunity to divorce her and she would be completely alone in a strange land. But she had no choice, but to go.

From this point in her life she was nothing more than a high-ranking servant, and she had to obey her masters. But when it mattered most, she had made that decision, against all odds and pressure. She had chosen V'Ran and their child.

The child in her womb kicked, as if he knew she was thinking of him, taking her back to the present. She smiled. It was a strong child, created in the most unusual circumstances, destined to be born in this world of ice.

She shivered. The cold made this place so difficult to endure, especially when you had to stand in waiting and hardly could move. She hoped the trucks would arrive soon. She looked at her fingers, full of blisters and cuts, caused by the work. The mines were a harsh environment for the workers full of hard work and long hours, but at least it didn't snow in the mines and it was less cold in there than outside.

Her feet felt frozen and so she moved slowly from right to left to get her blood circulation going. In the corner of her eye, she saw Rokel doing the same. She had a feeling he had grown up with all the freedom of choices a man could desire and yet, he never complained and he worked hard. He seemed to be an optimistic person in heart, an alien man from a race she never had met, but still he had accepted her without questioning. It was the honesty she saw in his young eyes that had made her see him as a friend.

A cold gust of wind was blowing. It pierced through her clothes and her body started shaking. Without comment she felt V'Ran standing behind her, placing his jacket on her shoulder. She didn't refuse this time. She relished in the warmth of his coat, still carrying his unique odor. He was her mate, her best friend in life. On every occasion V'Ran had proven himself so, he had cared for her from the moment she had arrived in Natari, the place where Volos had send her. 

Part three

Green.  On her first day as the head of the household at the house of Kel in Natari, she was ordered to meet her new staff and start working. The last man she met was a Vulcan, dressed in a green robe. “You must be Lady Mita, our new house keeper,” he greeted her.  The Vulcan came across as confident. He had gentle eyes and a firm expression on his face, but most noticeable was the fact that the tip of his right ear was cut off. He was obviously a slave, a Vulcan slave nonetheless.

Mita had never seen a real Vulcan but Volos had. He had always made jokes about how weak they were and how the best way to deal with them was to torture them for information or, better, kill them. Mita on the other hand, always had been curious. Vulcans were their ancestors, the ones who had been left behind when her ancestors made a gigantic leap forward and escaped the tyranny on Vulcan.

“What's your name and function?” Mita asked the Vulcan.

“V'Ran, my Lady,” he said, with a twinkle of humor in his eyes. “I used to be the head of the household.”

“Then you can teach me a great deal,” she responded. 

That was exactly what he did. He taught her everything that there was to learn about the household. He didn't appear to be hostile to her, despite the fact that she had taken his position. Without him, she wouldn't have managed to find her way in this new job, managing a household and a large staff.

As the weeks became months, her fears became reality. Volos divorced her on grounds of infertility. She had fallen on the social ladder, with no means of protection by her husband's clan. She had to find a new way of living.

One sleepless night, she decided to get a book from the old library. That space was her favorite of the whole mansion. On every wall there were books and data-files, comfortable seats in the corners, and by day there was a great view of the garden. It was a perfect place to find some peace.

This time, she wasn't the only late visitor. In one corner of the library, V'Ran was sitting in a chair, reading. He looked up from his book as he heard her walking towards him.  “I am allowed to read books, my Lady,” he said quickly, defending his activity.

She nodded. “Please continue,” she said. Mita thought about finding another place to sit but this spot was her favorite, so she settled herself in a chair opposite V'Ran. She started her own book, but then her eye fell on the title of his, D'Orvak and T'Seil. That was a very old Heterian story about two lovers, divided by their clans and the rules of that time. At the end D'Orvak was killed. T'Seil, who was carrying his child, was forced to marry her old betrothal. The child of D'Orvak and T'Seil was V'Len, the one who had lead her ancestors to escape Vulcan and found a new home in Heteria. He was the most important person in Heterian history.

“Can you read Heterian?” she said, curious about his choice of book. As soon as the words escaped her mouth, she realized how foolish they sounded. If he couldn't read Heterian, he wouldn't be reading a Heterian book.

V'Ran raised an eyebrow and replied. “I can.”

“Is it very different than Vulcan?” She suspected that no one ever had asked him this question. Heterians and Romulans showed very little interest in Vulcan language or culture, which they considered inferior to theirs.

