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"The Waste"

Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Paramount and/or CBS own Star Trek, Enterprise, and all characters/place/objects wherein. No profit is made from this story.
Genre: Angst, Trip/T'Pol, character death
Summary: An old acquaintance goes in search of a lost comrade. He does not like what he finds.

Dear Readers: This is my first (posted) fan-fic ever. Several influences converged to spawn this pestilent little worm that festered in my brain. It just wouldn’t go away, so I did the only thing I could – I wrote it down. That seems to have done the trick, and my imagination is back in ‘TnT-forever’ mode again. This story is a Tragedy in the truest sense. All episodes, including the craptastic TATV have occurred. There is more senseless death, Romeo & Juliet style. Ye Have Been Warned!

You’re feedback is most welcome. But please, this is my first time, so be gentle.

Last, but by no means least, a HUGE thank you to my beta, JustTrip’n. She stepped up and gave this newbie the courage to post. Thanks! On with the show….

The monastery stood at the edge of the vast desert that covered much of the planet. It was a quiet, lonely place and the last lead he had as to her whereabouts. The lone figure approached the doors and struck the large gong that hung there.

A young acolyte answered the door. The two men raised their hands in the traditional greeting, and the traveler entered the monastery. He pulled back his hood to reveal a worn face. He had seen and done much during his long life. The search he had undertaken was one of his more personal ventures. It was a nagging . . . worry, which drove him to find her. He could not help but feel (he was getting old) a certain responsibility to her—since no one else was left to do so.

The acolyte had gone to retrieve a priest, who was now approaching. “Peace and long life, Councilman. What brings you to our sanctuary?”

“I seek a woman. I have searched long for her and my journey has brought me here.”

“What is her name?”


“She is not here.”

His expression fell; he stared at the dirt. “Then my search has been in vain.”

The priest did not waver, “This is not true. She was here, but no longer.”

“Did she say to where she was headed?”

“You misunderstand, Councilman. Perhaps V’Shil can explain. She was the last to speak with T’Pol.”

A female acolyte stepped forward and addressed the traveler. “Were you aware, Councilman that T’Pol had exceeded seventy years of age?”

“Yes. I was an acquaintance of her father from before she was born.”

“Then you are also aware that she was never bonded. Nature made its demands upon her two weeks ago. It is inevitable. Even without a bondmate, a female will eventually succumb to the fever. It will force her to take a mate.”

“I am aware of this. It does not explain her whereabouts.”

“Allow me to continue. We are prepared to assist those in need here, and were making preparations to do so for her. I was sent to retrieve T’Pol, but found her outside the monastery doors. I went forth to bring her inside, to take her to the room made ready. She stood at the desert’s edge, looking out into the wastes. When I approached, she did not head my call. She began to walk out to the sands, so I called her back. To tell her all was ready.”

The old man seemed to know what would come next. With a resigned voice he asked, “What did she say?”

“Councilman, understand that these past years, T’Pol’s emotional controls were waning. She did not seek to remedy this. It was not that she was prone to violent outburst, but her words and actions were emotionally driven.”

With a hint of exasperation, the councilman said, “I understand. What did she say to you?”

“She turned and looked at me. Her words did not make sense….”

Empty, lifeless eyes turned to the acolyte. “None but my chosen mate shall know me.”

V’Shil took a step towards her, “All has been arranged, you need not suffer the plak’tou.”

“None but my chosen mate shall know me.”

She turned to walk out into the sun-scorched sands, with naught but the robes on her tired frame. V’Shil tried one last time, “You cannot go into the desert; you will not survive.”

“I am already dead. Let the sands have what is left.”

“That was two weeks ago, Councilman. She has not returned. Surely the plak’tou has taken her.”

The councilman looked defeated. His fears had been realized. Such a needless loss, for foolish reasons.

V’Shil continued, “Although this we do not understand; the pon farr should have driven her to seek a mate.”

The old traveler walked to a narrow window that overlooked the desert. In his mind’s eye he could see T’Pol walking out into the dunes with assured determination. She could be so very stubborn. A pang of remorse crept into his thoughts. If only circumstances had been different. It was illogical to reflect on what might have been. He was getting nostalgic in his old age. The Humans have been “rubbing off” on him.

With a silent sigh, he turned to the priest and V’Shil. “It is my belief she had been bonded. And it was devotion to her mate that drove her into the desert.”

T’Pol’s body shook with rage and fever and lust. Her low keening could be heard echoing over the dunes. She staggered forward across the blistering sands with unblinking eyes.

V’Shil seemed almost upset, “Where was he when she required him?”

“He died. Six years ago.” Quiet settled over them. In an almost hushed voice, the traveler continued, “Since that time, T’Pol has slowly withdrawn from society until she seemed to vanish. I took on the responsibility of locating her. And now it appears my journey is at an end.”

Her screams tore at her scorched throat. Broken nails ripped fabric and flesh.

V’Shil appeared shaken by the councilman’s words, “Such devotion is highly unusual.”

Her legs would no longer support her. Green blood oozed forth from her eyes, her nose. Her body’s moisture was being sucked away by the unrelenting heat.

“Perhaps. But, they were not a ‘usual’ pair. Their katras drew them together, yet circumstance pulled them apart.”

Her broken, blood-stained, sand-caked body convulsed upon the dunes. Twin moons crept into the sky, always joined but forever denied each others touch

The old man continued, “Many ancient human cultures believed in reincarnation. And we accept that the katra can be transferred to another, even an object.”

The convulsions were subsiding. Back forever arched in agony, eyes seared blind by sun, her cracked lips moved again and again desperate to form a soundless word.

Councilman Soval looked out over the wastes that had consumed T’Pol. “Perhaps the universe will see fit to bring their souls together again, in a time and place where circumstance will no longer interfere.”

A final breath whispered the word she sought. “Trip.”

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