"Times Change"

[lovelyzelda]

Classic Trek Big Bang Fic.

Based on the TAS episode "Yesteryear", so major character death in one timeline. Yeah, there's two timelines running semi-parallel (trying to match them up exactly would've led to complete insanity).

Art: Times Change by ladymac111

Fanmix by solara1357



As he lay in the sand, clinging to I-Chaya, Spock wondered if a true Vulcan would have been surprised by a le-matya.  He felt very tired--as though he had spent ten days in Vulcan's Forge instead of a few hours.  The desert wasn't as cold on this night--that must be his fever.  Spock felt a small surge of pride that he could still think so logically after being scratched by the le-matya.

The sehlat whimpered again.  "I'm sorry, I-Chaya," Spock said.  The part of him that was Vulcan knew that no one would come.  The human part thought it would be nice to see his mother again.  His father would tell him that he had not behaved logically and that he had failed.

Spock decided that causing I-Chaya's death was be worse than failing his kahs-wan.  Worse, there was an awful, invulcanian part of him that was glad I-Chaya was there so that he didn't have to be alone.

On Andor, a young thaan listened while his zhavey sang an old Aenar song.  Like most Andorian and Aenar children, Thelin adored his zhavey.  He was too young to know the cruel things some Andorians might say because she was Aenar.  He only knew that she always understood him, and sometimes she would whisper inside his head, "I love you, little thei" because his zhavey was special.

He had no idea that on Vulcan it was the twentieth day of Tasmeen and that a Vulcan boy would be dead before sunrise.  If Thelin had known, he might have thought it was a sad story, but he might also have decided that it was the Vulcan boy's fault for going out on the surface alone.  And if he had had known this, he would have quickly forgotten it--the death of an alien had nothing to do with him.

("You must not attempt anything like this again," Spock's cousin said as they returned home, I-Chaya following behind them.

If Cousin Selek was displeased, Spock did not want to think of how his father would respond.  "I had to prove I am Vulcan," said Spock.

"You are Vulcan," said Selek.  "Eventually you will understand that it is a waste of time to try to 'prove' such a thing.  Those who demand proof will always find another reason for doubt."

It sounded logical, but it would not stop the other children from calling him names and insulting his family.  Spock wanted to prove himself if only because it was so hard to suppress his anger when they said terrible things about his mother.

"I must leave soon after we return," said Selek.

"Will you come back?" asked Spock.

"I do not think so," said Selek.  "But...perhaps you will see me again."  It seemed as though he would have continued, but he did not say anything else.

Because he had chosen Vulcan, Spock did not say how much he would like Selek to remain.  Spock had never met anyone else who was part Vulcan and part human as they were.  Selek understood even though Spock did not think Selek was as human as he was.  Selek had mastered the Vulcan nerve pinch, and he had mastered his emotions.

"I will go with you," said Spock.

"You will not," said Selek and for a moment he seemed very much like Spock's father.

"Why not?" asked Spock.  Realizing how human he sounded, he blushed and grew even more embarassed because he could not prevent this reaction.

"Because it would make the lady Amanda sad," said Selek.  "That is why you must be more careful in the future.")

While Thelin slept and his parents performed the shelthreth, hoping that this time they would succeed, Amanda hugged her son's body and sobbed.

Sarek could sense the discomfort of the two Vulcans who had brought them the cold little body.  All Vulcans mourned the loss of life, and grief was a notoriously difficult emotion to control, but it was customary for a grief-sick Vulcan to simply leave or be led away by another who would never speak of the incident.  It would be unthinkable to chide a Vulcan mother for failing to suppress the loss of a child, but Amanda, distraught as she was, was intimidating in a way that only humans could be.  Her grief was obvious, audible, visible--and utterly shameless.  Sarek only remained on his feet and in the room for her sake.  If he turned and left, he did not know if she would understand.

He watched his wife hold their son--who did not make a face and say, "Mother, one does not hug Vulcans" in a tone Sarek did not realize his young son had learned from him.  Sarek did not ask the most important question.  He would have liked to think it was because he could still understand the illogic of asking a question he already knew the answer to.  The real reason he did not ask was because his composure could not stand the news that Spock's katra was lost.  Even to think of his son's katra was unbearable.  He could still remember the morning when Amanda had suddenly seized his arm because their unborn child had tried to "talk" to her for the first time.  He had placed his fingers against Amanda's bare, rounded stomach and reached out to that tiny, still forming mind.  When it had reached back--so simple, but already curious--Sarek had shed tears for the first time in six decades.  I am your father he had told that
little mind that could not yet form speech, but still instinctively reached out to them.

My son, why would you do this? he thought and immediately answered himself: It is my fault.  He had demanded too much.  He had not considered his words carefully enough.  He had said "I do not expect you to fail" and "You will not disappoint me" because he had known Spock would succeed--but that was not how Spock had interpreted his words, and now everything that he had been was gone.

Sarek put his arms around his wife--an indiscretion, but neither Stival nor T'Laina would be tactless enough to acknowledge it.

It would be the last time she would allow him to touch her.  When she left, she said that it was his fault and that he had been too harsh, too demanding.  Sarek said nothing because they had both come to the same conclusion.

This meant nothing to Thelin and his family.  The shelthreth would be unsuccessful, and eventually it would be performed only out of affection or habit.

Even if Thelin had learned of Spock and then Amanda's death, he would not have given it much thought.  Andorians were not known for their charity, and Thelin would have had no reason to think that the death of a Vulcan or a human would have any effect on his life.

(Spock allowed his mother to hug him and kiss him on the forehead--only when they were at home.  Now that he had proven he had the spirit of a Vulcan, Spock felt he could be charitable to his emotional human mother.

"We're so proud of you," Amanda said, and Spock could feel her love and pride as she hugged him again.  "Aren't we, Sarek?"

"You have done well, my son," said Sarek.

Spock was pleased--especially with his ability to hide how pleased he was from his father.  "Thank you, Father," he said and quickly suppressed a smile when Sarek nodded approvingly.)

***

(In Starfleet, Spock was never treated as anything less than a Vulcan.  It was most appealing until he realized that he was only viewed as a Vulcan because he was among humans.  There were none of the taunts of his childhood or the insulting surprise when he was forced to prove himself the intellectual and telepathic equal of any full Vulcan, but he found he was still an outsider.  It was slightly more tolerable--he had spent little time on Earth before enrolling in Starfleet Academy, and he did not look human.  He did not behave like a human, and the humans around him seemed to have little experience interacting with Vulcans.

It rained excessively.  It was cold.  There were other humans from more tolerable climates, but Spock could not see the logic in complaining about meteorological conditions over which neither he nor those he spoke to had any control.  He was spared the "pranks" that were inflicted on new cadets or that cadets inflicted on each other.  He frequently ate his meals alone, either reading for his class or for his own amusement as that would be a more effective use of his time.

