34
Pennington bounded up the steps to the main floor of Sobon’s home, where he found M’Benga sitting on a decorative stone bench before a small garden. Like Pennington, the doctor was dressed in a light brown soft suit like those typically worn by Vulcans who spent great periods of time in the unforgiving desert. The clothing’s color was such that M’Benga almost blended in with the garden’s serene surroundings.
“You sent for me, mate?” Pennington asked. “Tell me you’ve found where they hide the swimming pool in this place.”
Turning from where he had been examining the garden’s array of plants, M’Benga replied, “Afraid not.” He rose from the bench, brushing his hands together. “Sinar tells me we have a visitor.”
“We?” Pennington asked. “As in you and me? Who would be coming to see us here, of all places?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” M’Benga indicated for Pennington to follow him. “Sinar said she’d be waiting in Sobon’s study.”
Falling into stride alongside the doctor, Pennington said, “Speaking of Sobon, how’s he doing? Rough night last night.”
M’Benga nodded. “I’m told he’s resting. That last meld took even more out of him than the first one.”
“I figured it would be hard,” Pennington said as they proceeded down the hallway toward the elder Vulcan’s study. “I just didn’t think it would be so hard. On him or on her.”
He and M’Benga had not been allowed into T’Prynn’s room during Sobon’s latest attempt to meld with her the previous evening, but they had not needed to wait long to learn the results of the Vulcan’s efforts. As on the first evening, Sobon had emerged from the meld visibly shaken and physically weakened, requiring the assistance of Sinar even to go back to his bedchamber.
“Apparently,” M’Benga said, “this Sten has embedded himself so far into T’Prynn’s mind that he’s become part of her, as vital to her existence as her own consciousness. If I understood Sobon correctly, simply going in with the idea of removing him as a single piece, if you will, won’t work. The way he describes it, he’s executing a series of ‘probing’ melds with T’Prynn, as a means of helping her to erect mental barriers or finding places to hide within her mind, away from his attacks. It also somehow involves diverting Sten’s katra.To me, it sounds as if he’s sending it away, making it chase shadows, whatever.” Shaking his head, he added, “I don’t understand any of it, but in order for her to achieve peace, Sten will have to be forcibly driven from her. That’s what the Dashaya-Ni’Varritual is supposed to accomplish.”
They came to the door leading into Sobon’s study, and Pennington slid aside the bolt securing it. He stepped into the room and stopped as he came face-to-face with T’Prynn.
“What in the name of…?” he began, feeling his jaw slacken before he caught himself.
“Greetings,” offered the Vulcan woman standing before them. “I am T’Nel.”
On closer inspection, Pennington realized that this, of course, was not T’Prynn, though the resemblance was remarkable. She was somewhat older, but Pennington noted the similar soft lines of the woman’s jaw. The same dark hair was arranged in a shorter style, which likely was practical for the Vulcan desert environment. Her eyes were a different color, much darker, though they peered at him with the same power and focus he recalled from his encounters with T’Prynn.
Stepping around Pennington, M’Benga said, “Hello. I’m Dr. Jabilo M’Benga, and this is my friend, Timothy Pennington. We were told you wanted to see us.”
T’Nel nodded. “I am T’Prynn’s older sibling. Healer Sobon sent for me upon your arrival, as he believes I may be of some assistance.”
“You live here, in the commune?” M’Benga asked, looking around for a place to sit but foiled at every turn by more of Sobon’s books, scrolls, and other papers.
“No,” T’Nel replied. “I live in the village of Ha’tren, several kilometers from here, though T’Prynn and I did live here for a time.”
Gesturing toward the door, M’Benga said, “Would you care to walk outside?” To Pennington, he said, “It’s not too hot yet.”
“That is acceptable.” As the trio moved back into the corridor, T’Nel said, “In our youth, we were quite satisfied living here. I mentored under Healer Sobon, and T’Prynn followed her interests in botanical and agricultural sciences. Indeed, many of the gardens around the commune were first planted by her.”
Pennington smiled at the images that suggested. “I never pictured T’Prynn as having a green thumb. Somehow, I like that.”
“The pigmentation of T’Prynn’s thumb is the same as the rest of her epidermis,” T’Nel said, “though I suppose the pigmentation of Vulcan blood might evoke such a description. Still, it is somewhat inaccurate.”
They emerged from the main entrance to Sobon’s home and into the courtyard that formed the commune’s center. Outside, Pennington saw a few villagers tending to gardens or washing clothes by hand in large stone basins. Two younger Vulcan males were working on a roof, replacing what looked like clay shingles. As M’Benga had promised, it was warm, but the heat of the day was still a few hours away.
His eyes tracked along the high stone wall that formed the village’s perimeter—installed, Pennington was told, to prevent entry by any of the “predators” M’Benga had mentioned on their first night here—and then he turned to look to the south at the heavy wrought-iron gate that was the commune’s main entrance. Beyond the threshold and just visible on the left side of the gateway was the nose of the Starfleet shuttlecraft that had been sitting there since the first morning Pennington and M’Benga had spent here. The Starfleet security personnel who had arrived in the shuttle were polite enough, as Pennington had discovered when he walked to the gate to investigate their arrival. According to the lieutenant who was the team’s leader, an attractive blonde with an Australian accent and an apparent invulnerability to every bit of charm Pennington had been able to muster, the detail had been sent to ensure that T’Prynn remained in the village, at least until such time as she was declared medically able to travel. They, of course, were forbidden to enter the village without permission, but that did not stop them from monitoring the comings and goings of the residents.
“How delightfully fascist,” Pennington had observed during that first morning, earning a disapproving glare from the attractive young lieutenant.
Now, turning his attention back to T’Nel, he asked, “I understand that you’re a healer?”
“That is correct,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back as the trio began to walk a circuit around the courtyard. “Though I am not nearly as accomplished as Healer Sobon. Still, the Dashaya-Ni’Varwill require two healers working in concert, and he feels my familial connection to T’Prynn may be of some benefit.”
“So,” M’Benga said, “you’re obviously familiar with what happened to her.”
“I was there when it happened.” T’Nel paused, nodding to one of the workers tending to a garden as they walked past. “T’Prynn and Sten were betrothed as children, as is customary among our people, though she always resisted that tradition. She always was rather conflicted, expending much energy trying to reconcile what she perceived as inconsistencies in our culture. Though Vulcans are taught from a very early age that they possess the right as individuals to make their own life choices, several of our most time-honored traditions seem at odds with this philosophy. Marriage, of course, is one such tradition, and T’Prynn never was able to come to terms with the idea of marrying Sten.”
“She resisted him?” Pennington asked, frowning. “Turned him down?”
T’Nel replied, “In a manner of speaking. She lived here for a time, as a youth, learning under Healer Sobon’s tutelage and trying to come to terms with those facets of our society with which she had taken such fervent issue. For a while, she was at peace, and when the time came for her and Sten to be united in matrimony, T’Prynn asked Sten to release her from their bond. He had always loved her, had always wanted her, but to T’Prynn, he seemed too controlling, too dominating. It was not what she wanted from a marriage, and after his refusal to release her, she challenged him to ritual combat in order to fight for her release.”