A/N: Welcome back everybody! I hope you enjoy this new chapter in T'Alora's life.
The T'Kara Mol and the Mahar'oth
Vulcan Space Program Headquarters, New Shannai'Kahr, 2285.59, 1157 hours. T'Alora shimmied through the overhead compartment, tools in hand, searching for the malfunctioning component. After the initial discovery Commander Ulshan ordered her to re-check all the connections and she began to suspect the wires were of inferior quality than advertised. The T'Kara Mol was 9.2 weeks out from it's maiden voyage and as a member of it's crew and one of the lead engineers in the design and implementation of it's warp engine T'Alora was determined to search the ship from top to bottom and correct any glitches she encountered.
There—0.47 meters ahead of her lay the problem. Her eyes narrowed in on the frayed wires and she laid her tools out beside her to immediately set to work. 12.8 minutes later the faulty wiring had been removed and she was set to install the new wiring when there was a knock on the ceiling panel below her. T'Alora turned around and crawled back to the opening she entered through, sticking her head out. Her roommate, T'Melia, stood with her hands folded into the sleeves of her work robes.
"Will you accompany me to the Mess Hall for the midday meal?" her friend inquired.
She mentally calculated the work yet to be done before replying. "Yes. I will meet you at our usual table in 23.3 minutes."
T'Melia nodded. "That is acceptable." She departed.
The last 1.76 years had been a period of great personal growth for T'Alora; she found her work challenging and fulfilling and her colleagues and environment were quite stimulating. She had built a reputation for herself as a resourceful and ingenious engineer, with her unique improvements to the warp engine being published in 11 separate scientific journals and having her hold 3 patents for parts created in conjunction with her work-and all before she had reached her 24th year.
Many in her family made it known how proud they were of her and her achievements but none meant so much to her as the day when her Uncle Scotty comm'd from Starbase 27 to add his congratulations. The memory of that call never failed to make her smile.
Now this was not to say that T'Alora was without a social life. Although she shared a suite with 5 other individuals she was closest to her suite mate T'Melia, whom she became friendly with during their first month of basic training. T'Melia's focus was in the biological sciences with an especial interest in botany. She stood as tall as T'Alora but possessed a much fairer complexion. When viewed from behind and with their hair braided the two women appeared nearly identical, and as they were often in each other's company they had been mistaken for one another with great frequency.
The last 1.76 years had also been witness to another great change in T'Alora's life; she had begun to date again. There had been a total of 5 men—4 from various departments within the space program and 1 who she met at the open-air market in New Shannai'Kahr—who had solicited her attention in that span of time. It was becoming more commonplace for Vulcans to 'date' in the human fashion, however, of all 5 of her relationships none of them lasted longer then 2.14 months. Her suitors were all upstanding men (save for Bartol, from Security, who was so rude to the wait staff at the restaurant that she departed abruptly after berating him for his behavior), yet after a fashion she noticed that the evening outings lacked a certain element that T'Alora deemed vital for a relationship. She could not qualify what this 'something' was and yet when the topic was discussed with her dates they acknowledged the absence as well. At the conclusion of these outings both parties wound up going their separate ways while remaining on good terms.
Still, after her disastrous relationship with David, a start was a start.
When her work was completed T'Alora shimmied out of the overhead compartment, dusted off her robes, washed her hands and proceeded to the Mess. The hall was full but quiet save for the scraping of utensils against plates. After collecting a hearty slice of lasagna and a salad she headed toward T'Melia at their table near the window overlooking the build yard where they ate in companionable silence.
"How come your preparations for the maiden voyage?" T'Melia asked as soon as they both were through.
"I have 57.61 meters of wiring left to replace before our departure, in addition to my other pre-launch assignments. Have you found a suitable proxy to monitor your long-range experiments while we are gone?"
T'Melia displayed the barest hint of a grimace. "I have found a replacement, yes; whether or not Kyfon will be suitable remains to be seen."