Whenever he found the climate unsuitable or wished he understood the ritual that allowed humans to initiate friendly relationships with each other, Spock tried to view it as a mental exercise.  A Vulcan could ignore the discomfort of any survivable conditions.  A Vulcan did not feel anything, let alone something so obviously human as loneliness.  Returning to Vulcan would only provide him with a better climate--and it would give Sarek a reason to gloat and pass it off as "simply stating what is logical."  Spock remained.

This was proven a logical choice when Captain Pike personally asked him to join the crew of the Enterprise.  For a moment he struggled with himself.  He wished to convey his appreciation in an appropriate manner, but he did not wish for Vulcan professionalism to be mistaken for aloofness.  Being assigned to the Enterprise was a great accomplishment; being asked by the captain, as if there were any chance Spock might decline, was an unheard of triumph.

"Thank you, Captain," said Spock.  "I will...I will work to the best of my abilities to ensure you do not regret this decision."

Pike looked at him for a moment, then nodded.  "Good," he said.  "I'm going to hold you to that.")

***

In Starfleet Thelin was fully Andorian.  Few humans had even heard of the Aenar, and none thought his grey skin signified anything other than the possibility that Andorians were as varied as humans.

When he was younger, Thelin would have corrected anyone who made such a mistake--just as he'd gotten into fights with any Andorian who'd dared insult the Aenar in general or his zhavey specifically.  He didn't always win, but the important thing was that he fought.  At least at the time.  Soon afterwards, when either his nose was bleeding or his opponent's was, Thelin would think of what would happen when his parents learned he had been fighting.  His practical shreya was always more concerned that he was too impulsive and should learn to attack when he was less likely to get caught. His thavan would be pleased if he fought well and would only chastise him if he had left himself open for a blow to the nose or a pull of the antennae.  And this would often make his other parents chastise his thavan for different reasons until finally it was agreed that Thelin should not fight at all--unless he could fight well and discreetly.

Humans would not shun or harass him--and risk having to fight him--because Thelin was part Aenar, but it was easier not to have to explain his genetics to every human he encountered.  Humans knew so little about the Aenar that Thelin would have to explain the frequent torments and insults.  He'd have to tell the humans that, although outright oppression was frowned upon, sly discrimination was practically rewarded.  And once he'd carefully detailed all the insults and indignities he'd had to face simply for being the result of a mixed quad, some humans would assure him--at sanctimonious length--that they disapproved of racism and, oh, how much nicer their dull, passionless human lives were now that they treated all beings with kindness and respect.  And Thelin would undoubtedly ask, "What about Klingons?" and this would result in a typically dull squabble that was all words and quickly abandoned by the human.

Or, once he'd explained his genetic history, a "sensitive" human would inflict their weak, passionless sympathy at him.  In Thelin's experience, humans weren't content just to consider themselves compassionate and enlightened and utterly different from the humans of two hundred years ago.  To be an enlightened, "highly evolved," "sensitive" human, one had to be obnoxiously obvious about it.

It was better to let the humans remain ignorant.  Occasionally another Andorian would see him in uniform and disdainfully twitch an antenna.  Thelin smiled coldly--in his career he'd never encountered an Andorian who had the stomach to challenge a Starfleet officer to a duel.  He could never really be certain if it was his skin or his uniform that got him those sorts of looks anyway.

He thought Pike suspected he was from a mixed quad, or however the human would think of it.  Pike had a way of looking at Thelin that made the Andorian feel as if he'd just been scanned and assessed.  Worse, he could never tell what Pike--or his first officer--were thinking.

Compassion was not valued.  One's family and one's quad were sacred; other than that, everyone else could freeze in hell.  But only a conspiring Andorian hid their emotions.  Pike and Number One were excellent officers, but their practically Vulcanian lack of emotion joined with the Andorian disdain for compassion made Thelin shudder.  He would follow their orders and perhaps he might respect them, but he did not like them.

(Spock found Number One--Lieutenant Robbins--fascinating.  His fascination was based entirely on her intelligence and her seemingly effortless ability to think and behave logically.  Naturally he had noticed that her features could have been considered most appealing, but he gave little thought to the color of her eyes.  If he did, it was only to acknowledge that the color was far more common among humans than Vulcans.

Had he been familiar with the human concept of a "schoolboy crush," Spock would have denied that such a term could apply to him.)

***

"Captain, that's the third time you've said something like that," said Number One.

"You've been keeping track?" Pike smiled, but he did not joke often.  Thelin couldn't be sure if he was now.

"Yes," said Number One.  "I find it unsettling, Captain."

"You, Number One?"

"Yes, Captain.  Do you find intelligence and competence to be purely masculine qualities?"

Pike looked startled.  Thelin could hear Yeoman Colt sharply inhale.  He was not sure what to make of this.  "No, of course not," said Pike.

"Then what is it about me that makes you forget I'm a woman?" Number One asked.  "Or that I 'don't count?'"

"It's just an expression.  And of course it doesn't matter if--"

"Obviously it does, Captain," said Number One.  "Otherwise there'd be no need to comment on how mannish I am."

Pike turned pale.  "Now, Lieutenant, I never said--"

Number One smirked.  "Captain, I thought it didn't matter?"

Pike slumped back in his chair.  "Understood, Number One."

Thelin considered this strange conversation.  Humans sometimes used "man" or "mankind" to refer to their entire species, except that "man" could also refer to one of their two genders.  There was also a suggestion that gender was not necessarily equivalent with one's sex--which was also a term for the reproductive act.  Thelin felt there was no reason to ask about this distinction.  Humans seemed unusually preoccupied with displaying and discussing their genders.  It was distasteful, especially for a species that went to great lengths to prevent conception.

Andorians understood gender-based insults as well as they understood actively avoiding procreation.  Thelin was a thaan; obviously he had the qualities one would associate with a thaan.  Apparently humans could be criticized for behaving like the other gender, but Thelin didn't understand what it meant to be "mannish" or "girly", and if it was significant that one insult referred to the adult form while the other did not.

Those who were called "males" were bigger than those called "females"--except for the many humans who were bigger or smaller or about the same size.  He was vaguely aware of the anatomical differences, but this was of little use.  Really, it only gave him the unpleasant information that human males could not retract their genitalia.  Based on the diagrams he'd seen, Thelin assumed the females' ovipositors could extend and retract--not that he'd wanted to find out. The realization that half the species went around with their reproductive organs awkwardly flopping around at all times had discouraged Thelin from any further research.

