May you enjoy this ST fanfic, and please do leave feedback. Kindly respect the copyright, thank you. I laboured for hours to write it.
*
I was born on February 14, 1967. I am human on my mother's side. My dad is a Vulcan. Growing up in Chicago, I did look a little different from the other kids. Luckily in the city there are humans of all different colors, with variously shaped eyes, noses, and so on. If anybody asked about my ears or eyebrows, I would tell them what my parents had told me (which I later found out was a big fat lie). "I'm part Chinese," I would say. "When I was little there was an accident with an electric rice-picker."
And my dad always simply wore a hat.
Luckily I was good in sports, which is a magical social insulation from ridicule. I was stronger than the other girls, even stronger than many of the boys. I played baseball on the guys' team through high school, dabbled a little bit in gymnastics.
But my favorite sport was tae kwon do. The fighting ability seemed to be in my blood. Ancient weapons fit very naturally in my hands. My favorite was the labrys, the double-bladed ax. It seemed to symbolize my heritage.
After high school my life was pretty ordinary for a middle-class American woman. I went to college, got a degree and a professional job. The only thing that was different was that I never had any particular interest in finding a mate. I watched my friends get married and settle down from a sort of detached perspective. I was happy for them, but had no particular wish to do the same.
Don't get me wrong, I dated from time to time. I'm reasonably pretty, a good cook, and can hold up my end of a conversation. Sex was fine, I could take it or leave it. But things never seemed to work out.
For one thing, men weren't prepared for my physical strength. Once when I came, I squeezed the poor man's dick so hard that tears of pain came to his eyes. He never called again. In addition, aroused human males are kind of smelly. Not exactly a turn-on.
This year on New Year's Day I started to feel a little strange. I was oddly irritable, even though it wasn't my time of the month. "Must be the champagne," I thought. "Some kind of hangover."
But the next day other symptoms began to appear. I had trouble concentrating at work. As I wrote the tedious reports for which I was famous in the company, I found myself making mistakes in my logic. I would put down the project and move on to a different one. Later, when I went back to the previous job, I found all kinds of irrational errors. "What is wrong with me?" I wondered.
After a couple of weeks of substandard work, my boss called me in to her office. "Kelly," she said. "You've always been a terrific employee and I don't want to put you on probation. But is something wrong lately? Something you want to talk about?"
Tears stung my eyes. "I don't know," I sobbed. "Maybe I just need some rest."
Becky looked concerned. "Tell you what," she said. "Why don't you go see your doctor and get a referral for a psychic evaluation." My head jerked up.
Does she think I'm nuts?
I thought.
She saw the look on my face. "I know that sounds extreme," she said. "But this will enable you to take paid leave. I'd like to keep you as an employee here. And I'd like to see the old you come back."
"Thank you," I bawled. I grabbed a Kleenex off her desk and blew my nose. "Th-thank you."
In a way I was relieved to get rid of the pressure of work. I saw the doc, filled out the HR paperwork, and went home to be moody and bitchy. I did remember to write my boss a nice thank-you note, telling her I was trying to work things out. I intended to return to work, and my normal life, as quickly as possible.
Then I started to dream. In the dream I was making love to a dark-haired Vulcan. Actually we were snarling and fucking like wild animals. His silver chainmail shimmered against his muscular physique. The armor scratched my skin. I didn't have to handle him gently. He was way stronger than me, something I had never experienced. Brutally he pounded into me, taking his fill.
I woke up more aroused than I had ever been in my life. I masturbated with my fingers, thrusting hard. I pinched my nipples and dry-humped the bed. I did everything I could think of to get off, but when I eventually came, I was not satisfied. It seemed like there should be something better.
My therapist told me I was subconsciously attracted to my father and experiencing cognitive dissonance.
A few days later I went to the dojang, thinking to work off the tension. I was feeling almost mean, not common for my nature. I sparred with the ranking black belt. He seemed a little surprised by the vigor of my attack. After an hour, he took me aside. "Miss Koss," he said, "Are you feeling okay?"
"Why does everyone keep asking me that!" I snapped.
His eyebrows went up.
"I'm sorry, sabum-nem," I said. "I'm fine."
I left in shame for having spoken so rudely to my teacher.
By the twenty-third of January I was coming apart. I was off my feed. Food that I used to love was odious to me. I was so bitchy that I tried not to go out in public. What few groceries I required, I had delivered.
And the dreams became more intense. Always the same Vulcan was my lover. In dreams he brought me to mind-shattering orgasm and sweet release. But upon waking I was insatiable.
I was very near to prowling bars to stalk a mate, any mate. I couldn't bring myself to do it for fear of hurting someone. I went to Lover's Lane to buy some toys. As I browsed the dildoes, I looked for the ones that seemed most durable. "Can I help you, miss?" leered an employee. Coldly, I visualized smacking his face hard enough to break his jaw. He stammered some apology and went away.
I went to visit my mom. "What is wrong with me?" I wept in her arms.
"I was afraid this would happen," she said.
"What!?
" I demanded. "What is going on!?"
"You are at a special crossroads, my daughter," she said. "You may know that human women reach their sexual peak at age forty."
I nodded to show I understood. I had heard that in biology class ages ago.
"But you are also Vulcan," she continued, and she began to cry as well. "You are experiencing the Pon Farr."
"No!" I protested. "That only happens to men.
This can't happen
."
"Nonetheless, it is happening," she said sadly. "Have you tried meditating?"
"It is too late," said my father as he came into the room. "She must go."
A feeling of dread trickled down my spine. "No, no, no..." I began to whisper.
They explained to me that, when I was born, they had selected a Vulcan mate for me in case this would ever happen. They had figured, if I never experienced the Pon Farr, there would be no serious consequences. Sohnok was on the planet Vulcan and I was on Earth. Were I never available, he would have many Vulcan women from which to choose.
And if I did have the condition, they thought they could catch it in time, and treat it with drugs, or meditation. When I passed through my teen years, my twenties and thirties, my parents had heaved a sigh of relief. They never expected the onset so late in life, especially for a female. But I was no longer living under their roof; with no daily contact, the early signs had gone undetected. And now it was too late. I would have to go through with it.
My father sent for a ship to carry me to the home I had never seen. Before I boarded, my parents gave me one last piece of information: my name. They had called me Kelly so I would fit in with the rest of the humans. My real name was T'Kel.
I left Earth on February sixth. The journey was brief and uneventful. I spent my time masturbating, trying not to be so bitchy, and working out in the holodeck gym.
I also spent a lot of time gazing at my mate's picture. Not surprisingly, his face was that of the lover in my dreams. I wondered about him; what his life had been like. I wondered if he would dislike me for being half-alien. Or, maybe, he would find my foreignness erotic. I could not wait to get my hands on him. I could not wait to smell him.
We came into orbit around the planet. The long-awaited contact could now take place. I took several hours bathing and decorating my body, hoping I was attractive. I stood before the viewer.
To my shock, my mate's face did not appear. On the screen was a young Vulcan woman. She was beautiful. And she looked like she was made of ice.
"Who are you?" I wondered.
"I am T'Val," she declared. "I challenge you, T'Kel, to the
Kalifee!
"
For a minute I could only stare.
