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"The Forgotten Time II: Ashaya"
Rating: R (for occasional language) Author's Note: This story takes place between Kir’Shara and Daedalus. Chapter Three Travis nodded. “Aye sir.” He left the room. “The rest of you are dismissed,” Archer finished. But as the staff rose and filed out of the room, he quietly called T’Pol back. He sized up his first officer. Her expression was implacable as usual. “How’re you doing?” “I’m fine,” T’Pol assured him. When she had first started working with humans on a daily basis, she found their constant concern for the emotional well-being of their fellows perplexing. Now, though it was still unnecessary, she suspected she would miss the kindness should she ever find herself among Vulcan crewmates again. Archer put a hand on her shoulder. “We’re going to make this right. I promise.” T’Pol met his eye. “I don’t doubt it.” The captain gave her a faint smile, and started to walk past her to leave the room. T’Pol turned. “Captain.” He stopped. “Yes?” “Once the matter of the Andorians is settled, I need to request a short leave of absence.” “Why?” “I have some personal business I need to attend to on Vulcan. Concerning the termination of my marriage.” Archer considered this for a second and nodded. “That shouldn’t be any problem. How long?” “Four days should be sufficient,” T’Pol replied. She hesitated and then went on, “I would also like to request a leave of absence for a…travelling companion.” Archer glanced down and then back up, a smile around the corners of his eyes. “You wouldn’t be asking me to give up my chief engineer, now would you?” T’Pol’s silence answered the question. Archer nodded again, resigned. “Tell you what. Once this Andorian fiasco’s all squared away, I’ll just give the crew a few days’ R & R. They didn’t get a chance to explore your homeworld last time we were here.” T’Pol inclined her head gratefully. Though she wanted Trip’s company, she was not relishing the idea of the undoubtedly prolific gossip her and the chief engineer’s private little away mission would generate. “Thank you Captain.” “No problem,” Archer assured her as he left the room. *** Trip sat in the mess hall, his hands around a hot mug of chamomile tea. Others of the wakened crew were quietly scattered around the room trying to wake up with coffee, but Trip’s jittery nerves were already wired enough for his taste. After months of emotionally avoiding the woman he’d let marry a stranger without so much as a word, she had simply walked back into his life, so to speak. Though they saw each other every day, he had forced himself to give up any hope that they might have a future together. She was married. And that was that. Until now. Trip had lost count of how many times he had pinched himself over the last hour. I had fallen in love with you. The words kept playing in his mind, shocking him again and again. He had to re-evaluate dozens of conversations they had had over the last months in the light of this new knowledge… and that of the Trellium. Another bolt from the blue. And she said she’d done it because of him. Essentially, she had inadvertently become a drug addict in her search for emotion. Every time he thought of it, he was fervently thankful she’d come to her senses in time. As he gazed out the window at the stars streaking past, Trip wondered if he would ever figure out the enigmatic woman who had turned his life upside down. He was jolted out of his reverie by Captain Archer sitting down across from him. The captain had a large black coffee in his hands and a strange expression on his face. Trip put his tea down and leaned back in his seat. “So… back to Vulcan, huh?” “Yeah. We should be there in about twenty hours.” Archer took a sip of his coffee. “Seems like every five minutes we’re being called in to help with some Vulcan mess or another.” But he said it without the old rancor, and there was an indulgent, if tired, tone to his voice. “Doesn’t seem to bother you as much as it used to,” Trip observed. Archer considered this as he watched the stars pouring past their view port. After a minute he replied, “Y’know, you’re right. It doesn’t. I guess it’s different when they’re honestly asking for our help, instead of just checking up on us.” Trip nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” The two men were silent for a few moments, each absorbed in his own thoughts, when Archer suddenly spoke. “You know, it occurs to me: you and I haven’t been at the same table in a while.” He paused and then went on, “How come you never eat dinner with T’Pol and me anymore?” Trip looked down at his tea, his ears reddening slightly at the mention of T’Pol’s name. “Oh, I dunno,” he evaded, “Been busy I guess.” The captain raised his eyebrows. “Not that busy. I do look at the duty rosters you know.” Trip smiled at his friend, trying to turn the subject. “Y’miss me, huh?” Archer took another sip of coffee and deadpanned, “Hardly; it’s just hell trying to make conversation all by myself with a Vulcan. You used to take half the load.” At this Trip, laughed quietly. After a minute, the captain added with gentle emphasis, “Anyway, I don’t think I’m the one who misses you.” There was a pregnant pause, and then he continued in a lighter voice, seemingly changing the subject. “You know, I got an interesting request this