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SIM:Series: Inheritance (view source)

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A series of background sims relating to [[T'Reshik]] and PNPC [[Taurek]].
A series of background sims relating to [[T'Reshik]] and PNPC [[Taurek]].


'''OOC Content warning:''' Contains discussion of subjects some may find distressing
'''''OOC Content warning:'' Contains discussion of subjects some may find distressing'''


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For a moment, he wondered whether T'Praal would say something else. "Please take care of her" flashed into his head, and the sudden irrationality surprised him. But perhaps these thoughts were to be expected. Either way, T'Praal simply ended the transmission, and whatever thoughts had existed in that brief pause beforehand sped quietly back into the silence like a passing star.
For a moment, he wondered whether T'Praal would say something else. "Please take care of her" flashed into his head, and the sudden irrationality surprised him. But perhaps these thoughts were to be expected. Either way, T'Praal simply ended the transmission, and whatever thoughts had existed in that brief pause beforehand sped quietly back into the silence like a passing star.
----
''PNPC Ensign Taurek: The Various Translations of Love (part 1)''
(( USS Avalgariad, 2362 ))
He kept count in his head of how long it had been since T'Reshik was born. It was entirely irrational, but he could not help thinking of his life as something that had been severed into two halves, 'before' and 'after'. And when the pon farr hit, it was almost eleven years to the day.
He had known it might be difficult. Trauma often resurfaced at times of emotional upheaval, and this was the most emotional he'd been since he was a child. Still. Academic knowledge was one thing; experience was another entirely. He had woken up in a cold sweat in his cabin and gone straight to his console before he could think, marking the transmission as urgent. The call had been answered almost straight away.
Varek: Taurek. Are you well?
(( Da-leb, Vulcan, 2350))
It was his father, too, who had answered that call twelve years ago, from a civilian comm station on the outskirts of Da-leb city. Taurek had been missing for almost twelve hours. Again, there had been no anger in his father's expression, only the hint of concern.
Taurek: I am uninjured.
Varek: We have been attempting to locate you. :: Pause :: Shivok is dead. He stopped his own heart. We... are told he had sustained defensive injuries.
The knowledge hit him like a punch to the stomach, and moisture stung at his eyes. Suddenly it was difficult, far too difficult, to speak without his voice shaking.
Taurek: I am so sorry-
Varek: Nobody holds you to blame, my son. Your mother is attempting to locate you now. Can you meet her at the western temple? Do we need to arrange transport for you?
Shivok had once told him that many Vulcan scholars did not conceive of love as an emotion in its own right. Infatuation, yes, desire, yes, but the state of experiencing a close attachment to another living being was not, in itself, something that required suppression. The drive to protect one's offspring was considered biological and, usually, immutable; it was only logical to protect those with whose lives were closely intertwined with your own.
This interpretation was why the English "I love you" became "I cherish thee" in Vulcan, with all its nuances and omissions. To love as the emotional races did was to add a passive component to the experience, where love could be felt without being enacted, and any outward action was driven primarily by one's inner feelings.
For their people, however, love was a state of being that existed in its expression, like a language with no written form. Or so it was claimed. Before it became too painful to think of those early lessons with his tutor, Taurek had occasionally entertained the idea that the "love is an action" explanation was nothing more than an excuse.
Now, barely able to hold himself together as his father spoke to him from the tiny viewscreen, he suddenly recalled the day he had returned from the local clinic at the age of thirteen, after a difficult conversation in which he had not been able to divine his parents' reactions from their stony and impassive faces.
Pausing at the doors to their home, he realised that an amendment had been made to the small panel which traditionally held the names of the inhabitants, a leftover from the old customs of their clan. Where once had read "T'Rel", in his own uncertain hand, was now replaced by "Taurek" in his mother's.
(( USS Avalgariad, 2362 ))
His father must have been asleep, he realized. In Eastern Da-leb time, it was somewhere in the interim between midnight and dawn. And yet here he was, as if nothing was strange about receiving a call from his son in the middle of the night.
Taurek: My Time is at hand.
Varek: ::pause:: Understood. Have you made arrangements? Do you need us there?
Taurek: I have. And I do not. I simply... wished for contact. I apologise for the illogic of my decision.
Varek: It is normal for your logic to fail you at this time. We are here if you need us, Taurek.
And he began, finally, to understand why.




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''PNPC T'Mika: The Absence of her Voice (part 3)''
(( Vulcan, 2350 ))
T'Mika held her last breath in until the aria backing track was finished, eyes on her singing teacher's face. Usually human expressions were easy to interpret, once you were familiar with them, but this time she couldn't tell what the woman was thinking, and that challenged her control a little. At ten years old, most Vulcans had an acceptable handle on their emotions, but the inevitable mild irritations still filtered their way through, sometimes.
