Ficlet: Boomerang
Title: Boomerang
Author: diane_kepler
Length: 850 wds
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Characters: T’Nis, Cash, and others
Summary: More unintended consequences of the events in ZahvanT’Masu,
Warnings: Like I said, unintended consequences.
T’Nis stood on the balcony, the arid winds sending tendrils of hair up and about her face.
There was a small army out in the desert now, bristling with lenses and wide-spectrum antennas. They were clustered where the drive met the main road, for now kept at bay by the invisible but stringent countermeasures she had in place. But the sunlight glittered off glass and metal. The beast was hungry.
Scowling, she made her way back into the living area, the changing pressure sending more hair into motion. Cash, from, his sprawled position on the sofa, thought she looked pretty close to one of the Gorgons from ancient myth, but of course he didn’t say so.
The Vulcan returned to her chair, hand on the interface in the arm of it. The holoscreens formed a wide patchwork of shifting color in front of the fireplace. The images showed up well against the black.
One oblong was larger than the rest and the sound was up. “And we’re back to Good Day L.A. with your host Nischelle Espinosa.”
“Good morning. We are live right now via subspace with Torvir, a doctoral candidate in sociology from the Vulcan Science Academy. Now even though most of our viewers don’t really care about science, this morning has seen a definite spike in the the number of searches for “Vulcan anatomy”, particularly from homes located in our West Hollywood sector. And boyfriends, I feel you. That action even got me wishing I was there.” The blonde on screen fans herself, winking broadly.
“Now Torvir, what is the feeling about last night’s Romulan love-fest in your city of Shi’Kahr right now?
“It is the rest period here, Nischelle. Most residents are asleep at at this time.”
“Okay, but, uh, what was the reaction this evening, before everybody went to bed?”
“In the interests of diplomacy, I decline to comment.”
“You . . . right. Okay, I guess not all Vulcans are going to just reveal everything on camera.” She gave one of her affected giggles and pressed on. “How about your personal reactions, then?”
“I thank you for your question. I wish to respond by saying it is clear that the one called T’Nis has made a grave error in submitting the footage. One must wonder about her motivations in this affair.”
“But what about Spock getting it on with a sworn enemy?”
“The act itself is less important than the fact that a member of our own race chose to release --”
The sound from the broadcast was cut off as the warble from a high-priority message overrode the signal. T’Nis keyed for acceptance.
An older male Vulcan appeared onscreen. Cash sat up. This was going to be interesting.
“Sov-masu-thek?”
“Daddy,” T’Nis said carefully. She was more dubious about a communication from one of her parents than Cash had ever seen.
“Yar-kush, your father and I just heard. You know how slowly the the news reaches us out here. We are worried about you.”
Another, more serious and darker-haired Vulcan elbowed his way onto the screen. “Indeed, we are concerned about your mental health.”
“Father. You do not approve?”
“Of course not. Commander Spock was never involved in our lives. And to make such a mockery of his obvious fondness for the Romulan commander -”
“Who is very attractive, by the way.” said the first Vulcan, eyebrow up. “Wherever did you find him, slor-veh ?”
“Hush, Selov, not now.”
Selov gave his mate a sidelong look. “Yes, later. When you’ll have me speak to you in Romulan as we --”
“Stop!” said T’Nis, panicked. Her hands were up to her ears, the tips of which were bright green.
“As if anything could shock you after last night,” Selov remonstrated. A bit pettishly, she felt.
“T’Nis,” came Tunor’s stern voice. “We did not set you up in luxury on Earth so that you could sully the reputation of our race.”
“The reputation of Vulcans? They sent you into exile!”
“That is a truth, daughter. However until this escapade, our exile was a purely internal affair. Now it is not.” And he came as close to making a face as T’Nis had ever seen.
“Not only that,” Selov continued, “Members of the Vulcan High Council are on their way here to make sure that we had nothing to do with this incident.”
“Oh, Daddy, no.”
“Yes,” he sniffed. “And you know how little we wish to see them. Surely you could have forseen this, pi’sehlat ?”
“Furthermore,” came Tunor’s deeper voice, “they will not be the only ones who visit us. Pack your effects. You are coming home for an extended stay, during which we will discuss whether you should return to Earth at all.”
T’Nis stared at the holo. Her eyes hardened. “And if I refuse?”
“Then we are in a position to refuse you a great many things. Of course, you are welcome to experiment with seeing whether you are able to support yourself.”
Tunor straightened his robes eyeing her directly. “We have been overly lax with you. This will now change.”
