Fur and Fathers

Chapter Nineteen

Vetherahi had worked swiftly.  The modest table the lounge boasted had been moved to allow a low divan to be pulled into position opposite the one already there; Skaira, naturally, did not use chairs.  A couple of younger individuals were busy carrying in plates, while others ferried the cushions from the beds in the guest house and heaped them on the floor.

“Will this be comfortable enough for you?” asked Shiránnor.  “I am sorry I have nothing more suitable to offer you.  I would give you mine, but I have not had time to order it made up fresh for guests.”

“It’ll be just fine.”  To judge by Trip’s drooping eyelids he wouldn’t have taken much persuasion to curl up in the middle of the heap and fall asleep there and then, but it was undoubtedly best that he eat first.

Supper was a simple affair: slices of cooked meats, cheese, raw vegetables of several kinds, and hunks of what proved to be something akin to cake, eaten with wafer-thin slices of fruit laid on top.  Trip and Shiránnor ate ravenously; T’Pol was less hungry, and nibbled at the vegetables and fruit.  She had been looking forward to food, having gone without for just as long as the others had, but the nagging anxiety about what this mysterious thing was that the First Priestess wished to discuss with her and her husband had taken the edge off her appetite.

It took little imagination to foresee that a full meal on top of an exhausting day would leave her adun far more interested in sleep than conversation.  Consequently she forestalled this development by saying levelly, as soon as the first edge of their appetite had been smoothed away: “I believe that there is something of importance that needs to be discussed between us.”

Shiránnor picked up a piece of cheese with her fingers and ate it with surprisingly small, delicate bites.  “That is true.  I would have preferred to wait until tomorrow before broaching it, but that will not be possible.”  She ate another piece, with the abstracted air of one choosing her words carefully, and then she sat up straight and pushed back her hair before fixing T’Pol with her usual wide, fearless stare.  “I believe that you and Trip have encountered difficulty in having a child.”

Whatever the Vulcan had expected, it hadn't been this.  She recoiled almost physically.  Trip’s hand came out and closed gently around her wrist in support, but his shields were up; she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“It is true,” she answered eventually.  “But our ship’s doctor is working to try to find a way to create a viable fetus.”

“But you have little faith that he will succeed.”  The Skair’s voice was very gentle, but it did not flinch from uttering the fact.

T’Pol swallowed.  “There is a difference between ‘little’ and ‘none.’ ” Newborn Agnes had been smaller than Elizabeth, who’d been some months old when her existence burst upon their world and shattered its tranquility; there had been a sharp contrast between a placid, well-presented baby in an incubator and the wet, vernix- and blood-covered, squalling infant that had made its arrival after so many hours of exhausting labor.  But the look of rapture that had spilled across Hoshi’s face as the baby was finally placed in her arms had once again ripped open a wound that had never fully healed.

She had hoped that if she and Trip managed to have another child, it would at least go some way towards helping them to cope with Elizabeth’s loss.  She was fully aware of the huge reserves of love that the engineer had to offer, and that given the chance he would be an exemplary parent.  The younger members of his own extended family adored him without exception.  After Phlox’s latest admission, however, even hope had become hard to hang on to.

“I wish to make you an offer that you may find it difficult – perhaps impossible – to accept.”  Shiránnor was speaking again, her voice very low and even.  “On this world, at the tenth hour of the tenth day of the tenth month, we hold a ceremony that for us is of the greatest significance.  During it, ten couples who have found themselves childless are assisted to conceive.  I am offering you the chance to participate in that ceremony.”

Now she did recoil – physically.  “No.”  She didn’t even have to think about her response.  It came out of her core, the place where primitive superstitions were rejected as the nonsense that they were.  After a moment she realized that her instinctive reaction had been anything but diplomatic, and she made herself apologize stiffly; doubtless the offer had been made in good faith.

“I expected no different.  But, if you will accept my counsel, you might be wise to consider more fully before you deny yourself a gift that is offered freely.”

“Vulcans do not believe in such things.” T'Pol was severely shaken.  After the episode of her Trellium-D addiction her emotions had never really returned to her full control, and now on top of a long and draining day having this sprung on her had overset her self-command.

Shiránnor looked at her with faint, rueful amusement. “And you will not concede the possibility that there may be more things in the universe than those your people believe in.”

“There is nothing in the universe that has no rational explanation,” said the Vulcan stubbornly.  “Anything unexplained is simply something for which the explanation has not yet been found.  Participating in such a ceremony as you practice would imply my assent to a belief to which I do not and cannot subscribe.  It would be dishonest.”

“You were cured of your ihaile poisoning by something for which you have no rational explanation.  I do not see you seeking out another ihaile in order to be bitten again because you deplore the means of your rescue, and indeed if I did I would be grieved to my tail’s tail that our gift was spurned in such a way.  I describe the powers I have as the action of a Goddess to whom I owe allegiance, just as you do to your captain; if I were to describe them instead as a merely an ability that my brain possesses, would the effect still not essentially be the same?  We are disagreeing over the terms by which we explain something that is provable.  This is not empty philosophy.  However it happens, we hold this ceremony and eleven cycles later, ten empty cradles are filled.  You and Trip desire to have a child.  We have a ritual that can make that happen.  Does it truly matter how?”

T'Pol felt that it did – that it mattered enormously.  But the counter-arguments were cogent and forceful.  And if the Skaira could truly achieve what Shiránnor said they could – something that Phlox and the rest of science could not….

