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"The Logic of Emotion" by Lady Rainbow Rating: PG-13 Trip and Soval experience each other’s memories and come to an understanding. I gave Trip’s mother the name Elaine (the same name in the book “The Good that Men Do”). And the deal with the boat...that actually didn’t happen to me, though I heard the story from a friend (some details changed, but it also had a happy ending). This chapter also shows how our choices can influence the universe (how Trip eventually chose Security over Engineering, though it was a close thing). Also, a mention of my alma mater, Virginia Tech (Go Hokies!) And a nod to my pals from MIT (both are excellent engineering schools. I’m not an engineer, but I know a good number of ‘em, and my hubby’s one.) Thanks for the edits for the past several chapters, Pesterfield:) Eight Silence fell over the listeners in Trip’s cabin. No one even moved for a long minute. Then T’Pol stared at Trip with that “putting-it-together” expression of hers and said, “Bleedthrough.” Commander Phlox made a noise of wonder. “It is my understanding that Humans and Vulcans are not compatible telepathically. At least—“he amended, “—that is what the Vulcans claim.” Doctor Reed raised his eyebrows as he regarded Phlox and said, “The Vulcan brain is significantly different from a Human’s; that is true, Commander. Certain Humans are particularly esper-sensitive, but it’s not the norm. Lieutenant Commander—“ Trip shook his head. “Call me Trip, Doc. Neither of us are on duty.” “Trip.” Malcolm’s mouth lifted in a slight smirk. “I assume you were given the standard tests when you entered Starfleet?” “Sure was, Doc. I tested out normal. That was why we were all flabbergasted at how the hell it happened.” Trip glanced at Jon, who shrugged. “Jon, didn’t one of the Healers—T’Inya, I think it was—think proximity had somethin’ to do with it?” Jon nodded and addressed both Malcolm and Phlox in particular. Both men looked interested in the possibility. “That’s her theory. I think a good bit of it is just learning to read people. The more you work with someone, the better you know their habits and quirks. But to the point where it actually changes your brain chemistry? Maybe. There isn’t any actual proof.” Malcolm had a gleam in his eye, one that Trip had seen before. He sighed and gave the doctor a weak smile. “Lemme guess. Sometime soon, you want me in Sickbay and hooked up to some of your brain scannin’ stuff.” “I assure you, it won’t hurt a bit, Trip. It may give you a bit of a tickle, though—“ Trip groaned as the others laughed. “That makes me feel so much better, Doc. Anyway, what happened next might give ya some basis for your theory...” March 17/18, 2145, Vulcan Consulate, San Francisco Soval exercised ambassadorial prerogative and ordered the room closed to everyone, save Jon Archer, Doctor T’Inya, Doctor Ayakamura, and Major T’Lydya. Nate Kemper insisted on staying, and Trip refused to do anything without his presence, so Soval relented. It was close to midnight when everything was settled. “Nathan, Jonathan, please be vigilant,” Soval said. “If there is any sign of distress, assist the doctors. Major T’Lydya, I understand you are well-versed in the traditional mental techniques?” T’Lydya nodded and replied, “Yes, Ambassador, I am.” “Very well. Will you serve as Ensign Tucker’s ‘ground’ while Doctor T’Inya will serve as mine?” “Certainly, Ambassador.” The major moved over to Trip’ side and gave him a look of reassurance. The cold expression had completely melted, and she used the same tone she’d used to talk to T’Saiya. “Do not worry, Ensign. This will be resolved momentarily.” “No offense, Major, but I’ll be glad to get this resolved as soon as possible. This thing makes me nervous as all get-out.” She nodded. “That is understandable.” Soval addressed Trip again. “Use whatever techniques you know to calm yourself. I will attempt to join your mind.” “Okay.” He closed his eyes and went through the calming exercises he’d learned when he was in the aikido dojo. Breathe in, breathe out, from your center. Be rooted, like the ancient tree. Focus your concentration inward... “Trip, open your eyes for a moment.” He did and was puzzled at Soval’s strange expression. “What’s wrong?” “In your security training, were you taught how to withstand mental coercion?” “Um...somewhat, but it probably wouldn’t hold out long against someone a lot stronger than I am,” he admitted. “Is there a problem?” Soval gazed at him with (for a Vulcan) a perplexed expression. “I am having difficulty gaining access to your thoughts. We will have to take a different approach.” He glanced at Jon. “Jonathan, talk to him. Trip, focus on his voice.” Jon frowned and asked, “What should I say?” “Anything. Tell him a tale, perhaps.” “Okay.” Jon nodded at Trip, who closed his eyes again. “Let me tell