by Peter David
Shelby, meantime, wasn't entirely certain where she was going until her feet, apparently of their own accord, guided her into sickbay. It was only then, as she stood there while various medics walked past her, glancing in her direction before going about their
business, that she realized her body had already made
the decision on behalf of her mind.
She glanced across the sickbay and saw Dr. Selar in her office, briskly going through assorted reports. She folded her arms since she didn't know what to do with them, and then let them dangle at her sides as she took a deep breath and then strode with authority across sickbay. For some reason that she couldn't quite put her finger on, she felt as if one leg was suddenly a bit shorter than the other. Since no one else seemed to be taking notice, she had to assume that it was her imagination.
She stood in the doorway of Selar's office, and at first Selar seemed to take no notice of her. Finally, however, without glancing up, Selar said, "Yes, Commander?"
"How'd you know it was me?" she asked.
"My hearing is sharper than the human norm, Commander, and you tend to tap your foot if you are impatient."
"I do?" Shelby was intrigued as she sat in a chair opposite Selar.
"Yes. Quite rapidly, I might add. Softly enough so that it does not disturb anyone, but it is detectable to me." She turned away from work and focused her attention on Shelby. "How may I be of service?"
"Selardo you mind if I call you Selar?"
"If you are asking my preference, I prefer 'Doctor.'" "Oh. Say, what do you call the person who graduates last in their medical class?"
Selar stared at her for a long moment. "Fascinating," she said at last. "1 can easily believe that you and the captain have a history with one another. He reacted in exactly the same manner when I made the same request of him, with precisely the same joke. He was also under the impression that the answer'Doctor'was somehow funny. I had once thought that humans were difficult to understand, but I have become willing to widen the parameters to non-Vulcans as a whole."
"It's just that, well, I wanted to discuss something personal, and addressing you with a title seems to keep a distance between us."
"I find that preferable." When she saw Shelby's look, she added, "It is not intended as a personal slight, Commander. I assure you. I prefer distance when it comes to dealing with others. It is one of the qualities that makes me a good doctor the ability to keep a professional distance between myself and my patients. A doctor must never become emotionally involved with her charges."
"Granted. But a doctor should at least show some empathy, don't you think?"
"Germs do not care about empathy, Commander. Nor do phaser wounds, multiple lacerations, cancer cells, stopped hearts, collapsed lungs, or any of the many calamities that can befall the human body." Selar sat perfectly motionless in her chair. She might have been carved from marble, and Shelby was having a difficult time picturing this woman in the throes of any mating urge. Selar raised one inquisitive eyebrow and asked, "Did you come here to discuss my medical techniques?"
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"No," Shelby said evenly. "I came to discuss your request of the captain."
"Yes, that would be the logical reason for your visit. Since discussion of my personal life is doubtlessly moving apace throughout the entire vessel thanks to a faulty door, there is no reason that you and I should not converse about it as well."
"Look, SelDoctor . . . I could come to you as a first officer. I'd like to come to you as a friend."
"Friend?" She tilted her head slightly. "I was unaware that you consider us friends."
"I would like to. You must have friends. On Vulcan, at the very least."
"There are . . . others," said Selar after a moment's thought. "Other Vulcans with whom I associate. We have discussions of philosophy, and we devise puzzles of logic in order to hone our skills and direct our thought in proper channels. I do not know, however, that the human word 'friend' would apply. There is a Vulcan term Ku'net Kal'fiore which roughly translates as, 'One For Whom You Have Use.'"
Shelby tried not to make a face, and was only partly successful. "No offense intended, Doctor, but that doesn't sound very pleasant."
"I said the translation was rough," Selar said defensively. "On Vulcan, that is actually a term of endearment."
"All right, fine. How I want to talk with you is somewhere between a first officer and a friend. Can we agree on that?"
Selar let out a small sigh. "With all respect, Commander, if it will get you out of my office sooner so that I may return to my work, I will agree to virtually anything at this point."
"All right, fine. Here's the thing You've put the captain in a very awkward position."
"Not yet," replied Selar matter-of-factly. "I do not envision utilizing anything beyond your equivalent of the standard missionary"
"That's not what I meant," she waved her hands to get Selar to stop. You asked the captain of this vessel to have sex with you! To sire your child!"
"Yes, I believe the news is just coming through on the Interplanetary Network. Do not worry; if we miss the broadcast, I am quite certain it will be repeated." Shelby's lips thinned. "I was unaware that Vulcans could be so sarcastic." "We have many exemplary traits." "Mm-hmm." Shelby paused, and then pushed forward. "It was . . . inappropriate of you to approach the captain in the fashion that you did." "Inappropriate for whom?" "For protocol. A captain should not fraternize with his subordinates."
