"That seems reasonable," says Lalita.

Isabella laughs. "I suppose I can see why they'd assume it!" And then she taps her foot; she's been going barefoot since her only pair of shoes wore out, since the commodity is scarce on a planetful of hoofed people. "Do you want to get married? Engaged, I mean, to start?"

"Sure."

"Depending on which planet's customs we use we could consider it all sealed up, er, in five months."

"Fine by me," says Lalita, kissing her nose.

"I don't think they're going to get through even one full five-decade probationary period before that little stunt comes down around their ears," says Lalita.

"Maybe not," she allows. "Still, it's - they're such - ugh. Signs of contamination!"

"The Federation is full of reasonably decent people. It's a good step when the higher-ups publicly embarrass themselves by forgetting that."

"I suppose the President is up for reelection in two years and this may provide some worthy opponent a good platform," she sighs.

"There is that."

"And at least they aren't trying to withdraw from the recent admissions to the Civilizations That Can Fly Really Really Fast Club."

Lalita laughs.

"Well, that's... vaguely suspicious."

"It is. Do you think it's a trick?"

"It might be. Hard to tell what the catch is, though. Do you want to go see?"

"I'd suggest that I could go alone and if I don't tell you in a timely manner that everything's clear you could rescue me again, but - based on the timing I don't want to be across the quadrant from you."

"There is that," he says. "I'll go with you."

She leans on him. "I love you. I don't suppose you know how to use our teeny subspace bandwidth from the Potomac to hack into the necessary things to discover if the amnesty is legitimate?"

"Not easily. I could do it, but it would take a while. Or I would have to go somewhere that had better bandwidth."

"We could stop - somewhere. I don't want to try paying Ferengi for subspace bandwidth, but someplace where it would be easier to pop back here, or where we couldn't be snapped up if it turned out that's what's waiting. Breen, maybe? I don't know much about the Breen except that they're not Federation and don't tend to shoot on sight."

"Hmm," he says. "I don't know much about them either. What I can tell you for sure, though, is that if the amnesty isn't legitimate and the announcement reached us all the way out here anyway, there's going to be hell to pay, politically speaking. Want to risk it?"

"You suppose I could accomplish much by getting recaptured if that's what they have in mind?" she asks. "Concretely, I mean, not just inconveniencing someone's speechwriter."

"Well, you can't know how the dice are going to come up before you throw them. But it'll be a push. Especially if you manage to put out some kind of public statement about it that uses words like 'betrayal'."

"That'll be cute."

That is a word Lalita knows.

"Of course I will, darling."

She can walk. It's a little hard to remember that particular use of her limbs at the moment, but if she can lean on him, head on his shoulder, tearstained face tucked against his neck, she can follow him.

She appreciates being carried, very very much, because then she doesn't need her arms to hold herself up with him as support, and her hands can creep up to his face, and she can reach out -

The very marriedest.

So married. So, so married. So fucking married.

So very married! Married and snuggly.

Eventually, Isabella wakes up.

Lalita is snuggling her.

"T'hy'la," she sighs, nuzzling him.

"Darling," he says, nuzzling back. "Good morning."

"Is it morning?" she wonders vaguely. "...Also, I wasn't - thinking clearly - should I apologize for establishing the link when I was still, ah, contagious?"

"It might be morning. I'm sure it's morning somewhere." He laughs. "And could you not tell I liked it?"

"It might not have been a welcome surprise," she says, but she kisses him.

Lalita snuggles her.

"Probably not," he agrees.

She's about to say something else on that subject, but then she sighs, returns her attention to more immediate needs, and says: "I don't know about you, but I need about a gallon of water and a shower and breakfast."

"Sounds like a plan," he says, kissing her forehead. "Water, shower, breakfast. Let's do it."

"Let's raise a fuss, then."

She nods grimly, and sets about work on her eggs. "I suppose I'm well poised to become a public figure; I may as well campaign about more than one issue." Fruit salad, om nom.

"Sounds good to me," he says, sneaking a kiss in between fruits.

Kiss! He makes it hard to stay pissed off.

Yes, yes he does.

"I love you so much," she murmurs.

"I love you too."

"Will you help me write up a speech to record and distribute?"

"Of course. And I'll help you distribute it."

"You are," she declares, "the best."

He laughs.

"Is there any reason not to outright accuse the Vulcan High Council of attempted rape? After suitable buildup?"

"None that I can think of."

"I can't work out how involved that - what was his name - V'Ler, whether to hold him at all responsible or not. I probably wouldn't have double-checked his complicity if you hadn't been within arm's reach and they'd caught me when they did, so - but I don't know."

"It seems to make a pretty big difference whether or not he knew what was going on beforehand. Or thought you did."

"Yes. Or even if he was aware that I was already elsewhere engaged. Meditation and medicine don't have such a high success rate that I could blame him very much for agreeing to something that he thought would safeguard both our lives."

He nods.