Externally he could notice certain differences, but this didn't help him understand the conversation between Pike and Number One.  Males and females tended to wear their hair differently, but Number One's hair wasn't markedly different from any of the other female crew members.  Thelin had considered the color, but that didn't seem to have any connection to a human's sex.

Based on behavior Thelin could find no consistent way to distinguish between human males and females.  One of the two was considered more emotional, but Thelin found them both to be practically unresponsive by Andorian standards.  Females were considered to be vainer and more concerned with their appearance--but not as concerned with the appearance of their mates as males apparently were, and Thelin had found that the females were often better able to accept criticism, even about their looks, than the males were.  Both genders were equally vague and incorrect in their assessment of themselves and each other.

As a scientist, the inability to successfully analyze and categorize irritated him, especially since humans insisted on making their biology what they'd call "a big deal."

***

Nicknames and terms of endearment were a human practice.  Thelin found it bizarre.  Why give a child a name if you intended to shorten it or use some variant?  Why was it considered affectionate to use some inane term like "darling" or "sweetheart" that could be used by or for anyone?

"Number One" did not seem to be affectionate, although it was difficult to tell.  Thelin considered them both human freezer units potentially incapable of affection...but then why call Number One that instead of her rank or her name?

"Congratulations, Commander," Thelin said.  They were returning to Earth at the end of their mission, and he still hadn't learned Number One's actual name.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," she said.  "You're staying with the Enterprise?"

"Yes, Commander."  The silence set his antennae quivering.  There wasn't even any sign that the woman Pike called Number One found it awkward or unfortunate that they had nothing to say to each other.

***

Kirk was not like Pike.  Kirk smiled so much that the expression became almost meaningless, and he touched without thinking.

Thelin noticed it was almost always the shoulder or the arm--very rarely the back.  What made it so interesting was that it seemed to be so thoughtless, but still so ritualized.

Uhura pressed her hand against her earpiece and stared off at nothing.  "I'm through, sir."  She turned in her chair and gave the captain a devious smile.  "And I've jammed the Klingons."

"Jammed?" Thelin asked.

Kirk beamed at him, then Uhura.  "Raspberry, I assume."

"They shouldn't be able to get through it in under an hour," said Uhura.  "And if they do, you can have my stripes, Captain."

Kirk laughed and, placing his hand on Uhura's shoulder, seemed to lightly move it back and forth.  "I'm sure that won't be necessary, Lieutenant.  After all," he looked at his cuff, "I've already got plenty of my own."

***

"We have a great need for males," said Ypolyta.

Kirk and Mitchell exchanged a glance.  Piper rolled his eyes.  Thelin decided he was sick of this particular mission.  If Kirk and Mitchell wanted to put on some elaborate courtship display, that was their business.  "I'm not male," he said.

"But you take orders from this one," said Ypoloyta.

"You're not...male," said Kirk.

Thelin sighed.  "Only as a concession to your inadequate language," he said.

"You are not female," said Ypolyta.

"No," said Thelin.  "I don't see why this is so hard to understand."

"Easy."  Kirk lightly touched his arm.  "You're the first Andorian they've met."

"And what's your excuse, Kirk?" Thelin asked.

Kirk looked slightly surprised.  "You...you never mentioned it," he said.

"Enough," said Ypolyta.  "You are males.  I hearby declare you slaves, available for the use of any proven warrior."

"I'm afraid we'll have to decline," said Kirk.

"You cannot decline," said Ypolyta.  "It is done. If you prove not to be males or if you cannot better our glorious planet, you will be killed."

The Xenons were only armed with spears and swords, but they had greater numbers.  Kirk sighed as he tossed his phaser to the ground and raised his hands over his head.  "You heard the lady."

"I didn't join Starfleet to surrender," Thelin hissed in his ear.

"You didn't join to get your throat cut either," said Kirk.  "I'll think of something."

"So..." Mitchell began almost as soon as the cell door opened.  "What are you anyway?"

"I thought humans prided themselves on being enlightened and accepting," said Thelin.

"I can be enlightened and still confused as hell," said Mitchell.

"Enough," said Kirk.  "We've got bigger things to worry about.  Like how we're going to get out of here."

"I'll take the brunettes, you take the blondes?"

"Then they'll never want to let us leave."  Kirk nodded towards the cell door.  "What do you think?  Strong enough to hold an Andorian?"

It wasn't--leaving them with only the problem of finding their communicators without being noticed.

"And, gentlemen, I'm afraid we stick out like a...sore thumb," said Kirk.  "Excuse me, gentlebeings," he added, grinning at Thelin.  Thelin wasn't sure how he should respond to this.  He cursed his impatience with the Xenons--being mistaken for male was far more tolerable than the thought of getting that look and some fumbling attempt at inclusiveness.

They escaped.  Kirk included him among the "gentlemen" just as he'd always done.  The first time he did so he looked at Thelin, but Thelin did not correct him, and Kirk didn't mention it again.

***

For some reason, Kirk had let him in despite having a channel open.  "Does it get any easier?" Kirk asked after signalling that Thelin should have a seat.

"If it does, you should be worried," said a voice Thelin didn't recognize.  "You did everything you could, Jim."

"You weren't there," said Kirk.

"So?  Doesn't mean I don't know you did anything that could be done.  And that it's not your fault."

"Thank you, Bones," said Kirk.  "But as long as this is my ship, it is my fault."

"Damn it, Jim, you can't--"

"Bones, you ever think about a starship assignment?" Kirk asked.  "My CMO's looking to retire.  And if you don't want the job, I'm just not going to replace him."

"Have you lost your mind?"

Thelin considered leaving and coming back.  He doubted Kirk would notice.

"Or I'll never let him leave," said Kirk.  "I'll chain him to his desk."

"This is blackmail."

"Yes," said Kirk.  "But, Bones, I..."  Kirk glanced at Thelin.  "I want the best for my ship."

"I'm not the best, Jim.  You got somebody there with you?"

"My new first officer," said Kirk.

"Oh, for...maybe I'll sign on just to teach you some god damned manners.  Commander...?"

"Are you speaking to me, Doctor?" Thelin asked.

"Yeah.  Next time your captain pulls a stunt like this, just whack him with the nearest--"

"Bones, if you're going to incite a mutiny--"

"--data padd or tricorder."

"--you can at least have the decency to do it as a member of my crew!"

"Jim?"

"Yes, Bones?"

"Call me when you're not acting like somebody who was brought up in a barn."

"Bones, you know I can't help that.  You'll...you'll think about it?"

"I'll think about it, Jim.  You'll be all right?"

"Yes.  I have to be, don't I?"

"Don't worry about the time difference.  You need to talk to me, you call me."

"I'll remember that, Bones," said Kirk.  "Thanks for calling."

"Any time, Jim."

Kirk switched off the intercom and turned to Thelin.  "That was our new CMO."

