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"The Forgotten Time II: Ashaya"
Rating: R (for occasional language) Author's Note: I know this is a short chapter, but I’d rather do more shorts than fewer longs so the wait isn’t as big between segments. Chapter Two
“Indeed.” T’Pol arched a slim brow at his response, and continued. “After Phlox treated me for the neural pathway degradation, I regained control over my emotions. However, the after-effects lasted for a few days. At first, I was disturbed by the unbidden sensations; emotions would surface suddenly during my interactions with the crew. I didn‘t know how to manage the feelings.” T’Pol looked away from Trip’s concerned face. She didn’t want to have to finish this story, but there was no turning back now. She took a deep breath and continued. “With meditation, I managed to subdue the emotional tendencies. However, my inner calm did not return.” T’Pol closed her eyes and frowned, a painful expression chasing across her features. “Far from it: to my surprise, I now craved the emotions I no longer had access to.” T’Pol stopped again, unsure of how to explain the next step she took in a way that wouldn’t make Trip lose all respect for her. Trip had said nothing throughout her explanation, but suddenly, he could keep quiet no longer. “Hold on,” he interrupted. “You? Craved emotions? I mean…I know you’re an open-minded Vulcan an’—an’ you eat pecan pie and all, but…” Trip trailed off, perplexed. Feeling easier in her mind now that they were sidetracking a little, T’Pol tried to explain. “Trip, look at it from my perspective. I have spent the last sixty years actively suppressing every emotion. The skill is so ingrained, I don’t even have to think about it. Meditation and control are a part of my everyday life. And though every Vulcan is capable of emotions strong enough to rival a Klingon’s, we pride ourselves on a life led as if they do not exist. Logic cannot endure where emotion has free reign.” T’Pol closed her eyes again, momentarily reliving the mental furor of the Seleya disaster. She continued: “After I experienced emotions the way humans do…the way you do…I was able to see that my culture has gone too far in stamping them out. There is something to be said for the added dimension feeling gives to everyday existence.” Trip nodded slowly in agreement. He never thought he’d have heard it from a Vulcan though. “Okay. I’m with you so far. So what happened next?” T’Pol’s eyes flicked around the room. She struggled for a few moments to find a way to phrase the next part of the story. Finally she began in a whisper, “It was only an experiment.” “What was?” T’Pol finally met his eye. “The Trellium. I…” she swallowed. “I discovered a way to inject small amounts into my bloodstream. I thought…” She stopped again at the stricken expression on Trip’s face, and then finished, shame in her voice, “I thought I could stop if I chose to.” Trip was incapacitated by disbelief for an instant, then filled with hot, quick anger that she would do something so stupid…so dangerous. But then, as he slowly started to match the thoughts that were passing from her mind to his with the story she was relating aloud, he comprehended the enormous toll it was taking on her simply to reveal to him the fact of her addiction. The shame she felt burning loudly in her chest every time she thought about it. And, foremost in her mind, the immense concern she had for the effect this revelation would have…on him. Shit. He pressed his lips together and sighed, eyes closed, squelching the things he wanted to yell. She certainly already knew anything he could say about it. After a moment, he looked up, his eyes full of pain. “So this is why you’ve been acting so strangely lately.” It wasn’t a question. T’Pol nodded warily. “And you think this could be why we can hear each other’s thoughts? This is what’s got your defences ‘severely lowered’?” “It is the logical conclusion.” T’Pol agreed in a subdued voice. “Except you’re not hearin’ anyone else’s thoughts are you?” T’Pol frowned. “No. However, I expect that we already had some form of weak bond due to all of the time we have spent together. Perhaps this has strengthened it.” Trip nodded absently, studying the carpet in the dim light. Finally coming somewhat to terms with this astonishing piece of news, he spoke. “I guess I can see why you didn’t let on you were doing this. So what now? Are you still…?” he trailed off, unable to find a way to finish the sentence. “No,” T’Pol replied. “I stopped before we met Lorian. With Phlox’s treatment, I have regained most of my control; however….” Her eyes took on a faraway look as she recalled the conversation she had had with her own ancient alternate self. “The T’Pol of Lorian’s Enterprise told me that she never fully recovered her former abilities.” Trip looked at her strangely for a moment. She was remembering something the old woman had told her about himself, but he couldn’t quite catch the thought. He let it go and concentrated on the one thing that was still confusing him. “I guess I just don’t understand…how could experiencin’ emotion suddenly be this important to you? Like you said…you’ve spent the last sixty years doin’ your best to stamp out your feelings. How could you risk your life over it? What’s changed?” T’Pol looked at him. “I met you.” Their eyes held for a long second. Trip swallowed. But then he shook his head in bewilderment, not allowing himself to believe what he was hearing. “But, you met me years ago. What’s changed recently?” T’Pol pulled her feet up to a cross-legged position and leaned back against the wall of Trip’s bunk. She pressed her lips together as her eyes restlessly travelled around the room. She opened her mouth to speak, changed her mind, and then started hesitantly. “As I said before, the after-effects of the Trellium exposure I experienced aboard the Seleya left me coping with emotions for the first time in my life. During that time, my interactions with certain members of the crew improved. Most noticeably those…with you.” Trip remained silent, heart pounding with hope, waiting to see where she was going with this. T‘Pol slowly continued, her eyes still straying around the room. “I found the…regret…I experienced over the loss of those feelings surprisingly powerful. The first time I experimented with the Trellium aboard our own ship was just that: an experiment. I honestly don’t know what I expected to gain from it. However, even with my limited knowledge of emotions, it was not very many days before I became certain of my motivation.” She stopped again. Trip waited on tenterhooks for her to continue. Finally, he prompted her, “And what was it?” T’Pol finally met and held Trip’s gaze. “I had fallen in love with you.” The simplicity of the situation suddenly became clear to him. After the Seleya…before Lorian. It explained her sudden change of heart toward him during that one fateful neuropressure session. And no wonder she kept reaching out and then skittering away like a frightened deer…she had been knocked off balance by the Trellium, emotions taking over one at a time, just like on the Vulcan ship. But now.