Star Trek(32)

Hemnask frowned. “If your child isn’t old enough yet, then why leave them now?”

“I have not.” She placed a hand on her belly. “He is in my care at every moment.”

The Zami woman stared, then broke into a radiant grin. “I . . . Congratulations! I had no idea. What a blessing this is!”

“Yes, congratulations,” Archer said, trying to keep his tone subdued so as not to embarrass the Vulcan woman with an emotional outburst. “How . . . if it’s not rude to ask, how far along are you?”

“Far along . . .? Ahh, yes. Approximately one Terran month, or one-thirteenth of the gestation period.”

“And he’s already begun his glorious diplomatic career,” Hemnask joked. Then she looked at T’Rama more seriously. “I envy you. The way you’ve managed to balance your professional duties with your family obligations.”

“It has not been completely effortless,” T’Rama conceded. “But Vulcan kinship structures and traditions have evolved over the millennia to provide an orderly framework for managing such responsibilities. My former employer T’Pau is also a member of Solkar and Skon’s clan. Thus, my transition to a new career is facilitated, and my requirements as an expectant parent are accommodated.”

“All very logical,” Archer said.

“Thank you.”

Hemnask shook her head, impressed. “If only it were so easy for the rest of us. My people, the Zami . . . we place great importance on our family bonds, and on the obligations that come with them. Perhaps that is why we have retained our cultural distinctiveness after so many centuries living among other Rigelians. Yet I have often found it . . . difficult to reconcile my duties to the Rigelian people with my duties to my family.”

“Perhaps because your people encompass so many cultures,” T’Rama replied. “It is possible Vulcans may face similar dilemmas in the future as members of the Federation.” She threw a look at Kamenev and the other Planetarist-leaning delegates. “Certainly there are already challenges in finding common ground. Yet Surak taught that diversity in combination can be a source of great dynamism and progress. Even through our conflicts, we can learn and grow stronger.” She quirked a brow at Archer. “One hopes.”

Hemnask laughed, and T’Rama seemed surprisingly untroubled by the response. Archer found her atypically laid back for a Vulcan; he wondered if it was something hormonal, or if she was always like this.

At any rate, Hemnask was right: the Vulcan woman’s seeming ability to balance family and career was impressive. Archer found himself thinking back to his earlier conversation with Dani Erickson. Was he using his career as an excuse to avoid personal entanglements? Margaret Mullin had dumped him all those years ago out of fear of becoming a “Starfleet widow.” Had he taken her fear to heart and made it a self-fulfilling prophecy? If a Vulcan could be a wife, daughter-in-law, expectant mother, and diplomat without seeing a conflict, why wasn’t Archer even dating anyone? True, he believed he had a mission, even a calling, to ensure that the Federation achieved the future he knew it could have, and to defeat the forces that sought to deny that future. But did the future need his attention around the clock, every day? Was there no room for his own needs in the present?

It was particularly hard to ignore such thoughts as he watched Sedra Hemnask laugh, tossing back her mass of golden-brown hair to expose a delicately pointed ear which, combined with her delicate features and large green eyes, gave her an elfin beauty. And when those eyes met with his and her smile widened, he found himself wanting to forget about the future for a while.





6


June 17, 2164

Rigelian Trade Commission secure facility, Mount Halanar, Rigel V

STUDYING IN the RTC’s secure archive wasn’t turning out to be quite the historical mother lode Samuel Kirk had expected. For security reasons, the Commission forbade recording or communication devices within the archive—a massive vault carved deep within a mountain on Rigel V’s southernmost continent—and live guards were a constant presence to ensure nobody tried to sneak out with a historical relic. Ensign Grev hadn’t even been allowed to bring in a text translator unit; he had to rely on his own weeklong study of older Rigelian dialects, and on the assistance of an elderly Zami interpreter who worked for the archive. Kirk was only allowed to take handwritten notes about the documents that he and Grev observed. True, it was a privilege to have access to them at all, but it was frustrating that he wouldn’t be able to provide primary-source support for his account.

Moreover, they weren’t even granted full access to the archive. One particularly heavy-looking (and heavily guarded) door had attracted Kirk’s interest, but his guide, Assistant Director Vons, had made it clear that his invitation to the historian did not include access to that part of the facility. “Those are more recent secure records,” the Jelna board member had explained. “Matters where confidentiality is still important to maintain.”