"You sound certain," said Thelin.

"I'll just have to turn on the charm," said Kirk.

"Nepotism and manipulation," said Thelin.  "Starfleet assignments are more interesting than I thought."

Kirk gave him a hard look.  "Favoritism has nothing to do with it," he said.  "Dr. McCoy is the best medical officer in Starfleet.  He's just too modest for his own good."

"Favoritism works both ways," said Thelin.  "We wouldn't be able to get McCoy if he didn't prefer you to other captains."

Kirk relaxed.  "That's not saying much.  Sometimes I don't have any idea how Bones ended up in Starfleet."

"Typical of Starfleet Medical," said Thelin.

"Nothing about Bones is typical," said Kirk.  "But that's not why you came here."

"No," said Thelin.  "I was surprised by your choice.  There are other officers--"

"Not with your service record," said Kirk.

"Mr. Scott--"

"Mr. Scott's natural habitat is the engine room," said Kirk.

"Mitchell was your friend," said Thelin.

"And you're not?" Kirk asked.

"Not as I understand the term, no," said Thelin.

"Well, I still think you could be," said Kirk.  "But...if it doesn't work out, it's not exactly a requirement."

(The chessboard was already set up.  Spock would have much preferred to return when the captain had finished his conversation.  Spock did not know who Kirk was speaking to through the intercom, but it was obviously a private conversation.

"Thank you, Bones," said Kirk.  "But as long as this is my ship, it is my fault."

"Damn it, Jim, you can't--"

"Bones, you ever think about a starship assignment?" Kirk asked.  "My CMO's looking to retire.  And if you don't want the job, I'm just not going to replace him."

"Have you lost your mind?"

"Or I'll never let him leave," said Kirk.  "I'll chain him to his desk."

"This is blackmail."

"Yes," said Kirk.  "But, Bones, I..."  His eyes darted towards Spock and lingered there for a moment.  He turned back to the intercom and continued, "Bones, I need you."

"Jim..."  "Bones" sighed.  "Go ahead and start doing the paperwork on your end.  How long before I've got to completely rearrange my life?"

"A few months," said Kirk.  "If that's--"

"It's just fine, Jim."  His tone had changed almost completely.  Spock had grown accustomed to the excessive emotional range of humans, but the one Kirk was speaking to had quickly become irritated and then just as quickly taken on this softer tone.  "Lord knows you could use somebody to look after you."

"I should go," said Kirk.  "My new first officer's here, and--"

"Oh, for...somebody's got to teach you some god damned manners.  Commander...?"

Spock realized "Bones" was speaking to him.  "Commander Spock, Doctor."

"Commander Spock, next time your captain pulls a stunt like this, just whack him with the nearest--"

"Bones, if you're going to incite a mutiny, you can--"

"--data padd or tricorder."

"--at least wait until you're actually a member of this crew!"

"I would never strike the captain, Doctor," said Spock.

"You made a good choice, Jim.  Give me a call later.  Don't worry about the time difference."

"All right, Bones," said Kirk.  "Thank you."

"Any time, Jim."

Kirk switched off the intercom and turned to Spock.  "That was Bones."

"So I gathered," said Spock.  As far as he knew, that was not an actual human name or at least not a name a human was likely to have.

As they played, Spock did not question Kirk's decision to make Spock his new first officer--it did not even occur to him to question an order of his commanding officer that neither violated regulations nor potentially caused harm.  He had been somewhat surprised, but it was...gratifying that Kirk had so much trust in him and his abilities.

Since he did not need to give any further thought to his new status, Spock considered the conversation he had heard between Kirk and Dr. Piper's possible replacement.

"You are well, Captain?" Spock asked.

"As far as I know," said Kirk.  He looked at the pieces Spock had taken from him.  "And despite my current performance, yes, I'd say so."

"You told...the medical officer that you required him in some capacity," said Spock.

"Yes," said Kirk.  "The captain's chair is a very lonely place, Mr. Spock.  Made even lonelier by the fact that nobody ever wants to tell you when you're wrong."  He looked across the chessboard and smiled softly at Spock.  "Except you, Spock.  And...well, Bones has his own approach to Starfleet hierarchy.  I've always wondered how exactly he ended up in a military organization."

"Starfleet's scientific and diplomatic goals are at least as important as defense," said Spock.

For some reason, this made Kirk beam at him.  "I think you're going to like Bones," he said.)

***

"...just awful," McCoy was saying as Thelin joined them.

"McCoy is complaining about the food again?" Thelin asked.

"We've...we've just heard what happened to Chris Pike," said Kirk.  "Uhura caught something in a transmission and..."

Apparently there'd been an inspection tour of a cadet vessel.  A baffle plate ruptured.  Prolonged exposure to delta rays.

"I met him when he was promoted," said Kirk.  "But you served with him."

"Yes," said Thelin.  "For four or five years."  They gave him those obnoxious pitying looks.  "Don't make those ridiculous faces.  He knew the risks."

McCoy glared at him.  "We all know the risks," said Kirk.  "That doesn't mean it's not a damn shame what happened."

Thelin shrugged and started to eat his lunch.  He already knew there was no point in discussing it.  If Kirk and McCoy wanted to agonize over a being who wasn't family, that was their problem.

***

Something had happened.  Thelin didn't know what--an Andorian couldn't accompany the captain to 20th century Earth--but something had gone wrong.

Kirk and McCoy did not look at each other.  They did not speak to each other, and there was a visible distance between them.

Thelin wasn't a strong telepath.  His telepathy had developed late; none of his parents had expected it to develop at all.  That he could sense the fury and grief emanating from Kirk and McCoy horrified him.  Thelin had no idea humans could feel so strongly.

"Let's get the hell out of here," said Kirk.

(Spock quickly determined that the rift between Kirk and McCoy was intolerable.  Obviously he was only concerned with the efficiency of the .  Which would clearly be hindered if the current conditions continued.

Jim brooded.  The incident caused him great pain, and Spock did not know what could be done.  Vulcans did not brood; grief was either eradicated or shared so that it could reach a manageable level.  Spock would have been honored and perhaps even gratified to perform this service for Jim, but he could not do so unasked, and he worried that it might not be possible with a human mind.

McCoy would know what to do, but he was furious.

Jim only said, "I'm fine," and changed the subject.  He was able to successfully avoid McCoy because McCoy was avoiding him.  McCoy spoke to Spock only long enough to determine that he was neither sick nor injured.

After four days of this, Spock decided that intervention would be necessary.

"I am in perfect health," Spock said and blocked McCoy's path.  "The captain--"

"The captain knows where sickbay is," McCoy said stiffly.