… Now she was more or less back on an even keel…and she was still telling him this. It had to mean…. Trip inched forward and took her hands. “T’Pol, are you sayin’ what I think you’re sayin’?” A smile, faint but unmistakably blissful, crossed T’Pol’s lips. She could feel the strength of Trip’s giddy happiness through the touch of his hands on hers and, rather than replying aloud, she simply sent her own unruly feelings for him tumbling unreservedly back through the link. Trip was slightly staggered by the strength of the love and joy he found himself battered by, and then he forgot everything as T’Pol put her hand around the back of his neck and pulled him toward her. The kiss intensified as the emotional feedback from their unpracticed link grew silently deafening. Finally, unable to stand it a moment longer, they broke off, panting. “We’re going to have to work on that,” T’Pol observed wryly after a moment. “Uh, yeah,” Trip agreed, grinning breathlessly. “I thought you said you had regained control over your emotions.” T’Pol reached for his fingers again, and savoured the faint return of his thoughts as she brushed the skin on the back of his hand. “I have. Mostly. However, the ones concerning you are proving…much more tenacious.” Trip closed his eyes at the feeling behind her words and leaned in to kiss her again, but suddenly the air was cut by Archer’s strident voice over the comm. “All senior officers report to the bridge.” It was 0400. It had to be something serious. T’Pol jumped up. “I should get changed.” She hurried to the door, not relishing the idea of any of the senior staff happening upon her in her pyjamas in the corridor. Trip followed her. Just before she opened the door, she turned. “We’ll talk later.” Trip nodded and kissed her on the forehead as he opened the door for her. T’Pol stepped out into the corridor and ran straight into Malcolm. He was just raising his hand to activate Trip’s door chime, and he stretched his arm out to save the Vulcan from falling. T’Pol stepped back, a model of speedy composure, nodding curtly to Malcolm. “Lieutenant,” she said crisply before turning and making her way quickly down the corridor. Malcolm watched her go for a brief moment, never having before seen her in her pyjamas, then turned to Trip, an amused and inquiring gleam in his eye. “What?” Trip asked defensively. “Uh, nothing,” Malcolm said, unable to completely iron the smile from his lips. “I was simply passing your quarters when the Captain called, and I thought I’d make sure you’d heard. I know how you can sleep through anything.” “It was just a late-night neuropressure session, that’s all.” Trip said. Malcolm briefly took in Trip’s outfit, or lack thereof, and nodded wisely. “I’m sure it was.” He turned and started toward the turbolift. “Well it was!” Trip shouted after him. “Aw, hell,” he muttered going back inside and grabbing a fresh uniform out of the closet. But somehow, in spite of Malcolm, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. *** They convened in the situation room. Captain Archer was the only one of the senior staff who didn’t look rumpled and sleepy. He was pacing the room agitatedly as T’Pol joined them, the last of the bridge crew to arrive. Archer nodded briefly at her and began. “I’m sorry to get you out of bed. But I’ve just heard from Admiral Gardner at Starfleet Command.” He stopped pacing and leaned his fists on the table, glancing once at T’Pol. “Vulcan’s been attacked.” The captain paused for a moment to let this sink in. Everyone in the room stole a surreptitious glance at their Vulcan colleague, who was waiting calmly for details. Archer continued. “It’s an Andorian faction calling themselves the Sel’Tior. The Vulcan authorities are still uncertain what, if any, ties this attack has to the official Andorian government. We’re being recalled to mediate in the investigation as an impartial third party.” “The Sel’Tior,” Hoshi mused. “The Bringers of Wrath. Pretty ominous name.” “Fitting, too,” Archer confirmed. “Their ship attacked three different defenceless monasteries in the north-eastern provinces before it was detained by Vulcan defence authorities.” “Hold on,” put in Malcolm, “A single ship? With no reinforcements? Did they expect the Vulcans to just stand back and let them leave?” “They’re religious zealots of some kind…evidently suicide missions are one of their tactics,” Archer explained. “Do they give any reason for the attack?” T’Pol finally asked. Archer nodded, striding around the small room again as he spoke. “They claim that Vulcan committed an ‘unforgivable blasphemy’ by using one of its monasteries as a base to spy on the Andorians.” “P’Jem,” T’Pol said. “Yes. Apparently they claim that Vulcan must now be ‘purged’ of its holy places as it is unworthy to keep them.” “Well, these Andorians aren’t Syrrannites or anythin,’ are they?” Trip asked, “I mean, what do they care what the Vulcans get up to?” Archer smiled mirthlessly as he replied, “Yeah, well, once a group starts thinking it has the power to decide what’s right and what’s wrong, it doesn’t take long for them to start pushing other people around. Remember D’Jamat?” Trip grimaced. “Yeah. Unfortunately.” “Well, we’re going to need to draw on that experience here. Mediating this situation is going to be sticky. Hoshi, I need you to get me a report on Andorian protocols, as well as anything you can find on this Sel’Tior bunch. Malcolm, get your staff briefed on the situation and make sure our own weapons are at a hundred percent. I hope we won’t need them, but I want them ready. Same goes for you Trip…we need to be battle ready down in Engineering.” Archer took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. The lines on his face had deepened over the last year. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked to Travis. “Ensign, turn the ship around. We’re going back to Vulcan.” |
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