Title: Surface Gradients
Author: Athena02
Rating: PG-13 for brief violent imagery
Disclaimer: Obviously not mine; they're Paramount's. If it were the other way around, Bakula wouldn't have a job and Blalock would get to keep her clothes on during sweeps (just so I can stop feeling sorry for her).
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Ensign Hoshi Sato hesitated for a second, gathering her thoughts, trying to quell the feeling that told her she shouldn't be doing this, that it would be so much easier to just walk away from the door and pretend that she had never been there in the first place.
She glanced around, hoping that no one was around to see her. Fortunately, the passageways were empty, the majority of the crew asleep in their quarters. Taking one last breath, she stabbed the button next to the door before the little voice won out and she turned tail, retreating to her own quarters.
"Come in," Subcommander T'Pol replied, voice calm and even. Like always.
Calm and even, Hoshi thought, thumbing the button that opened the doors, stepping into the darkness before her legs betrayed her, turning her back around.
Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness. When they finally did, she quickly looked around the room, searching for its occupant. It didn't take long: the Subcommander was sitting, cross-legged in front of a thick candle, on the floor in the center of the room. Her eyes met the Vulcan woman's, which glittered brightly in the reflected light of the dozens of candles around the room. She was dressed in a dark rose-colored robe; much different from the subdued uniform she wore on-duty. But what struck Hoshi the most was her bearing. To the casual observer, she looked like her usual, cool self. But to Hoshi she looked…tired. Hard to tell with her blank face, but the linguist in her, the person who was trained to pick up in subtle body language and gestures, noticed the slight slump of her normally straight shoulders, the tiny bit of inner light that had faded from her eyes.
"You wished to see me, Ensign?" T'Pol asked, and Hoshi was embarrassed to realize that she'd just been standing there, staring.
"Um, I hope I'm not interrupting..." she started, awkwardly. As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt like kicking herself. She's Vulcan, you moron, even if you'd irritated her, she wouldn't tell you!
The other woman didn't even bat an eyelash, her eyes still holding the Ensign's. "You are not."
Hoshi smiled weakly. "Well, a few members of the crew and I wanted to make sure that you were alright." Her words came out, to her, awkwardly, "You haven't been on the bridge for almost a week, now, and we, um, just wanted to see if there was anything we could do for you."
It wasn't a total lie. Word had gotten around that the Subcommander had reported to Sickbay in serious condition (no one knew what was wrong with her, exactly) the night before the Vulcan ship had unexpectedly left. She'd been released two days later, and had rarely been seen outside her quarters in the three days since, not even for regular duty shifts on the bridge. The Captain had also—unofficially—passed the word that the Subcommander wasn't to be disturbed, which set the rumor mill racing. She'd heard everything from the Science officer getting into a physical disagreement with a member of the Vulcan crew to spending the night with a Vulcan male whom Crewman Hill had seen coming out of her quarters late in the evening.
"Apparently," Hill had said with a knowing wink, "Vulcans must like it rough." Hoshi had walked away from that conversation, not really believing a word of it. But the Subcommander's absence, coupled with the aloof way the Captain was treating the situation, troubled her. Which was why she was here.
T'Pol didn't hesitate with her answer. "There is nothing I require." She paused for a second, clearly thinking. "Although I…appreciate…your consideration." Her face was still blank, broken only by a brief blink.
Hoshi had to fight to keep her shoulders from slumping. This wasn't working out like she'd hoped. But what did you hope? That she'd open up to you, tell her what was wrong? Let you help her like she'd helped you on that Klingon ship inside the gas giant? Stupid, stupid, stupid…! Given her luck right now, she mused, Captain Archer would probably find out all about this little visit and she'd catch hell. This time, the little, niggling voice she despised so much won out, and she straightened, preparing to leave.
"Well, in that case, I should be going; I'm sorry I interrupted," she apologized, feeling like an idiot, Hopefully I'll see you soon."
T'Pol just watched her solemnly, not saying anything as the young ensign turned, taking a step towards the door. Her hand was almost on the button for the door when the Subcommander's coolly level voice rang out.
"Ensign…?"
