The Eyes of the Beholders - A. C. Crispin [5]
The Vulcan woman thought privately that the image was particularly apt, but her amusement did not show on her well-schooled countenance. “The more you are able to practice using the sensory net before we dock at the nearest Starbase and you take transport for your home world, the better you will be able to manage.”
Thala nodded silently, tight-lipped as any Vulcan. Momentarily, Selar regretted mentioning the child’s approaching departure, but she steeled herself. Thala had to become accustomed to the idea that she would be leaving soon, to grow up on a planet she had never seen.
The Andorian child had been born in space. Her father, Thev, had been an Andorian diplomat on an extended goodwill voyage. Thala’s mother, a linguistics expert, had died six years ago when her baby was only a year old, of a virus the linguist had contracted. The child’s father had died five weeks ago, one of eighteen people to perish during the Borg attack.
Now Thala was alone, and regulations decreed that she must be sent back to her family at the earliest opportunity.
Ever since Thev’s death, Lieutenant Selar had tried to tell herself that Thala would be better off with her relatives, but she was concerned about the child’s future. Life aboard a starship was far different from life on a planet—especially a place like the Andorian homeworld.
Andorians were a passionate race, not as technologically or as socially advanced as Vulcans or even Terrans. They clung to ancient traditions that were steeped in their barbaric, bloody past. Weaknesses or disabilities were regarded not with toleration but as personal and familial shame. Some Andorian clans, it was whispered, still exposed children who were born less than perfect. It was certainly true that Selar, in her fifteen years of medical practice with Starfleet, had never seen an Andorian who was in any way handicapped.
How would Thala be regarded by her people? Within the past year, Selar, working first with Doctor Pulaski and then with the returned Doctor Crusher, had been testing and evaluating Thala to receive a VISOR much like the one Lieutenant Commander La Forge wore. The implantation of the sensors and calibrations of a VISOR had never been done for an Andorian. Selar had been doing much of the work herself, with assistance and advice from La Forge.
If Thala left, Selar wondered, would her clan make sure the child was given the best of medical care so she would one day “see” as the chief engineer could? Privately, the Vulcan doubted it.
And there was something else … something Selar had worked closely with Doctor Pulaski on developing: bioelectronic replacements for body parts. They had already come up with a way to give Lieutenant Commander La Forge bioelectronic eyes that would give him a normal appearance—assuming he did not wish to have the optic nerve regeneration. But so far the chief engineer had declined, because giving up his VISOR would mean losing a significant percentage of the range of his unique vision.
But for Thala, who had never grown up with the expanded vision provided by a VISOR, might not the bioelectronic eyes be ideal? They would look and function more like normal vision, although allowing her to “see” more spectra. And with them the little Andorian girl would not have to live with the constant pain that La Forge experienced.
Selar sighed aloud, and Thala’s head turned toward her in surprise. “Are you tired, Doctor? We can end the lesson if you wish.”
“No, not at all,” the Vulcan said. “But at the moment it is time for lunch.” She stood up gracefully, a tall, slender woman who wore her dark hair cropped short, bangs nearly touching her slanting eyebrows, revealing her elegantly pointed ears. The doctor was forty, still young as her people reckoned age, and her clean-cut features were attractive despite their lack of mobility.
“Yes, I’m hungry,” Thala said. She hesitated, then asked quietly, “Will I see you for