CHAPTER FOUR:

Prelude to Disaster.

Syhak, Son of Solkar's P.O.V

Syhak, son of Solkar, stood aboard the ASC Thris in his private chambers, staring out at the specks of starlight whirring passed the vessel in warp. He cut an imposing figure against the sparse backdrop of an austere room, swathed in the golden-mauve silks and linens of his Vulcan home-world, though little help they offered against the biting chill of the Andorian run research vessel, so vastly different to any ship he had been upon before.

Regrettably, it was the nearest vessel heading in his destination that would consider transporting him along in an acceptable time-frame after the conduit leak that had seen his own ship docked in for repairs at a local space station out of commission, and thus, his only option.

Cold clung to everything here relentlessly, a near sub-zero ambience that seeped in and out of the metals of the ship and filled all breathable air. The Andorians themselves did little to rectify this matter, though they were fond, from what Syhak had personally seen during his one hundred and seventy-two hours onboard the vessel, of using cushioning fabrics, furs and blankets in their communal sleeping barracks.

So, evidently, they preferred warmer temperatures to sleep, just not to operate within.

An unfortunate conclusion for the Vulcan in question, if one were to believe in the obtuse concept of fortune to begin with.

It appeared that where Andorians tread, Winter, as the Humans called it, swiftly followed. These were not optimal living conditions for a Vulcan, but, anew, Syhak reassured himself, he was not aboard this ship for optimal living conditions. If he were, he would have stayed upon Vulcan.

He was here to do his duty to his people, to his House, and most of all, to himself.

Finding no new observations to be had outside the view-port of his private chambers, a comfort begrudgingly given by the Captain of this vessel for Syhak's… 'delicate Vulcan sensibilities', as the Andorian had called it, Syhak grateful he was not expected to sleep in the communal huddle the rest of the Andorians appeared so fond of piling themselves into during resting hours, primarily naked, Syhak turned from the view.

There was much, much work to be done, and very, very little relief to be found.

In less than three standard hours, this ship, the Thris, would dock with the Human vessel known as Enterprise, where they would obtain the crew of the destroyed Kumari, a minor salvaging mission, and, thereafter, would head for Andoria.

That was when and where Syhak's true work would begin, and he needed to prepare himself for it.

As newly appointed Vulcan representative to Andoria, a tenuous and new relation and station crafted on the back of centuries of conflict and discordant taciturn hostilities, it would be his obligation to begin consolidating and solidifying the fragile peace Humans had fashioned between the two very different races in the last three standard years.

It would not be an easy task.

Never before had there been a Vulcan ambassador upon Andoria itself unlike Earth and Terrans, never before had there been an adequate possibility to station one there without the concern of assassination or banishment, but, as the High Council assured Syhak, never before had there been more hope of reconciliation between the two species.

The reward outweighed the risk.

This was, as a Human would say, their chance to finally bring peace between their respective peoples.

Perhaps the history of Paan Mokar, or Weytahn to the Andorians, could at last be assuaged. Scars could not be forgotten, but they could become less tender with careful attention.

Syhak, and his small party of a diplomatic delegation aboard the Thris, were merely the instrument this peace could be achieved, and as such, he must be on his most best, most appropriate, most respectable behaviour.

In this, an illogical spear of envy dug deep into the pit of Syhak's stomach, of which he was swift to purge himself of.

Skon, his younger brother, a diplomatic aide to Ambassador Soval on Earth, had more flexibility than himself. The Humans, as hot-blooded as they were, were, in the end, more forgiving than Andorians. A Human was less likely to brandish The ushaan-tor, an ancient Andorian weapon according to Syhak's reports on his Padd, if slighted.

And, as Syhak had read from his extensive accounts given to him by the Vulcan High Command, it was too easy to inadvertently insult an Andorian. His path would not be as easy to walk as, perhaps, Skon's, though he was sure Skon would argue the opposite given his own recent difficulties with Humans and their innate need to… To go.

Everywhere, all at once, without thought of consequence, or so his brother spoke of.

Turning to the bleak, ascetic room, Syhak was, again, on the inhale of an icy breath, stricken with the alien nature of his environment, and with it, the desire for familiarity, for his House's home in ShiKahr. That desire, that thought, too was pushed away, though it lingered on in his mind like Klingon blaster fire left behind deep, dark marks on polished bolt heads.