Hoshi's stomach did a nervous flip-flop as she turned around. "Yes?"
"I do not believe you came here solely to inquire about my health. Was there another matter that you wished to discuss?"
This time, Hoshi did let her shoulders droop just slightly; she had hoped she could escape before the subject was brought up. It had seemed like a good idea a few hours ago, but now…But she couldn't--wouldn't--lie to the Vulcan. She was a horrible liar, anyway.
"Remember that away mission on the Klingon ship about a month ago?" T'Pol tilted her head slightly, showing that she did. "And you helped me control my fear in the galley?" She hesitated, unsure how to phrase her request.
T'Pol did it for her. "I said that I would teach you how to do it on your own." Her expression was unreadable.
"Yes, but when we got back we got busy with the maintenance inspections and scanning that nebula," She took a breath," so I guess I never got the chance to ask you. I mean, like I said before, I envy you- the way you don't let things get to you, never panicking, always in control." She stopped, realizing that she was beginning to ramble. "But I understand if you don't want to teach me; after all, I'm not even supposed to be in here since-"
"Ensign." T'Pol cut her off, her flat voice cutting through Hoshi's words like a sharp blade. She stared at the younger woman for a moment, eyes searching. Hoshi closed her mouth, focused on not moving while T'Pol's eyes seemed to peer into her soul, as if measuring her ability. A few long seconds passed before T'Pol shifted imperceptibly, the intense gaze disappearing from her eyes.
"Sit," she ordered, her eyes indicating the floor opposite from her, on the other side of the low table the candle was on. Hoshi did so somewhat awkwardly, trying to ignore how uncomfortable her boots made her, the toes poking into her knees. Nervous anticipation filled her as she looked at the Subcommander.
"The technique I showed you aboard the Klingon vessel comes from the discipline of arie'mnu. It is basic meditation and mental exercises, taught to Vulcan children, forming the foundation for later training. They concentrate on controlling the strongest emotions: fear, shame, longing, unhappiness, and anger.
"It will be a rigorous process; as a non-Vulcan, you should be prepared to encounter many obstacles before you are capable of controlling your strongest emotions." With that warning, she fell silent, watching for Hoshi's reaction.
For one brief second, Hoshi heard the voice of self-doubt whispering in her ear, the same voice that had tried to keep her on Earth, teaching exolinguistics in Brazil. And then she squashed that voice, throwing it into a distant corner of her mind. Fear was what had gotten her here in the first place, and she refused to let it dictate her actions any longer.
"I'm ready," she said, with far more confidence than she felt.
"Close your eyes," T'Pol said, watching as Hoshi did so. "Imagine yourself on a flat desert plain. There is no wind, only quiet stillness. Concentrate only on the emptiness of the desert, the beating of your heart, the feeling of the air in your lungs."
Hoshi exhaled softly, imagining herself on one of the bleak, barren washes she had seen when her family had taken a vacation in southern North America when she was a girl. It was quiet, still, peaceful save for the sound of her own breathing. A few very long minutes passed in utter silence as Hoshi focused on the vision in her mind's eye. Everything was calm, focused-- her mind blank and empty of any distracting thoughts.
"Now, imagine a sandstorm on the horizon, quickly coming at you," T'Pol said, her even tone blending in with the vision in Hoshi's mind. "Do not run or feel fear; it is natural. Accept it."
Hoshi did as she said, picturing a giant sandstorm on the horizon, shrieking and hissing as it drew closer. Trusting T'Pol, she did not feel fear, standing utterly still, even as the storm grew closer, flying grit stinging her face.
"Let the storm wash over you. Imagine it stripping away your flesh, your bones, until you are nothing, only thought."
Hoshi felt the brief sting of sand as the storm howled around her and then nothing, watching distantly as the force of nature ground her away into nothingness, carrying away the last tiny scraps of her physical being on the ceaseless wind. Her consciousness remained, almost floating over the area where she had been standing before. It was overwhelmingly peaceful, her mind clear.
"Open your eyes slowly; do not leave the place you are in," T'Pol ordered. The ensign's eyes slid up, meeting the serene gaze of the Vulcan woman across from her. She said nothing, her mind focused on the landscape inside her mind.