Author: diane_kepler
Length: 850 wds
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: Star Trek TOS
Characters: T’Nis, Cash, and others
Summary: More unintended consequences of the events in ZahvanT’Masu,
Warnings: Like I said, unintended consequences.
T’Nis stood on the balcony, the arid winds sending tendrils of hair up and about her face.
There was a small army out in the desert now, bristling with lenses and wide-spectrum antennas. They were clustered where the drive met the main road, for now kept at bay by the invisible but stringent countermeasures she had in place. But the sunlight glittered off glass and metal. The beast was hungry.
Scowling, she made her way back into the living area, the changing pressure sending more hair into motion. Cash, from, his sprawled position on the sofa, thought she looked pretty close to one of the Gorgons from ancient myth, but of course he didn’t say so.
The Vulcan returned to her chair, hand on the interface in the arm of it. The holoscreens formed a wide patchwork of shifting color in front of the fireplace. The images showed up well against the black.
One oblong was larger than the rest and the sound was up. “And we’re back to Good Day L.A. with your host Nischelle Espinosa.”
“Good morning. We are live right now via subspace with Torvir, a doctoral candidate in sociology from the Vulcan Science Academy. Now even though most of our viewers don’t really care about science, this morning has seen a definite spike in the the number of searches for “Vulcan anatomy”, particularly from homes located in our West Hollywood sector. And boyfriends, I feel you. That action even got me wishing I was there.” The blonde on screen fans herself, winking broadly.
“Now Torvir, what is the feeling about last night’s Romulan love-fest in your city of Shi’Kahr right now?
“It is the rest period here, Nischelle. Most residents are asleep at at this time.”
“Okay, but, uh, what was the reaction this evening, before everybody went to bed?”
“In the interests of diplomacy, I decline to comment.”
“You . . . right. Okay, I guess not all Vulcans are going to just reveal everything on camera.” She gave one of her affected giggles and pressed on. “How about your personal reactions, then?”
“I thank you for your question. I wish to respond by saying it is clear that the one called T’Nis has made a grave error in submitting the footage. One must wonder about her motivations in this affair.”
“But what about Spock getting it on with a sworn enemy?”
“The act itself is less important than the fact that a member of our own race chose to release --”
The sound from the broadcast was cut off as the warble from a high-priority message overrode the signal. T’Nis keyed for acceptance.
An older male Vulcan appeared onscreen. Cash sat up. This was going to be interesting.
“Sov-masu-thek?”
“Daddy,” T’Nis said carefully. She was more dubious about a communication from one of her parents than Cash had ever seen.
“Yar-kush, your father and I just heard. You know how slowly the the news reaches us out here. We are worried about you.”
Another, more serious and darker-haired Vulcan elbowed his way onto the screen. “Indeed, we are concerned about your mental health.”
“Father. You do not approve?”
“Of course not. Commander Spock was never involved in our lives. And to make such a mockery of his obvious fondness for the Romulan commander -”
“Who is very attractive, by the way.” said the first Vulcan, eyebrow up. “Wherever did you find him, slor-veh ?”
“Hush, Selov, not now.”
Selov gave his mate a sidelong look. “Yes, later. When you’ll have me speak to you in Romulan as we --”
“Stop!” said T’Nis, panicked. Her hands were up to her ears, the tips of which were bright green.
“As if anything could shock you after last night,” Selov remonstrated. A bit pettishly, she felt.
“T’Nis,” came Tunor’s stern voice. “We did not set you up in luxury on Earth so that you could sully the reputation of our race.”
“The reputation of Vulcans? They sent you into exile!”
“That is a truth, daughter. However until this escapade, our exile was a purely internal affair. Now it is not.” And he came as close to making a face as T’Nis had ever seen.
“Not only that,” Selov continued, “Members of the Vulcan High Council are on their way here to make sure that we had nothing to do with this incident.”
“Oh, Daddy, no.”
“Yes,” he sniffed. “And you know how little we wish to see them. Surely you could have forseen this, pi’sehlat ?”
“Furthermore,” came Tunor’s deeper voice, “they will not be the only ones who visit us. Pack your effects. You are coming home for an extended stay, during which we will discuss whether you should return to Earth at all.”
T’Nis stared at the holo. Her eyes hardened. “And if I refuse?”
“Then we are in a position to refuse you a great many things. Of course, you are welcome to experiment with seeing whether you are able to support yourself.”
Tunor straightened his robes eyeing her directly. “We have been overly lax with you. This will now change.”