"That, Commander, is illogical. Since the captain is by definition the most highly ranked individual on a ship, that point of view would require that a captain remain celibate throughout his tour of duty. That does not seem reasonable." "Perhaps. Nonetheless"
"Besides, I am not asking for fraternization. Merely to have sex. I doubt there will even be a good deal of conversation."
"Doctor . . ." She tried to find a different way to approach it. "The captain of a ship . . . he's not like everyone else. In a way, he does have to keep himself apart. Because everyone, sooner or later, will come to him for a decision . . . a decision that may very well have consequences for everyone else on the ship. When a captain makes those decisions, he has to be able to make them, free and unencumbered by other, irrelevant concerns. If intimacies of any sort factor
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"No," Shelby said evenly. "I came to discuss your request of the captain."
"Yes, that would be the logical reason for your visit. Since discussion of my personal life is doubtlessly moving apace throughout the entire vessel thanks to a faulty door, there is no reason that you and I should not converse about it as well."
"Look, SelDoctor . . . I could come to you as a first officer. I'd like to come to you as a friend."
"Friend?" She tilted her head slightly. "I was unaware that you consider us friends."
"I would like to. You must have friends. On Vulcan, at the very least."
"There are . . . others," said Selar after a moment's thought. "Other Vulcans with whom I associate. We have discussions of philosophy, and we devise puzzles of logic in order to hone our skills and direct our thought in proper channels. I do not know, however, that the human word 'friend' would apply. There is a Vulcan term Ku'net Kal'fiore which roughly translates as, 'One For Whom You Have Use.'"
Shelby tried not to make a face, and was only partly successful. "No offense intended, Doctor, but that doesn't sound very pleasant."
"I said the translation was rough," Selar said defensively. "On Vulcan, that is actually a term of endearment."
"All right, fine. How I want to talk with you is somewhere between a first officer and a friend. Can we agree on that?"
Selar let out a small sigh. "With all respect, Commander, if it will get you out of my office sooner so that I may return to my work, I will agree to virtually anything at this point."
"All right, fine. Here's the thing You've put the captain in a very awkward position."
"Not yet," replied Selar matter-of-factly. "I do not envision utilizing anything beyond your equivalent of the standard missionary"
"That's not what I meant," she waved her hands to get Selar to stop. You asked the captain of this vessel to have sex with you! To sire your child!"
"Yes, I believe the news is just coming through on the Interplanetary Network. Do not worry; if we miss the broadcast, I am quite certain it will be repeated." Shelby's lips thinned. "I was unaware that Vulcans could be so sarcastic." "We have many exemplary traits." "Mm-hmm." Shelby paused, and then pushed forward. "It was . . . inappropriate of you to approach the captain in the fashion that you did." "Inappropriate for whom?" "For protocol. A captain should not fraternize with his subordinates."
"That, Commander, is illogical. Since the captain is by definition the most highly ranked individual on a ship, that point of view would require that a captain remain celibate throughout his tour of duty. That does not seem reasonable." "Perhaps. Nonetheless"
"Besides, I am not asking for fraternization. Merely to have sex. I doubt there will even be a good deal of conversation."
"Doctor . . ." She tried to find a different way to approach it. "The captain of a ship . . . he's not like everyone else. In a way, he does have to keep himself apart. Because everyone, sooner or later, will come to him for a decision . . . a decision that may very well have consequences for everyone else on the ship. When a captain makes those decisions, he has to be able to make them, free and unencumbered by other, irrelevant concerns. If intimacies of any sort factor
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into the equation, it can skew the decision into a direction that may be the wrong one."
"I do not quite comprehend, Commander," said Selar. "Are you implying that, in this instance, the captain could develop some sort of attachment to me that would cloud his ability to make appropriate decisions?"
"Doctor," she said and leaned forward, resting her hands on Selar's desk, "trust me on this I know Mackenzie Calhoun. He's not the type of man who simply has casual sex. If he is intimate with a woman, he immediately considers that they then have an ongoing relationship. He's not a love-'em-and-leave-'em kind of guy. It's not part of who he is, or the way he was raised."
"The way he was raised? Commander, it is precisely because of the way he was raised that I approached the captain in this matter."
Shelby opened her mouth a moment, then closed it. "I'm sorry?"
"Commander, I did not choose the captain simply because of his rank, his rugged good looks, or his 'animal magnetism.' As befits my heritage, I approached this in a logical manner. I researched all the males on this vessel for compatibility and cultural background that would lend itself to attending to my needs. The captain's background on Xenex was the most thorough match."