"I suppose they're probably nobly motivated, in their own minds - endangered species, the youngest batch of surviving Vulcan children are coming of age soon, the survivors were mostly offplanet and the sorts to be more likely to consider xenophilia - and yet."

"And yet," he agrees. "Besides, the results of xenophilia evidently count."

"I'm unsure how that factored in. I have no living close Vulcan relatives; perhaps they will accept some alien genetics in order to get diversely sourced Vulcan genes into the pool."

"Maybe so. Or maybe they just think that half-Vulcans are bad but quarter-Vulcans would be worse."

"Quite possibly; perhaps they saw it as a decision between my great-great-grandchildren being humans with 'maybe a little Vulcan somewhere' and being Vulcans with 'maybe a little human somewhere'."

He shrugs.

"Regardless, they saw it as their decision to make. They didn't even suggest it during a calmer moment in case I was open to the idea, they - Renée must have told someone the timing so Niamh would know when it needed a course of tehn-yamareen or when it would need to allow me to invite a conjugal visit, I suppose is how they knew."

"Probably, yes."

"That's one method," he says. "Might work if you can pull it off; might look cheap if you can't."

"I probably can't pull it off," she says after a moment's thought. "The fact that my - incapacitated state - was involved makes the specifics relevant. I'm going to have to explain pon farr, aren't I, it's kept quiet enough that most non-Vulcans haven't heard of it."

"You're probably going to have to explain pon farr."

"That is going to be embarrassing."

He kisses her.

Lalita is fully in favour of more kisses.

"It will be sufficiently embarrassing - and my status as a Vulcan, adulterated or otherwise, is sufficiently relevant to the story - that it might be worthwhile for me to suppress during part or all of the speech. I know Vulcans will take me less seriously if I display emotion, but perhaps they aren't the primary audience I ought to have in mind. Two versions, perhaps?"

"If you release two versions, everyone's going to see both," he says. "No point."

"There might be some point, if Vulcans will give me more credit for being able to suppress and if others are moved by sincere displays. It's not a secret that I can do either, but most people don't know me. Perhaps I should just suppress for the portion of the video in which I explain pon farr; that might accomplish all the requisite goals."

"That works better, I think."

"Most full Vulcans can't drop in and out at will as fast as I can," she adds. "Maybe that will help."

"Maybe so."

"Or it won't, but I may as well hope. Do you suppose there is sufficient attention span in the audience to segue from my accusation to a more general agitation for the dismantling of the Prime Directive? It would be loosely topical, since my amnesty for its violation is why I was here at all."

"No. You have two different things you want to reach people about, and you can do both, but not at the same time."

"Maybe I should release something about this and the first in a series about the Prime Directive at the same time, separately, though - catch spillover attention."

"Sounds good to me."

Isabella fetches a tablet - she switched from trying to maintain PADDs a couple of years ago and is now accustomed to writing on a Davlian device, with programs hacked together to make it tolerate English and Vulcan alphabets - and starts drafting her essay, leaning on Lalita.

Snuggle.

"...I find the idea of finding and speaking with V'Ler unpleasant, but his level of involvement is - salient," she says, after she's drafted a few paragraphs.

"I could go talk to him."

"Thank you. I would appreciate that."

"I think so - unless you have another idea?"

"Well, I could keep snuggling you for a while. That is an option with major attractions." Nuzzle.

Isbella laughs, and kisses his head. "I will be here to be snuggled whenever you like, but I have no idea where V'Ler is likely to go after he gets out of the hospital, and I don't think you managed to put him there for much more than a week."

"You make a compelling argument. Fine." He kisses her cheek. "See you later, darling."

"I love you, my t'hy'la."

V'Ler is, in fact, still in the hospital - Lalita was not fucking around - although he looks ready for discharge at any moment thanks to the wonders of Federation medicine.

V'Ler startles. He looks at Lalita, but doesn't say anything.

"My wife wants to know how exactly you were roped into the surprise engagement scheme."

"I - one of those two men came to me a few days beforehand, and told me I wouldn't have to take my chances with - with meditating and tehn-yamareen again even though my ko-kugalsu was on Vulcan when it was destroyed, that they'd found someone and were betrothing me in loco parentis."

"Well, that much was true, I suppose," says Lalita.

"Yes," agrees V'Ler, warily.

"And I don't think you were in much shape to wonder about her side of the story by the time the moment came."

"No."

"Maybe next time you'll look into it a little harder. Glad to see you're feeling better," he says, and he turns to go.

"Thank you for sparing my life," V'Ler says abruptly.

"You're welcome."

V'Ler appears to have nothing else to say.

Then Lalita will go back to the hotel room.

Isabella is there, writing; she puts down her device to hug him hello.

"Thank you," says Isabella.

She hands it over; there are conspicuous blank spots where what she wants to say is dependent on whether V'Ler was complicit.

He cuddles up and reads it, then hands it back and kisses her cheek.

She returns the gesture, and sets about splicing in references to V'Ler, who she opts to leave anonymous.

Lalita snuggles, and reads over her shoulder, and comments on her work.