morning.” Trip, thrown off-balance by the captain’s previous comment, swallowed and tried to reply normally. “Oh yeah? What’s that?” “T’Pol. She requested a leave of absence to visit Vulcan after we finish up with the Andorians.” Trip sighed. T’Pol certainly didn’t waste any time. He’d promised to go with her; he knew he’d have to request a leave as well. But with the captain implying things all over the place, he didn’t know exactly how to start. “Uh, yeah. About that, I…” “I already told her you could go, Trip.” Quaffing the last of his coffee, the captain eyed Trip over the rim of his mug, evidently enjoying his discomfiture. “Y’did. Oh. Uh, thanks.” Archer set down his cup and frowned. “I guess I’m confused. You two have been avoiding one another for months, and now suddenly, you’re going on a trip together?” Trip set his tea down and rubbed his hands over his face. “It’s complicated.” Archer smiled and gripped the other man’s shoulder as he rose to leave. “Trip, it’s a woman. When isn’t it complicated?” *** Trip activated the door chime to T’Pol’s quarters, unsure if she’d be home. He waited for a minute or so and was turning to leave, when the door suddenly hissed open. “Trip.” T’Pol didn’t seem surprised to see him. “Come in.” T’Pol turned and walked back toward the bathroom. Her hair was wet and her silver satin dressing gown was damp in patches. “I’m sorry, I guess I interrupted you in the middle of your shower,” Trip said as he sat down heavily on the floor next to her low table. He was dead tired after working for thirteen hours straight in Engineering. “I was nearly finished,” T’Pol answered from the other room. “Well, take your time,” Trip said equably, picking up the PADD she had left on the table next to her cold meditation lamp. The Kir’Shara. He was about halfway through the copy he had downloaded for himself, and finding it alternately fascinating, frustrating, and just plain perplexing. The ideas were not what he had come to expect from Vulcans. Sometimes he found himself checking the title at the top of the screen to make sure it was, in fact, still the document he thought he was reading. So many of the statements just seemed so, well, un-Vulcan. T’Pol had left the text at a screen several chapters past where he was. Idly, he scanned the English side of the screen. T’Pol had downloaded both that and the original Vulcan text side by side. One passage caught his eye. As we nourish the body with food, the mind with meditation, we must also nourish the katra. The physical body requires physical sustenance; the intellectual mind requires intellectual sustenance. But as the force of spirit within an individual, the katra must needs require the most potent victuals of all: passion. And thus, we must master emotion, not to obliterate it, but as a tool skillfully wielded to further the holistic growth of the one and the many. T’Pol re-entered the room. She had dried her hair and put on pyjamas under the dove-grey robe. She lowered herself gracefully to the floor facing Trip. Noting the PADD still in his hand, she arched an inquiring eyebrow. Trip smiled and put it down. “Y’know, I’ve been wonderin’ lately why I was so interested in this Kir’Shara business. But with you and I bein’ mentally joined at the hip, I guess it makes sense, huh?” T’Pol blinked. “More sense than I would expect to come from a metaphor like that.” Trip laughed. “Why do you have both languages on here?” “After I saw that you were also reading the Kir’Shara this morning, I added the English text as a comparison. I wanted to see how the ideas came across in a language alien to the philosophy.” “So what do you think?” T‘Pol considered for a moment. “Of course, your language lacks the subtlety and nuance of Vulcan.” Trip mentally rolled his eyes. “Of course.” T’Pol continued, “But surprisingly, there are certain concepts that are better expressed in the contemporary language of your people than that of mine.” Trip hadn’t expected that. “What do you mean?” T’Pol picked up the PADD and indicated the passage he had just read. “For example, this chapter discussing emotions. The English text is easily understandable; however, the same writing in Vulcan requires the use of several archaic terms that have long fallen out of common usage. I find myself referring to the lexicon frequently in sections of the text that speak about emotional release in a positive, rather than disapproving, light.” “Huh. I guess we humans aren’t so backward after all.” T’Pol scrolled back a few chapters. “Obviously, in the chapters dealing with logic….” she trailed off delicately. Trip did roll his eyes this time. “Obviously,” he conceded. He gently took the PADD and replaced it on the table as he moved around behind T‘Pol. “How was your day?” he asked, massaging the tension out of her shoulders. T’Pol tipped her head forward and stretched her taut neck muscles before answering, eyes closed. “Taxing. I was assisting Ensign Sato. We gathered a good deal of information regarding Vulcan and Andorian interactions over the years. It should help the captain with his mediation.” His hands beginning to pick up the now-familiar resonance of her thoughts and feelings again, Trip continued working the muscles of her shoulders and neck, as much to help her relax after a long day as to treat himself to the phenomenon of sensing her emotions. A few moments