Chen Lian paused, as if framing her response carefully in the silence after the music ended.
Lian: Technically, it's... Fine. Highly competent, I mean. But look, it's not a reflection on your performance, I just think ''Un Bel Di'' doesn't suit a singer of your age.
T'Mika: The range has been modified to account for my laryngeal immaturity.
Lian: That's not what I mean. Look, you're aware of the context of this piece, right?
T'Mika: ::instantly:: Cio Cio-san is emotionally compromised because her husband is a culturally ignorant scumbag who abandoned her.
Lian: ::rubbing her forehead:: Okay, I... definitely should not have used that word around you. Look, you're not wrong, exactly, but there's a reason this is usually only performed by singers in their twenties or older. There's a kind of emotional depth to it, a kind of maturity that just isn't -
She paused, looked at her timepiece.
Lian: Shouldn't your brother be here by now?
T'Mika followed her gaze, eyebrows furrowing. Ms Chen was correct, and it was unusual for any Vulcan to not be punctual, let alone Taurek.
T'Mika: We have received no messages. Logical deduction holds that he must have been unavoidably delayed.
Lian: ::checking a nearby console:: You're right, he... hasn't been in touch. I'll wait with you, he probably won't be long.
T'Mika: There is no need. I can wait alone.
Lian: It's pretty late, T'Mika-
T'Mika: It is fine. There are still students present in the building.
Lian: ::rubbing her forehead again:: I can't get used to the hours you Vulcans keep. No offence. Look, I have some admin to do anyway, so why don't you do some practice on that Bajoran clarinet thing-
T'Mika: Tivara.
Lian: -Tivara, right, and I'll try to dig up that Klingon aria we were talking about, and you can come back to the Puccini when you're a little older, okay?
Though T'Mika knew she could get away with a little more disagreement here than with her Vulcan teachers, she chose not to press the point.
But Taurek didn't arrive, and Lian stayed with her well into the night, even after her parents had been contacted and the missing person's report had been filed, even though T'Mika insisted it was fine, and all the while her hands moved anxiously over the Tivara's keys though for several hours now she had not played a single note.
(( Timeskip ))
She didn't see Taurek immediately after he was found. Instead he went straight to his room, and stayed there, and what started as a temporary reluctance to face company soon turned into habit. Aside from family meals and a brief excursion to his tutor's funeral early on, it was as if he no longer lived with them.
Sometimes T'Mika would hear him practicing on the cello, an Earth string instrument he had taken up before she was born, but after a few bars, the music would stop and there would be silence again.
She kept playing, kept singing, kept studying. What else could she do? She had not abandoned her decision to pursue a musical career, though the prospect no longer held the appeal it once did.
After a few months, he came to her room to inform her that he would be moving temporarily to a nearby monastery, in order to meditate in seclusion, he said. T'Mika frowned without thinking.
T'Mika: The Founding Planets Music Festival is in three months. Will you return in time to see me perform?
Taurek: Regrettably, I will not.
T'Mika: That is disagreeable.
Taurek: But unavoidable. I will return, T'Mika, just not so soon.
It wasn't negotiable. He left a few days later without saying goodbye.
(( Timeskip ))
Though he returned after half a Standard year, as promised, something about Taurek remained absent. When he left for Starfleet Academy, it was barely noticeable. She kept playing, kept singing, kept studying. He spoke to her over long-distance channels, and they kept each other apprised of their lives and swapped music recommendations, and that was all.
When T'Mika was fourteen, and it was Vulcan's turn to host the festival again, Ms Chen set the score for ''Un Bel Di Vedremo'' in front of her with caution in her eyes.
Lian: You think you can handle this?
She wasn't talking about vocal maturity this time, though T'Mika knew she was still well below the average age for the role.
T'Mika: I am sure.
She barely noticed the way her teacher's expression changed as she sang - in fact it seemed, briefly, as if nothing existed in the universe outside of her voice and the deep twist of emotion inside her ribcage, helplessness and anger and despair, terrifying in their sudden intensity. When the music finished she realized her cheeks were wet. Lian was staring at her.
Lian: ::quietly:: I think you've got it.
T'Mika wiped her eyes, a dignified gesture, perhaps an attempt to pretend it was all a part of the performance. She wasn't sure whether Lian was convinced.
Lian: You know, if you didn't have your heart set on conducting, you could really make a career out of this. Are you sure you don't want to continue voice lessons at the Conservatoire?
