"Green Ice" by Lady Rainbow Rating: PG-13 Pairing: TnT Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em, don’t make money off ‘em. Notes: T’Pol confronts T’Phena and realizes the truth she knows might not be reality. Trip finds an unlikely ally in a fellow trader. Thanks, Dinah, for the suggestions and the look-over!! :) And the Suus Mahna martial art was mentioned in ENT "Marauders", when T'Pol was teaching the colonists in their fight against the Klingons. And thanks again, Pesterfield. You rock! :) Two T’Pol strode down the halls of the Zora Prime Complex, all but hidden in her heavy, fur-lined cloak. The hood obscured her features and the deep pockets hid the custom blaster that she carried. Passersby took one look at her and got out of her way. No one interfered with her journey through the long passageways. Winter winds thundered outside, rattling the doors in their frames, and she shivered. Although the temperature was set for Human comfort, not Vulcan, it still felt abominably cold to her. T’Pol concentrated on the mental summons that shone bright as a beacon. She and T'Phena had grown up together, trained together, and shared secrets. T'Pol's family had adopted her as a sister, and like any family member, T'Pol could feel T'Phena's presence. Yes, T’Phena was here, and she was close, but exactly where was she? And why hadn't T'Phena called her before this, if she had been alive? Why hadn't T'Pol detected her presence before now? It didn't make any sense. T'Pol squared her shoulders and thought, If she lives, she will explain herself. She reached a four-way intersection then paused for a moment. Right. Turn right. She followed the inner prompting, narrowing her eyes in the dim light. The polished stone walls reflected all sorts of shadows, and again, she was transported into her past: The cold blast of air hit her with the force of a hurricane. She lost her balance on the slick floor and fell onto her back with a thud. T’Lydya cursed as she was also knocked down, and both women’s nails screeched on the floor as they tried to gain purchase. Laser fire sizzled the air above them, missing them by only a hair’s breadth. Finally, T’Pol’s forward progress slowed, then stopped. When she realized she was staring at a pair of boots, she managed to lift her head to see... The sight of another shadow brought her back to the present, one that turned and fled at the sight of her. T’Pol quickened her pace to follow it through the labyrinth-like halls of the Trader’s Complex. She hid a grim smile as her quarry employed every defense to throw off the pursuit. Unfortunately for the other, T’Pol had been trained in similar techniques. When she reached another four-way intersection, a hand snapped out in tal-shaya, the Vulcan ritual breaking of the neck, but T’Pol ducked and rolled. She lashed out with both feet, catching the attacker behind the knees. The attacker sidestepped gracefully and swung a low fist at the side of T’Pol’s head. T’Pol blocked it, countering with a Suus Mahna blow. She quickly realized that the other was well-trained in the Vulcan martial art and was good, if not better, than she was. So her attacker was a Vulcan! There was a flash of a blade and she automatically went into the navorkot, jumping and rolling, then aimed a punch at the center of the person’s back. Her adversary went sprawling against the smooth wall. The impact jarred the hood and it slipped over the woman’s shoulders, revealing her face. “T’Phena,” T’Pol said. “It is you.” The woman smirked, her cold amber eyes reflecting the dim light. Her harsh features made her face look like a mad harlequin’s. “So, you answered the challenge, T’Pol. I knew you would follow me, but why now? You had ample opportunity to track me down in the past.” T’Pol raised her eyebrow and asked, “You deliberately blocked your presence from me, all these years, until T'Marui told me you lived. Why? Why did you hide from me?” When T’Phena began moving to the side, T’Pol countered her move. “You managed to defeat T’Marui on Vulcan, took her information and used it to your own advantage. Have you compromised your principles to serve on the Human’s ship?” “No. I am Vulcan.” T’Pol’s tone was colder than ice. The woman she had known no longer existed and a monster stood in her place. There would be no mercy. “And you will pay for the deaths of T’Lydya and the others.” T’Phena laughed and shook her head. “Don’t you remember? Is everything you have known to be true for the past fifteen years really the truth? Or is it just an illusion?” “I have no time to discuss mystical affairs with you.” T’Pol