V'Ran showed no surprise at her question, but stared blankly to her. “It's very similar, in contrast to Romulan,” he said. “In fact, this story is one of the most famous stories of Vulcan. In my province, with harvest time, the whole story was acted out with song and dance. The only difference is that the child of D'Orvak and T'Seil isn't V'Len.”

“It isn't?” Mita wrecked her brain of who that child would be. The fact that the same story would have another ending was oddly unnerving. “Who can it be? T'Hok perhaps?” T'Hok was the second in the command at the journey that lead her ancestors to Heteria.

With a twinkle in his eyes, V'Ran leaned over and said, “The child is Surak.” He moved back to his chair again.

She was amazed. “How can the father of Logic have such emotional parents?” Mita asked.

“Because emotions is the consuming fire in our ancestors' katras, and in ours,” he answered.

Mita nodded. “That's why we follow the way of Balance.”

V'Ran looked at her.  “You're truly a child of Heteria,” he said softly. It was a kind remark, but she didn't like to be compared with a child.

“I am no child,” she answered shortly.

“I meant no disrespect, my Lady,” he responded. “We all are children of our upbringing and culture. The way of Balance has some merit for Heterians. In fact, the idea is not without logic.”

“More logical than Surak?”

His face darkened and he closed his book. “I can't afford to talk about such things,” he explained and she knew that as slave he didn't want to take any risk by making political statements. “It's late. Sleep is needed.” He stood up and walked away.

Mita went to her own room, her head full of thoughts. It had been a short, but interesting conversation, but it was perhaps better if it stayed with this one.

However, as the days turned into weeks, she found herself in more conversations with V'Ran, short and long ones, sometimes at the library or in her office when they were discussing work. At first they talked about everyday things like how to prepare certain Heterian dishes, the new design for the garden, servant issues that needed to be addressed. Later they spoke of other things, like the famous poet H'nas they both seem to like, the works of the Heterian Falel and other historical books.

It was the beginning of a strange sort of friendship that over the years grew stronger.

Part four

Green. Green was the symbol of life, of blood running through the veins, of the green wheat and barley, of which Heterian bread is made. Every ninth month of the year, was harvest time. Now that month had come and everywhere Mita looked she saw the green splendor of ears of the wheat and barley.

The harvest of the wheat and barley was one of the most important events of the year. A good harvest meant good profit for the house of Kel. The end of this important time was always marked by a huge festival for all the workers and other servants of the house and their neighbors.

This year, it was for the sixth time that Mita was part of that great celebration in the lives of the people of Natari.

After six years of working at the head of the household in Natari, Mita was proud of herself. She had always worked as a doctor and when she had arrived in Natari, she had no training in running a household. In the beginning she had felt hindered by her insecurity and her longing for home, but her ambition to make her new work and life a success had helped her to overcome these strong emotions. It hadn't been easy, and she was indebted to V'Ran for all his help, but she had managed to grow in her position as the head of the household, becoming better at her task by every passing month. Her crew listened to her and worked hard and she enjoyed her work. Mita had found a new life and new friends.

But recently a great change had come in her life. A month ago Mita had received word that her former husband Volos had died during battle. She didn't mourn him.

However, the death of Volos did have an effect on her. In spite of his earlier plans, Volos had never remarried and Mita had enjoyed the status as the wife of a Romulan military officer. When the news of his death spread, Mita noticed the respectful distance between her and one of the household servants changed.  He was the servant who was in charge of all the repairs on the machines that were used in the household and his name was Helas. Helas didn't say a word, but Mita’s orders were followed with such disdain that she had tried to fire him. Unfortunately the clan leader of the House of Kel had seen no grounds for it, and so Helas had stayed. Sometimes Mita noticed that he stared at her with a dark, angry look. The contempt that was brooding in his smoldering eyes made her shiver.

Normally she would have talked to V'Ran about this. She wouldn't have had to say much; his presence alone always had been a support for her. But V'Ran was avoiding her, and Mita understood fully why.

It had been on one of their evenings in the library. They had been sitting in their usual spots, both with a book. Mita had been reading a classic, The Tale of Balance, a story about a woman named Mara who lost her senses after losing a child, but found peace in the teaching of the founder of Heteria, V'Len.

Mita always had felt the woman was annoying with her hysterical behavior and that the solution in the book far too quick. V'Ran didn't seem to agree with her point of view. “But don't you think Mara’s behavior after the child dies is over the top? She attempts to end her life!” Mita argued. All of a sudden, she observed how pale V'Ran looked. There was unrest in him; he shifted more in his chair while he normally sat perfectly still.

