Disclaimer: OK, by now I think we've all established the fact that I own
nothing, nadda, and I believe that you get the gist of the matter. May Gene
rest his little soul, and may the two powers of Rick and whoever get some
sense, and learn how to use photo imaging programs properly. (Sorry, the
season two's graphic imaging of the trench just did not work!)
Anyway, that's just about enough from me. I'm sorry if I don't update this
for a while, just my finals are fast approaching, I'm scared as hell, and
on top of that, I've got about fifty major performances coming up!
On to the story!!!!
Chronological Insanity By Starlite1.
"What the hell was that?!?" Malcolm shouted, as the ship was thrown to the side. A huge burst of light illuminated the screen for a brief second and left the entire bridge crew trying to blink the stars from their eyes.
"It's the klingons, sir." Said the young man who had taken over from him.
"they're hailing us!" called out Hoshi, "They're demanding that we surrender, and prepare to be boarded. The captain says that he is the brother of Duras."
Malcolm grimaced, "That's not good. Not good at all." ******
Each and every second, Jon began to loathe the access shaft more. The almost continuous jolting of the ship made him almost certain that they were under attack. From who, he didn't have a clue. All of a sudden, he slammed into T'Pol's rear end.
"Are you all right, T'Pol?" he asked in concern.
She gasped, "Pain... Agony... Can't cope. Help!!!" she almost screamed the last word. Her face had gone almost as white as ivory as she slumped against the wall.
"Tell me what I can do. I'm here. T'Pol!!!" he said, but she was off in another world, another field. An entirely different game. Gently, he reached over to her form, and took her shoulders. "What's wrong, T'Pol?"
Yet her eyes just continued to stare off into space. Unconsciously, she seemed to settle herself into his arms, taking strength from him, as she tried to deal with whatever it was that she was going through. To Jon, it felt like an eternity.
Without warning, she collapsed back into him, her breathing going haywire. She drew in air in short gasps. Finally, he looked down at her, "Are you ready to tell me what's wrong?" he finally asked.
She gently eased herself back up into a sitting position, "I believe you have the right to know. I don't know how, but somehow someone got inside my mental shields. Pain...was overwhelming. The only problem was.. It was you. Yet, at the same time, it was my own. I hate to admit it, but I was rather overwhelmed."
For a moment, Jon was silent, "I'm sorry. I don't know.." he trailed off at the look on her face.
"It was not you. But I do now have an answer, of sorts, to the reason why the doctor called." And so she began to talk....
************ The two minds supported each other. As their environment shook, they felt the aftershocks. All that was left for them to do was to hold on for the ride, wherever that may take them. Her presence grew faint, without another word of warning. Desperately, he reached out for her, the sensation of her not being there beginning to creep up slowly through his mind. He made one final lunge to grasp on to her.. And found himself hanging on by a thread to her.
They sat across from each other. Their backs were leaning up against the walls, their legs crossed.
"As you know, our people is one that has a history that stretches back extremely far. Almost five thousand years ago, Surak came, and brought about the reforms that are the basis of the Vulcan of today. But before that time, we had a number of... Customs, for loss of a better world, yet some of those have continued onto today. We do not have the time at present to go into the matters, but one of the most important things that has carried on from that time is the need that Vulcans have for a Bondmate. Essentially it is a telepathic linking of minds. But it goes far deeper than that. But what I picked up on before was a bonding. I am.. Unsure of how I should phrase this, but I will try.. "What it was is something that I am still trying to work out for myself, yet through it, there was a tremendous amount of pain. From both of the parties." T'Pol took a deep breath and tried to steady herself.
"And.." Jon prodded gently.
"The only way that I could have perceived this is if I was part of it. Vulcans are touch telepathic. Only a true bonding can do that sort of thing. But when the.. Onslaught caught me, I was able to find out something. It's me down in sickbay. The only thing is it's me from the future."
Jon's eyes went wide with shock "So, in other words, down in sickbay, your future self lies. Somehow she and her- what was the term? Oh yeah- Bondmate are laying. Both of them are in enough pain that they somehow were able transmit their pain into you?!"