"I'm not following," said Shelby, her confusion evident on her face. "His background? You mean from Xenex?" In all their time together as a couple, Calhoun had never gone into excessive detail about his life on Xenex. From what she knew of it, it was so filled with memories of war, heartache, and loss, that even to broach the subject was painful to him. So they had not discussed it overmuch. "What about his life
on Xenex can possibly apply to your situation. Xen-exians don't have Pon Fan."
"Granted, Commander. However, they do have their own traditions and customs. One of them is that if a woman of the tribe has become widowed, and she wishes to conceive, thereby fulfilling what is perceived as the woman's role in the tribal orderand please"she put up a hand to forestall exactly what she anticipated Shelby saying"do not spend time telling me that women are capable of fulfilling many more functions besides childbirth. Since you and I nave both chosen careers in Starfleet, we can take that to be a given in both our personal philosophies. The point is, if she wishes to conceive, then it is the responsibility of the tribal leader to perform the necessary services. Mackenzie Calhoun was indeed a tribal leader. Therefore I am merely asking him, in a manner of speaking, to fulfill those same obligations."
"But he's not on Xenex!" pointed out Shelby.
"True. And I am not on Vulcan. Our specific geographical location, Commander, is irrelevant. We continue to carry our cultures and backgrounds within us, no matter where we are. Mackenzie Calhoun is, to all intents and purposes, the leader of our little tribe here on the Excalibur. I, a widowed female, have asked him to fulfill an obligation that a Xenexian tribal leader routinely fulfills. This is not a question of Starfleet regulations or Federation policy, Commander. It is a question of cultural backgrounds, for both of us. Traditions. As we both know, the honoring of individual cultures and their ways is sacrosanct, even in Star-fleet."
Shelby was still working on getting a grip on what Selar had just informed her of. "So . . . so you're saying that Xenexian tribal leaders sometimes act as . . . breeding machines?"
"In a manner of speaking."
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into the equation, it can skew the decision into a direction that may be the wrong one."
"I do not quite comprehend, Commander," said Selar. "Are you implying that, in this instance, the captain could develop some sort of attachment to me that would cloud his ability to make appropriate decisions?"
"Doctor," she said and leaned forward, resting her hands on Selar's desk, "trust me on this I know Mackenzie Calhoun. He's not the type of man who simply has casual sex. If he is intimate with a woman, he immediately considers that they then have an ongoing relationship. He's not a love-'em-and-leave-'em kind of guy. It's not part of who he is, or the way he was raised."
"The way he was raised? Commander, it is precisely because of the way he was raised that I approached the captain in this matter."
Shelby opened her mouth a moment, then closed it. "I'm sorry?"
"Commander, I did not choose the captain simply because of his rank, his rugged good looks, or his 'animal magnetism.' As befits my heritage, I approached this in a logical manner. I researched all the males on this vessel for compatibility and cultural background that would
lend itself to attending to my needs. The captain's background on Xenex was the most thorough match."
"I'm not following," said Shelby, her confusion evident on her face. "His background? You mean from Xenex?" In all their time together as a couple, Calhoun had never gone into excessive detail about his life on Xenex. From what she knew of it, it was so filled with memories of war, heartache, and loss, that even to broach the subject was painful to him. So they had not discussed it overmuch. "What about his life
on Xenex can possibly apply to your situation. Xen-exians don't have Pon Fan."
"Granted, Commander. However, they do have their own traditions and customs. One of them is that if a woman of the tribe has become widowed, and she wishes to conceive, thereby fulfilling what is perceived as the woman's role in the tribal orderand please"she put up a hand to forestall exactly what she anticipated Shelby saying"do not spend time telling me that women are capable of fulfilling many more functions besides childbirth. Since you and I nave both chosen careers in Starfleet, we can take that to be a given in both our personal philosophies. The point is, if she wishes to conceive, then it is the responsibility of the tribal leader to perform the necessary services. Mackenzie Calhoun was indeed a tribal leader. Therefore I am merely asking him, in a manner of speaking, to fulfill those same obligations."
"But he's not on Xenex!" pointed out Shelby.
"True. And I am not on Vulcan. Our specific geographical location, Commander, is irrelevant. We continue to carry our cultures and backgrounds within us, no matter where we are. Mackenzie Calhoun is, to all intents and purposes, the leader of our little tribe here on the Excalibur. I, a widowed female, have asked him to fulfill an obligation that a Xenexian tribal leader routinely fulfills. This is not a question of Starfleet regulations or Federation policy, Commander. It is a question of cultural backgrounds, for both of us. Traditions. As we both know, the honoring of individual cultures and their ways is sacrosanct, even in Star-fleet."
Shelby was still working on getting a grip on what Selar had just informed her of. "So . . . so you're saying that Xenexian tribal leaders sometimes act as . . . breeding machines?"
"In a manner of speaking."