“She is suffering from the greatest pain a parent can endure, Mita,” V'Ran answered softly at her outburst. “That emotion is so overwhelming, it washes away any logic you may have.”

He had spoken with such intensity, that she understood V'Ran was speaking from own experience.

“Did you?” she spoke before realizing it was a very personal question to ask.

His voice sounded raw when he answered “My five year old son died in a shuttle crash. I survived.” He stared in the distance. “My wife – her eyes said enough. She couldn't live with me any more. So I fled into a new job, far from home.”

Mita was shocked. Never in the six years she had known V'Ran had he touched such an emotional subject, nor had he spoken of his wife or family. “Did you ever see your wife again?” she asked gently.

V'Ran blinked, if he was trying to wake up from a dream of the past. “I did. It took a long time, but we made a new connection. I hadn’t seen her in fifty years, but I always felt her in my katra.” He shivered and Mita noticed that sweat drops had formed on his forehead. V'Ran rubbed his temples with his fingers. “At least until four years ago.” A strange silence fell. Then he added, with despair in his voice. “She is probably dead.” The pain emanating from him was clear to her. Mita had never touched him in the years she had know him, but now she placed her hand on his in a gesture of comfort.

It was as if she had touched a plasma conduit, sending sparks of lighting between them, filling the room with tension. Their eyes locked. V'Ran's black pupils were dilated, and behind his brown eyes there was a fire burning like a stream of lava, a primitive, powerful, all consuming force of ancient time.

V'Ran pulled back his hand, stood up and fled the room. She was suddenly alone, shaken to the core.

Mita was no fool. She had been married for twenty-five years and she had a father and three brothers. She knew the signs.

Pon farr.

Had V'Ran been suffering from this seven years ago, when – according to Household logs, he had escaped to the woods and had been found, days later, meditating in a cold cave? The guards who caught him had noted he had been hardly dressed and soaking wet from baths in the cold cave river. The leader of the clan of Kel had punished V'Ran severely for his run away and had stripped him of his privileges, including his work as head of the household.

It now made perfect sense. Seven years ago he must have suffered from pon farr, and without a mate and out of shame and fear that his masters would torment him about it, he had found the only solution: to endure the torture of the fever on his own, by focusing on his mate on Vulcan by meditation in a cold place.

And now, after seven years, he was going through it again. She could better leave him on his own to fight his fever.

Part five

Green.  At the end of harvest time, the servants, workers and Mita were always send for a few days to a outpost of the huge lands that were part of the property of the house of Kel. The area was simple called the Ya-kar, the Green. There wasn't much in the outpost, only a simple cabin where the workers lived and slept during the days of harvest, a shed with several machines, used during harvest and a water installation station, a few miles from the cabin, near a river.

A few days before the workers and servants would arrived, Mita was ordered to prepare the cabin and check if the machines and the water installation were in order, together with V'Ran and Helas. It was also planned that Gela, one of her most loyal female workers, would also help at the cabin. However, Gela had a small accident the day before they were supposed to be leaving and with a broken arm she would be of little use. That's why this time Gela stayed at the house.

And so it came that a week after the incident in the library,  Mita packed the shuttle with all kind of supplies, took her place behind the steering gear and took off with Helas and V'Ran to Ya-kar.

Mita loved to fly. One of her brothers always loved shuttles and star ships and taught her everything that there was to know them. He also had become a pilot and had taught his elderly sister how to fly.

This time, she was even happier about her flying skills, because now she could easily ignore the two men and concentrate on flying the shuttle during the half hour journey. A dead silence hung in the air, as V'Ran neither Helas said a word. She couldn't shake the feeling Helas's eyes were pricking in her back, but suppressed that silly thought. 

As they arrived they all stored the supplies in the house. Mita gave the next order to the men. “Our purpose is to check if the harvest machines are still working properly.  You will find them in the shed. After you have finished that task, you will inspect the water installation. It's a few miles away in the direction of the nearby river, so take the scooters. I will look to see if the house is in good order,” she told them. V'Ran nodded shortly, but Helas gave her a dark look, before he followed V'Ran to the shed.

The house sure needed some dusting and cleaning. Mita took a cleaning machine and started to clean the rooms and the kitchen.