raised her blaster. “You will come with me to Vulcan and answer for your crimes.” T’Phena raised her hands, but not in surrender. Her cool voice became a soothing monotone as she whispered, “Remember, T’Pol. Look into your memories and see the truth. I am not your enemy. I never have been your enemy. They have deceived us all. You know the truth. You feel it in your bones. But you must remember...” T’Pol quickly tried to throw up a mental barrier to protect herself, but she couldn’t stop the images that barreled through her brain: sparks of green electricity, explosions in slow-motion, lights in her face, a gleaming tip of a hypospray, words in an unfamiliar language, gentle hands and rough voices... The sheer volume of the images slammed T’Pol against the wall opposite T’Phena. Her knees buckled, but she managed to stay upright. Then she heard a sweet voice in her brain: T’Pol. Thy’la. Beloved. Listen to her. She speaks the truth. Have I ever lied to you, my beloved? Vulcan needs you, I need you. Koss? T’Pol cracked her eyes open and saw the image of her betrothed in front of her. His eyes were solemn, but they held no affection, only a chilly expression. He raised a hand to her in supplication. It is I, my beloved. T’Phena knows of what I speak. Ask her. Only a few of us know the truth... “What truth?” T’Pol asked hoarsely. The hand that held her blaster trembled uncontrollably. She took a deep breath and screamed, “Get out of my mind!” With a strength she didn’t know she possessed, she shoved the invading presence out of her thoughts and ripped T’Phena’s hand from the side of her face. The psi points burned and tingled at the contact. Again, a sickening wave of agony hit her and she pressed her fingertips to her temples. “You will remember in time, T’Pol,” T’Phena rasped, her face an unhealthy bronze-green. “I have started you back on the path. You will join us when you are ready.” The words enraged T’Pol and she screamed, “I will never join you!” She launched herself at T’Phena like a deranged sehlat, slapping her hands on either side of T’Phena’s face, but the other woman was stronger. Gripping T’Pol’s wrists, she slammed her against the wall again. As T’Pol reeled, T’Phena fled down the corridor and around the corner. T’Pol tried to rise and pursue her, but couldn’t. How could T’Phena do this? She had never been so skilled in the mental arts. Not only had she taken T’Pol unawares, but had practically crippled her with a psychic attack. No follower of Surak would have broken the sacred conventions of mental bonding... No follower of Surak. T’Pol knew that T’Phena had been one of T’Marui’s lieutenants and therefore, a member of the V’tosh Ka’tur. But T’Phena had a finesse that T’Marui had lacked. Where had she learned it? From the priestesses of Mount Seleya? T’Pol took several deep breaths and pushed herself to her feet. She was in no condition to continue her pursuit; she needed to repair her mental defenses, regain her equilibrium and sort out fact from fiction. Her teeth chattered as she lurched back toward her rooms; the cold sank into her bones and stayed there. Trip didn’t glance up from his PADD as the full fury of the snow storm slammed into the walls. The Trader’s Complex had an interesting selection in their database, with basic information about trading partners and their business potential. He’d looked up the name Vaeben. There was one mention of it, listed as Vaeben i-Mhiessan tr’Jaihen. Trip assumed that was the man’s full name, though it was in a form he wasn’t familiar with. According to the database, he was a freelance trader, second-in-command of the ship Aegis. When Trip searched for information on the Aegis, he found it was originally a Syklonian freighter, but Vaeben had co-owned it for the past fifteen years. His captain was someone named Mnheia. Precious metals, gemstones, rare artifacts and trinkets. Man, this guy’s loaded. Vaeben could have retired on his profits and the millions of credits in royalties he would one day rake in. Yet he chose to stay active. Trip could understand his desire to stay in space and see what there was to see. “At least it looks like this guy’s legit,” he muttered aloud. “I wonder what kind of ‘job’ he’s proposing.” Trip glanced at his chronometer. “Better get some rest. It’s late.” Resting was easier said than done. The storm battered at the thick walls and the howling wind screamed late into the night. Despite the caulking, cold still seeped into the room. Trip settled into an uneasy sleep... Suddenly there was a struggle and someone was pressing against his face. There was the unpleasant sensation of pain that burned and chilled at the same time as images poured into his mind: Anger! Fear! Treachery! He raised a hand to shield the abrupt flash in his eyes. When it cleared, he saw someone in front of him, but the person’s features were obscured by the glare. He gripped the phase pistol—phase pistol?