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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 8 Koss masked any perplexity at this change in tone, simply agreeing and following silently as T’Pol led the way back into the kitchen. She busied herself with her mother’s traditional Vulcan tea lamp: a short votive candle below a small metal stand, upon which stood a petite teapot. Vulcan tea culture made that of Earth’s China look like Tetley’s. Traditionally, Vulcans could wait hours for the water to boil under the influence of the tiny candle flame: logic and Vulcan temper keeping impatience at bay. A lesson with every cup. T’Les’ lamp was of the modern variety, however, utilizing a superconductive ceramium pot that absorbed the flame’s heat in minutes. T’Pol noted that, like everything else in her mother’s house, the old lamp was in need of care and repair. Soot from many hours alight had collected around the base of the potholder, and the frayed handle on the pot was beginning to loosen from its hinge. T’Pol could have had the tea ready in seconds on the main heating element, but she wanted to give Trip time to talk to Koss alone for a moment, and perhaps turn the conversation to the Andorians.
Trip in contrast, was bent forward at the waist, elbows on his knees, one hand tugging absentmindedly at his chin. The strain of sitting here, struggling so hard not to think things loudly at her large, pointy ex-husband, made him feel exactly as if he were four years old again and trying not to pee himself on the first day of school. That day hadn‘t turned out well, and as he squirmed mentally (and a little bit physically too), he had a sinking sense that history was about to repeat itself. He shot frequent, furtive glances toward the kitchen to see how T’Pol was coming along with the tea. Jesus, what was that? Was she making it with a freaking candle? Why would anyone do that? How much longer am I going to have to sit here with this guy just staring like that? shhhhhhhhhhhhh T’Pol’s voice whispered inside of his head. He froze momentarily, and then tried to relax so as not to give the whole thing away. you will ‘give the whole thing away’ if you don’t calm yourself…the tea will be ready shortly…talk to him; he doesn’t bite Trip didn’t trust himself to reply, and settled for a peevish glance in her direction. Her back was turned as she deftly gathered things on a tray; you’d never guess in a million years she was speaking to him. For a moment, he smiled at the sight of T’Pol bustling around a kitchen. Then he glanced back at his silent tea party companion, only to find himself the subject of a most baleful scrutiny. Koss’ dark eyes didn’t blink once as he maintained a steady dispassionate study, of Trip’s study, of T’Pol’s backside. The smile dropped from Trip’s face, and fearful that Koss had noticed more than that, he quickly changed the subject. Or more accurately, started a subject. “So, Koss. What are you up to these days?” Trip feigned a lightness-of-voice that immediately sounded false to his ears. Koss sat even straighter. “ ‘Up to’? I do not understand.” “Y’know, where are you working? Take any vacations lately? Stuff like that.” Koss bristled microscopically. “Excuse me?” he queried. “For what?” Koss, suspecting he was being baited, carefully inhaled before detailing: “You and I are not acquaintances, Mr. Tucker. Your interest in my personal habits is illogical.” Ignoring the faint mental hiss of warning from the kitchen, Trip warmed to the conversation, such as it was. “Ah, yeah, but see, on Earth, y’know, it's customary to exchange personal information with someone you've just met.” “Indeed.” Koss’ flat voice indicated no question. “Yep. We’re real interested in other people and cultures. Funny that way, I guess you could say. So how about it?” Koss seemed to sense from the other man’s cheery stubbornness that he wasn’t going to drop the subject, but in his human fallibility, would hold to it, dog-like, until indulged. He closed his eyes and exhaled through his nostrils. “I am currently on sabbatical from my duties within the government. I have not had time recently for ‘vacationing’, although a colleague of mine spoke positively of his trip to the frozen steam pools of the southern pole. Does that satisfy your request for information?” Trip whistled. “Frozen steam pools. Now there’s a puzzle in logic for you, huh? And fire plains with giant statues. How is it that you don’t make time during a sabbatical for traveling, when you live on a planet like this?” He found that while babbling, it was easy to keep his inferior human brain bubbling away on an even keel (and it was inferior, he realised now that he was trying to pull off the crazy mental balancing act that these people performed daily, for 200 years apiece, no less, without apparent difficulties of any kind. “On Vulcan, we value hard work and sacrifice over…personal desire.” Koss stressed the last two words significantly as T’Pol approached with the tea tray. T’Pol ignored this and simply sat next to Trip and poured the tea from the tiny pot into three small cups. Clearly, she didn’t want the tea party to last overlong. Koss reached out, and instead of taking his cup from the tray, picked up the empty teapot. He silently noted the fraying wickerwork wrap adorning the handle and then rubbed his thumb and forefinger together to examine the soot that the bottom of the pot had left there. He looked up. “I see your mother still continued to hold to the traditional Vulcan artefacts.” Koss indicated the teapot as he set it back on its holder upon the tea tray. “She did,” T’Pol affirmed, blowing on her tea to cool it swiftly. Koss dusted his sooty fingers, discreetly but perceptibly, upon his knee as he too lifted his tea. He blew across the surface, arched one brow, and said, “I see that she also persisted in using Vulcan things for that which they were not intended. A most curious woman.” He sipped as if he had just paid T’Pol’s mother a nice compliment. As the taste of the tea registered, Koss made a delicate face and set it down. Some sort of citrus. Disgusting. Trip raised his own cup to Koss. “Like mother, like daughter, huh?” He quaffed the small cup in one go. Lemon zinger. She’d done it on purpose too, knowing Koss would hate it. Trip smiled. T’Pol, sensing their window of opportunity was rapidly closing, quickly posed a question. “I overheard you saying you were on sabbatical. What means are you employing to fill your days?” She sipped her tea, savouring the taste. “I have been spending most of my time in