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Far Away From Home	By : mancer Category: S through Z > Star Trek (2009) > Star Trek (2009) Views: 2090 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by Gene Roddenberry/Paramount Studios/JJ Abrams. I own none but this writing and the non-canon characters within. Work published for shared fun, not profit.

Chapter List
- 15
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- 17
He settled to meditate in his room, taking comfort from the familiarity of it. The smell of the spice tea. The flame of the candle. Centering and separating himself as best his could. J'Mara's mind still tickling. Broadcasting in fits and spurts as her concentration broke. "Not listening" took a good deal of active attention in non-attention.
In one particularly loud broadcast, when the shuttle dipped from a strong gust of wind, Vuron's hands tightened into fists.
I'm going to die.
You're not in this fucking shuttle, I am. You're fine. I hate your pilot.
You're never leaving my side again.
Her laughter burbled over him. That is not possible. Meditating isn't going to work. We'll both end up in your mind-dojo. Distract yourself. Interview your staff. Read in Vulcan. If you do that fast-reading I won't be distracted. It will be background noise.
Vuron nodded physically. Both trying to resurrect their barriers.
He blew out his candles, changed into his uniform – no need to make his coworkers uncomfortable when not necessary – and did as she suggested. Accounts varied to the expected degrees, but no useful new data. He skimmed video records, but not much useful came of it.
The men were tall, broad, swaggered with the usual pace of their species. They kept their faces turned away, so the only caught sight of long, unbound, curled hair. Possibly coincidence, but unlikely.
His thoughts flowed back to earlier conversations. Pushing concern for his charges off to the side, temporarily. New data would come soon enough, needling at it would only make him more likely to prod along their bond to see if he could get the data right now.
With a quiet sigh, he flicked through his incoming messages. A startling variety from Starfleet, including updates on the colony and current tallies of known refugees.
He opened a few, skimming reports.
Several possible planets found – hadn't they already decided on one? Something must have changed – and time tables offered for those that needed terraforming to be corrected to Vulcan physiological needs. Temporary housing notices: Betazoid, Terra Prime, Romulus. Interesting.
He delved farther into Romulus' efforts to help. Considering it was one of their mining ships, any offer had the distinct impression of peace offering and pathetically lacking.
Seven hundred eighty one of their people had taken up residence. Six percent of the remaining populous. Had they gone to their close-cousins because of racial fear? It certainly wouldn't be the need to bond, as his cross-species meld. Although, with such a small genepool remaining, perhaps it would be prudent to try to increase the genetic diversity now. Theoretically, their genetics were still quite similar. Vulcan-Romulan children would be indistinguishable from either parent. Emotional control a learned behavior. Ah. Perhaps these few had gone to Romulus for just that. Seeking a way to live without emotional control.
Or-
Genetic diversity.
His fingers flew over the glass panels, his mind returning to J'Mara's confident declaration about her superior genetics.
Accessing the Scientist caste's databanks were above his security level. With no remorse he sent an inquiry over the bond, receiving access codes. He smiled.
Lower level publications opened up to his questing. He selected several interesting genres and queued them to download to his local terminal. Several windows popped up to give him progress indicators. He minimized these and manually sought out genetic data.
Another wall. Above J'Mara's access. She knew Bel'tath's codes. His fingers hovered a moment, but retreated before security protocols alerted on his queries. J'Mara's codes should be inactive – she'd been away from an access terminal for years. He'd be lucky if the queued items would finish before the code was shut down and his bondmate's identity verified.
"Doesn't matter anyway," he spoke aloud to himself, to keep from projecting. "No sperm. No children."
An odd sort of emptiness sat on his shoulders.
Before he could explore the sensation, his fingers sought more information.
Opened up a comm to Starfleet without much forethought. The channel they'd been using for refugees a well used link on his station.
For once, an older Vulcan female met his gaze across the distance of space.
He raised the ta'al in greeting. "I was not expecting to see one of our people answering this channel."
After seeing his people here so sunken and shallow, seeing a bland face full of vitality stood welcome relief.
"Sixty-seven point two two four percent of our refugees have taken temporary residence on Terra Prime. It has been recommended that those able and willing offer their services as volunteers."
Ah. A familiar species answering the comm to help control the emotions. Vuron nodded his understanding.
"I have been out of communication for two weeks, six days and wished to inquire as to present updates. I have been receiving the general-access broadcasts. I am Ambassador Sranak's security officer on Qo'Nos."
He watched as she ran quick fingers over the computer, pulling up data.
"We have additional files for you. Please input your security code."
He did so, and another set of queued data lined up at the bottom of his screen.
"There has been no additional data from your party. At last check in, the Elders wished to known when the ambassador intended to return."
"There have been unexpected delays. When a date has been settled, we will send formal notice."
"Will you be needing transport?"