T'Mika: I am sure. ::The next sentence followed slightly unexpectedly.:: In fact I have elected to play the Tivara only this year. I have a piece already prepared for the festival. We can therefore terminate our lessons early, if that is acceptable to you.
Lian didn't seem surprised. T'Mika thought she might have looked sad, but it was hard to tell.
Lian: That's fine, T'Mika. It's been a pleasure teaching you. I have no doubt you'll do well.
T'Mika: You have been a more than adequate instructor. Live long and prosper, Ms Chen.
Lian: Peace and long life, T'Mika. Look after yourself.
T'Mika walked home alone in the fading evening with the closing bars of the aria still echoing in her head.
----
''PNPC Varek: The Various Translations of Love (part 2)''
(( Vulcan, 2350 ))
After Taurek terminated the call, Varek informed his wife of their son's whereabouts, then put out clean robes for him, and contacted the learning centre and his two older siblings and Taurek's grandparents and the parents of his classmates and then-
Then what? It seemed as if the world had changed immeasurably in the twelve hours since his son had been reported missing, and illogical though it was, he felt as if there should have been more he could do to put things right.
It was two hours before Taurek returned. Tired, composed, empty-eyed, wearing an over-robe several sizes too large for him that Varek did not recognize, or not at first. Then he did, and his body went cold all over. His son's gaze followed his. Taurek took a long, steadying breath, and shrugged the article off, slowly and deliberately, as if disentangling himself from the grip of a sleeping predator.
Taurek: Can you-
Varek: I will take care of it.
He considered returning it to the owner's family, then dropped it on the brazier in the back courtyard and watched it burn. T'Presh came out after a while, but didn't speak.
Varek: The forensic team provided an update on Shivok's autopsy while you were gone. ::He saw his wife's posture stiffen, and continued.:: They have confirmed that he stopped his own heart and are not treating the death as suspicious.
T'Presh inclined her head, eyes on the rising smoke. She was silent for a moment or two more.
T'Presh: Taurek intends to carry the child to term.
They watched each other's faces. Varek knew instinctively that his wife must be feeling it too - that sick, angry helplessness, and beneath it, the weight of the irreversible choice they had made - and yet they both remained composed, as if the knowledge of what they had done somehow bolstered their control.
Varek: ::slowly:: Under the circumstances, I am willing to concede that we followed the correct course of action.
T'Presh: Understood. ::She looked toward the house:: I do not believe it would serve Taurek's interests for him to know.
Varek: I believe you are correct.
T'Presh left in silence, and Varek soon after.
When he returned to clear out the ashes that evening, he saw Taurek's kneeling form silhouetted in the outdoor meditation area, shoulders shaking, face in hands. Varek drew away silently, and waited inside, so his son would not have to bear the pain of knowing he had seen.
----
''PNPC T'Presh: The Absence of her Voice (part 4)''
A sudden chime, and EXTERNAL COMMUNICATION replaced the V'Shar holding screen. T'Presh looked up from her work.
She wasn't expecting any incoming calls. In fact her work in cryptanalysis meant that her part of the complex was essentially a sealed environment at all times, the sensitive information she worked with contained and protected as thoroughly as the air inside a starship's hull. She would have to move to a designated room in a different building to accept the message properly - one which had been designed to look a little more convincing as the remote postgraduate study centre which comprised her cover story.
Her hand swiped across the screen. The face of the communications officer appeared.
Mivak: Your husband has contacted us with an urgent family matter.
T'Presh: Understood. I will be there in three point six minutes.
It gave her enough time to swipe out, lock down the office, step through the scanner, provide biometric verification, swipe out again, and repeat most of the process at the building adjacent, and it was only when she reached her destination with almost a full minute to spare that she realized she had been running.
Nobody else knew, not even her children, but Varek did, and he would never interrupt her work for anything spurious. As his face appeared on the screen she controlled her brief fear, and was calm again. He spoke immediately.
Varek: Taurek did not arrive to collect his sister from the music centre. His current whereabouts are unknown.
T'Presh: What was his last known location?
Varek: The lock on our door was engaged five point four one hours ago. The house is empty. I have notified the authorities and plan to begin a sweep of the area.
T'Presh: Where is T'Mika now?
Varek: With her singing teacher. Ms Chen has agreed to wait with her until we are able to collect her.
T'Presh: Acceptable. I will notify my superiors and return home.
Varek: I have a portable communications device. Contact me when you return.
The channel shut off. T'Presh stared at the screen for a moment or two more, then stood.
Mivak's desk in the communications hub had its own alcove, designed to prevent any glimpse of sensitive information from reaching passers-by. Vulcans were nothing if not thorough. He turned around in his chair and deactivated his screen when she approached.