She arched an eyebrow at her friend. "You question his intelligence?"
"No, however, I do question his commitment to overseeing my work. His attention is directed more toward his own assignment, as underdeveloped as it is."
"And what is his study?"
"Kyfon is monitoring the radiological decay of New Vulcan's rocks to determine what, if any impact, the radiation may have on our physiology." T'Alora said nothing but let her eyes do the talking. T'Melia smirked. "Indeed. His study is a long-term one but is not very involved, yet he persists in constantly 'overseeing' it."
She was about to remark on the futility of the young man's project when several comms went off simultaneously in the opposite corner of the room. She craned her neck in that direction and saw 8 officers abruptly decamp; no sooner had they departed than another table of 4 also fled, their half-eaten meals quickly disposed of in the recycle chute. T'Alora next turned toward the window and noticed a flurry of activity out in the yard.
"What do you suppose is the matter?" T'Melia asked in concert with her own thoughts.
"I cannot begin to speculate," she replied, though she had several theories of her own in mind, "But I believe it will only be a matter of time before all is revealed."
Truer words were never spoken—T'Alora had only to return to her post to learn that the Mahar'oth, an exploratory vessel that had been launched 3 days prior to her arrival in New Shannai'Kahr, was no longer in contact with Command.
She had been slated to return to Headquarters in 25 days.
The implications were clear and, deeply shaken, T'Alora abruptly excused herself from her duties and traversed the grounds in a daze. When she became cognizant of her surroundings once again she hastened to her room when she felt her stomach begin to heave. She secured the door firmly behind her and began to pace.
Another ship lost; and while the Mahar'oth had not been officially declared destroyed there was no doubt in her mind that it was well and truly gone. Whether it had been felled by foe or anomaly remained to be seen but another 56 souls had been claimed by the black expanse of space.
Her stomach surged again and her heart raced. Fear. It was, T'Alora realized with a start, an emotion that she would continually struggle with given her past experiences and her choice of profession. Recognizing the control she was giving this fear she immediately recalled all that Telnor had taught her; she then pulled out her asenoi, lit it and settled into the lotus position.
Selfishly, it was fear for her own well-being that was predominant. The Vulcan Space Program, like Starfleet, was not immune to such unexpected losses as the Mahar'oth; however the Vulcan program was newer and smaller, and as such this latest blow was felt that much more keenly. She very nearly lost her family in space 3.19 years ago and T'Alora knew she may also one day lose her own life there. But fear of death was no way to live, and after acknowledging such morbid thoughts she meditated for many hours before setting them aside.
She also prayed for the katras of the 56 Vulcans who were lost.
She remained in this attitude for the duration of the day and into the early hours of the morning, grieving for that which had transpired though she knew none of the deceased crew personally; but that did not matter, as the entire community was now bereft. Only after her emotions had been called up, made known, and properly sorted did T'Alora believe herself fit to return to duty.
A great silence descended over the campus in subsequent days and it was one that was not easily broken.
Vulcan Space Program Headquarters, New Shannai'Kahr, 2285.75, 0700 hours. She approached her workstation and saw everyone gathered around the central message hub. "Have we received a new assignment for today?"
"No," Lieutenant Rion replied. "It is new information regarding the Mahar'oth. A transmission was received approximately 4.3 hours ago; the communications department is attempting to clear it up now."
T'Alora let her surprise briefly show. "The Mahar'oth survived?"
"That information is not known at this time. There is a 12.68% chance that the communication was relayed to us prior to the ship's disappearance and was subsequently delayed. We must wait until the communications department completes it's work to know for certain."
She hung her head. To hope for the ship's survival would only set her up for future emotional inner turmoil. "Understood."