As she was busy in the kitchen, Helas walked in. He turned the cleaning machine off. Annoyed she looked up.  “Are you done yet?” she asked. She looked past him to see if V'Ran also had returned, but he wasn't to be seen.

Helas caught her look and smiled grimly. “The Vulcan is far away, inspecting the water installation. We are alone.” His words sounded like a threat.

She was annoyed by his attitude. “Are all the machine working properly?” she asked, ignoring his last words.

Helas stepped forward. In a low voice he said. “I have watched you all these years, Mita. You always felt you're too good for a good Heterian man like me.”

There was so much hidden hate in his voice, she went cold inside. There was only one desire in her heart to get away from Helas as soon as possible. But she would never show her fear for Helas. He was still her subordinate and she the head of the household. He had crossed the line and she would put in back in his place.

Mita straightened her back and looked him right in the eyes. “You will stop talking this nonsense at once, Helas, and address me with my proper rank,” she said. “Your behavior is inexcusable. I will report it to the Lord of Kel and you will be punished.” She stepped forward to the door, ready to leave the kitchen. “Now get back to work.”

But Helas didn't move. He stood there, his eyes full of hate as they roamed her face and body.  It filled her with fear and rage. He had no right to look at her that way. She wanted to run to the door, but her legs seemed frozen in motion. Helas leaned over, blocking her escape to the door. His body odor was overwhelming and disgusting. With all her strength she tried to push him aside. “Move, servant!” she commanded. Helas grabbed her wrists, held them in an iron grip and hissed “You're nothing. You're only good for one thing.”

“Stop that,” she ordered him, as she struggled to free herself from his hold. But he was so much stronger than she. She cursed herself for not having taken another female servant with her to this place. She was fighting to get free of him, but his right hand quickly moved to her throat as he started to choke her. His left hand roamed over her body, fondling her breasts and she felt sick to her stomach. In despair, she tried with even more force to free herself of his grip. His face was so close by, his smell made her want to puke. He smiled sardonically and crushed her lips with his mouth as he pushed her down. She was on the cold kitchen floor, Helas's full body weight on top of her as she fought and struggled to get him off. She heard the tearing of her clothes, she felt something hard pressing at her tights and never in her life had she been so afraid.

“Mita!” she heard a man's voice shouting. In a split second Helas's body was pushed aside, his weight was off her and she could breath again. Mita tried to pull herself together, as she got up from the ground, her entire body shivering. Then she saw them.

Helas was now on the floor and V'Ran was kneeling next to him, holding him down, hands on his throat. V’Ran’s face was distorted with pure rage. Helas made one last cracking sound and a moment later he was dead.

V'Ran dropped his hands and turned to Mita, her eyes wide and bewildered, his full of rage. “He... touched you,” he said with pure disgust and rage in his voice. Then he looked down and saw Helas, lifeless, his wide eyes open, his face frozen in time.

“He's dead,” V'Ran said, astonished as if he didn't believe it himself. He shakily stood up, staring at the dead man. “I have to report that I have killed Helas,” he stammered.

Mita walked forward and closed the eyes of Helas. More than anything she wanted to get out of this place, to get some fresh air and come to terms what had happened in the last few minutes, but she realized that she had to act logically. She retrieved a medical scanner from the shuttle and scanned Helas's body.  She made pictures of his hands and the way his body lay there, with his robe open and his underwear down. She got a blanket from the shuttle and covered him. Then she scanned herself, the green colored bruises in her neck, the discolorations at her thighs and legs and made pictures of all of that, including of her torn clothes. She also found some body fluid on her thighs, probably sweat, scanned it and took an example to analyze it; it had Helas's DNA.

Meanwhile, V'Ran had been sitting in a corner of the kitchen, his head down, holding it with his hand, shivering, shaking, muttering meditation words to himself in an attempt to gain control.  Great drops of sweat dripped of his forehead and she could see sweat stains on the top part of his robe.  He was trying with all his might to control himself.  From a safe distance, she scanned V'Ran. His hormonal levels were off the scale. Mita didn't dare to make eye contact, afraid it would acerbate his pon farr even further, and so she said loudly, “Let's go, we’ll report Helas's death at the house and action will be taken.”

It worked. V'Ran responded to her command and followed her blindly as they walked back to the shuttle. She took the pilot seat and started their journey.  V'Ran was sitting next to her, sweating, shivering, breathing loudly in and out, more intense than before. The symptoms of pon farr had clearly increased.