you about my dad, and his dream to go among the stars...he studied aerospace engineering at Virginia Tech and then at MIT. He was interested in the past to shape the future; he didn’t care about cultural barriers, really, so when the Vulcans offered to share their information, he jumped at the chance. I suppose he approached engineering and ship-building like a religion...with respect and reverence, no matter where it came from...” Trip could see that. As Jon described his father, Trip heard the awe and hero-worship in the diplomat’s voice. He had actually met the venerable Henry Archer once, at a lecture at the University of Florida, and he had been practically tongue-tied as he had shook Archer’s hand. In fact, Trip had considered switching his concentration from security to engineering right there. Then Henry Archer had said something that made an impression on him: “Engineers aren’t a dime a dozen, Charles, but good Security officers are even rarer. A Security officer with a decent engineering background is almost impossible to find. You need to be well-rounded, Charles. It will benefit you greatly in the future.” And of course, Archer had been right. Trip used his engineering background in good stead in weapons and defense development. Many of the design engineers he worked with lacked the real-life, practical applications of their inventions. The security officers lacked the understanding of the workings of their firearms. “As long as it works,” was the general attitude. Trip snorted in derision, and the unseen observer agreed with him. Such thoughts were short-sighted and caused more harm than good. Closed minds, closed hearts. The ancient Vulcan maxim floated to the surface of his thoughts. How many Vulcans had chosen to ignore such practical wisdom? The mental picture changed. Trip was once again in the desert, but he wasn’t a young child watching out for dangerous le’matyas. He was older, an adult, and he stood in a stone pavilion, with his family behind him, standing across from a woman wearing a nearly transparent gown and a veil, and between them the Vulcan priestess— Trip felt a surge of heat through his blood as he gazed at the woman, T’Rhea, her name was; gazed upon her like a hungry dog would stare at a juicy bone. He could feel her response...and suddenly, Trip identified what had caused T’Saiya to “go crazy”, and why Jon had been adamant that T’Saiya not touch him... This is a private thing among Vulcans. Outworlders should not know about this, the observer said with a tinge of embarrassment and unease. This is a Time when logic fails us, and the basest of emotions overwhelm us. It is considered...distasteful, but it is the price we pay for suppressing our emotions. If y’all didn’t suppress ‘em, you wouldn’t have to go through this, Trip retorted, as another pleasurable shiver went through him. Emotions are not logical. The hell they aren’t. If ya’ll dig deep enough, they have their own kind of logic. A spark of reluctant curiosity, then the mental landscape changed again. Can you explain this to me, then? A mist came over them, with the unmistakable tang of the sea. Trip found himself on a boat in the Gulf, taking watch at the wheel. He knew this place, and knew what was going to happen...and he felt the sharp surge of fear. Oh no, no, not this. Oh God, not this. I wouldn’t want anyone to experience this memory... I don’t understand this...this frightens me, Trip. I don’t understand... There was a sharp shriek at the stern of the boat and his heart froze at the anguished sound. Lizzie! Oh my God, what is she doin’ awake? His training kicked in and he screamed at the top of his lungs, “Woman overboard! Woman overboard!” Another cry, this time from his mother. “Lizzie slipped and fell overboard! I can’t see her!” Trip’s hands tightened on the wheel. He wanted to charge into the Gulf and search for Lizzie, but his post was at the wheel, at the helm. His heart was torn in two. What to do? “Honey, where are you? We can’t see you!” “I’m here, Momma! I’m here! The water’s so cold, Momma! I’m tryin’ to tread water, but it’s so cold and I’m so tired!” “Keep moving, Lizzie and keep callin’ so we can find ya!” Charles Tucker Junior, Trip’s father, shouted back in a calm voice. Trip heard the suppressed terror; his youngest daughter was somewhere out there, in the darkness, and although she was a good swimmer, an eight-year-old wouldn’t last long in the freezing water... Lizzie yelled and screamed at the top of her lungs. Trip closed his eyes to hear better. Wait a minute...there, to starboard, to the right, was that—? A bright light erupted from the starboard side of the family boat. “There she is!” cried Alexandra. The oldest Tucker child pointed at an area lit by the cone of the searchlight. “She’s over there! I can just make out her life jacket—“ “Momma, Daddy, hurry!” Lizzie