Of Stranger Cousins...

by Michael Marek

  
      “Do I have my pips on straight?” I asked my wife.
      We were donning our dress uniforms for one of the most remarkable state dinners ever attended by either Charlotte or myself. 
      “You look fine, Mike,” Charlotte replied, not really checking, as far as I could tell.  “Besides, the Romulans won’t be looking at you.”
      The USS Crazy Horse was in orbit around Romulus, along with seven other Starfleet ships led by the USS Titan.  The task force had been invited by the Romulan Senate to discuss the future of relations between the United Federation of Planets and the Romulan Star Empire.  A recent internal power struggle had been settled impromptu by a Starfleet ship, Enterprise.  The new Romulan leaders appeared to have pragmatically concluded that talking with the Federation would be in their best interests.
      Charlotte ran a brush through her long red hair one last time and adjusted her bangs.  Then we were out the door and on our way to meet The Commissioner, a key player in the intricate  negotiations with the Romulans.  He had specifically requested Crazy Horse as his base of operations for the conference.  We had hosted him many times before and he seemed comfortable on board. 
      Because there were substantially more Romulans than Federation diplomats at the dinner, the captains of the eight Starfleet ships in attendance were also expected to attend, along with spouses  or other companions.  (This caused consternation for a couple of the captains who were unmarried.  Heavy inter-ship traffic seeking appropriate companions for the  evening followed the announcement of the protocol.)
      The transporter schedule had been carefully crafted.  The Commissioner was one of the first to beam down.  He was escorting Moira, the Crazy Horse first officer and ship’s artificial intelligence.  Because The Commissioner was a civilian, Moira’s simulacrum also was not in uniform.  I don’t know how to describe what she was wearing, but it was striking.
       
      “Commander Charlotte Marek, United Starship Crazy Horse; escorted by Captain Michael Marek, United Starship Crazy Horse,” called out a protocol officer as Charlotte and I beamed into the banquet hall.  The announcement was made first in Federation standard and then in Romulan.   We were shooed off the transporter pad, our dinner table was pointed out to us, and we were offered drinks.
      “It’s blue,” Charlotte whispered as the waiter carrying the drink tray moved off.  “Remember what we talked about if the drinks are blue.”
      “I know,” I murmured back, pretending to take a sip. 
      We didn’t get to talk any more because we were accosted by a Romulan who turned out to be a starship commander herself.  We guardedly talked shop until a chime called us to our seats.
      The Commissioner and Moira were at the head table, of course.  The remaining Federation representatives were scattered around the other tables, which were round, each seating eight people.
      The Romulans with whom Charlotte and I were seated turned out to be three generations from the same family.  Judging by Vulcan standards, three of them were youngsters, a boy and two girls maybe in their 20s or 30s.   The father, Pachel, and mother, TuSaya, were probably around 150 years old.  Also at the table was Pachel’s grandmother, the oldest person of whom I have ever heard from Vulcan/Romulan stock.  Later in the evening, TuLeea revealed that she was the equivalent of 400 Earth years old.
      Our introductions were barely out of the way, however, when the room was called to order for the Federation and Romulan anthems (I would like to know who convinced the Romulans that 'Misty' is the nonexistent Federation anthem) after which we were invited to be seated.
      “We are pleased to welcome you to Romulus,” said TuLeea, speaking for the family when we were seated.  Her voice sounded frail, but we quickly learned that her mind was very sharp. 
      “The war between Romulus and Earth happened when I was a young woman, you know,” she added with a smile, exaggerating her youth, since she would have been around 180 at the time.  “It was glorious, but times do change.  I have been convinced for many years that the best paths for our two domains lay together, not in opposition.  Our alliance during the Dominion War helped prove that.”
      “A worthy sentiment,” I replied.  Building positive relationships were what we were here for, after all.
      “Grandmother served in the Senate for many years,” Pachel told us proudly.
      “Long before you were born, Captain and Commander,” the old woman added jovially.  “Long before the Dominion and the Borg.”
      “Have the Borg attacked the Empire?” asked Charlotte, picking up on the reference.
      “A hundred years ago, on the Far Frontier,” chimed in one of the young generation.  I never did figure out the three youngsters’ names.  “Our fleet battled them to a standstill.”
      “Impressive,” I complimented, wondering what the true story was.  “I have been on Borg ships twice and Charlotte once.  We found…”
      “You’ve been ON a Borg ship?” interrupted another of the children.  “No Romulan has ever done that.”
      “You see?” said TuLeea, nodding.  “Our peoples have many things to teach each other.  It is good to be friends.”
      “Do I understand correctly,” ventured TuSaya, looking toward the head table, “that the stunning young woman escorted by The Commissioner is actually an android?”
      “Not an android,” Charlotte replied.  “She is an artificial intelligence in an organic simulacrum body.”
      “How remarkable,” replied TuSaya, possibly unsure how the two definitions differed. “Cybernetics is an interest of mine.  At what level does the intelligence operate?”
      “Over the last hundred years, the Federation has made several breakthroughs in computer non-linear, latent semantic schemata and artificial metacognition that allow cybernetic  intelligences to function identically to the way organic brains encode, recall and process information,” said Charlotte, lecturing a bit, "Although much faster."
      “Moira is a commissioned officer in Starfleet and holds full Federation citizenship,” I added. 
      “She must be brilliant,” observed Pachel, looking across the chamber at Moira.  “Nor does she seem lacking in social graces.”
      “Not usually,” quipped Charlotte.
       