There was a reason he was chose for this political mission, and Syhak considered, it was less to do with his history of work within the Vulcan Science Academy, which had primarily focused on Biomedical engineering, and more to do with his own recent… Rejection.

His indefinite future was just that now.

Indefinite.

Ambiguous.

As tenuous as Andorian-Vulcan relations themselves.

An easy price to pay if the risk began to outweigh the reward, a very possible end when Andorians were involved.

His mate, which had, like most traditional Vulcan bondings, been chosen for him when he was six standard years old, had recently chosen to pursue the path of Kolinahr. The Vulcan ritual by which all remaining vestigial emotions were demonstrated as purged, and the mental discipline whereby this state was subsequently maintained. By doing so, she had decided to relinquish all previous personal relationships and bonds, including their own.

It hardly mattered that Syhak had not seen or met with T'sanvik since that bonding ceremony as children, it did not matter that he scarcely knew T'sanvik personally to grieve her mental loss within his mind much more than suffering an abrupt cavity within his awareness where their bond once stretched, it mattered that he was very suddenly a young adult, perhaps two years out from his… Time, unbonded, unmated, and, to other Vulcan's now, an approaching peril that needed to be resolved.

He had two standard years before the blood fever would take him, and thus, two years to find a mate. Being delegated to off-world duties such as Syhak had, there was little possibility of himself finding such an individual outside of Vulcan.

Humans, though biological similar enough to Vulcans to… Perhaps withstand such… Physical interactions, were, inherently, Psy-null. A mental bond would not attach. Tellarites were too physically weak, coupled with being Psy-null, such a coupling would be unfavourable for more than the… Lack of Aesthetic enjoyment Syhak found in their appearance, though that would matter little in the end.

Andorian women, both zhen and shen, of which Syhak would be in the vicinity of for the unforeseeable future, while stronger than their male counterparts and that of Humans, were, while not completely Psy-null, close enough to being so that, anew, similar to Humans, a bond could not be formed completely.

Being stationed upon Andoria for the next decade meant there was very little, if at all, any chance of meeting another Vulcan outside his male-orientated delegation party, and any visitors they may have, as Syhak's preferences were predominately of the female persuasion.

That left the assignment of finding a suitable mate to his parents back on Vulcan.

Though Syhak was convinced of their abilities, the truth remained there would be very little choice to make. Most Vulcan women would already be bonded, as he and T'sanvik had been, as children. Those who had not been bonded, due to childhood death of a intended mate or circumstance out of their control, would be rather particular about their next choice in a mate.

One already rejected, no matter that it was of no fault of his own but for the respectable choice of T'sanvik to follow the path of Logic to completion, would be seen as… Not unfavourable, but curiously not propitious.

Perhaps his parents had a challenging mission ahead of them too. Complicated in most ways as Vulcan tradition tended to be, though he had no doubt they would find an answer.

Nevertheless, his Father and Mother's capabilities aside, Syhak could not help but feel… despondent over this turn of events, reflection that brought him to the conclusion that had settled in since learning of T'sanvik's choice.

A choice that had wrought no emotional response that needed meditation.

Dejection.

Dejection that Syhak was lacking the other half of his Katra, which would only ever be found in a Natural Bonding, which, in turn, had not happened in approximately a thousand years.

Natural bondings had fallen out of prevalence as the rules of mating and bonding traditions began to construct themselves, as logic itself began to root itself within Vulcan culture. They were a thing of a bygone age, back when Vulcan blood ran hotter than its twin-suns, back when one Vulcan would bond with another in moment of impulse and instinct, that spark of having Katra completely and utterly in synchronization, compatibility undeniable between the two, back when-

Back when they were little more than beasts who would fight to the death for their bonded.

Bondings now were much more… Clinical. A technical and systematic comparable of compatibility between two for a prospected long and, if not pleasant or passionate, peaceful life. No longer was there the prospect of death if one's mate died, eliminating the need for koon-ut-kal-if-fee outside being denied aid in one's Time, but neither was there any longer the possibility of ever truly knowing how one's Katra could feel… Complete.

Natural bondings were unheard of these days, even if parents of Vulcan children tried to strive to achieve as close to the sphere of it in their betrothals.

It was, perhaps, the one thing Vulcan's missed about their more emotional days.

Although they, and Syhak, would never verbally admit it.