shrieked. Charles hollered up to Trip at the helm. “Twenty degrees starboard, son! Take it nice and slow! We gotta get to her, and you’re the one to do it!” “Yes, sir!” Trip shouted back. He fired up the engines, glad for its steady hum, and slowly turned the wheel in the direction his father indicated. Under his steady hand, the boat crept through the darkness towards his sister... “Okay, son, full stop!” “Full stop, aye!” Trip cut the engine. The next thirty minutes passed in a blur. Charles and Trip’s younger brother Eddie fished a soaked and shivering Lizzie out of the water. They immediately took her below and into a warm bath to bring up her body temperature, then Elaine Tucker dressed her in warm, dry clothes and bundled her up in blankets. Alexandra heated some hot cocoa in mugs and passed them to her brothers, sister, mother and father. The entire time, Trip didn’t leave his post at the helm. Alex pressed the mug into his hands and said, “Go below, Trip. I’ll take care of things up here. Go on, Lizzie needs you.” He didn’t have to be told twice. He flew down the narrow stairs to the lower deck and sprinted toward the cabin that Lizzie and Alex shared in the aft section of the boat. Lizzie sat in her bunk, her eyes wide with drowsiness, clutching the blankets all around her. Elaine and Charles sat on either side of her. Charles smiled as he saw Trip and he whispered, “Lizzie, Trip’s here.” Lizzie sniffled and said, “I’m sorry, I—“ “S’okay, Lizzie. I’m just glad you’re all right.” Trip sat down, put his mug on the night table and gripped his sister’s hands. “What were ya doin’ up, anyway?” “I couldn’t sleep and I wanted to see what ya were doin’,” Lizzie murmured. She was fading fast, now that the adrenalin rush was over. “I musta slipped and fell over the railin’...I didn’t mean—“ “Things happen. S’okay. Just get some rest, Lizzie. We can talk in the mornin’.” Her voice was little more than a sigh. “Okay, Trip.” Then just before she fell asleep, she murmured, “Thanks for rescuin’ me.” “You’d do the same f’me,” Trip whispered back. Eventually, Alex and Eddie came in to watch Lizzie so their parents could get some well-deserved rest, but Trip never left his sister’s side. In fact, he fell asleep there, holding her hands. There ain’t nothin’ to explain, Trip told the unseen observer. You could have rushed to your sister’s aid, yet you did not, the voice said, a tinge of respect and understanding in his voice. Most Humans I know would have done so immediately. He gave another mental snort at the image of Jonathan Archer, diving off the pier to save Trip’s life. Not that I didn’t want to, and not that I didn’t think about it. I wanted to dive in and save Lizzie. She’s my sister. But I couldn’t leave the wheel unattended. Someone had to steer the ship to get to her. I helped rescue her too, just in a different way. Family means so much to you, does it not? Trip swallowed a lump in his throat. Yeah. I understand now. Yes, there is an elegant...logic in the emotions you felt at the time. Thank you for such a valuable gift, Trip. I understand. He was stunned. Soval considered this, one of his worst memories, as a gift? Then he realized that this provided Soval some insight into Human behavior. Soval’s memory of the marriage ceremony helped explain T’Saiya’s “attack” on him, and the “desert memory” had been a test, a that he now better understood. The inadvertent memory transfer had been a blessing, in a roundabout way. You’re welcome. And thanks for the “gifts” in kind. Slowly, Trip became aware of the “real” world. Major T’Lydya dropped her hand from Trip’s face as Doctor T’Inya did the same for Soval. Trip suddenly felt the tears coursing down his cheeks; he reached up and scrubbed at them. As his vision cleared, he saw the Jon was crying too, and Nate looked somewhat stricken, and Trip wondered just how much he’d said aloud while in the meld. He felt a hand on his shoulder, turned and saw T’Lydya with compassion in her eyes. She did not cry, but the dark amber-gold eyes had lost their hard edge. Trip felt a warm wave of reassurance flow from her into him, and it eased the heartache somewhat. “Are you uninjured, Trip?” He nodded, noticing that Soval had called him by his name, not his rank. “Yeah, I’m okay. Wow, if that’s what you got from me, no wonder you were confused.” A hint of a smile passed over Soval’s lips. He looked like he’d aged ten years in a half an hour, but there was a sense of peace that hadn’t been there before. “It was...puzzling, but it was also quite...enlightening. We should both rest, Trip. There are important issues that we must address in the morning.” Trip nodded and yawned. T’Lydya helped him lie down on the cot. By the time the others had left the room, he was already fast asleep, and dreaming of a planet with red deserts. |
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