Mita had heard stories from Volos about what the Romulans did with Vulcans in pon farr.  This biological condition, which they shared with Vulcans, seemed only to fuel their hatred against them; they mocked, tormented, and humiliated Vulcans in any way possible in their most vulnerable moment. It filled her with horror, thinking that this would happen to V'Ran.

She glanced at V'Ran. In spite of him being Vulcan, she held him in great respect. He was her friend. V'Ran had protected her, had even killed a man that had tried to rape her. She knew without a doubt what she would do.

She had only been flying for a few minutes as Mita started their descent. “V'Ran,” she said softy, when she had landed the shuttle safely on the ground, “It isn't your fault that Helas is dead. You're suffering from the throes of pon farr.”

For the first time he spoke, his voice was trembling with fury and disgust. “I couldn't... I couldn't... have him touch you, violate you...” he said.

“Look at me,” Mita commanded. Reluctantly he did as she told him and there were his eyes, wild with a consuming fire, a need, and a desire that would burn everything in his path. She touched his cheek with her two fingers in that ancient gesture of affection. Her body responded to their connection, his fever touched her katra. The looming desire in her veins sparked to life and she couldn't think any more. All she wanted was this man. Their mouths met and then there was only the flames of desire to touch and to be touched, to feel him, his skin beneath her fingers, to touch his body and give him pleasure as he gave her, to become one, to drown in this primitive emotion of passion.

As she woke up from the haze of the fever, the clouds of passion dissipating, she lay quietly in V'Ran's arms. He stroked her hair with one hand. “You're so beautiful,” he whispered. She shifted closer to him, her hand on his chest. She felt his strong muscles beneath her fingers, the softness of his skin. She inhaled his musky smell.

But slowly, logic returned. V'Ran untangled himself from her, stood up, found her robe and covered her with it. He found his undergarment and his robe and dressed himself quickly. “I apologize for this situation,” he said in his normal manner, looking down as he was avoiding looking at her. “I didn't want to hurt you.”

“You didn't,” she answered. “This,” she waved her hands in the direction of the place where they had been sleeping, “has been a result of pon farr, but mostly because of our affection to each other.”

“You always have been a keen observer,” V'Ran responded, a sad tone in his voice, but confirming in his own way his affection for her. “ He pointed to the pilot seat in the shuttle. “We must go. I must go to the police and report that I killed Helas.” 

As she was about to protest, he cut her off. “I can't lie about this, Mita. Not for my conscience.  Besides, those police officers aren't fools. They will find out the truth that I killed him.  And yes, I know what it means. I am a Vulcan slave without any rights, killing a Heterian servant. They're going to sentence me to death for murder.”

“It was pon farr and you were protecting your mate,” she protested. “I will tell them that and give them the medical evidence to support it.”

“It's dangerous for you, they can accuse you of being my accomplice. If you claim I saw you as my mate, me being a Vulcan, they would blame you,” V'Ran said firmly. “I don't want you to be involved.”

“I am already involved,” Mita said. “What will come will come.”

She took the helm and flew to the police station in the small city near the house of Kel to report the death of Helas.

She had been ready to face the turmoil, but she hadn't expected the twists and turns her way ahead would give. During her medical exam before the trial, the Romulan doctors found out she had conceived and that she was carrying V'Ran's child.

Following Romulan customs, the doctors told her they were going to terminate the fetus, because its father's blood was of the inferior Vulcan race.  Mita was furious at the notion that V'Ran or any Vulcan would be seen as a lower life form. Romulans and Heterians, they all came from Vulcan soil, their ancestors were Vulcans and the same green blood flowed in their veins. V'Ran had already lost a child and she had longed for one, this baby was unique like any other child and should live. There was no way she would allow those doctors to come near the child. She wanted the baby to grow in her womb and to be born.

She expected that her determination to keep the child was one of the reason the judge used a old Romulan law that stated, when a man kills another man during pon farr, he is sentenced to a life sentence as working slave and his mate with him.

And so Mita, a former high-ranking Romulan military wife, ended up as a working slave on the mining facility of Farel Moon.