Mivak: Speak.
T'Presh: My son is missing. According to standard missing persons procedure, the authorities are unlikely to request access to his personal communications until local hospitals and public transport centres have been consulted. This could take several hours.
Mivak looked at her. He reached over and activated his screen again without removing his gaze from her face, then typed an extended command into the input pad as he spoke.
Mivak: That is disagreeable, but unavoidable. Correct procedure must be followed. While I acknowledge the urge to protect one's family can override one's logic, I cannot contravene departmental regulations in this case.
T'Presh looked at the screen, at Taurek's last few incoming messages.
T'Presh: I acknowledge your reasoning and concur. I apologise for allowing my emotions to dictate my actions.
Mivak: It was a momentary lapse in judgement. I see no need to report this transgression. Will that be all, agent?
T'Presh: Yes.
Her eyes lingered on the top message for a moment. Then she bowed her head and walked away. Mivak turned back to his work.
(( Timeskip ))
Shivok's house was remote, a good half-hour walk from the nearest public transport station. T'Presh moved to activate the door chime, then paused, and waved her hand in front of the door. It was unlocked.
A table lay on its side in the entryway, two legs smashed, a cracked vase beside it. T'Presh stared at it, then forced her legs to move again. Shivok was standing in the main living area. There was a long set of scratches down the side of his face, a bruise swelling his temple, a cut on his lip.
T'Presh calmly removed the handheld phaser from inside her coat and pointed it at him.
T'Presh: Your wife has not yet returned to the planet.
Shivok: No.
He spoke softly, as if all the air had been stolen from his lungs. A silence passed between them, telling T'Presh everything she needed to know.
T'Presh: Where is my son?
Shivok: He left. I do not know-
T'Presh: How long ago?
Shivok: I... more than two hours. My time sense is impaired, I cannot -
Disagreeable. He would be impossible to track. Her hand tightened slightly on the weapon.
T'Presh: How severe are his injuries?
Shivok: ::after a brief hesitation:: Not life-threatening.
T'Presh: And your daughter?
Shivok's voice broke a little.
Shivok: Staying with family.
T'Presh: You are alone.
Shivok: Yes.
T'Presh: Stop your own heart.
It was delivered as casually and emotionlessly as her last few questions had been and Shivok did not seem to react. He leaned down, picked up a small sculpture, and replaced it onto the shelf beside him. The muzzle of T'Presh's weapon followed him.
Shivok: I must answer for my crime.
T'Presh: No. ::The response was immediate.:: If you continue to live, my son will face interviews and medical examinations and be obliged to testify against you. He will have to recount what you have done, probably more than once, and afterwards he will have to contend with the knowledge that you are still alive. If this happens then I will ensure that your family and colleagues know what transpired here.
Shivok said nothing. His hand fell limply by his side.
T'Presh: If you elect to bring my request to the attention of the authorities, my husband will attest that I arrived at our home forty minutes ago, and your accusation will be seen as an attempt to discredit your victim. So I am giving you a choice. Stop your own heart, or allow your wife and your daughter to be exposed to your shame.
She held the phaser steady. Shivok stared at it for a long time.
After it was done, T'Presh returned calmly to her vehicle and sped off into the desert night. She considered searching for Taurek, but the sheer scope of his potential routes meant that such an endeavour would be foolish. Though it tore at her heart not to go after him, she knew it was more logical to check with the surrounding settlements or wait until the authorities decided to scan the desert for his heat signature. Or lack thereof.
T'Presh pushed the thought out of her mind. There were still matters to take care of and tracks to cover, and she had been in intelligence long enough to know how to do both. After she had donned her gloves and wiped any traces of her DNA from the phaser, she wrapped it in an insulating material and buried it. The weapon would be difficult to trace, but even if it was found, it had not been fired. Shivok was dead. Nothing could be proven.
She stepped back into the driver's seat and began the long journey home.
----
''end''
== Notes ==
'''Glossary'''
''Ashayam'': "Beloved"
''Ta'al'': the Vulcan salute
'''Loose ends'''
''If T'Presh was just going to ask Shivok to kill himself, why did she bring a phaser?''
That was Plan B.
''You know genetics doesn't work that way, with the eye colours and all, right?''
Yes. I know. Shut up. It's space magic. I don't know.
''Where's all the stuff about T'Reshik's unethical experiments and the compound to prevent Pon Farr?''
Honestly, I have no idea. I posted it during my first term with SB118 ''years'' ago, and I no longer have access to the email address used to send it out. I might write some more sims in the future to recap.
TReshik
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