Spock moved, again stepping in front of McCoy.  As a Vulcan, he did not take an inappropriate amount of satisfaction in the fact that he had learned this particular tactic from McCoy.  "I require your assistance."  McCoy attempted to turn, but Spock was faster.  "Doctor, I understand your objections."

"Then you should understand that there's no point in--"

"I could find no other alternative," said Spock.

"No other alternative?"  McCoy glared at him.  Spock found this encouraging--if he could cause McCoy to lose his temper, Spock would be able to engage him in conversation.  "No alternative to letting a woman die in the street?  I wouldn't let a dog die like that, let alone a--"

"Doctor, I know you are incapable of understanding what humans call 'the big picture,'" said Spock.  "So I will not waste your time or mine reminding you of what was at stake.  But whatever you may think of Vulcan philosophy--"

"Vulcan philosophy has nothing to do with it," McCoy snapped.  "Especially since you seem to have forgotten your own damn rules: do not kill."

"As far as possible, do not kill," Spock corrected him.  "And the needs of the many--"

"That's all well and good, except you seem to think that's an excuse for letting some people get hurt or worse instead of trying to help as many as possible."

"You did not wish to debate philosophy," said Spock.  "Doctor, you have frequently said that I am cold, lacking compassion.  My behavior cannot be particularly surprising or offensive to you."

"And you, Mr. Spock, frequently say that I'm overly emotional and practically incapable of logical thought," said McCoy.  "So I don't think my inability to forgive should be all that shocking."

"No," Spock admitted.  "Your response is exactly what I would have anticipated."

"Good.  Then we're done here."

Spock grabbed his arm to prevent him from leaving.  "The captain told me he loved her."

"What?"

"He will not speak to me for the same reasons that you will not speak to him," said Spock.  "He...broods, as you once called it.  If he will not speak to us, he will speak to no one."  His grip tightened.  "He is suffering, Doctor."

"And just what do you expect me to do about it?" McCoy asked.

"If I knew, I would have already attempted it," said Spock.

McCoy did nothing but look at him for fifty-three seconds.  "How could you let this happen?"

Spock let go of his arm.  There was little danger that McCoy would attempt to avoid further discussion.

"You're sure he meant it?" McCoy asked.  "You know how he gets sometimes."

"He believes it," said Spock.

Although he would never admit it, Spock found it a tremendous relief when McCoy simply asked, "You have bridge duty?" and said "I'll come up there with you."

Jim looked startled and then slightly wary.  "Hey," said McCoy.

"Hey."  Jim relaxed and smiled at them.  "You lost, Bones?"

"Don't think so."  McCoy leaned against the captain's chair.  "Anything exciting going on?"

This was followed by the usual inane conversation.  "You want to have a drink later?" McCoy asked.

"Your place or mine?"

Spock did not understand how this human ritual worked, but he was willing to accept that it did.)

Human vocabulary was often inadequate, especially for Andorians.  Thelin had, however, found several useful terms and phrases.  At the moment, he could think of no better assessment of the situation between Kirk and McCoy than that it was "bullshit."  If it continued much longer, it would escalate to "fucking bullshit."  And when he could no longer "put up with this bullshit," he did not have to give some lengthy explanation of Kirk and McCoy's behavior and how obnoxious and stupid it was; he could simply tell them, "I'm sick of this bullshit" and specify if necessary.

And then one day McCoy simply appeared on the bridge and stood beside the captain's chair as if Thelin had not had to endure two weeks of passive aggressive bullshit.

"Hey, Jim."

Kirk smiled.  "Hey, Bones.  You lost?"

McCoy leaned against the chair--as if there had not been two weeks of silence and excessive, anger-laced formality.  "You mean this isn't sickbay?"

"Well, if it is, I'd like to know why you think you can get away with slacking off all shift."

"And you think you can get away with working straight through?  I've climbed out of my mountain of paperwork; looks like nothing's going on up here."

"Lunch?" Kirk stood up.  "You can have whatever you want--as long as it's reconstituted food-like substance."

And as far as Thelin could tell, that was it.  Whatever the argument was, it was resolved by McCoy simply showing up and acting as though none of it had ever happened.

Human behavior made absolutely no sense.

***

Half of Thelin's parents were at the same Starbase the Enterprise had stopped at.  Leave had been easily arranged--Kirk had practically forced it on him when he'd realized who the two older Andorians were.

His shreya stood on her toes to brush antennae with Thelin's charan.  "I'll be back soon," she said.  "There was something you wanted to talk to Thelin about, wasn't there?"

It was a trap.  His charan immediately asked if he'd been looking for a quad.

"I've been busy," said Thelin.  "There aren't any other Andorians on board."

"You didn't join before you left," said his charan.

"I know, Charan," said Thelin.  "You told me.  You told me during the application process, while I packed, on the way to the shuttle--"

"You're getting older," said his charan.

"Yes, I know," said Thelin.  He hadn't wanted to have this conversation while he completed his Academy applications, while he packed, or on the way to the shuttle.  He still didn't want to have it now.  "Every Andorian has a duty."

"At least try," said his charan.  "I always wanted children.  I was so happy when I knew we'd made you and kept you."

"Charan--"

"You were too young to know, but I'd hoped for more," said his charan.  "Don't wait, Thelin.  Even an assigned quad--"

"Will I be approved, Charan?" Thelin asked.

His charan grimaced.  "I don't know.  You may have to ask the right assignment council."  Thelin could see the slight quiver in his charan's antennae.  "The day you were born was the best day of my life.  I did not care about my duty to our race--I only cared that you had ten fingers and two antennae."

Thelin could feel himself blushing.  He'd probably be bright purple if this conversation went on much longer.  "Charan--"

"If you want a child, we must find you a quad," said his charan.  "If I did not have you, thei, I would say I had waited too long."

"I don't know what I want, Charan," said Thelin.

"Then you can give a year to your people," said his charan.

"Charan, I have agreed to serve for another--"

"Starfleet always gives deferrals for biological necessity," said his charan.  "Start your request for a quad.  When they have one, tell your commanding officer that you must go, and it is something we don't discuss with humans."

Thelin didn't know if he wanted to give a year to his people--especially if it was already too late to do any good--and of course he could never explain the real reason to Starfleet.  He wasn't sure what the reaction would be if Kirk learned that Thelin would spend an Andorian year performing shelthreth, but it wasn't a reaction Thelin wanted to deal with.  And telling Kirk would be the same as telling McCoy.

But he could not admit to his charan--which would essentially be admitting to his zhavey--that he wasn't sure that he wanted to give up a year of his life and career for their people.  He certainly could not stand here and admit that to his charan, who clearly needed him to be a better thei and better thaan than he actually was.

"I will make the request, Charan," he said.  "But when they see that I am a quarter Aenar..."

