To Belong
There were few things she valued more than her privacy, few things that she asked for other than she be given time to approach things in a sensible manner, to come to a rational conclusion based on the evidence provided.
The notion of time travel was not one that might be discredited, that made perfect sense, indeed, T'Pol had seen evidence of such incursions, such dramatic damage to the timeline during her service on Enterprise—and yet such things were far behind her now, the men and women she had served with long since having passed. She felt nothing at this recollection, and yet, at the same time, she shied away from recalling such details. An idiosyncrasy, a quirk of behaviour that the man whom she walked alongside seemed to sense, stopping and regarding her with a raised eyebrow and a subtle tilt of the head.
"You are troubled, ambassador," he said, his voice soft, gentle, and had he been human, T'Pol might have interpreted his tone as playful.
She regarded him carefully.
"I am…" She paused, trying to find the right word. It seemed unusual to be talking in English with another Vulcan after so long. "I am concerned."
He nodded, as if this was to be expected.
"Perhaps you are right to be concerned," the older man remarked, musing on the matter as if it had not been he who initiated the conversation. "A visitor whose identity you cannot verify has asked you to convey a message to the commander of an Earth vessel light years out of the Suurok's current flight path, and has offered very little in the way of explanation, and you are curious as to why."
T'Pol's expression did not change.
"You will forgive me, Selek. I do not wish to cast dispersions on your intentions."
The name stuck in her throat. It was an unusual name, an old Vulcan name, not one that she had heard oft in use nowadays.
"You have suspicions," Selek nodded, resuming his slow walk, a number of the Suurok's crew passing them, cautious yet respectful, as the two ventured further into the ship's heart.
"Suspicion is a human response," T'Pol corrected him.
And yet I have, how would Jonathan Archer have phrased it, a hunch, she thought. Again, the recollection caused her to experience a strange sensation.
"Tell me, ambassador," the older Vulcan remarked, his hands folded behind his back as they walked, "do you believe in fate?"
T'Pol frowned.
"To do so would not be logical."
"But to believe that the universe is without reason is logical?"
"It is logical to assume that there are laws of cause and effect in place, but it is logical to assume that such things are not always obvious."
"Fate," the older Vulcan remarked.
She said nothing.
"Ambassador," Selek continued, "I do not like fate. This may seem to you like an emotional response, but, in my experience, I have come to believe that there are some things that occur not because they are the result of action, but because in this moment we have not acted. I seek to adjust one such matter."
Time travel, she thought again, remembering her brush with those displaced in temporality, and though Selek did not deny or confirm such a theory, and, in truth, though she had not asked of the older Vulcan for clarity, she was familiar enough with the ways in which those forewarned of future matters acted.
"And what is this message you wish delivered to the commander of the Shenzhou that I should ask the captain of this vessel to take us so far out of our way?" she asked at all.
Selek continued to look ahead, though she sensed a change in his attitude.
"Tell her," he paused, "that she was the logical choice for a career in the Vulcan Expeditionary Group."
He nodded, satisfied with what he had said, and walked ahead, leaving T'Pol alone to attempt to decipher the message.