"Give me your hand." T'Pol extended her right hand from where it had been resting near her ankles, palm up.
A faint desert breeze echoed in Hoshi's brain as she placed her own hand in the Subcommander's palm, watching distantly as she turned the younger woman's palm up, walking her index and forefinger up to the hollow of her hand, thumb pressing lightly on the opposite side.
"Close your eyes." The Subcommander's voice was as still as the sand under Hoshi's feet. "I will help guide you as you confront your fear. You will sense me alongside you, touching your thoughts. Do not be alarmed, I will not hurt you."
Hoshi took a calming breath, but quickly sucked in a surprised lungful of air when she suddenly felt her, an essence briefly touching the ensign's like gentle feathers. Almost instantly a warm wave of steady calm and reassurance washed over the edges of Hoshi's mind, dissolving her apprehension.
"How-?" she began, but T'Pol gently cut her off.
"Vulcans are touch telepaths; this is a type of guided meditation. Now, return to that place you were at, the place of calm."
Hoshi took a moment to focus before slipping back into the calm of the desert. She could feel the reassuring essence that was T'Pol back away, retreating to a slight distance from her thoughts, observing. She was still there, an occasional tendril of tranquility briefly grazing against Hoshi's consciousness.
"Think of the time when you felt your worst fear. Once you have it, imagine yourself in the moments just before the event occurred. Place yourself in that moment."
It took less than a second for a memory to pop into Hoshi's mind. She shied away, but it was too late, the images, sounds, and smells sucking her into the memory, making her relieve it again…
She was walking down a passageway on Utopia Planitia, hopelessly lost in the bowels of the newest docking ways, in an area still under construction. Unfinished conduits hung down like Spanish moss, the half-completed lighting casting a feeble glow down the long corridor.
"Juan?" she called out, listening for the sound of Ensign Gutierrez's voice. They'd gotten separated somewhere along the way, probably in the crowd at the last main corridor hub they had tried to push their way through. The station was filled with merchants and travelers whose vessels were either trapped or damaged by an ion storm that had passed close by a little less than a day ago.
"Are you lost?"
Hoshi jumped at the sound of the low, gruff voice. She whirled around, watching as a figure stepped into the dim pool of light from the glowpanel above Hoshi's head, coming to a stop about two meters from the Starfleet cadet.
He looked vaguely human, but a mass of scars and fissures totally marred his face and bald skull, making it almost impossible to tell. Dark eyes glittered from behind slits in the scar tissue, a weak smile like a crack running across his face. His slightly ragged clothes and empty weapons belt made Hoshi think that he was a trader or maybe a merchant's guard; something that did nothing to calm the fear beginning to wind its way through her stomach and around her heart.
Remember the desert, T'Pol's voice whispered in Hoshi's mind.Use that calm to counteract your fear Recapturing the feeling of easy calm that had filled her, Hoshi pushed back on the fear budding in her mind.
"Just looking for my partner," Hoshi answered, hiding the wariness in her voice. She shifted her feet slightly, readying herself to slip into a self-defense stance. Just in case.
The man chuckled, taking a small step towards her. "Want me to help you find him? I know my way around this station pretty well." His thin lips spread into an even wider, oilier grin, deepening the fissures on his face.
Hoshi took a small step back. "I appreciate your offer, but I'm supposed to meet him at our shuttle."
"Oh? And where is that?"
The snake-like fear reared back up, tightening its invisible coils around Hoshi's chest. She wielded the feeling of calm and serenity like a weapon, struggling with the serpent, trying to smother it. She succeeded somewhat, its hold relaxing, but not disappearing. The T'Pol essence did not offer any assistance, floating impassively on the fringes of Hoshi's mind.
"On the other side of the station," Hoshi lied, quickly stepping forward, trying to step around the man. "Excuse me but-"
Her heart froze as the man's meaty hand—only four fingers—closed around her upper arm in a vice grip. "I wasn't done talking to you, sweetie."
"Let me go!" Hoshi yelled, her other hand curling into a fist.
Hoshi's lips trembled with the effort, the feeling of calm feeling momentarily slippery in her mind, threatening to slip from her strained grasp.