"That doesn't matter," said his charan, who had no idea what it was like to be even slightly Aenar.  "Even the worst of the councils must realize the danger we're in.  Thelin."

"Yes, Charan?"

"There aren't beings here that..."

Thelin purpled.  "No, Charan," he said.  "Of course not.  I don't even know what they...do."

***

He'd learned it was possible to simply wander into sickbay and, if one was not immediately chased out, air one's grievances with little prelude.

"I am failing as an Andorian," said Thelin.

"Color's a bit off, but otherwise I'd say you'd doing a pretty good job of it," said McCoy.  "So what exactly brought this on?"

"I have been speaking with...other Andorians," said Thelin.

"And you're really going to let them get to you?" McCoy asked.

"Yes, I am," said Thelin.  "I am hurting my people."

"How?  The work we do out here--"

"I wasn't aware Horta medicine would have any benefit to your planet," said Thelin.

"Those miners can do their jobs without being hurt or hurting anyone else," said McCoy.  "Since apparently you don't think the survival of an entire species is beneficial enough."

Thelin shrugged.  "I don't think it would make a difference to either of our planets."

"And you don't see any benefit to negotiations with the Gorn?  Or stopping those neural parasites?"

"I have contributed nothing to my species," said Thelin.  "I may have missed my chance."

"Damn it, Thelin, you're a scientist!  You've contributed--"

"I have no children," said Thelin.

"If that's what you want, then make time for it," said McCoy.  "But nobody's value is determined by whether or not--"

"That's such a human way of thinking," said Thelin.  "You people don't even care about your young."

"That's not true."

"You perform mating rituals just for enjoyment."

"So?  You going to tell me no Andorian ever just wanted to?"

Since no Andorian would ever answer such a question and since no Starfleet officer was allowed to strike another officer, Thelin left.

He went to the botany lab.  There was little to do except think over the conversation and realize that he might have responded too harshly.  And, since his outburst had driven him away, he had accomplished nothing.

Thelin forced himself to return to sickbay.  "Doctor..."

McCoy looked up from his desk.  "Everything all right?" he asked as if Thelin had not insulted him and stormed out of sickbay.

"I have a question," said Thelin.  "You can tell...there are tests that can..."  He could feel his face turning purple.  "If I am still capable of...serving Andor?"

"Now there's one I haven't heard before," McCoy muttered.  "There are tests.  I just don't know if there's any for Andorians.  And you'd know better than I would what's considered normal."  He bit his lip.  "I also don't know if a test'll really do you any good."

"I'm not going to waste my time if...nothing will come of it," said Thelin.

"If your results don't come out the way you want them to, is there anything you can do to fix it?" McCoy asked.  "No, of course not.  If there were, you all wouldn't be in this mess."  He looked back at the desk.  "You sure you'd want to go even if it weren't a waste of your time?"

"I don't know," said Thelin.  "We are not having enough children, McCoy.  But I still don't think I want to perform shelthreth with strangers."

"We could get you drunk first," said McCoy.  "Works pretty well for a lot of humans."

"Do you have any idea how serious this is?" Thelin snapped.  "Will anyone care if you never make any new humans?"

McCoy looked at him with that infuriating human calm.  "Already have," he said.  "Got a daughter who's thinking about going to the Academy."

Thelin realized he really had no idea how humans produced and raised their offspring.

"It did take a few tries if you're curious," said McCoy.

"Humans 'try' constantly as far as I can tell," said Thelin.  "Like animals."

"Nah, most animals are only up for it some of the time."

"And this is a point of pride to you people."

McCoy shrugged.  "Every species needs something they're good at," he said.  "Look, I don't know how you do things.  If you're like us and you'd like to pretend you can be monogamous or if you all just split up afterwards."

"It depends on the quad," said Thelin.  "My parents were not assigned, and they are still joined."  He avoided McCoy's gaze.  "I have been speaking to my charan.  I think my shreya brought him here just to remind me that I have no quad and no children."

"Do you want those things?"

Thelin looked at him, startled by the human's sudden sincerity.  "I told you, I don't know," said Thelin.  "I thought that I would know when I met part of my quad or I would not meet them at all, but...I came here."  His antennae flattened.  "It was easier than...I'm not fully Andorian."

McCoy raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask any questions.  "I think you need to figure out how you'd feel knowing there's a kid out there you're never going to see," he said.  "And how that kid's going to feel about you.  You said assigned?"

"Yes," said Thelin.  "In a few more years I think we're going to lose the luxury of waiting.  We will not survive if everyone is like me," he said quickly.

"So you'd all be paired up and expected to...serve Andor?" McCoy asked.

"What else can we do?" Thelin asked.

"I don't know," said McCoy.  "You said your parents weren't assigned?"

"No," said Thelin.  "I was a wanted child."

"Then I think you should really ask yourself what it'd be like to know that...that one of your daddies just felt obligated to save the planet," said McCoy.  "I don't think it'd be a good feeling to have."

***

(Spock would have liked to convince himself that it had been a shameful dream--that he had not succumbed to pon farr and humiliated himself.  But he could not convince himself of this because his logic had returned to him.

He could no longer meet McCoy's gaze.  He did not like to think of what he might have been doing or saying in the past few hours while he looked directly into Jim or McCoy's eyes.  "Doctor, I--"

McCoy rubbed Spock's arm.  "Go to sleep, Spock.  I'm sure it'll all make sense in the morning."  McCoy squeezed his arm, then stood up and stretched.  "Or you might feel better after you take a shower."

If Spock were still irrational he might have been able to understand the concept of "feeling better"--but under such circumstances he would have only continued to humiliate himself.

"Now where the hell are my pants?"

Spock looked at Jim, shirtless and curled awkwardly in one of Spock's chairs.  Somehow the human had managed to fall asleep in such an improbable position.  Spock had not realized it would be possible to feel greater shame until he saw the state he had caused Jim to be in.

"Hey."  McCoy had apparently located and was pulling on his pants.  "Go shower.  I'll make sure Jim finds his way home."

"I believe the captain is familiar with the layout of the ship," said Spock.  "What...is the protocol?"

"We-ell...unless you really want to, I'd prefer it if we didn't bother with the whole avoid eye contact, fidget, and scurry out of the room approach," said McCoy.  He removed a blue uniform shirt from one of the ceremonial weapons on the wall and inspected the sleeves.  "And we've got to keep quiet about it anyways, so I guess that just leaves pretending it never happened or..."  He shrugged and pulled the shirt over his head as he walked towards the small mirror.  "I'm sure we'll think of something.  What you need is a long hot shower, a good night's sleep, and probably eight days' worth of skipped meals."  He seemed to be using his fingers as a crude comb.  "You want to talk to Jim?"

"I do not know what I would say."

