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Do you think Andorians, in my case Shran, would say "My Shelthreth and children" or would they include the children as part of the Shelthreth? For reference, I see Shelthreths as four Andorians of the four genders, whose purpose is to make children. So it feels weird to include the children in the Shelthreth, but it also feels weird to mention them individually. Like Humans saying my family and children, but then Andorians aren't Humans and a family from Earth is different then an Andorian Shelthreth, and an Andorian would define family different. Depending on the other Andorians in the Shelthreth (in my headcanon, Shelthreths are appointed by the government by genetic compatability) some might not even see their Shelthreth as part of their family (except their children).
To be specific, Shran lists the people he'll spent a Christmas holiday with. And I don't know if he would say "My Shelthreth, Talla, Jon and his mother" or if he would say "My Shelthreth, Jon and his mother" it sounds weird not mentioning Talla as an individual.
Andorians live on an ice world. That's pretty extreme. One might call them extremophiles. You know what else is one? Flamingos.
Andorians are actually pale white when born, just like the Aenar are. Their blue coloring comes from consuming a staple food of Andorians, or perhaps from minerals in the water. This mineral is not present in the deeper parts where the Aenar live, which is why they do not gain that colour unless they move to non-Aenar communities. Or perhaps their slightly different biology makes it so they flush the mineral out instead of accumulating it.
Unlike with flamingos, though, the pigmentation does not fade once intake of the mineral ends. Thus, Andorians far away from the homeworld do not lose their shade even if eating only Federation-programmed replicated food. On Andorian ships, the plain water option is actually programmed to include the mineral, it's what makes it taste like home...
Talla, and other children, hybrid or not, are paler in colour than adults. Perhaps in growing up outside Andoria, she was one of the first exposed to water with different minerals, giving her a more greenish tint. Perhaps in centuries after her generation, there will be teenage Andorians rebelling against their parents who purposefully consume minerals that give them a different pigmenation (perhaps some never quite grow out of it, and so there are lilac and celadon and even pink elderly punk Andorians).
Also, hue and value of their skin may be a regional thing, depending on the particulars of the local water mineral content. Someone's skin is two shades over from yours and so you know they're approximately from this or that region.
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It was the scent of coffee that woke her, being wafted under her nose; that, and the gentle press of lips to her temple.
“Wake up, love. The children are coming around today, and we need to be ready to receive them.” As Hoshi opened her eyes and stretched, Malcolm continued, “And there’s no way T’Pol or Shran would be late with the drop-off.”
“What time is it?” Hoshi asked, pushing herself to sit upright and taking the proffered cup of coffee. Malcolm perched on the bed beside her, looking far too alert for his own good.
“Just before six; I thought you might need some extra time in the shower to wake up and a quick bite to eat before they get here. Even if we have breakfast with them, I don’t know how much eating we’ll get done.”
She smiled at him, fingers tucked around the warmth of the mug. He was neat as a pin as always - olive-green shirt tucked into black jeans, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, hair slightly longer than usual so that although neatly brushed, an unruly lock hung down over his forehead.
“You’re excited about seeing them.”
“I am, yes,” he admitted with a grin. “We haven’t spent much time with T’Mir and Lorian for over six months. Video calls are a poor substitute. And I know you want to spend some time getting to know Talla.”
“Yes; the poor child looked a little shell-shocked with all the people at the wedding, but thankfully T’Mir was there to distract her. Still, it’ll be good to get to know her a little better on her own merits.” She finished the coffee and placed the mug on the bedside table.
Malcolm leaned over and gave her a lingering kiss; his mouth tasted faintly of peanut butter, and she smiled against his lips.
“Getting a head start there, Commander Sato-Reed?”
He smiled back. “Just a teaspoon, Commander Sato-Reed. I wouldn’t dream of having breakfast without you.” He rubbed his nose against hers, then asked diffidently, “Sweetheart … you don’t mind that we’ve never—” His voice trailed off, but she knew what he meant.