      Dinner was served and a good time was had by all, in spite of the speeches that followed the dinner.  TuLeea turned out to be somewhat deprecating of the Romulan speakers, often commenting humorously about their place in the social and political order or about their antics as children.
      “Charlotte and Michael,” TuLeea said as we finally stood to leave the table.  “We would be pleased if you would visit our home.  It overlooks one of the most beautiful valleys on all Romulus. Bring your Moira, as well.  TuSaya would be pleased to meet her.”
      We made polite noises about our schedules but TuLeea was insistent.
      “You know that I possess documents and antiques dating back to the Romulan exodus from Vulcan,” she said, and I saw Charlotte’s eyes sparkle.  Seeing such 900-year-old relics was a remarkable opportunity for a Science Officer. I was intrigued as well.
      “I am sure that you understand that we must check with our delegation before giving you an answer,” I told TuLeea.
      “Of course, Captain,” she nodded. “But don’t tell them what close friends we have become.  We must let the diplomats think that they have a purpose in the grand scheme of things.“
       
      “It’s a wonderful opportunity,” grinned The Commissioner.  “TuLeea is highly respected by the current Senate.  Pachel didn’t tell you that he, also, is a Senator.  We have important reasons for wanting to build a friendship with that family…”
      Charlotte, Moira and I waited as The Commissioner appeared to ponder.
      "There is a power struggle going on in the Romulan Senate," he told us.  "The progressive faction favors improving relations with the Federation.  Other forces are more reactionary.  TuLeea's family is an important part of the equation.  Many will follow their lead."
       The Commissioner nodded.  "I thing it would be well worth it for you three to accept the invitation.  I'll notify the Titan."
       