Part six

Green. The old man standing in front of her had started to cough, loudly, taking deep, rasping breaths as he tried to get some air. Mita awoke from her musings. So vivid had the memories been of green Heteria, so much had she relived her past that she almost felt like she had been meditating. Strangely enough, her lapse of control seemed to have lasted only a few minutes, because they were still waiting for the green trucks to arrive to bring them to the mines. The old man finally gained some air and spit out some green blood. He was clearly suffering from a famous disease here in mines that affected the lungs. It was easy to get sick in these working conditions and the doctor in her wanted to help wherever she could, like she had done with Rokel.

Rokel was standing two rows at her right, easily to be recognized by his typical blond hair. He seemed impatient too, and, just as herself, no friend of this cold weather. Behind him stood the Andorian Skrov, who could handle these cold conditions much better. 

Suddenly everything changed: there was the sound in the sky of a small vessel landing. She saw a military truck and scooters coming at them. They drivers were wearing the uniforms of the Romulan military police. Perhaps some workers had been caught in criminal activities, she thought, but then two of the officers stood still at her place, arrested her and V'Ran, drove them to the truck to be thrown into the bunk.

She fell on her stomach. It hurt and she tried to get up quickly, her mind solely on protecting the child. The police had also arrested Gel, Skrov and Rokel. With worry she observed that V'Ran appeared to have a head injury.  The officers closed the truck with a force field. Fire filled her veins, and she started to call out in Romulan that she was a Romulan citizen and wanted to know what she was being accused off.

Her voice was lost in the rattle of the truck. Only once the truck was on the vessel, and they had taken off to the stars and her group of friends had been calling out, did one of the police officers come by.  “Silence, worms!” he yelled. When they stopped shouting, he introduced himself as Commander Martek. He first spoke Romulan, but then he turned to Rokel, speaking in Rokel's own language. She only understood one word: Hasanov. The death planet, a barren place where people were executed.

In her shock she murmured “Hasanov?”

Martek heard her words and he shouted at her, “We follow the right way, divorcée of Volos.”  She was shocked he knew her old name. But there was little time to consider his words. Rokel came up with a plan to escape and with Gel’s help they got out of their cuffs. V'Ran and Rokel were now busy trying to disable the force field, while every minute that passed they were closer to their place of execution.

Part seven

Green. Trip's mind was racing as he frantically tried to disable the force field in the truck. V'Ran helped him, but the green bruises on the Vulcan’s hand were a clear indicator they hadn't been very successful. He had started with one corner where he had seen a small opening, but that had been only an illusion. Then he had searched every part of the force field as it spread from corner to corner of the front of the truck. It was a dangerous job. Until now he and V'Ran had only suffered small electronic shocks, but he feared that any minute a shock wave would blow them to the other side of the bunk.

Suddenly the force field blinked in front of his eyes and disappeared. He looked at it, not believing what he saw, but before he could take action, he felt his bodytingle and tense – the sensation of a transporter beam as he began to dematerialize. His vision started to shimmer and blur and suddenly he found himself on a landing platform in a small transporter room, together with V'Ran, Gel and Skrov.  A second later Commander Martek was beamed up next to them.

Behind a glass wall he could see a transporter operator, also wearing a black mask. In a high-pitched voice that almost sounded like a child, the operator said something to Martek. Then Mita appeared on the transporter platform.

Martek turned to them. “We had difficulty using the transporter with the female, because of her pregnancy,” he explained to Trip in English. “We don't have much time, Tucker,” he continued in his dark voice. For the second time Martek used his real name and again it made Trip very uncomfortable. How did this Martek know his real name? “We didn't want to scare you,” Martek continued,  “but it had to look real. Plans were made to send you to Hasanov to be killed and we didn't want that to happen.”

 V'Ran quickly translated to the others what had been said. 

“I don't understand,” said Trip. He never felt so confused in his life. Who were these people?

“Toran will tell you everything. He will take you to a safe place. I will return to the first ship and travel to Hasanov to make it appear as if we are indeed taking you there,” Martek said quickly. He took off his helmet. He had short black hair, two pointy ears and ridges on his face.  He raised his hand in the Te'al and said to the group “Live long and prosper, friends” then dematerialized before Trip's eyes.

Toran had left his place at the transporter and was nearby at the bridge of the vessel. Without delay he took off, taking the ship to warp seven, at least.

Trip and V'Ran, followed by the others, rushed over to Toran. “What's going on?” Trip asked. “Who sent you?” He was hoping they're from some special Vulcan unit or perhaps from Starfleet.