“Never had kids?” Hoshi took his face between her hands and pulled his head back a little, so she could look him in the eyes. “Bakudan, if what I wanted was kids, there are ways without having had them biologically. That was never part of why I married you, and frankly, I’m grateful it was never an expectation.”
He stared back at her, his eyes troubled, even as his hands came up to lightly clasp her wrists. “But on the other Enterprise, you had two kids—”
“That was a whole other timeline,” she interrupted. “And in that timeline, Trip and T’Pol had Lorian, but not T’Mir, so already it’s busted. And you and I weren’t together. So we’re not going to use that as an example of what we may or may not have wanted to do with our lives, okay?”
She gave him a little shake, frowning to make him understand how serious she was, and finally his eyes cleared and he smiled that soft, sweet smile she adored.
“I should know better than to question your judgement, my love.”
“You’re darn right you should. Now,” she kissed his nose, “I’d better jump into the shower and get ready while you prep breakfast. What are you making for us?”
“Breakfast wraps with eggs, tomatoes, shiitake mushrooms, and goat-milk feta. Then I’m going to get started on the flapjacks for the children.”
“Perfect. I’ll be down in a little while.” With a kiss to his nose, she headed for the bathroom, but stopped before entering.
“Malcolm?” He turned at the door, a question in his eyes. “I’m glad we’re in this timeline, and we’re together.”
His lips curved and his eyes warmed and softened at the same time. “So am I, my love.”
She blew him a kiss, and headed in to the shower.
The scent of fresh coffee and pancakes filled the air as Hoshi made her way downstairs a short while later, putting her hair into a ponytail.
“That smells great,” she said as she turned into the small kitchenette, sliding her arms around Malcolm as he stood at the stove, pressing her face into his back for a quick hug before she turned to pour the coffee. He laid his hand across hers and tilted his head back to touch the top of hers behind him.
“Almost done with these, love, then I’ll leave them in the oven to stay warm while we have our wraps. They’re on that covered plate. The fruit’s chopped up and in those containers, the yoghurt’s in the fridge, and the peanut butter just needs to be dished into a bowl.”
“Shall I mix it with some honey?”
“No need; we can have the honey on the side.”
“Okay, then. Here’s your coffee.”
They ate quickly, then washed and left the dishes to drip-dry, tidying the kitchenette and setting the small table in the adjacent dining nook before the door chime rang.
T’Pol, Trip, Shran, and Jhamel were outside, Trip carrying Lorian. T’Mir and Talla had come together and were already holding hands as they looked up eagerly.
“Hi!” Hoshi said, and stepped aside, inviting them into the house with a sweep of her hand. She moved to one side of the foyer so that the girls no longer blocked the doorway, dropping to one knee. “It’s so good to see you!”
“It’s good to see you, too, Aunt Hoshi,” T’Mir greeted, then looked at Talla. “I’m going to hug Aunt Hoshi now,” she informed the other girl. “If you wish to join in, she gives good hugs.”
Hoshi held down her laughter, her eyes meeting Trip’s over T’Mir’s head, brimming with good humour. “Why, thank you, T’Mir,” she said gravely. “But if Talla doesn’t want to hug - since not everyone does - she's welcome to a hand-shake or a fist-bump instead.”
Malcolm grinned, nodding at the two sets of parents. “Would you like to come in?” As he spoke, he extended his arms to young Lorian, who grinned back and stretched to him in turn.
“Unka Mal-Komm!”
“No, thank you,” replied T’Pol, inclining her head. “It is still some distance to the meeting with Admirals Archer and Gardner and Ambassador Soval.”
Shran snorted. “By all accounts we leave our daughter in good hands, at least as long as young T’Mir is to be believed.”
“We try,” said Malcolm, taking Lorian from Trip before settling the child on his hip and dropping an absent-minded kiss on top of the blond head. “Thank you for entrusting your children to us.” His gaze encompassed all four adults.