      So, a couple of days later Charlotte, Moira and myself found ourselves on a viewing veranda of TuLeea's family home at the rim of the Lebonah River Valley.  Like many Vulcan residences, TuLeea’s dwelling had been carved into the rock as an artificial cave system.  On top of the rim, only a modest structure guarded the entrance to the chamber that served as foyer.  The children of Pachel and TuSaya greeted us where we were dropped off by a Romulan shuttle -- as interested in cooperation as the current government was, they still felt the need to scan and search us before allowing us to mix with the populous.  Who knows what they may have thought we were smuggling.  The children escorted us through the perfectly symmetrical tunnels of their home to the veranda where we were served a fruity drink and promised that their great-grandmother would join us shortly.
      The vista from where we stood was dramatic.  The deep valley appeared to be completely undeveloped, although Moira reported that her more acute vision picked out trails along the banks of the stream.  To our left, the river entered the valley in a waterfall of several hundred feet and then followed the valley out of sight to our right.  From the air, in the shuttle, we had seen the river empty into a large lake some kilometers downstream.  The Romulan capitol city also bordered the lake.
      The veranda itself was merely a broad ledge 150 feet below the top of a cliff.  It was too flat to be natural, though, and a waist high rock wall protected the outside edge.  Flowers and other plants sprouted from receptacles set into the wall, making them look like they had grown there naturally.  Three different cave tunnels opened onto the veranda.
      “How do you like my ‘front porch'?” asked TuLeea from the shadow of one of the openings.   She raised her right hand, fingers and thumb forming what is universally known as the Vulcan Hand Salute, apparently also a Romulan tradition.  “Peace and long life to you, my guests.”
      I glanced at Charlotte, then returned the gesture, saying, “Live long and prosper, TuLeea,” which caused the lady to break into a broad grin.
      “An inordinately Vulcan response, my friend,” she smiled.  “On Romulus, we reply ‘strength and freedom.’  We feel that peace and strength balance each other, while long life is pointless without freedom.  It is why our people fled Vulcan, after all."
      “How do people of your world greet each other?”
      “It is an ancient custom on Earth to shake hands,” I said, demonstrating and finding that TuLeea’s strong grip belied her age.  “It has a connotation of sharing strength and helping each other, and also of being unarmed -- an ally and not a threat.”
      “That’s how MEN on Earth greet each other,” Moira chimed in. 
      “Right,” added Charlotte.  “When Earth women meet a close female friend, we generally give each other a hug, as if we are meeting a member of our family.¨  She and Moira both demonstrated, to TuLeea’s obvious delight. 
      “Do let us be seated,” urged our host, after she had disentangled herself from the women.  She indicated a grouping of seats nearby.  “The warm sun feels so very nice on my ancient bones.”
      She informed us that Pachel and TuSaya were in the capitol city and would return in time for the evening meal.  As a senator, Pachel was involved in some of the negotiating sessions with the Federation.  TuSaya, it developed, ran the 800-year-old family business, which had been the first shipyard on Romulus to begin building spacecraft after the immigrants arrived in the Romulan system.
       
      “It is interesting that your translating device chooses to identify our people with an ancient legend on your own world,” she remarked as she settled into her chair, which was obviously well used.  “Something about the founder of a city?”
      “The founder of Rome, actually,” said Charlotte.  “An ancient city that went on to become the capitol of an empire.  Romulus and his brother Remus had been left in the wilderness to die but they were raised in a family of wolves, according to the legend.”           
      “As were my people, in many ways, although they entered the wilderness voluntarily, rather than be abandoned there,” nodded TuLeea.
      “Very little is known in the Federation about the Romulan departure from Vulcan,” observed Moira. 
      “That is because it is a black spot on the S’Rahkians culture,” sniffed TuLeea, “and the records from the time were obliterated or hidden so deeply on Vulcan that few now can find them.”
      It took me a moment to realize that she was referring to Surak, the founder of the Vulcan philosophy of logic.  Romulan pronunciation had apparently drifted over the years.
      “Would you care to tell us what you know of those times?” Charlotte asked. 
      “If you would care to refresh my drink, I shall tell the tale as we remember it in our family, as my great-grandmother told it to me and as I have told it to each generation that has followed me.”
      I refilled her stoneware glass from a pitcher that had been left for us.  She took a long swallow, as if collecting her thoughts. 
      I noticed that all three of the younger generation had appeared at the mouth of the tunnel and TuLeea waved then to join us.  They sat on the floor at her feet, looks of expectation on their faces.  There was clearly a tradition of oral history in this family.  The three of us from the Crazy Horse felt honored by be included in this ritual passing-on of family knowledge.  TuLeea did not address us at all, however, but spoke directly to her family members:
       

     My great, great grandmother was hardly 50 years old when the Time of Troubles began, 950 years ago, as our friends from Earth measure years.  That makes her your five-times-great grandmother.   Her name was TuPir and in spite of her youth, she was a great warrior. 
     In those years on our far away home world, there was much warfare.  Some tribes had become very powerful and had collected vast amounts of knowledge with which they built great things.  But their tempers often outran their wits and so war was a way of life. 
      TuPir was strong and agile and was trained to fight for The People, as we have always called ourselves, who occupied a large area in the northern hemisphere of the world.  The planet was ancient and was dying.  There was not a single ocean, and only a few lakes and rivers.   Our lost home world was one great desert. 
      It was for this reason that The People first began reaching into space.  They knew that there was water and ice in many other places in their star system.  They strove for the ability to capture comets and rehydrate their world. 

I smiled at the choice of wording the Universal Translator made.