More information regarding the Mahar'oth became available throughout the day, and if it were not so illogical T'Alora would have called the news quite miraculous. A sudden ion storm had caught the ship off-guard, knocking out much of the communications array, the warp engines, and approximately half of their life support systems. They had reached out to Headquarters and a last ditch message had arrived in the nick of time. Another ship was quickly dispatched to tow the Mahar'oth home and were now 2 days away from touchdown with a full crew complement aboard that were relatively unharmed.
Vulcan Space Program Headquarters, New Shannai'Kahr, 2285.77, 0216 hours. Assignments had been given and 3 assembly lines erected to better serve the survivors the moment they disembarked. T'Alora stood behind the steaming stew pot with her ladle in one hand and her eyes on the sky, watching as the battered Mahar'oth came into view. The ship touched down rather gracefully despite it's damaged state and once the engines were disengaged the captains and admirals stepped forward to greet and be briefed by the senior staff.
From her position 20 meters away T'Alora watched the starving and unclean junior staff gather on either side of the Mahar'oth's gangway, ignoring their own personal needs and standing at attention as they awaited Captain Balel. He emerged 3.8 minutes later, his first officer standing beyond his left shoulder, and strode down the gangplank as if the circumstances of the ship's return were within normal parameters. The Captain stopped and conferred briefly with the other officials before giving his XO the nod and allowing the rest of the crew to disperse.
The scientists and explorers looked a little worse for wear given their ordeal yet they had survived. They were, she realized, most fortunate to have escaped without any serious injuries save for the odd bump, sprained ankle or broken arm. The crew had, however, had other privations to contend with, chief among them being an inadequate fresh food supply. Vulcans were a naturally lean people to begin with and T'Alora noted that many of them now looked positively gaunt. They were also sleep deprived, as evidenced by the dark circles under their eyes, and in need of sonic showers.
As the first survivors approached her table T'Alora readied the stew while keeping an eye on the ship. One man in particular caught her eye—not only because of his impressive height (1.98 meters by her estimation) and full black beard—but also because he broke rank and approached Captain Evanna, who also stepped away from her discussion with their other superior officers. Their exchange was brief but warm, and as the tall man walked away T'Alora wondered what the connection was between them. Were they relatives? Friends? Close colleagues? She could not be certain.
Another bowl was thrust up at her and T'Alora lost track of the man. She diligently ladled out the stew until 4.97 minutes later when the broad expanse of his chest stepped directly into her line of vision. T'Alora craned her neck up and looked deep into a pair of twinkling blue-green eyes set in stark contrast to his dark olive complexion. The other survivors, their gazes were all blank, distant, speaking volumes to their utter exhaustion, while his were quite expressive and almost jubilant. She was curious to learn more about him but there were others behind him waiting to be fed.
"Thank you," he said as she topped off his bowl. She watched him walk away and then did not think anymore of him.
Vulcan Space Program Headquarters, New Shannai'Kahr, 2285.84, 1227 hours. "T'Alora."
She stopped her work and turned to see Captain Evanna approach with the tall man walking alongside her. He looked much recovered from his ordeal as he was well-rested and generously fed; his beard was gone too, and under the strong lights of the engineering deck she saw that he was much younger than she initially thought, perhaps around 30 standard years of age. The pair paused before her and she held up her hand in greeting.
"T'Alora, this is Lieutenant Commander Veren."
She nodded. "It is gratifying to…"
"He will be serving with us as Commander Ulshan's second. Please assist him in getting acclimated to the deck."
T'Alora's mouth snapped shut. Commander Ulshan's second? She had—albeit unofficially—taken on that role for the last 6.7 months, ever since Lieutenant Commander Pyril unexpectedly left. And now, with 8.1 weeks left until the launch the Captain wanted her to train the man who was to replace her?
The very idea galled her.
She had enough presence of mind to acknowledge the Captain's orders but otherwise did not speak. Captain Evanna soon departed leaving them very much alone in the space.
"Your assistance is much appreciated," Veren declared.
T'Alora glared at the usurper. This was going to be a very long afternoon.