passed in silence. Suddenly, T’Pol spoke quietly. “Don’t let crewman Rostov’s behaviour disturb you. I have noticed he is easily offended. I’m sure he’ll have forgotten about it by tomorrow.” Trip froze in surprise for a brief instant before smiling to himself and running his hands up and down T’Pol’s arms. He had snapped something to Rostov earlier in Engineering, and as a result, the man had sulked and been difficult for the rest of the day. Trip could smell the faint fragrance of soap on T’Pol’s skin. He put his arms around her from behind and said into her hair, “I keep forgetting you can hear what I’m thinking too.” T’Pol leaned back into his embrace. “You would be wise to remember.” She twisted her head to look up at him, an eyebrow raised. “I would hate to inadvertently observe something you wished to keep private.” Trip grinned at her subtle wit. If the rest of the crew thought Vulcans were humourless, it was only because they just didn’t know this particular Vulcan well enough. “I’m not too worried about it,” Trip responded quietly, still smiling. Their faces were just inches apart. “You already know how I feel about you.” A faint emerald flush crept over T’Pol’s cheeks, startling Trip for a brief second, before he remembered her green Vulcan blood. He held her intense gaze for a moment longer, before finally bending his head and gently kissing her mouth. She responded with heat, twisting her body the rest of the way around to face him, reaching up fervent hands to his cheeks. Trip wrapped his arms around her tightly, relishing the feel of her body pressed up against his. However, as their ardour quickly swelled, the strength of their bond again amplified to the snapping point of their endurance. Overcome with emotions strong enough to blister his mind, Trip pulled back gasping. They didn’t let go of one another, but simply held on as the storm subsided somewhat. After a moment in which he put back together the bewildered pieces of his scattered brain, Trip looked down. T’Pol’s forehead was pressed against his chest. He loosened one of his arms from around her waist and tipped her chin up. The mental strain stamped across her face shook him. “Are you all right?” he asked, concerned. T’Pol nodded, and leaning her face against his uniform again, spoke gently into his mind for the first time. I have no explanation for this bond. I have never felt this way. Trip could sense the awe in her thoughts. Of course: if it was intense for him, how much more so for someone who had nearly no experience with emotions. He closed his eyes as well and leaned his head against the top of hers, spent from the brief contact he’d had with the blinding emotional voltage of their combined passion. Neither have I. I didn‘t know I could feel like this. Trip felt a dizzy sort of disorientated joy from T’Pol’s thoughts. Neither did I. Surprisingly, they felt little frustration at the physically restraining effects of their undisciplined telepathic link. They found that they could simply sit silently, knee to knee, forehead to forehead, silently exploring the landscapes of one another’s thoughts. It was enough for now. *** The dusky orb of Vulcan filled the windows of the conference room. Archer turned from the view as the doors hissed open to admit three Vulcan officials. The captain nodded to the ensign who had escorted them, and she withdrew. “Welcome aboard. I hope that things have been calm while we were en route.” The oldest of the three, a medium-sized man with silver hair, bowed slightly at the waist. “Yes, captain. We thank you for your swift response. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Overseer P’Lek. My colleagues…T’Mer and Suvok.” He indicated the man and woman who had accompanied him. “Pleased to meet you. Please… have a seat.” Archer indicated the chairs, and the four arranged themselves around the table. “I understand you three are overseeing the formation of the new Vulcan government.” P’Lek inclined his head. “Yes. After Administrator V’Las’ dismissal, the High Command was dissolved. We are currently reorganizing our command structure. Unfortunately, this is not an ideal time to have a conflict on our hands.” “The Andorians.” Archer affirmed. “Yes. The insurgents’ ship has been detained in orbit since the attacks, and the crew are being held in custody on the surface.” “And what does the Andorian Imperial Guard have to say about all this?” P’Lek raised his slanted eyebrows. “Very little. They were the ones who requested that we include Enterprise as an intermediary. It seems that even when Vulcan is the one under attack, they find it difficult to trust us. However, I believe they are as eager as we are to resolve this.” Archer nodded in agreement. “From what I hear of this faction, the Sel’Tior, the Imperial Guard considers them as much of a problem as anyone else. I think they’ll be glad to have this opportunity to expose their membership. When can we expect the Andorians to arrive?” P’Lek looked to his associate Suvok. After checking a PADD, Suvok replied, “The Andorian ship Kumari will arrive in two point five hours.” Archer leaned back in his chair and gazed out at the stars. Shran’s ship. You’d think with space being as big as it was, you just wouldn’t keep running into the same people over and over again. |
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