     There were legends that The People had once before had the ability to travel in space, and once before had colonized worlds around other stars, but there was no way to prove whether the legends were true.  Still, the stories were an inspiration.  The People began building great ships in orbit -- like cities in space -- that would travel to the outer reaches of our original star system and mine the worlds there for water. 
     The People were strong and few other tribes would risk attacking them.  But others on the planet fought incessantly.  One day, a man came walking out of the West, from the land of Gol, with a handful of followers.  His name was S’Rahk.
      TuPir was shocked by the proposal this man made – that The People give up their emotions along with their weapons, because only through logic could the world find peace, he said.   It was a wonderful dream, but The People could no more set aside their emotions than they could set aside their hands.
      Over the years, S’Rahk acquired followers.  For them, it became a pagan crusade.  Entire nations came under their sway.  But then a strange thing happened among the followers of S’Rahk.  They stopped listening to him and began using strength to spread what they claimed was his message.  They waged war to end war, and saw no contradictions.  S’Rahk became a figurehead with no real influence.
      The S’Rahkians actually used weapons that absorbed the violent emotions of their enemies and reflected them back at their opponents as pure hate, often killing them.  They justified killing The People who refused to surrender their emotions by saying that “the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

TuLeea took a sip from her drink before leaning forward again to continue her story.

      TuPir was a patriot and she fought to defend The People, but it is very hard to resist when pure violent emotions pound into your head.  She was one who learned after a fashion to use her mind to block the beams of emotion.   As The People retreated from the atrocities of the S’Rahkians, TuPir fought in the rear guard.  As more and more of her companions fell, she became a great leader and performed many brave deeds.
      She was the last to board the last of the launch vehicles, as the last of The People fled into space, leaving the S’Rahkians behind on the dying world.  The People went where their enemies could not follow, to the cities waiting in orbit, and they flew those cities away from the home world, into the deep of space.  No, they did not stop at the outer fringe of the system, where the eternal ice worlds circled.  Into the void The People went, the five ships traveling together, on a voyage that took many years, for they were not able to travel faster than light in those days.  The People stopped in three other star systems but found the worlds there drab and inhospitable.  At the last way station, one of the ships, the D’Brun, veered away and left The People.
      Many years passed.  Babies were born and old ones died.  And then...then The People found Romulus, the most beautiful world they could imagine, teaming with life and as young and vital as our home world had been ravaged by time and death.  TuPir had come to be one of their elders.  As she looked down on Romulus from the bridge of the flagship, she knew that we had found the new home world for The People and that it was time for us to begin anew. 
      Yet many could not forget the world that had been left behind and our cousins there.  In their most secret councils, they vowed to return some day to the first world and free their kin from oppression.
       
      There was silence for several seconds when TuLeea stopped talking.  The gentle breeze and the chirping birds added to the placid feel left by the story.  Although the story had ended on a distinctly militant note, it was told as a legend from long ago, and not as an agenda for contemporary action.
      TuLeea dismissed the youngsters who trotted off, but not before thanking their great-grandmother for her story.
      “And what do our guests think of the story of our people?” asked TuLeea.
      I started to reply, but saw that TuLeea was looking not at the delegation from the Crazy Horse, but at a hooded figure in the shadow of one of the tunnel openings.
      “DAD!” exclaimed Moira, rising from her chair and stepping quickly to the hooded figure.  The two greeted each other with the Vulcan Hand Salute, murmuring words we could not hear, then extended their hands to touch finger tip to finger tip. 
      “It is agreeable to see you again, Moira,” replied a man’s voice.  He stepped into the light and pulled back his hood, revealing the unmistakable face of fabled Federation  Ambassador Without Portfolio Spock.
       