She looked sideways at Trip.  He held her gaze steadily, his own neutral, his mental shields still firmly in place.  But he wasn’t surprised by what had been said.  This had been broached to him beforehand.

“I would like to discuss this with my husband in private,” she said at last.

“I expected as much.  I will leave you now.  I will visit Jonathan first and then I will retire.  The world will have to manage without me for a few hours while I catch up on the sleep I have lost, else I shall be talking in my sleep and making even less sense than usual.”  A brief smile.  “But tomorrow the preparation for the ceremony must begin.  I must have your decision by then.  I am sorry that I can give you no longer.”  And she slid a couple of pieces of the cake and a handful of fruit slices on to a side plate and padded from the room, plainly intending to finish them in her own room before she slept.

After she had gone there was a long silence.

“Do you seriously believe this is something we should consider?” she said at last.

“The truth?  Honey, I have no idea.”  Her husband sighed.  “If Phlox was still soundin’ as hopeful … probably not.  But after what he said to you the last time….”

“Trip.  This is a world where they have no interest in science and ascribe power to divine beings.  It is inconceivable that any such ‘ceremony’ could succeed where advanced scientific technology cannot.  For my part, I think that any such attempt would be doomed to fail.  We would merely raise our hopes for nothing.”  She touched his arm gently.  “I do not disparage the worth of Shiránnor’s offer.  I have no doubt that it was kindly meant.  But….”

“But you think we oughta refuse.”  He tried – it was obvious how hard – to keep his voice perfectly neutral.  Unfortunately he wasn’t quite successful.  Vulcan hearing was quite acute enough to detect the small note of disappointment.  He wasn’t surprised.  But he was certainly disappointed.

“We have tried so often and failed.  With far better reason to hope than we would have in this instance.  I find it – ” she swallowed – “hard to face any more disappointment.  Perhaps it is time to face the fact that we will not succeed.”

“You mean give up.”

“There is no shame in admitting defeat when you are, in fact, defeated.”

“T'Pol.”  He leaned forward and took her hands.  “You were with us from the start of the voyage.  You stuck with us through some of the worst times I could imagine.  You were one of the people who made us a team.  We wouldn’t have achieved half the things we did without you; hell, we wouldn’t have survived an hour of that battle at Cheron without you feedin’ us the information you did.  And you know the reason we got through some of those times?  Because we didn’t give up.  Because we didn’t know how to give up.  Because even when we were beaten to the floor we still got up and kept fightin’.”

“This is different.”  To her horror, she felt tears trembling on the edge of her lashes.

“No.  Basically, it isn’t.  The only reason to give up is when you’re dead.  Like Malcolm.  And hell, he didn’t give up even when he was dead!  And we’re not dead, T'Pol.”

“Trip, this is worse than illogical.  It is absurd.  It is pointless.  It is impossible!”

“Yep.  I’ll go with that.  Any better reason why we shouldn’t give it a try anyway? I talked with Malcolm just now.  That’s just as absurd and impossible, but I did it. – At least, I think I did.  And Shiránnor thinks I did.  An’ somethin’ happened because of it, somethin’ that wouldn’t have happened otherwise.”  A shadow of a grin crept across his face.  “I don’t think you have to believe in it.  You just have to do it.  Let’s face it – what do we have to lose?”

“It is illogical to lend credence to superstition by obeying its dictates.”

“Okay.  Maybe we have to ditch logic for once.  Maybe we need to just – let go of certainty.  Maybe we need to do what I did when I carried you into that river and just forgot how goddamn stupid it all was.  Because if I hadn’t done that we wouldn’t be having this conversation.  So I don’t find it that easy to just dismiss the only hope we’ve got left.  Drownin’ men clutch at straws, and this is a straw, if it’s nothin’ better.””

“Phlox may still succeed!” she cried desperately.

“Yes.  He may.  And what if he doesn’t?  What then?”  His fingers closed around hers.  “T'Pol, all I’m sayin’ is that if we do this and it doesn’t succeed, we’re no worse off than we are now.  Did you know that every time one of those IVF sessions failed I said to myself, ‘that’s it, I’ve had it, no more’, but hell, members of the Enterprise crew don’t do ‘givin’ up’, and I didn’t.”  He paused.  “I thought Shiránnor told me in advance so I’d talk you into it, but actually all she wanted me to do was support you while you made your own decision.  So that’s what I’m tryin’ to do.  ‘Cause this has got to be both of us, t’hy’la.  If you really don’t want to do it, well … I haven’t got the right to make ya.  An’ I can understand that it must be a lot harder for a Vulcan to even think about doin’ something as crazy as this, so if you just can’t face it I … I won’t blame ya.  Ever.”

There was a long silence, while too many reactions and too many emotions fought out the battle inside her.  Ever since she’d forfeited her previous command of emotion she’d realized exactly why her people regarded it as something that it was necessary to keep under firm control; anything that powerful was a bad master but a good slave...

“Did she… did she tell you anything of what might be involved?” she asked hesitantly.  Glancing at her husband, she glimpsed the sort of grin that could make her blush even now.  “I mean apart from the obvious.”

“Not a thing. Guess we just have to take that on trust.”

‘Trust’, in these circumstances, was difficult to come by.  There were too many random factors at work.

Abandon logic?  Every instinct screamed rejection of the thought.  Embrace superstition?  She couldn’t.  She just couldn’t. 

Disappoint Trip?  That was the least possible thing of all.

She heaved a sigh.

“I am willing to try.”