The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [10]
T’Pol was somewhere inside the mostly rebuilt T’Karath Sanctuary. He assumed that she was making whatever preparations needed to be made. He hadn’t attended many Vulcan funerals, and hadn’t particularly had the time- or the desire- to read up on them during the few days it had taken the speedy Coridanite diplomatic vessel to ferry them here.
“Commander Tucker?” The voice was even and crisp. He knew it belonged to a Vulcan before he even turned around. He was not surprised to recognize the shorter woman, even if her shaggy brown hair had now been swept up under a tall cap.
“Minister T’Pau,” he replied, bowing slightly toward her. He supposed that she must have just returned from the recent round of Coalition negotiations on Earth.
“I hope everything has been comfortable for you, under the circumstances,” she said, nodding courteously. “Our workers have been laboring night and day to turn this desolation once again into a sanctuary.”
“I’ve been most comfortable, ma’am,” Trip said. “Your workers have done a great job over the past six months.” He had only seen in holograms what the original T’Karath Sanctuary had looked like. As was the case with many Vulcan religious and philosophical refuges, it had been designed and built to be a part of the low desert hills, rather than something separate from the inhospitable natural world that surrounded it.
“T’Karath was once a significant part of our history,” T’Pau said, stepping forward and looking out over the rocky canyon that sloped away from the sanctuary proper. Trip admired the neat rows of hardy, ground-level plants that adorned the canyon’s ruddy, rock-strewn sands. He’d overheard one of the workers refer to these newly planted leafy succulents as kylin’the, which were supposed to possess healing properties. The sight of life returning and persisting so stubbornly in such a hostile place made Trip feel something that strongly resembled hope.
“A history that stretches back to the time of Surak,” T’Pau continued. “The sanctuary was mostly destroyed during a… long-past conflict among our people. More recently, my Syrrannite sect used it as a refuge, until the High Command made the decision to wipe us out. Much of what remained from the past was destroyed by the aerial bombardment.”
“It’s good that you’re rebuilding, then,” Trip said. “It’ll stand as a monument for your people for the future.”
T’Pau turned and regarded him with one eyebrow raised. “For now at least.” She pursed her lips, and turned back to the expansive view in front of them. “Vulcan’s future is unknown. Hundreds of years from now, this sanctuary may well be forgotten once again.”
“I hope not,” Trip said.
“Is that the reason you are interring her here?” T’Pau asked. “So that she will be memorialized in a place you think will hold importance in our future?”
Trip was momentarily appalled by the question. Every time I think the next Vulcan can’t be any ruder than the last one, I get proved wrong, he thought.
Before he could respond, he saw T’Pol step out of the entrance behind them. She was dressed in elaborate royal blue robes not unlike those he wore himself, though she didn’t look at all uncomfortable in them. Around her neck she wore the IDIC symbol her mother had sent to her shortly before her death.
“No, Minister, that is not the reason we are interring Elizabeth here,” T’Pol said. “We do not choose to do this out of some attempt to publicly memorialize our… daughter. We do this because my mother is buried here as well. She would have appreciated knowing her granddaughter.”
T’Pau nodded. “Even if only for a short time. That is logical.” She paused for a moment, and then added a question. “Do you think she would have accepted the child, given its… mixed parentage?”
Trip realized that his face