      Charlotte and I stood promptly.
      “Captain, Commander,” he acknowledged us.  “We have not met, but I have had...regular reports on your careers and your marriage.”
      Spock glanced at Moira, indicating that she had been the source of the reports.  I recalled that Moira's "Mother," the artificial intelligence who had generated Moira's programming, had become self-aware on the USS Enterprise a century earlier.
      "So I write home," Moira said, shrugging.
      “Is it safe for you to be here, Sir?” I asked, looking about apprehensively.
      “Quite safe, Captain,” said TuLeea from where she remained sitting. 
      “The Ambassador is a regular visitor.  No security forces would dare invade my home, or I would box their ears,” added the old woman in a feisty tone.  "You saw what kind of influence I have -- I arranged to have you sit at my table at the dinner.
      “Indeed,” commented the Ambassador as he moved to a seat beside TuLeea, gesturing for the rest of us to also be seated.  He poured himself a drink, and then addressed the three of us from the Crazy Horse.
      “I asked TuLeea to arrange a meeting with you,” he explained, "because I have a large quantity of data to transmit to a certain diplomat who is currently based upon your ship.”
      “The Commissioner,” I nodded.
      Spock reached into his robe and pulled out a PADD.
      “We’ll be searched when we leave,” observed Charlotte.  “The security forces will be very suspicious if we try to carry away data storage we didn't bring in.”
      “I believe I have the solution,” said Moira, extending her hand to receive the PADD.  She set the device for high speed display and hundreds, if not thousands of pages of information flickered at her.
      “Data storage complete,” she announced with a smug grin, handing the PADD back to the Ambassador.  “And might I say that the information is ‘fascinating?’  The Commissioner will certainly be able to put it to good use.”
      “Did I not tell you, TuLeea, that they would be resourceful?” Spock said, raising an eyebrow. 
      “It is well,” she nodded.  “These are crucial times on Romulus.  We are recovering from a coup that the military supported.  The military, however, has concluded that it made a woeful mistake.  As a result, they are more...vulnerable...to civilian control than they have been for a generation.”
      “The newly-reconstituted Senate is therefore more powerful than any Romulan Senate has been in living memory,” added Spock.  “Particularly since the Praetor is herself a relative newcomer to power.”
      "But the old power structures in the Senate are gone, their leaders killed in the coup," added Moira.  "Factions are jockeying for domestic control."
      “A treaty with the Federation, pushed through now, solves many problems,” nodded TuLeea.  “A fait accompli before the military solidifies its reorganization gives them a new reality in which to live.   Some of them will like it better.  With Federation ships regularly visiting Romulus, things will be different.  And interesting.”  She nodded her head one more time, with finality.
      “And you, Mister Ambassador?” Moira asked, her eyes twinkling as she use the honorific.
      “The time will come when cousins must meet again,” mused Spock, alluding to TuLeea's story.  “The treaty will provide a setting in which Romulus and Vulcan can eventually begin their reconciliation.  My work here has been to convince the Romulan people that their Vulcan cousins are no longer their enemies.  When the time is right, I shall return to Vulcan with that same message about our Romulan cousins.”
      TuLeea’s eyes twinkled even more than Moira’s had a few moments before.
      “When that time comes, Michael and Charlotte and Moira,” she said, “you will be invited to return to Romulus.”
      I must have frowned, not understanding what she meant.
      “We have long planned to find a way to invite the officers of the Crazy Horse  into my home,” explained TuLeea.  “Under Romulan tradition, you are evermore welcome.  A citizen of my venerable age will not be refused when I extend the invitation for a return visit.   And when that time comes, you may find some passengers seeking transportation...to Vulcan.”
      “Passengers, as in plural?” I asked.
      “Yes,” TuLeea smiled.  “When Mister Spock returns to Vulcan, his cousin will go with him.”
      After a pause in which we let the idea digest, Charlotte asked, “Are you talking about the ambassador's...real cousin?”
      “My great, great, great, great grandfather,” said Spock, enunciating each "great" carefully, “was TuPir's brother.  TuLeea and I  are cousins both figuratively, and in fact.”
      "Huh," said Moira.  "Imagine that."
       
      It was a couple of days later and we were back on Crazy Horse.  Charlotte and I were having dinner in Roddenberry's, our 10-Forward lounge.
      "I never thought of Moira as having family," I told my wife.  "Oh, I know that she doesn't have biological relatives, but she thinks of Spock as her father.  That's a lot different than calling the computer that generated her personality code 'Mom.'"
      "Different cultures define 'family' differently," replied Charlotte, reaching for the after-dinner chocolate.  "Crazy Horse, the man, lived in a culture in which boys were raised by their uncles, not their parents.  Cousins were almost closer relatives than siblings."
      I thought for a few moments. 
      "You know," I said.  "Neither of us have talked to our cousins much lately.  Maybe it's time for our own family reunion."