McCoy sighed and gave him what was called a "dirty look."  "Then get in the damn shower so I can get him out of here."

Spock showered.  When he returned, Jim and McCoy were gone, and the bed had been made.)

***

Thelin completed his application for a quad assignment because it would make his zhavey and his charan happy, and his thavan would approve.  It was easily done--it was the council's responsibilty to look into his genetic background--and it was all the easier because Thelin did not think anything would happen.  He was one quarter Aenar, and his fertile period was coming to an end.  If he was assigned at all, it would only be to make sure the last gasp of his reproductive ability wasn't wasted.

He gave some thought to McCoy's offer, but didn't think it would be worth it.  McCoy was not Andorian, and he was a full time medical officer.  Even if he had some hope of finding a solution--and Thelin refused to believe that a human surgeon could discover what Andorian scientists could not--he would have incredibly limited time to develop it.

***

(After several days of typical behavior and no mention of the incident, Spock assumed they were simply going to behave as though it had not happened.  This was the Vulcan way of approaching...unfortunate behavior patterns.  As it was the Vulcan way, he should have been suspicious.

Jim smiled strangely at him from the other side of the table.  This was unusual as Spock did not think he had anything on his plate that the captain would attempt to steal.  "It did happen," said Jim.  "And personally I wouldn't mind if it happened again."

Spock concentrated on keeping his expression neutral.  I have just been propositioned in the officers' mess hall he thought.  He could easily call to mind the regulations that this would violate, but it was slightly more difficult to completely repress all signs of response.

"What about you, Bones?"

"You mean I've actually got a choice?" McCoy asked.  "You're not just going to turn up, and tell me--"

Jim grinned.  "Oh, is that how it works?  Because I was under the impression that you were the one--"

"I could probably be talked into it," said McCoy.

"Certain...circumstances will not occur for some time," said Spock.

"I think I could do without certain circumstances," said Jim.  He gave Spock that unsettling smile again.  "And they're not necessary, are they?"

For a moment, Spock did not know if he would be able to speak.  McCoy seemed to be watching him with great interest.  Spock suspected the good doctor already knew the correct answer--or at least the biologically accurate one--and his interest was based entirely on a desire to know how Spock would reply.  Spock could not be certain if this curiosity was only for the captain's benefit or not.

"No, it is not necessary," said Spock.

"Just something to keep in mind then," Jim said.  "Distract Bones for me, would you?  I've decided I want a piece of--"

"Worked up an appetite from sitting around all day?" McCoy asked.  "You know whatever it is, it's going to come out tasting like cardboard."

Jim sighed.  "You're going to take away my dessert and my hope?"

McCoy looked over his shoulder--no other officers had entered while they had been eating--then leaned closer to Jim and said in a low voice, "Maybe if you quit whining, I'll give you a little sugar later."

Jim snorted.  "You use that line a lot?"

"Why?  Did it work?"

They laughed as Jim stood up.  "No."

"Can I at least rearrange the dictionary for you?"

"Alphabet, Bones.  It's rearrange the alphabet.  Spock, you want anything?"

"No, thank you, Captain," said Spock.  As usual, McCoy did not protest further as Jim went to the food dispenser.  "Rearrange the dictionary?"

"No, he's right," said McCoy.  "It is alphabet."

"For what purpose?"

McCoy smiled and--very obviously--performed a quick visual examination.  "Well, now, if I could rearrange the alphabet, I'd put U and I together."

Spock could not be entirely certain, but he thought there was a distinct possibility that he had no been propositioned twice in the officers' mess.

McCoy leaned back in his chair, draping one arm over the back.  He looked over his shoulder.  "Jim's not going to bring it up again."

"That does not fit the captain's usual behavior pattern," said Spock.

"You don't fit the captain's usual behavior pattern," said McCoy.  "You don't strike me as the type who plays hard to get."

"Vulcans do not play."

McCoy nodded.  "That's what I figured."  He glanced back at Spock.  "He's not going to chase after you if he thinks it's just going to annoy you."

"That is the captain," said Spock.  "You, however, seem to take great pleasure in annoying me."

"Man needs his hobbies.  Look, I'm not going to start mooning over you or anything."

"Mooning," said Spock.  "The crude physical insult by the sudden display of one's--"

"No, I mean I'm not going to chase after you either."

"I find this a most illogical analogy," said Spock.

"Figured you would," said McCoy.  "You don't want to know why I'm not going to chase you?"

Spock raised both eyebrows in slight annoyance.  "I do not, but I assume you will not take that into consideration."

"You've never really been one for nuance," said McCoy.  "So I'd guess that, if you were interested, you'd just show up at my door some night.  Seems like the direct, logical approach."  McCoy slowly smiled.

"What's the direct, logical approach?" Jim asked.  He sat down and set a plate with some type of Earth dessert halfway between himself and McCoy.

"And ruin the surprise?" McCoy asked.

Jim looked at them both.  "I feel like I should be worried," he said.

Spock watched the humans assess and share what was apparently called "red velvet cake"  As usual, the distribution of cake was uneven.

He was not entirely sure what to do with the information he had just been given, but when he was offered a "taste" of cake, and Jim's fork, he did not hesitate to accept.)

***

Thelin looked at McCoy holding the infant Capellan and making ludicrous sounds at it.  "Exactly how long was he stationed here?"

Kirk snorted.  "That's how rumors get started, Mr. Thelin."

"Is this normal behavior?" Thelin asked.

"I'd say it's perfectly normal for Bones," said Kirk.

Thelin found himself even more confused by human reproductive habits.  "Is that yours?"

"Not as far as I know," said McCoy, still holding the child against him.  "We got into a bit of pronoun trouble.  Can't say I'd mind though--he's already a handsome little devil.  Yes, you are!"

"You humans finally show some expression, and it's this," said Thelin.

"We're an interesting bunch," said Kirk.

"Sure you don't want to hold him?" McCoy asked.

Thelin grimaced.  "Why would I want to?" he asked.

"Just so you know, Bones, you're probably not going to be allowed to keep him," said Kirk.

Thelin wondered if it meant anything that he could look at the newborn and feel no desire to hold it or talk to it as if he'd suffered brain damage.  As far as he could tell, the infant looked no different from a human.  He didn't think things would be any different if the child had been Andorian.  Thelin suspected that McCoy would still be bizarrely content to smile at it and coo at it and that he would still have no interest in it.

He thought of his own thavan.  Thavan was not as affectionate as Charan, but he had never displayed the disinterest that Thelin now felt.

So far there had been no word about a quad assignment for him.  That might be for the best.

"Let's go see how Mommy's doing," McCoy said to the infant, as if it had any choice in where it was carried.

"Do you have children, Captain?" Thelin asked.