Now, however, having the pit in his mind where T'sanvik once latched onto, having the dizzying, and highly illogical, notion that he did not… Miss her there, as perhaps, he thought he should have done, Syhak couldn't help but wonder-

Wonder… What if?

His own parents, though not a Natural bonding by any means, were as close to one as any Vulcan in half a century had seen, and having grown up in the shadow of their bond, witnessing it from an early age himself, feeling it through their own telepathic network, the bond he could sense between them in his own mind, Syhak-

Syhak wanted.

Simply, and achingly, wanted.

And it was all very illogical and unproductive, and undeserving of his time and effort.

The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few.

Syhak's duty here, to Andoria and Vulcan, overshadowed any lingering notions of longing.

The doors to his chamber beeped before opening to the clean, empty face of his own aide, V'Lal.

The man bowed his head in greeting.

"I have been informed that we shall dock with the Enterprise within the next fifty-three minutes. We will be pulling out of warp within the next twenty-two."

Syhak gathered himself, preparing to meditate for a further three hours that night to renounce this inner contradiction he had, placing his hands primly behind his back.

"This is satisfactory. I assume the Captain wishes us to be present at the introductory gathering?"

V'Lal did not need to nod. It was the logical conclusion.

"Correct. The Enterprise has a Vulcan officer, and Captain Obas Th'ikaokris wishes for us to… 'Keep the pointy-eared nuisance off any Andorians back while we are there'. I assume he means to ease any pressures the Humans and Vulcan might have at having so many Andorians upon their vessel or within their vicinity with our presence."

Syhak hummed.

"It is reasonable to prepare for a straightforward and speedy transfer of the Kumari crew so we might begin the journey back to Andoria swiftly. Inform Captain Obas I shall be present."

Another bow.

"We are here to serve."

Syhak nodded at the goodbye, idly watching the doors closed.

Silence, cold and lonely, settled in with the vast darkness of space.

Harry's P.O.V

It was hard to say exactly what woke Harriet up in the dark med-bay in the early hours of the morning far before she felt she was ready to wake up, if anyone ever felt the need to wake up and not sleep in.

It could be the four limbs thrown over her as she curled up on the expanded cot. Blue arms, pleasantly cool, attached to blue people, her blue parents, together, found, as they slept beside her, a common practice Talas had assured her last night before she went to sleep and was told to shuffle over in the bed so Talas and Shran could hop on when she had begun to yawn.

It had been relatively weird for an entirety of two seconds as the other two settled onto the bed before Harry realized it felt quite… Nice to have someone there when she slept. A comfort, a… Safety, almost.

In all honesty, it wasn't that much different than hunkering down with Ron and Hermione to sleep at the Weasleys, often crammed into one bed given how many children were under the wonky roof at any given time. And, for once in a long while, she didn't feel like she was back in her cupboard when she drifted into the hazy place between awake and asleep, where memories and time seemed to become a nodulous blob, locked underneath the damp stairs, sealed away and forgoton.

Harriet had always liked sharing her bed. She had never known why before. Now she did. Sort of. After spending an entire childhood disregarded and purposefully shoved into small places to keep out of sight, it was good not to feel so… Alone.

And she had promptly passed out that evening, and was now suddenly very, very awake.

It could be the buckle of a belt pressing into her hipbone that awoke her unexpectedly and sharply, from Talas's waist, Talas and Shran only having kicked off their boots before joining her in sleep. Yet, she had spent a whole year camping out, sleeping in rougher spots than this med-bay and belt buckle, and it had never bothered her before.

It could have been the lack of light, the flashing of a device here or there, the Doctor-

Phlox, no where to be seen, likely in his own rooms sleeping his own dreams before turning the light off so the Andorians could sleep properly.

Sensitive eye-sight, the doctor had winked at her in explanation.

It could have been the scratchy blanket, one of seven Shran had scavenged from the remaining empty med-beds, to pad out their own cot, tangled around her feet, though he had moaned about the quality of it. But… No. Again, Harriet had slept in worse.

Whatever it was that woke Harry up, it was there still as she blinked up to the murky ceiling above, frowning, listening-

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

Silent.

Somehow, someway, there was still sound to be found in the room, but it felt almost heavily silent. A smooth huff of breath from Telas, the beeping of a panel somewhere to the right, the hum of engines in the walls and in the belly of a ship flying through space, and yet, Harriet couldn't help but think it was silent.

Very, very, silent.

