"What thee are about to see comes down from the time of the Beginning. This is the Vulcan heart, this is the Vulcan soul -- this is our way."
[Clan Ceremonial site, Tat'Sahr province, Southwest of Ta'Vistar, Vulcan]
12th Day in the month of et`Khior , YS 9014
Hot. Oven-hot. Searing and scorching, and it was only just morning, the gigantic mass of flames these people called their hearth star rising over the parched flatlands. And yet, the air was clear, so sharp it cut like a blade.
Tugging on the collar of his gods-cursed dress uniform, Commander Ranil Ranasinghe felt the sweat trickle down his neck and wondered if he was going to make it through this whole thing without excusing himself to find a pool with ice water. By Shiva, no wonder they had fought century long wars over a single well here.
He felt a light tap on his shoulder and a blue hand reached out, holding – an ice cube. Thrandasar, bless her heart. Well, at least that explained how his Andorian wife had managed to cope with this deadly climate – she had come prepared. He should have expected that.
"You know, you still haven't told me how you come to know so much about the pointy eareds, my love." He thought he had spoken in a low and soft enough voice to go unheard by anyone not within two feet, but a few steps away a head with those very ears canted ever so lightly, Sutek's typical reaction when something had caught his interest.
Ranil was not sure whether to chuckle or groan. Or both, maybe.
How the Vulcan managed to wear those heavy robes without dying from the heat that had to be already smoldering under the endless meters of fabric, he had no idea. For a surety, Sutek looked … splendid. Imposing would maybe be overstating the matter a bit, since 'five foot and a hair's breadth' as Mr Donegan loved to put it did not make for an impressive stature. But one had to own the deep rosewood hue of his ceremonial robes gave an air of elegance to the man everyone knew only as a quiet, unobtrusive presence in the background – until things went donut shaped. Then he seemed to be everywhere at once, getting underfoot in that calm, persistent Vulcan way of his, exuding an air of authority that even Ranil knew better than to argue with.
He wondered what his wife to be was like.
And he hoped like hell he wasn't going to lose his Chief medical officer because Sutek would go … wherever she was. Maybe the good lady could be bargained with, or maybe he got lucky and she wasn't of the traditional sort who would insist on the one year and …
"Thryenne."
"Huh?"
"One of my mothers. She served in the imperial guard."
Ranil did a mental somersault and nodded. "She taught you about Vulcans? How come?"
His beautiful wife's antennae twisted in amusement "Know thine enemy. Stupid as it may sound, there's still a bit of old enmity smoldering here and there and Thryenne never bought the 'We're just sweet harmless philosphers' routine. She had a point, I'll admit as much. But I also know our doc here would rather jump head first out of an airlock than let his temper run loose and hurt someone. And I think so would most of them." The Andorian shrugged, chewing absentmindedly on another ice cube. The tri-ox compound made breathing easier for all of them, but there was nothing to be done about the blasted heat and gravity. Nothing except keep fluids at hand and hope they'd not be standing here until the first non-Vulcan collapsed.
"So what are we waiting for again lassie?" the Scottish engineers voice was nowhere near as cranky as one might have expected and Thrandasar silently wondered if the strange skirt that went with Donegan's Dress jacket had anything to do with the fact the man was sweating less than her own mate who came from a much hotter climate.
"Her, Chief. We're waiting for her."
"The bride? Where's she comin' from? All the way from Cestus Three? Takin' her long enough."
"Kir, I think. Sutek mentioned something to that effect. If they're doing it the old fashioned way and ride out with Nor-Sehlat honor guard, it'll take a while to get all the fluffy beasts loaded and lined up."
Eyes as radiantly blue as Andorian ale shot the woman with her sweat matted white hair an exasperated look and Thrandasar snickered. But she had to stop herself from ruining the dignity of this place completely by laughing out loud when Sithundë who up until now had been quietly miserable suddenly turned a startled hue of purple and flailed wildly with the tentacle holding his own bucket with icewater. For sure, the sound of the massive bronze gong made Thrandasar's antennae tingle but she had not thought it would unsettle the poor Sulamid this bad the second time around. Maybe this would turn out to be a funny wedding after all.
"Do I even want to know?" Ranil whispered in his lovely wife's ear and she shook her head, pressing her lips together. And then they all heard it – silver bells in the distance, coming closer.