Vuron opened his mouth to answer the affirmative, but a thread of the bond opened up. Conversation heard by his mate leaking into his ears. Angry conversation.
I will insure your safe transport. Tell them to expect a squadron between two and seven, depending on how many of my ships I can recall.
The walls flew up again. Noticeably firmer, for the lack of her warmth. She'd been listening, and now she needed all of her concentration on whatever argument she'd been involved in. Hmm.
"Security Officer Vuron?"
"My apologies. My bondmate was correcting assumptions." One thin eyebrow shot up, but she didn't question. "Expect a squadron of Klingon warbirds serving as escort for the Ambassador. We will notify Starfleet with security protocols before we leave Qo'Nos."
She nodded, making note of the change.
"Any other outstanding issues?"
The first of the Klingon databases dinged, letting him know it had completed transfer. And a warning popped up right after it. He dismissed it with a decisive bit of coding so that the transfer continued.
"Actually." A frown plucked at his eyebrows before he could dismiss it. "A question." He never considered asking a complete stranger about procreation before... For that matter, he'd never considered it actively as an adult at all. "I assume that when planet-wide evacuations were initiated, that children were high priority."
The older woman's eyes softened. "Yes. We have a high percentage of orphans. There has been a concerted effort to re-establish family bonds."
Bondmates selected, children taken in, bonds reestablished to try and pick up the pieces of all the telepathic bonds torn asunder.
Vuron considered for a long moment.
"I do not know when our party will leave Qo'Nos, but I would like to be placed on the list for potential adopters. My bondmate is eager to be a mother. I am sterile."
A flicker of sadness passed over the woman's schooled features. "The children have been split between Betazoid and Terra Prime. Do you know where your party will be headed when the ambassador is finished with his negotiations?"
"I assume Terra Prime," Vuron informed, considering the Elders' current location. "If that changes, my mate and I will be able to change routes once he has been safely moved."
Two to seven birds of prey. The mental image he'd seen of the two she had in mind, heavy cruisers with full compliments. He'd been completely unaware of her wealth. No wonder her mating with a low raking offworlder might be disruptive to Councilwoman Bel'tath.
"Forward your most recent health screening, please. If you have any preferred criteria, e.g. age, sex, realms of study, please include that as well. When you return, addition screenings will be preformed by a mind-healer."
Vuron nodded in understanding. Of course they'd want to insure that the adoptive children were placed in homes with strong, positive bonds.
He started his files transferring over subspace. "I do not have a record of my mate's latest screening."
"You can send it when-"
She stopped. Eyes flicking back and forth quickly as his medical records appeared on her screen.
"Ah."
Vuron felt his jaw clench.
"Is there a problem?"
"You are not... the ideal candidate."
"I have secure employment with a diplomat in good standing. My mate has lands and holdings off planet. I have tested well in-"
She raised a hand to stall him.
"I am not in a position to make such decisions. I will transfer you now."
The screen turned black. Irritating music filled his ears.
Three transfers later, he faced an exhausted human woman. Blond hair tied in a loose bun. Streaks of purple, red, and orange tinted thick chunks of her hair. She smiled at him the usual open, human way.
"Hey there, I hear you're looking to adopt?"
"Yes. No formal application has been filed yet. A general inquiry that..."
"Turned into a monstrous goose chase?"
He inclined his head, appreciating human candor.
"When did you get red flagged?"
"Red flagged?"
She sighed, shoulders lifting and dropping dramatically. "You've reached a very strapped-for-cash inner city facility. We mostly took care of homeless and runaway humans until a couple months ago. We've gotten a couple of you're people in, but it's an absolute last resort."
He took in the darkness skin under her eyes. The stained wall behind her, littered with a cork board and many colorful squares of paper coated in cramped scrawl. Messy organization of an office used by many people.
"Last resort?"
Her hand passed over her hair. "Kids brought in by the police. It's this or juvenile detention. I've got a couple of connections, so we try them here... Call it their first warning. If they get picked up a second time-"
Unfamiliar words and thoughts floated through his ears.
"Runaways. You are saying that Vulcan children are running away from our centers?"
She nodded.
"It's tough on the kids. No one wants to explain it to an old human like me, but... hell, I'm sure you felt it. Best I can get out of them was it was pretty dramatic. Having your whole family ripped away, your planet ripped away, then dropped in the middle of a whole new family? No say in the matter, just Bam! Here's your new Mom and Dad."
Vuron blinked at the sharp sound of her hands clapping together to accentuate the issue.
"Ah, sorry, guy. I'm talking your ear off. End of a fourteen hour shift and its rare as hen's teeth to talk to an adult. I'm Jean. Jean Waterman. What's your name? Your mate's name?"
"Vuron," he said. "My mate is Lady J'Mara, of the house of Lady Bel'tath."
She laughed at that. "Mated to a Klingon, huh? I've heard weirder. Well no wonder they red flagged ya."