"Too quiet?"

Shran's voice was calm in the dark, softer than the black, and when Harriet blinked over to him, she found him rolled on his side to the right, blue gaze still weary with sleep, hair a white flash in the night.

"How did you know?"

He hummed and mindlessly adjusted the blanket over both of them, pulling it up and over, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do.

To care.

"Lily had the same trouble in the beginning. It infuriated her. Kept waking her up in the middle of the night for months. The silence, she called it."

There was a tinge of bitterness to his voice now, bitterness hiding the grief Harriet knew was deep down in there, perhaps awakened at the memory of her mother.

Harriet found her gaze lifting back to the ceiling, back to the darkness above.

"But it's not silent. I don't… I don't get it. I can hear things but it feels-"

"Empty."

Shran finished delicately. Harriet could only nod.

Empty. Yes, empty.

"From my understanding, from what Lily could adequately explain to me, Humans are not telepathically inclined. Not at all. Your kind, however, as a branch out of Humanity, are quite telepathic. Perhaps even enough to challenge a Vulcan."

The idea of this 'challenging a Vulcan', whatever a Vulcan was, brightened Shran's face, making him smile, and in turn, the infectious contentment made Harriet smile back.

And then, inevitably, the following idea of Harriet around this said 'Vulcan' hit, and it must have been a sour thought to Shran by the way his face curled up in on itself.

Harriet cut in before it could seemingly implode.

"Aye, we are. We can speak to each other telepathically. Even block our minds off from others. Our Magic works psychically too. It's how our Wards recognize those we want in and those we want out. How we can sometimes tell who has fired what spell. How we know who's apparated behind us sometimes without turning around if they haven't blocked their mind off properly. How we use non-verbal and wandless magic. Its-… But I don't get how that has anything to do with this… Silence."

In her whisper, Harriet buried herself deeper into the blanket now around her neck, almost as if it could shield her from the quiet.

Shran-

Shran's smile turned forlorn, grim. No teeth, no dimple, no harshness.

Harry's gut sank with it.

"I don't know if your people have survived to this age. If they are, the human's know nothing about them. Yet, if they have, well… All the way out here, they are not. You are. From what your Zhen'mar figured out, your telepathic abilities are always running, most often times subtly without awareness, as you always have… What you call magic inside of you, even if you do not consciously decide to use them, they reach out to one another, feel and…"

The pebble dropped.

"So far out from Earth, so far away from any Witches or Wizards, my magic-… I reach out and find… Nothing. Hence the silence. Hence the empty."

There was nothing Shran could say that would ease that blow, and Harriet found herself thankful he didn't try.

It was… It was a hard pill to swallow, but one she needed to nevertheless, especially if she was going to live in this day and age.

Even if she had never noticed it before, having that connection to her people, for they were her people as much as Andorians were, perhaps even more so right now, felt…

Raw.

Raw and aching.

A wound left to seep.

"Did mum ever say if it got better?"

Shran edged closer in the bed, right on up to her side, right until she could feel his inhale and exhale along the expense of her arm, reaching out to take her hand.

It didn't burn as Hermione's hand had in the hospital bed back in Saint Mungo's. It felt soft, and gentle, not cold or warm, but there.

Harriet needed that.

Harriet really needed that.

"No. But she did tell me it got easier to bare as time passed… And then she found me, and Talas, and Thrass, and I like to think we made it tolerable for her. Made the empty not so empty."

Harriet chuckled.

"Didn't she appear randomly on your ship? Don't you mean you found her?"

The hand squeezed her own.

"Never. She found us, as extraordinary as your Zhen'mar was. As you found us, and, as I am sure, as remarkable as you are as like your Zhen'mar, you too will find things to fill your silence. Preferably with me, your Shen'mar and your Thaan'Lik included."

Harriet had no idea what this Shen'mar and Thaan'lik were, but given that, by context, Zhen'mar seemed to be some sort of Mother, the other two must have been representative of Thrass and Talas. And while she couldn't exactly say what those words meant, perhaps she could in time, she did see, very plainly, the question lurking underneath the bulster.

Harriet hooked her fingers and squeezed the hand back.

She would not lie, the Silence was disconcerting, nearly disorientating, nearly overwhelming. Yet… Yet, as Shran said, she would learn to fill it herself.

"I didn't come all this way to just say hello and piss off now. I'm afraid you're stuck with me. At least for a little while."