“So formal, Mal,” teased Trip, before blowing a kiss to Lorian. “But we know our munchkins couldn’t be in safer hands.”
The security specialist grinned at his friend. “You’ve got that right.”
“We shall see you at sixteen-hundred-hours, then,” T’Pol interjected. “Goodbye, children. Enjoy your day with the commanders.”
“Bye, kids,” Trip added cheerfully. “Have fun with Uncle Malcolm and Aunt Hoshi, y’hear?”
“Yes, Daddy,” said T’Mir serenely, and Lorian nodded, before waving at his parents.
“Then farewell for now, commanders,” greeted Shran, stepping back. “I’m sure Talla will enjoy herself while with you today.”
“Yes,” added Jhamel quietly. “I believe she will.” Her gentle smile encompassed all of them, before she drew back a little further. Shran put his arm around her and they watched as T’Mir and a shy Talla embraced Hoshi in turn, before the young Aenar-Andorian turned to wave at her parents, her antennae moving more confidently.
“See you this afternoon!” Trip sang out, and the four headed for the elevator as Malcolm stood at the door, allowing Lorian to watch and wave until the doors had closed.
Stepping back and closing the apartment door, he grinned at his godson. “Would you like some pancakes, Lorian?” The little boy nodded eagerly.
“P’nut butter?” he asked, and Malcolm nodded.
“Of course. And bananas.”
“And maple syrup!” Hoshi interjected, standing and holding out her hands to the girls. “We didn’t know exactly what you might like, Talla, so we cut up some fruit and added some yoghurt, too.”
“I like sweet potato fries,” the young girl said shyly, her antennae waving diffidently.
Hoshi smiled. “We don’t have any of those, I’m afraid, but we’ll go somewhere that does, for lunch, okay?”
“To where Miss Monica works?” asked T’Mir as they walked to the small dining area.
“Yes, although she won’t be there, of course,” said Hoshi. “In you go.” She directed the girls into the small banquet section, while Malcolm settled Lorian onto one of the chairs.
“Wait here a moment, while we bring the food to the table, and then you can sit on my lap, alright?” The child regarded him gravely, then nodded again, and watched him while he and Hoshi made short work of transferring the dishes to the small dining table.
True to his word, Malcolm picked up Lorian and settled the little one on his lap, lifting his legs to be straight so that Lorian was in no danger of sliding off.
“Shall I cut up your pancakes?”
“P’nut butter and bananas?” Lorian queried, turning large blue eyes to his godfather.
“Of course. Let me do a better job of spreading these, and then I’ll prep them for you.” So saying, he spread a layer of peanut butter on top of a flapjack and scattered banana slices over the top before covering it with a second flapjack and pressing down. Satisfied, he cut the flapjack sandwich into bite-sized chunks for Lorian, who grabbed a piece and gnawed happily.
T’Mir was happily explaining the concept of pancakes to an attentive Talla while Hoshi prepared their meals in similar fashion, albeit with more fruit, some maple syrup, and no peanut butter, before slicing into small triangles. Talla's eyes widened as she bit into the sweet morsels, T'Mir chattering away as she ate her own.
Across the table Malcolm caught Hoshi’s eye and smiled, pressing another kiss to Lorian’s fair head. I’m glad we’re godparents to these youngsters, he thought at her, and she grinned, seeming to understand what he was thinking.
After a lively breakfast, they set off for a small science museum, within walking distance - at a fairly sedate pace, Malcolm reflected, as he carried Lorian on his shoulders while he and Hoshi matched their speed to that of two little girls who were fascinated by everything they saw along the way, considering these a novelty. He and Hoshi had their hands full explaining the names and purposes of several items, particularly to Talla, who had never been to the colony before.
Museum done, they took a walk around the park, allowing the children ice-cream cones as a reward for staying the course. Then it was time for Fat Mo’s.
They were greeted by name and seated at Trip’s usual table, served by Syd in Monica’s absence. Black bean burgers with lots of sweet potato fries were a hit, and Talla’s eyes widened at the flavour selection of the milkshakes on offer. Ice slushes were a far more common offering on Andoria than dairy-based drinks.