He stopped short. A memory from barely half an hour ago jumped out at him. His face went ashen, "Oh shit."
T'Pol's eyebrow shot up into her bangs. "Not the word that I may have chosen, yet it does sufficiently describe the situation."
"Oh no. No way. It's not that simple, T'Pol, and you know it. I'm the other person laying down there."
"Don't you think I know that?"
"And if that's the case then.."
"Yes."
*************
Dr. Phlox had just come out of surgery. The woman who he'd been operating on was rather a shock. The bio readouts were identical to those of their resident Vulcan. Albeit almost sixty years older. At the very least she was stable for the moment. Sighing, he began to make his rounds to the other patients from the craft. There were species he didn't even know existed here. Their different origins were so diverse, it was remarkable that they all got along.
Finally, he came to an old human male. Even though he looked to be well into his eighties, he was still robust and healthy. Unless the large plasma burns across his chest were counted. No matter, his assistants had done their best to try and patch him up, and there was nothing that Phlox could do at the moment. Sighing, his hands drifted towards the man's left hand. He wore a wedding band, aged with the passage of time. The band was a swirling pattern of what appeared to be three different types of gold, with an intricate vine over the top. Come to think of it, he seen that design somewhere else.... The color suddenly drained from his face.
The Duras ship had disappeared. No warning. Nothing whatsoever. And no indication of when they'd be back. For they would be back. There was no doubt about it. He just hoped that the captain and the Sub-Commander- No- Commander, he chastised himself, were both all right, wherever they happened to be. With a groan, Malcolm stood up, and stretched out his back, which had become stiff from sitting. He made his way over to the tactical station. Might as well use the time while they were waiting.
*Her mind came back to him, a calm, warm presence, always there. He had no idea what he would do without her. Her wounds had been healed, yet she was not out of the woods yet, so to speak. There was still a long way for them to go. There were other concerns, but they would deal with them later. No doubt, there would come a point when they would. For just a moment, there was just them. For one moment in time...*
A/N.: So what do you think??? Please tell me!!! All reviews are welcome, including flames! Anyway, that's about enough from me.
Next chapter... Well, you'll have to wait and see!!!
Chronological Insanity By Starlite1.
"What the hell was that?!?" Malcolm shouted, as the ship was thrown to the side. A huge burst of light illuminated the screen for a brief second and left the entire bridge crew trying to blink the stars from their eyes.
"It's the klingons, sir." Said the young man who had taken over from him.
"they're hailing us!" called out Hoshi, "They're demanding that we surrender, and prepare to be boarded. The captain says that he is the brother of Duras."
Malcolm grimaced, "That's not good. Not good at all." ******
Each and every second, Jon began to loathe the access shaft more. The almost continuous jolting of the ship made him almost certain that they were under attack. From who, he didn't have a clue. All of a sudden, he slammed into T'Pol's rear end.
"Are you all right, T'Pol?" he asked in concern.
She gasped, "Pain... Agony... Can't cope. Help!!!" she almost screamed the last word. Her face had gone almost as white as ivory as she slumped against the wall.
"Tell me what I can do. I'm here. T'Pol!!!" he said, but she was off in another world, another field. An entirely different game. Gently, he reached over to her form, and took her shoulders. "What's wrong, T'Pol?"
Yet her eyes just continued to stare off into space. Unconsciously, she seemed to settle herself into his arms, taking strength from him, as she tried to deal with whatever it was that she was going through. To Jon, it felt like an eternity.
Without warning, she collapsed back into him, her breathing going haywire. She drew in air in short gasps. Finally, he looked down at her, "Are you ready to tell me what's wrong?" he finally asked.
She gently eased herself back up into a sitting position, "I believe you have the right to know. I don't know how, but somehow someone got inside my mental shields. Pain...was overwhelming. The only problem was.. It was you. Yet, at the same time, it was my own. I hate to admit it, but I was rather overwhelmed."