"Actually, the 'goose chase' began after I sent my medical file for approval."
Her eyebrows went up. Interesting how human's seemed to have more movement in their brows at the center, rather than the edges.
"Well, I guess you'll have to send me the same, but my standards have gotten pretty low. On any drugs?"
"Hormonal supplements."
"Your mate?"
He thought for a moment, not wanting to tug on the bond after all of the strangeness of this conversation. That, and he had a feeling a dead end waited him in very short order.
"None."
"Alright. Education?"
He quoted his graduating scores, then worked out what percentile he finished in, when she blinked at him without comprehension.
"So, graduated, right?"
"Yes. J'Mara is a teacher in her own right. Self defense."
Bubbly chuckling flowed over the comm unit. "Might have her come teach a class or two to the kids then. Employment?"
"Security Officer for-"
Another sharp laugh interrupted him.
"No wonder you mated a Klingon. Housing isn't much of an issue for your people. A human would need a home to adopt, but from the news it sounds like they're working out the whole colony thing. Rumor has it you're getting a hectare a pop. Not too shabby, really."
"J'Mara has lands of her own," he supplied, feeling awkward about having land "assigned" to him without even knowing about it. His family's parcel of land had been small and humble before it'd been destroyed. While mathematically sound to allocate equal portions of land to the remainder of their people, it felt... strange.
"Ha! Finally got your upload. Give me a second, this unit is shit for multitasking."
Her face froze as she, apparently, switched over to review his records.
He prepared himself for the wall.
That didn't come.
"Huh. Didn't think you guys had issues like that. No, not that you don't have multiple genders. I mean, had issues with stuff like that. Whole IDIC thing."
Vuron blinked. "You are aware of Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations?"
"Vulcan culture. All the rage right now. You should see the human'net. Bowl cuts are even coming back into fashion." Jean waved her hands. "Getting myself off topic. When you going to be Earth-bound?"
"Not entirely certain. Ambassador Sranak needs to finish his negotiations."
"Nothing like being a slave to the boss-man, huh? Well it gives me time to talk to some of the kids. You're a unique couple. I won't short ya. The fewer bodies in here, the happier I am. Fights have been turning seriously bloody lately, and there's nothing like getting Christmas-colored splatters off of the walls to really brighten my day."
"Christmas-" her jumps in conversations confused him.
"Green and red? Right, nevermind. Look. For all that this is a shit-hole, this is the last stop before juvie. I give them the best chance they got. Half the kids here are here 'cause they didn't like their new parents, or just plain didn't like not having a say in their own futures. Fuck logic 'n all, yeah?"
"So," he prompted, hoping for a clearer explanation.
"I'll talk to the kids here. It's gotta be their decision. Especially if you end up going off-Earth again, which I'm guessing is likely. Runaway Vulcan on Qo'Nos has got no chance of blending in."
"You would prefer for my bondmate and myself to remain on Terra Prime while becoming acquainted? To better facilitate running away?"
"Not exactly the point but... yeah, I guess so. Sometimes running is the only option left to you."
"I am familiar with that sensation. I thank you for your candor."
"Hey, you're welcome guy. You seem pretty stand up. Hey, can I talk to the lil' missus? Be nice to get a handle on both of you."
"To be honest, I have not approached her about this. She wishes children, but-"
She pointed a finger up, then flopped it over. Graphic, but it got the idea across.
"Precisely."
"So, you don't wanna get her hopes up, if nothing pans out?"
Vuron nodded.
"Gotcha. Well, if all goes well, how about I see I can't get a couple of them to get on screen, or do recordings or something? Better if you guys get to know each other before you come all the way over. But final say happens in person, and it's on their terms."
Vuron nodded. "The effort would be greatly appreciated."
"One last thing... these kids, they're not cute and cuddly babies, yeah? Youngest I got is a human, eleven, who's been on the streets two years now. If you know what I mean... hell, maybe better if you don't."
"Vulcan's age on a different scale than humans," Vuron corrected. "An eleven year old human would be more physically developed than a Vulcan of the same chronological age."
"Yeah, that's my point. Older kids. Lots of problems. You ready for that mess?"
Vuron blinked in confusion. "If my own childhood did not prepare me for unexpected complications, then I am not sure what would."
Jean's laughter bubbled up again. "I'll tack on some parenting books for ya then, but you're right, you've probably had more experience growing up quick than most. Alright. I hear screaming down the hall. Good chatting with you! Keep in touch!"
The screen went black.
The emptiness he'd felt earlier now held a burble of nervous excitement. Interesting.
He spent a good hour compartmentalizing the sensation, tucking it out of the way so that he didn't indicate any news prematurely. Earlier irritation over his conversations with various members of his own species easily dismissed. That he'd dealt with for the vast majority of his life.
- 15
- 16
- 17
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Far Away From Home