—in his hand and relied on his automatic targeting skills to guide him. Something warm and sticky hit him in the face. He winced, despite himself, and he wiped away the offensive liquid with his sleeve. Green. Warm, green... Then a bomb exploded in his gut, sending painful pressure up his throat. The pistol flew out of his hand and the back of his head struck the smooth, glassy floor. He saw stars... When the stars cleared, he found himself in some kind of sickbay, attached to machines with tubes running into his limbs and the side of his head. He couldn’t move, his mouth was so dry, and he hurt all over. Whatever those tubes carried, it sure wasn’t any kind of sedative. He’d give anything for some morphine, right about now... Where was he? How did he come here? He desperately searched his mind, but he couldn’t recall entering a medical facility. Someone must have found him and rushed him here. There was only one infirmary on Zora Prime, but the machines were too advanced... Someone stood over him. “Welcome back. I hope you have not been injured too badly.” “Injured too badly, yeah right,” Trip muttered aloud. “You snarky, son of a—“ A loud bang woke him out of his dream. He was instantly awake, rolling out of bed just in time as a chunk of concrete fell where he’d been lying. Icy winds poured from the hole in the ceiling, instantly plunging the room into freezing temperatures. Trip stumbled to the thermal suit he’d left hanging on a chair and struggled into it. His frozen fingers somehow managing to activate the seals and he shoved the oxygen mask into place. The effort exhausted him and he fell to his knees. Gotta get movin’, he thought fuzzily. Gotta get warm...but his mind was as numb as his body. He couldn’t concentrate enough to make his limbs obey his commands. A stray thought passed through his mind, Is T’Pol okay? Vulcans don’t like cold. They hate snow more than I do. Maybe I should go and see if she’s okay. When he felt a pair of hands grasp him under his arms, he suddenly realized that he was being dragged bodily out of the remains of his room and into the hall. He didn’t know who his rescuer was, or where he was going, and he didn’t care. There was commotion above him, someone stripping him of his suit, several pairs of hands laying him into a tub of warm water. Slowly, ever so slowly, he began to feel his hands and feet again. “T’Pol?” he slurred, not quite conscious. There was a pause, then a voice in distinct Vulcan, “He believes she is here.” “He is Human...how is this possible?” “Remember who this particular Human is.” "Will it be prudent to bring him to her? She does not know that he followed her here?" "Better now, than to have him stumble about where we cannot protect him." Trip struggled to retain what he’d heard, but he must have lost consciousness again, for a different voice brought him back to reality. “You seem to have angered the Elements, my friend,” said a dry voice. “Earth and Air in particular. Not a good idea, if you desire a long life.” Trip cracked an eye open as those words made sense. “Vaeben?” “Whoever picked your accommodations obviously didn’t expect you to survive a cave-in. I am surprised you managed to put on your suit before the cold overcame you. If you came here in secrecy, I would seriously reconsider who you hire next time to bring you in.” “Yeah, I should,” Trip muttered. He opened his eyes to see his savior, Vaeben. To his surprise, Vaeben raised a thin eyebrow at his open scrutiny. Vaeben wore a gray cap of hair, similar to Soval’s. He had deep wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and his mouth. The eyes were as blue as Trip’s own, and the pointed ears poked out of the mass of hair. “You’re Vulcan?” Trip blurted out. Vaeben’s mouth didn’t smile, but his eyes sparkled. “I am a friend, Nveid, and it looks like you are in definite need of one.” Back to Part 1 Continue to Part 3

Like it? Hate it? Just want to point out a typo? Join the discussion now.

Disclaimer: Star Trek in all its various forms and its characters are the property of CBS/Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended by the authors of this site, which is solely for the purpose of entertainment and is not for profit. This site is owned by CX and was opened to the public in February 2008.