The man noticed her fist. "Ya gonna hit me, darlin'?"
With a scream of fearful rage, Hoshi swung. The yell was strangled as the man caught her wrist in midair, squeezing it so hard she was certain it was going to break.
The feeling of calm slipped, and the snake shot up to curl around Hoshi's throat briefly before she laboriously beat it back again. T'Pol had drawn mentally closer, but instead of calming tendrils, Hoshi felt brief flashes of muted panic. What was going on? Was this part of the test? Her concentration slipping, she took a breath, trying to focus on the desert with every fiber of her being.
The man was laughing at her. "We got a fighter, Yorrik!" he crowed. Hoshi's heart sank even further as another figure stepped into the light. He looked similar to her captor, yet had fewer facial fissures. He stepped closer until he was right beside his companion.
"She should be a lot more fun than the last one," he growled, peering at Hoshi, who was struggling as much as she could in the other man's grip. "Get her to stop moving," he snarled.
With a dangerous growl, Hoshi's captor slammed her against the corridor wall, her head colliding painfully against the plasteel. He pinned her with his hands, leering at her. "You're pretty, but that's not as fun as what we're going to do to you."
He jerked his head, gesturing to where his partner was drawing a long, thin knife out of a hidden leg sheath, advancing with a deadly glint in his eye.
The feeling of calm slipped completely from Hoshi's grasp and the awful feeling of fear metamorphosed into full-blown panic. As soon as she felt it grip her heart, an echo of the same emotion was reflected back upon her from T'Pol. Confused, her heart pounding in terror, Hoshi struggled to open her eyes, but found she was stuck in the horrible memory.
The man with the knife leaned in close, pressing the freezing cold blade against the skin of her throat. She froze, eyes widening as she tried to keep her eyes on the curved steel pressed dangerously against the lightly pulsing skin of her throat. The man's eyes glittered, full of malice.
"I want to hear you scream as you bleed. Scream, and I'll make it quick for you in the end."
"Stop!" Hoshi yelled, eyes rolling in total fear.
Stop! T'Pol's voice echoed throughout her mind with painful intensity.
Suddenly, the two men and the knife were no longer in front of Hoshi. Instead, she found herself sitting—of all places—at a small table in a club, the distorted sound of jazz threading around her ears. A Vulcan male, vaguely familiar, sat across from her, begging for something. His words were distorted, as if Hoshi were underwater. She was filled with feelings of fear, anxiousness, and…elation? Everything was distant though, muddled.
"Stay with me, T'Pol," the Vulcan pleaded, voice cold as he leaned forward. "Don't hold back."
Another wave of fear built within Hoshi, bubbling like a pot about to boil over. Again, she tried to sever the link, but failed.
She stood up to leave, her emotions in a turmoil, when the Vulcan grabbed her wrist in an unbreakable grip. "You're anxious, it's just another emotion," he urged, trying to get her to stay.
"No!" she hissed. Instead of a verbal response, she felt angry, uncaring thoughts reach into her mind, digging and prying forcefully, painfully, at the memories there. She was helpless to stop it, trying desperately to shake his hand, and their link, away. Blind terror seized her as she felt bits of her being ripped away, hurriedly sifted through, and discarded like bits of wadded up paper.
Hoshi gritted her teeth at the feeling, trying to do everything in her power to push the link away, even as the line between her and T'Pol shifted and blurred, hard to discriminate.
"Stop!" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"T'Pol!" Hoshi pleaded through clenched teeth, shaking with the mental effort.
"STOP!""T'Pol!" she screamed, pushing with everything she had just as those probing fingers reached in deep, searching—
Hoshi slumped forward with a gasp, only a quick hand keeping her from bashing her head on the low table. She stayed hunched over, scrambling to breathe, covered in sweat with a pounding headache threatening to split her skull.
Minutes passed before she had the strength to sit upright, the headache fading to a dull thrum. Her eyes focused on T'Pol, who was still sitting crosslegged, but hunched over at the waist. Trying to control her quick breathing, her eyes were tightly shut in concentration, desperately trying to regain control.