For a moment, Jon was silent, "I'm sorry. I don't know.." he trailed off at the look on her face.
"It was not you. But I do now have an answer, of sorts, to the reason why the doctor called." And so she began to talk....
************ The two minds supported each other. As their environment shook, they felt the aftershocks. All that was left for them to do was to hold on for the ride, wherever that may take them. Her presence grew faint, without another word of warning. Desperately, he reached out for her, the sensation of her not being there beginning to creep up slowly through his mind. He made one final lunge to grasp on to her.. And found himself hanging on by a thread to her.
They sat across from each other. Their backs were leaning up against the walls, their legs crossed.
"As you know, our people is one that has a history that stretches back extremely far. Almost five thousand years ago, Surak came, and brought about the reforms that are the basis of the Vulcan of today. But before that time, we had a number of... Customs, for loss of a better world, yet some of those have continued onto today. We do not have the time at present to go into the matters, but one of the most important things that has carried on from that time is the need that Vulcans have for a Bondmate. Essentially it is a telepathic linking of minds. But it goes far deeper than that. But what I picked up on before was a bonding. I am.. Unsure of how I should phrase this, but I will try.. "What it was is something that I am still trying to work out for myself, yet through it, there was a tremendous amount of pain. From both of the parties." T'Pol took a deep breath and tried to steady herself.
"And.." Jon prodded gently.
"The only way that I could have perceived this is if I was part of it. Vulcans are touch telepathic. Only a true bonding can do that sort of thing. But when the.. Onslaught caught me, I was able to find out something. It's me down in sickbay. The only thing is it's me from the future."
Jon's eyes went wide with shock "So, in other words, down in sickbay, your future self lies. Somehow she and her- what was the term? Oh yeah- Bondmate are laying. Both of them are in enough pain that they somehow were able transmit their pain into you?!"
He stopped short. A memory from barely half an hour ago jumped out at him. His face went ashen, "Oh shit."
T'Pol's eyebrow shot up into her bangs. "Not the word that I may have chosen, yet it does sufficiently describe the situation."
"Oh no. No way. It's not that simple, T'Pol, and you know it. I'm the other person laying down there."
"Don't you think I know that?"
"And if that's the case then.."
"Yes."
*************
Dr. Phlox had just come out of surgery. The woman who he'd been operating on was rather a shock. The bio readouts were identical to those of their resident Vulcan. Albeit almost sixty years older. At the very least she was stable for the moment. Sighing, he began to make his rounds to the other patients from the craft. There were species he didn't even know existed here. Their different origins were so diverse, it was remarkable that they all got along.
Finally, he came to an old human male. Even though he looked to be well into his eighties, he was still robust and healthy. Unless the large plasma burns across his chest were counted. No matter, his assistants had done their best to try and patch him up, and there was nothing that Phlox could do at the moment. Sighing, his hands drifted towards the man's left hand. He wore a wedding band, aged with the passage of time. The band was a swirling pattern of what appeared to be three different types of gold, with an intricate vine over the top. Come to think of it, he seen that design somewhere else.... The color suddenly drained from his face.
The Duras ship had disappeared. No warning. Nothing whatsoever. And no indication of when they'd be back. For they would be back. There was no doubt about it. He just hoped that the captain and the Sub-Commander- No- Commander, he chastised himself, were both all right, wherever they happened to be. With a groan, Malcolm stood up, and stretched out his back, which had become stiff from sitting. He made his way over to the tactical station. Might as well use the time while they were waiting.
*Her mind came back to him, a calm, warm presence, always there. He had no idea what he would do without her. Her wounds had been healed, yet she was not out of the woods yet, so to speak. There was still a long way for them to go. There were other concerns, but they would deal with them later. No doubt, there would come a point when they would. For just a moment, there was just them. For one moment in time...*
A/N.: So what do you think??? Please tell me!!! All reviews are welcome, including flames! Anyway, that's about enough from me.
Next chapter... Well, you'll have to wait and see!!!