Harriet had not noticed the tension in Shran's shoulders until they eased underneath the blanket.

They had not gotten to talk much last night, not through the teary reunion, and then Harriet's exhaustion due to her still healing meant there was little more time but for sleep. There was still so much to say, so much to ask, so much to-

To see and do and be.

Harriet didn't rightly know where to start, and maybe, just maybe, neither did Shran.

Maybe they were all on the same boat-

Ship.

And possibly, for right now, it was easiest to just simply say I'm here, as Shran was doing by holding her hand.

The rest would come, in time.

From beside her head, she felt Shran's antenna wiggle in the stuffed brick the Humans here called a pillow.

"Language. But… Yes. Here. We're all here."

His voice broke a little on that, and Harriet thought her chest did a little too. Even the darkness around them couldn't hide that.

I'm here.

We're here.

A beep from beneath their heads made Shran's own leave hers, and dip beneath his pillow, pulling out a little square device that flickered brightly in his face when he pressed a button.

"And it seems we are soon to be on the Command deck. Thrass's ship is docking as we speak."

IMPORTANT: PLEASE READ:

I have done a little switcheroo on you all, and I can explain! I was going to do this fic as a Harry/Oc/Oc/Oc, all Andorian. However, every time I tried to do that, it just felt… Disingenuous. Forced, if you will. I had the characters all mapped out, I had exactly where I wanted this fic to go ready and primed and it all just sort have felt very, very flat.

I really, really didn't like it.

After much time, and much thought, I think I figured out why. It just went against the entire message of this fic, and the entire premise of Star trek itself. Being so insular as it would have been, Andorians for Andorians, there was none of that Star Trek magic present. Star Treks defining feature is seeing the beauty of alien relationships, and how people, no matter how diverse and culturally different, coming together in the end. It's a beautiful message that I want to have present in my Star Trek fics, as poor imitations as they are lol.

This thought obviously led to another much bigger thought that no matter how hard I tried, would not shift.

We never get to see an intimate relationship between an Andorian and a Vulcan. (Correct me if I am wrong). And I think that's a big bloody shame. As polar opposites on the Alien spectrum, it would be rather fascinating to see the mechanics of such a thing. The adapting on both sides, the struggles as well as the victories, and, inevitably, the coming together of two opposite people to make something unique and beautiful, which is the message of Star Trek itself.

So, here we are. This is my long-winded way of saying I changed the pairing lol. This is now a Fem!Harry/Vulcan!OC. The Andorian OCs are still present, I've put too much work in them to just dump them in the bin, but they are more a friendship role than anything, and even though this will have romance in it, as before, that is not the sole focus of this fic. The primary attention is Harry's family, those she has chosen and those by blood, and finding a place in the world (galaxy), and learning to live and grow as an Andorian/Human hybrid. That includes romance, yes, but that romance will be a bigger part of a much larger picture.

That, and I really, really, really wanted to see Shran have a heart attack when he figures out his only child is 'dating' a Vulcan. It's going to be hilarious. And, likewise, if any Vulcan anywhere was going to go bonding to an Andorian it would be someone from Sarek's line. You can't convince me otherwise. Solkar practically Vulcan-made-out with a human in First Contact, Sarek (Syhak's eventual nephew in this) went and had the first Vulcan Human hybrid child to canonically survive passed childhood (Tucker and T'Pol's child will survive in this fic), Spock and Kirk (Need I say more about these two calamities?), and now Syhak's going to be chasing after some fine-Blue-behind. You can't persuade me this entire Vulcan family isn't some horny-disaster on main. These boys need to learn to keep their overly sensitive fingers away from pretty Alien hands.

Or not wink.

I just wanted to let you all know of this change in case you wished to jump ship now as I know this might not be some of yours cup of tea. Sorry for the change, but it just feels better to write this fic this way, and I think I'm going to enjoy it more, and, for those staying along for the ride, I hope you guys enjoy this more too!

Side note: As will be explained next chapter, Humans are Psy-null in this (No telepathic ability), Witches and Wizards however, clearly, are definitely not Psy-null. Oh no (Surprised Pikachu face). I wonder what could possibly go wrong Lmao.

Side, side note: Thrass is in the next chapter! I promise, this time, lmao. He is here, he is coming, so buckle up!

Thank you to everyone who has followed/favourited/reviewed! it really does mean a lot.