On the way home, Malcolm felt Lorian’s little body relax and his head come to rest on top of his godfather’s. “This young man is—” was as far as he got before T’Mir whispered fiercely, “Orry’s asleep!" and tugged at Hoshi’s hand.
“Yes, he is,” Hoshi said calmly. “Uncle Malcolm’s holding him so he can’t fall down, though.”
“Yes,” nodded T’Mir. “Uncle Malcolm always holds us up.”
“That he does,” agreed Hoshi, exchanging an amused glance with her husband before heading into their apartment building and calling the lift down to take them all up to the apartment.
Inside, they busied themselves removing small shoes so the kids could run around bare-foot - a concept that seemed difficult for Talla to grasp, since she wasn’t used to the heat of human homes compared to Andorian.
Hoshi had seated herself on the couch, and Malcolm joined her, Lorian still leaning on his head. “Shall we look at some photographs?” The girls nodded eagerly. “Okay,” she said easily, “Let me fetch an album.” Retrieving the book, she laid it on her lap, the girls on either side of her, Malcolm to the other side of Talla.
Lorian awoke when they started looking at the photographs, and Malcolm slid the child off his shoulders and onto his lap so he could point at the pictures. For a while they paged through the album, until Talla pointed to a photograph of Shran, Jhamel, Trip, and T’Pol.
“Was that when Ahva and Sha'a met?”
“That was a little afterward,” Hoshi informed her. “We don’t have a photograph of when they met at the Aenar colony, but we have from when they arrived on Enterprise.” She flipped the pages back to a photograph of Shran and Jhamel entering the turbo-lift accompanied by Archer. Shran looked his usual belligerent self, while Jhamel was still, calm, and composed, not really looking at the camera but a few centimetres past it.
“This was when they boarded the ship, after your father and Captain Archer - as he was then - went to find your mother. I imagine they were both tired and hurt - certainly your Sha'a was, since his leg had been pierced by an ice spike.”
Talla nodded, but kept her gaze on her parents for a long time before Hoshi closed the book and set it aside.
“Shall we draw and colour in some pictures?”
“Yes!” was the unanimous cry, even from Lorian, and soon everyone was on the floor - even Malcolm, who helped Lorian carefully colour in a picture of a skimmer speeding along the ground between two fields of flowers.
They were both concentrating hard on keeping the colours within the lines, Malcolm biting at his lip, the tip of his tongue peeking out. Hoshi hid a smile at the sight of Lorian imitating his godfather with fierce determination, little tongue pressed between his lips, nose wrinkled, eyes narrowed.
“Orry looks like Uncle Malcolm,” T’Mir observed in a stage whisper as she drew the roundest sehlat Hoshi had ever seen, serenely confident of her drawing ability.
“That he does,” Hoshi agreed, catching Malcolm’s eye as he looked up. She gave him a fond grin, her eyes sliding to Lorian, still bent over in concentration, colouring in the last of the flowers.
The little boy let out a huge yawn, and Malcolm stroked his hair. “Time for a nap, Lorian?” The child nodded, small hands fisting at his eyes, and climbed into Malcolm’s lap. “Tell you what, how about we both lie on the couch?” The blond head with its delicate pointed ears nodded sleepily.
Malcolm got to his feet easily, Lorian on his hip. “Would you mind, sweetheart?” he asked Hoshi, and she shook her head, grinning.
“Go ahead and have a nap; their parents will be here within an hour.”
He sank down gratefully; even for a half-Vulcan, Lorian wasn’t the lightest, and Malcolm had spent all day carrying him in some way or another.
By the time the door chime rang, he was fast asleep on the couch, Lorian sprawled across his chest, little limbs hanging down while his godfather’s hand lay across his back protectively, keeping him in place while they napped.
Hoshi smiled as she snapped a picture, already planning where it would go in the album. Some memories just had to be captured for posterity.