meditation. I had spent the last several decades plotting a certain course in life; now that must be altered,” he paused here to glare blandly at T’Pol, who took no notice, “I find myself in need of time to regroup. “I believe many Vulcans are feeling the need to ‘regroup’ these days.” T’Pol commented. “Ah yes, this ‘Kir’Shara’ nonsense.” Koss nearly sneered. “It will blow over soon, as all fads do.” T’Pol met Koss’ eye evenly. “It is hardly a fad. The relics have been cesium-dated. They are authentic.” “That has still to be confirmed. Yes, I’d noticed a few of these texts on your mother’s wall,” Koss waved an arm to indicate several scrolls dotted about the room with ancient Vulcan scripting upon them. “I didn’t like to say anything. I know from personal experience how…uncomfortable… it can be to be associated with individuals who subscribe to this type of drivel.” Trip felt T’Pol’s iron grip of restraint upon his mind or he would have flown at the pudgy neck in front of him and throttled it. T’Pol was superbly unconcerned. “It is fortuitous that you will be rid of my influence so easily.” Koss drew up. “Not so easily. However, I have become accustomed to your name surfacing occasionally when acquaintances inquire concerning my marital status. I look forward to updating them as to our new situation.” T‘Pol nodded wisely. “The balance of power is changing on Vulcan; it is reasonable to assume that those who have held sway for so many years will not yield easily in the face of the new discoveries.” T’Pol sipped her tea and continued: “I imagine with your position and family connections on Vulcan, it would be very difficult indeed to have your name linked to mine.” “The balance of power is as stable as ever.” Koss did sneer. “Vulcans with emotions? I do not think that ‘mind melds’ and other such peripheral tricks of the brain are likely to come to the forefront of Vulcan thinking, no matter what some archaeologists think they have found. And other than a good chance at Pa’nar syndrome, I do not see what any sane Vulcan could possibly gain from such emotional dabblings.” His tone betrayed depths of scorn. “You seem to be the only emotional one here. Have your recent meditations not been fruitful?” T’Pol inquired delicately. “In fact, as I am sure you are aware, my ‘recent meditations’ were interrupted rather rudely. I was one of those present at the attack on P‘Ren. Fortunately, I was unharmed.” T‘Pol put her empty cup back on the tray, surveying Koss with renewed interest. “We were not aware. Enterprise has not yet been given access to the lists of missing and wounded. You were fortunate indeed,” T’Pol’s low voice betrayed nothing but the formally polite concern for another’s life that Koss’ statement required. But she eyed him, wondering how he had managed to find himself front and centre in the news of the day, so to speak, with not so much as a scratch. “How did you avoid injury?” “As you say, I was fortunate.” Koss had lacquered his words again with disinterested calm. His voice rose. “The Andorians will be less so. It was not hard to believe that they had already called in the human ship to assist them in managing their subterfuge.” “It was hardly subterfuge,” Trip put in, “They weren’t trying to hide anything from anyone, shooting the place up in front of billions of Vulcans.” “And the Andorians do not claim the attack as their own,” T’Pol added. Koss exhaled sharply, the closest a Vulcan came to laughing in derision, “No, I expect they have fingered the Sel’Tior, as usual. I have worked within the Vulcan government for many years,” he elaborated, seeing the surprise on Trip’s face. “The Andorians are a simplistic and duplicitous race. This is hardly the first time they have taken advantage of a convenient dummy to carry both the task and the blame.” “We have evidence that the Sel’Tior may not have been working alone,” T’Pol allowed cautiously, observing Koss’ reaction to this news. “I see,” Koss replied. “Have you two been doing some sleuthing?” he enquired with false interest. “Commander Tucker and I did not personally acquire this evidence,” T’Pol explained with wooden patience. “It is through Starfleet that we have been made aware of it.” “Yes, well, wherever it came from, I am confident that in the end, the blame will fall squarely where it belongs.” Koss stood, and the other two followed suit. Gathering the folds of his robes around him, he addressed them again. “Vulcan is a place where logic and justice are the swords with which corruption will be destroyed. Outsiders who find themselves here would do well to remember this.” Trip rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind, Koss, thanks.” T’Pol ignored this exchange to blandly enquire, “How much longer will you be on sabbatical?” “You are acquiring your friend’s prying habits, I see,” Koss observed with sudden acid. “You have no reason to take offence. We have not just met.” T’Pol’s voice was still placid, if somewhat perplexed. “We do not know each other as well as all that, Madam,” Koss nearly hissed. “I have had the pleasure of your company only a handful of times since the day we were first betrothed and you saw fit to…to…” Koss struggled with an internal memory and then, finally finding it not worth the effort, simply scoffed and made to leave. T’Pol, unruffled, responded, “You were twisting the wings off of insects. And enjoying it.” Her voice hardened. “I knew that day that I would never be your mate.” Koss stepped up closer to her and spoke menacingly for all of his Vulcan calm. “You have been bizarre since the moment I first set eyes upon you. I have no idea what my parents were thinking. A skinnier, more touched creature I have never seen before or since. I knew then that you would be a rankling thorn in my side for the rest of my life, and I was right.” T’Pol didn’t flinch, and even though she must have been able to smell the Vulcan man’s breath, he spoke so closely, she looked straight into his face. “It is time for you to leave now. Good bye.” Koss stared her down for only a fraction of a second before fixing Trip also with his malevolent and vindictive glare. Then, turning all at once and striding to the door, he looked back once and was gone. Trip watched Koss go and turned to T’Pol. “What’d you do to him?” He had to know. T’Pol glanced up and arched a slim brow. “I set him on fire.” She went and gathered the tea things. Trip bounced up and down once or twice on the balls of his feet. He nodded to himself. He went to help with the dishes. |
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