Their pilot looked up from his work and started to speak slowly in Vulcan. “We are now leaving a large nebula. I have been hiding here, so when the other ship would arrive they would be able to transport you to this ship. I will take you to a safe place. Don't worry, no one can see this ship. It's cloaked.”

“Who gave the order for this rescue mission?” V'Ran asked in Vulcan to Toran, irritation leaking in his voice. Trip had never had heard him so out of sorts. This weird day full of tension was getting to all of them.

“Family, Commander V'Ran,” Toran answered.

“I haven't been called Commander in fifty years,” V'Ran said, somewhat annoyed. “Who's your superior? Remove your helmet, young man, so I can see your face.”

Without taking his eyes of the screen and panel in front of him, Toran took of his helmet.

He was clearly Vulcan, but never had Trip seen such a young Vulcan. His face was smooth like a child and his eyes were full of innocence.  In the years Trip had been in a relationship with T'Pol, he had learned that her emotions lay behind those brown-green eyes of hers. In those eyes he had seen her sadness, her joy and the wisdom of life experience. Toran's eyes told him that their pilot was extremely young for a Vulcan.

“How old are you?” Trip asked astonished.

Toran smiled shortly, which made Trip realized the young man wasn't Vulcan, but Heterian. “That's a very personal question, but I think it's safe to say I am a few years older than you, sir” he responded not with humor.

Toran turned to the pilot panel in front of him and checked his instruments. He did it with such ease and confidence, that, in combination with his youthful looks, he reminded Trip of Travis in the first years of Enterprise. 

While Toran continued to monitor the reading in front of him he said, “I will explain your situation. Many centuries ago, a group left the old planet of Vulcan to found a new home among the stars.”

“I heard,” Trip interrupted Toran. “The Heterians, the people of Mita.”

The young Heterian shook his head. “The Heterians were only a small group. The largest group was the old military clans of Vulcans. They settled themselves on the planet Romulus.”

“He doesn't know, Toran,” V'Ran interjected. “Humans aren't aware that Romulans descent from Vulcan.” The Vulcan turned to Rokel. “Romulans and Vulcans share the same ancestors.”

“You mean...” Trip couldn't believe his ears. “Romulans are... They look... They're Vulcans?”

“You can call them brothers that grew apart,” V'Ran said. “And you should never tell this to your fellow Humans.”

Trip was stunned. All kind of thoughts went through his mind. What about the war? Would T'Pol know about this? Soval? Somehow he had the idea that T'Pol suspected that Romulans and Vulcans were alike, but didn't know for sure. And if she suspected something, so would the older Soval.

“It's important that you understand this, sir,” Toran continued, breaking through Trip’s thoughts. “The Romulan Empire wishes to be united with Vulcan again, by making the old planet a colony of the Empire. Vulcan would come under Romulan rule. However, a Vulcan named Kirak, who was caught by the Romulans and made slave, developed another theory about the unification of Vulcans, Romulans and Heterians. His thoughts combine the Heterian way of balance and the Vulcan way of logic. At first nobody had an interests in Kirak's ideas, but they’ve became very popular in the last decade, mainly among Heterians. Martek and his men, me, we're all followers of Kirak. We're called Karikites.”

Toran paused and checked the flight panel in front of him. It gave Trip a few seconds to process what just been said.

“Kirak became an enemy of state,” Toran went on. “He was sentenced to death, but he escaped. The Romulans are now hunting him. The person who leads the hunt on Kirak, is a man called Delon. We had information that Commander Delon, because of your family ties with Kirak, wanted to use you as bait to lure Kirak out of hiding by threating your life. A special Romulan military unit would come for you and your friends and take you to the death planet Hasanov to be executed. When we heard about these plans, Martek and his men rushed to Farel Moon and pretended to be those soldiers that were ordered to arrest you, before the real soldiers would arrive. That's what happened.”

“And this Kirak...” Trip said, trying to find the last piece of this puzzle.

Toran's eyes started to gleam. “Kirak is your aduna-sa-mekh, sir, the father of your wife T'Pol,” he answered. “You know that ties of family are stronger than the power of the strongest man. Kirak ordered that we made up a plan to save the husband of his daughter, T'Pol.”

It finally hit Trip. “So this Kirak is the same as T'Pol's father who disappeared years ago? Is he really alive?  Is he the man that rescued us?”

Voran nodded enthusiastically. “He is. And I am going to bring you to him.”

To be continued....