Kirk seemed to hesitate.  "Yes," he said.  "I've...got a son.  Almost six."  He looked towards the cave.  "His mother and I...she thought that my career was more important to me than anything else.  I suppose she was right."

Thelin waited.  Something--instinct or perhaps even some faint telepathic sensation--told him that Kirk would continue if he wasn't interrupted.

"She's asked that I not be involved," said Kirk.  "I think she would have preferred if I'd never found out at all."

"That's unusual for your species," said Thelin.

"Yes," said Kirk.  He smiled, but he did not appear to be happy.  "Well, maybe it's not all that unusual, but..."

"You were not joined?" Thelin asked.

"I'm joined to my ship and her crew," said Kirk.

"You only say that because you can't establish a quad," said Thelin.

"A quad?" Kirk laughed.  "Now that could be interesting...I don't think I've ever managed more than a triad.  But I suppose that's a story for after we've handled this Capellan situation."

***

(As reluctant as Spock was to admit it, McCoy had been correct about Jim's behavior: the captain did not make any additional overtures, or at least not any that Spock was aware of.

Spock decided he would take the doctor's advice.  This decision was not based on McCoy's accurate assessment of Jim's behavior, but on the fact that Spock would find some satisfaction in berating the doctor if his theory proved incorrect.

The door slid open.  Spock stepped in.  Jim looked up and smiled at him.  "Spock!  I wasn't expecting you," said Jim.  "Everything all right?"

"Yes, Captain," said Spock.  The direct, logical approach seemed to be failing him.  When he looked at Jim, Spock knew what he wanted, but he did not know how to say it.

Jim watched him thoughtfully for a moment, then stood up and slowly walked towards him.  "Let me know if I get out of line," he said softly as he took Spock's hands in his own.  He waited for a moment, still seeming to watch Spock, before leaning in to kiss him on the lips.  "Is this what you wanted to see me about?" Jim asked in what was almost a whisper.

Spock managed to nod.

Jim kissed him again.  "Well, let's see what happens.")

***

"Can I join you?"

Thelin looked up.  An attractive chan, or at least attractive enough considering the last time Thelin had seen one he wasn't related to.  And certainly more attractive since he hadn't been expecting to see any on the way to Vulcan.  "If you want."

"Ker."

"Thelin."

"What's it like to be in Starfleet?" Ker asked.

"Food's worse than the Imperial Guard," said Thelin.

"Not possible," said Ker.

"Bad food designed for humans," said Thelin.  "But you get more freedom."

"And the pink-skins?"

"Humans are humans," said Thelin.

They talked--Ker was an architect.

"Anything I've seen?" Thelin asked.

Ker purpled.  "I'm just getting started," he said.

"You're too modest," said Thelin.  He leaned closer--not close enough for their antennae to touch, but close enough to let the chan know it was a possibility.  "You should gloat.  It's much more interesting."

"I'm joined," said Ker.  "Actually, that's why I wanted to meet you."

Their th'se was sterile.  Thelin had been suggested as an unjoined thaan.

"We won't take up much of your time," said Ker.  "Sh--my zh'yi would prefer not to...she's very fond of our th'se."

"I understand," said Thelin.  Apparently the council had placed him on some list of available thaans who were likely to always be available and thus not too particular about their assigned quads.  "It is...something we have to deal with."  He willed his antennae to remain raised as if this didn't bother him at all.  "I have a request."

Ker ducked his head and tilted his antennae up.  "Of course."

"I do not want to know if it succeeds or fails," said Thelin.

"Done."

"And...you're planning to remain joined?"

"Of course," said Ker.  "We would've already split if we weren't."

"The child must not know," said Thelin.

"Lie to a child?" asked Ker.

"Family is family," said Thelin.  "If you're staying joined anyway, the child's thavan shouldn't be a stranger.  If there is a child, I am not his thavan; your th'se is."

Ker smiled.  "He will appreciate the gesture, but--"

Thelin shook his head.  "You have come to me because we all wish to serve Andor," he said.  "But you wouldn't come to me as a quad if you didn't really want your th'se to be a thavan.  Who knows you're here?"

"Several beings," said Ker.  "They just don't know why."

"Then it will be easy," said Thelin.  "Name your th'se as the thavan.  The child will never be angry.  The child will never feel the need to search for me, and then be disappointed when I'm no better or worse than the rest of his parents."

"We will discuss it, but...I think this will be acceptable," said Ker.

***

It was his first shelthreth.

His status as an outsider felt obvious.  Ker and Taras were joined.  They were part of a whole; Thelin was separate, touched and acknowledged only because they needed a thaan, and he was an adequate specimen.

He hesitated over Taras.  It was unknown how important a shen's climax was to conception, but it was generally considered necessary to one's relationship with that shen.  But Taras and Thelin had no relationship.  He would never call her his sh'za; he did not know if she or Ker would even want him to touch her.

He touched them as little as possible, tense and afraid that Ker or Taras might become passionately territorial.  He might be able to hold his own against one of them, but he could not take on even half a quad alone.

As a young thei Thelin had expected that his quad would be just like something from the stories.  As he'd grown older and dealt with the hostilities of his peers, he'd learned to accept that it would be difficult for him to find a quad that would accept him, but that eventually he would find his zh'yi, ch'te, and sh'za.  And then he had tried to accept that he might never be part of a quad.  Even when he had come to accept that he would never be joined, Thelin still had never thought that his first--and perhaps only--shelthreth would be so adversarial.

It was a relief that humans didn't understand Andorians.  Kirk and McCoy would suspect nothing, and they would not ask.  Thelin didn't think he could explain.

Physically he could almost say he was enjoying himself.  He'd have been useless to them if his body couldn't respond, but he no longer thought there was any chance that he could give his people a year of shelthreth with strangers.  Although maybe strangers would be better than Ker and Taras, who made it obvious that he was only a spare thaan.  By the end of it he despised them and worried that that must be obvious.

Apparently it was only obvious to him.  Taras scurried off to their zh'yi.  Ker clasped his hands.  Despite the fact that they had just performed the shelthreth, they were not close enough for even the lightest touch of antennae.

"Thank you," said Ker.  he sounded sincere, but that did not keep Thelin's skin from itching.

"It's nothing," said Thelin.

"You thaans are lucky," said Ker.  "I don't think I could be so detached."

Fortunately living and working with humans had taught Thelin how to lie.  Andorians claimed they were capable of being incredibly devious when necessary, but no species Thelin had encountered could lie like a human.

And maybe this was what it meant to be thaan-ish.  By the time he reached his own quarters, Thelin had managed to convince himself that this was how his species had evolved and that thaans had no need for unnecessary attachments.

He was glad he had not learned the rest of the story of Kirk's son.

Part Two