"Subcommander?" Hoshi asked, tempted to touch the other woman to make sure she was okay. "Are you alright?"
T'Pol waited a second before answering, her eyes opening slowly. She wore her standard veneer of calm, yet Hoshi could easily see that, underneath it all, she was horribly unsettled.
"I will recover once I meditate. You should report to sickbay, Ensign, as a precautionary measure."
"I only have a headache-"
"Nevertheless," T'Pol's tone brooked no argument, close to the tone of an order," you will report to sickbay immediately."
Hoshi didn't move. "What happened?"
All of T'Pol's mental conditioning couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice. "A foolish mistake. I should not have begun teaching you until some time yet."
"It was my fault," Hoshi cried, hurt.
"No, Ensign, it is solely mine." She paused again. "I should not have attempted this, not when my emotions were so close to the surface. I should have foreseen the potential hazards of this undertaking, particularly in my mental state."
"What are you talking about? What mental state?" Hoshi asked, confused. As soon as the last word left her mouth, the last pieces of the puzzle clicked into place in her mind, showing her the important part of the picture. "The Vulcan, in the club; those emotions…They were yours?!"
T'Pol's calm façade cracked slightly and she looked away from Hoshi, staring at her hands entwined on her lap. "Yes," she replied, voice soft.
"What?-"
"It is none of your concern, Ensign. Please report to sickbay." T'Pol had put some of the steel back into her voice.
"No, I think it is my concern!" Hoshi countered, surprising herself. "I want to know what happened back there and why!"
T'Pol said nothing, staring straight ahead.
Recalling how much Vulcans disliked talking about personal details, Hoshi tried one last gambit. "I saw what happened T'Pol, it was like I was there. You can't just push this away."
The Subcommander's words came haltingly at first, but flowed easier as she continued. "Influenced by a member of the Vulcan crew, I briefly attempted to touch my emotions. The Vulcan crew member and I attempted a ritual in which our thoughts merge, but he abused his position and I suffered neurological damage as a result."
Hoshi didn't have to ask what she meant by 'abused', she had seen it for herself. "How did that affect us?"
"As a result of my experimentation and his intrusion, my emotions were not fully under control. My memories resurfaced in response to your own, and the link allowed you to feel my emotions." T'Pol's voice sounded almost self-loathing. "It would not have happened if not for my irrational actions."
Hoshi shook her head. "That doesn't sound irrational to me."
"I am Vulcan."
Hoshi expected more after that, but realized that that short statement was as more an explanation than anything.
"But why did you want to get in touch with your emotions in the first place?"
"I do not know," T'Pol replied.
Sensing the Subcommander pulling away from her, Hoshi's voice softened, filled with a genuine concern. "Believe it or not, I know how hard it can be to break away from tradition. It may be a part of your culture, but you can't deny who you are. I can understand why you'd want to experience emotion, even if it was only for a little while."
I guess it's like the opposite of me, Hoshi mused. I've spent my life immersed in emotion, and I'm looking for a way to escape from it. For the first time, having experienced the depth of the Vulcan woman's emotions, surprising in their intensity, Hoshi understood what phenomenal control she had.
T'Pol didn't say anything, but she didn't look away either, letting Hoshi know she had struck a nerve. A moment later the light in her eyes shifted, and she straightened.
"I appreciate your counsel, Ensign, as well as your regard for my well-being." T'Pol's voice carried a subtle note of sincerity, wending around the jagged corners of mental discipline straight to Hoshi's ears.
Hoshi grinned as she stood up, unfolding herself from the floor. "Goodnight, Subcommander," she said. T'Pol tilted her head in acknowledgement.
Hoshi turned, taking the few steps to the door. Again, T'Pol's voice stopped her before she could thumb the button to open the door.
"Ensign."
Hoshi turned, a questioning look on her face.
"If you still desire to learn, I will notify you when we are able to continue your lessons."
Hoshi grinned. "Definitely."
T'Pol nodded before closing her eyes, already beginning her own meditation exercises. Her smile still on her face, Hoshi opened the door, stepping into the empty hallway.
The corners of her mouth were still turned upwards softly as she made her way to sickbay, the faint sound of a desert wind echoing in her ears.