The horribly bright sun had just begun to creep over the rocks surrounding the amphitheater-like structure they were standing in and if Ranil had thought the heat had been a horrible nuisance until now, he quickly revised it to 'Gods-damn unbelievable'.
"The first one was to let them know we're here." Thrandasar whispered back, finally sure she would not erupt into a laughing fit "The second time he sort of says hello after he hears the wedding party arrive. Or welcome. I'm waiting. Anyways, he's going to hit that gong one more time soon and you might want to stay out of reach of any tentacles."
"Noted."
Unperturbed as ever, Sutek stood on the small dais flanked by two heavy braziers smoldering with a deep red glow and giving off a strangely fresh, exotic scent. Somehow Ranil had not thought anything on a desert planet should be allowed to smell like Himalayan birch trees and spiced chai, but it did. Then again, no man waiting for his bride should be allowed to be as completely not nervous as the small Vulcan standing on the rust colored stone surrounded by glittering red sand. All he did was stare towards a small archway with his typical cheerful serenity, not one fawn-colored hair out of place. It somehow didn't seem fair. Ranil remembered his own wedding day as hours filled with dread and exhilarating joy and no small amount of drinks. Actually, by the time the two grooms had stumbled out to meet the brides, both had already been … well, a bit tipsy. Fine, more than a bit. But no one had taken it amiss when the husbands had arrived arm in arm, breaking into love songs at the sight of their beautiful wives.
Sure, Ranil had not thought he'd ever end up in a marriage that required four people but after all was said and done, it was a great thing. And thanks to the man over there and some utterly charming Efrosian doctor living on Andoria they would soon have their first baby. He was still getting used to that idea.
The silver bells got louder and finally two tall, grey clad males walked out of the shadows, carrying finely wrought hexagons of gleaming metal. Right behind them two more strapping guys who looked as if they could wrestle a bear carried a litter … well whoever the woman sitting in the chair of dark wood was, a blind elephant could see she was related to Sutek. The same pale hair, something Ranil had thought was extremely rare on this planet, and the same high cheekbones in a tranquil face. Eyes like liquid amber took in the assortment of bedraggled outworlders shifting uncomfortably in the heat and Sutek went to greet the lady and introduce his friends.
That had to be his matriarch, then. Which meant the bride would make her entrance soon. Squinting against the blinding sun, Ranil could at first only make out a robe the color of ripe peaches, outlining a quite stunning figure but if he was any judge, the lady was just as short as her husband-to-be, if not outright frail. And then they floated into the sunlight pouring down across the ancient stones.
Vishnu have mercy, she was beautiful. A face like chiseled from finest marble and eyes like smoked topaz, darker than the Indian Ocean when a storm churned its waves and glittering like starlight. Shiny black hair coiled atop her head like a crown, finely pointed ears and slanted brows like the wings of a raven taking flight.
Ranil barely heard his engineer's low whistle and the muttered "Lucky bastard" because right behind the vision of beauty … two more Vulcans, one clad in black and silver, the other in shimmering terracotta and gold. Both carrying the heavy staff weapons with the terribly sharp crescent blades with an easy grace that made you forget how deadly the damn things were.
The tall, dark male with the implacable eyes and the aquiline features … Ranil had seen him only once, but the air of silent danger surrounding the man had remained very much the same.
As for her … she looked so small by comparison. But there was no doubt. Neatly coiled and braided sable hair that even from this distance looked softer than velvet and made you want to reach out and touch it. Features with an exquisite symmetry, beauty keen as a blade. And those very same eyes that had first looked down at him from a transporter platform, serene and unreadable; so dark you thought you'd drown in their depths if you looked into them too long.
He heard Thrandasar whisper and knew she was smiling without having to turn his head. "Our Ohashsu. Who would have thought."
"Aye." The Scot's rueful answer was drowned by the ringing of more silver bells and then an unnatural silence fell as the bride and what Ranil assumed was her honor guard stepped forward.
"Ra tu ak gla-tor tev-tor s'wak t'Palikaya." The matriarch's surprisingly deep and husky voice echoed between the stones, commented only by a slight twitch of Thrandasar's antennae "Nam-tor u'khaf-spol Vuhlkansu - nam-tor u'katra Vuhlkansu - nam-tor u'sha'yut."
The gong rang loudly a third, final time and there was the distinct sound of ice water splashing to the ground. At least Sithundë hadn't dropped the bucket.
[To be continued …]
LtCmdr Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helm
USS Charon
