The shuttle touched down in front of Mt. Seleya and T'Pol exited with Archer. T'Pol was wearing a traditional Vulcan robe, but Jon was dressed in climbing gear – a thin, tan propylene shirt and black shorts. A camelback was slung over his shoulder.
As soon as Archer's feet touched the ground, he noticed two things immediately: a mountain larger than what Everest, looming into the red swirling sky, and T'Pol's aunt. The travelers walked toward the older woman.
With a lop-sided grin, he noticed she wasn't at all like he expected. Based on T'Pol's description, he imagined a regal looking woman with fine white hair – something like T'Pol, except older. Instead, he saw a short, round woman – almost cherub like – with large, round cheeks and expressive hazel eyes. Her lips, unlike that of T'Pol's, were small and drawn like a bow. And her hair was thick and styled into a bob. It made her look unconventional; it wasn't the do he'd seen other Vulcans sport.
Fluttering around her, dancing in the wind as if it didn't belong, was a long, bluish-purple Vulcan robe. It was thin, but elegant. And unlike the Vulcans he'd met in the past, he could see something that reminded him of tennis shoes, without the laces, on her feet – they appeared soft and comfortable.
In a word, she was eccentric, especially for her species.
She looks like someone's grandmother, he thought almost chuckling to himself.
Although her mouth was as straight as an arrow, somehow she appeared to be smiling. It immediately put the captain at ease, mostly because it reminded him of V'Lar.
"It is more than agreeable to see you again, T'Pol," said the kind, older woman. Padding her feet against the sand, almost in a waddle, she closed the distance. In fact, Archer noticed she stood closer than any Vulcan he'd met thus far, including Sparin.
"V'Lin, it is more than agreeable to see you as well."
V'Lin's eyes narrowed for a moment, as she inspected T'Pol from head to tow. "You have gotten thin on Enterprise. Do they not allow you the proper sustenance?"
T'Pol's eyebrow perked up. "I am the same weight as when I left."
"Ah," she said, as if sharing a small joke – her eyes were twinkling.
The Vulcan first officer turned to Archer. "My mother's sister always claims I am gaunt."
"Takes after her father's side," she retorted. Leveling her eyes at her niece she added a few words. "My rythlpa would add some weight to you."
T'Pol's mouth fell by millimeters and V'Lin turned her attention to the guest. "You must forgive our banter. I have … what is your word … missed T'Pol."
"Trust me, I'm used to seeing worse." Archer grinned and introduced himself. "I'm Jonathan Archer."
"Do you prefer Jonathan or Archer?" she asked.
Stunned he replied, "Jonathan is fine. Thanks for asking. Everyone so far has called me Archer."
"It's their mistake. I understand it's rude not to ask."
He glanced over at T'Pol with raised eyebrows and then slowly aimed his gaze back at the older woman. "Your English is very good."
"When T'Pol contacted me I began to practice. There are many words I don't know. But, overall, I find the language easier to learn than … for example … Klingon."
"V'Lin has been a translator for more than one hundred years where she worked at the Vulcan High Command."
"I'm impressed."
"Don't be. My specialty was cryptology. Learning languages is mostly a pastime. With universal translators and the like, there is little need for me or my services anymore."
"On the contrary," T'Pol said. "She's one of Vulcan's most renowned language experts."
"I have a communications officer who'd probably love to meet you."
T'Pol nodded in agreement as the woman bowed her head with near embarrassment.
"Enough about me. You came here for a specific task, and as the head of T'Pol's mother's family, it is my duty to conduct it. Jonathan, T'Pol tells me you are taking the challenge. Do you understand what this means?"
Reluctantly, he nodded. "Yes."
Pointing her eyes at T'Pol she watched for some sort of nod and received something akin to a head bob from her niece. Scanning Archer, she made a few assessments of her own – he too was thin. He was middle-aged for a human and would die well before T'Pol began to wear the marks of age. The odor that emanated him was almost intolerable, especially for a woman of her years. But, more than anything, it looked like the man adored T'Pol. The slight gazes between the two told her there was some sort of bond there. Her niece's eyes gleamed at him as if he was the only thing important to her.
"Walk with me," she instructed to Jonathan, leaving a confused T'Pol to raise a single eyebrow as the two headed off.
"Do you know the story of Rama?" asked the older woman.
"T'Pol's cousin?"
The older woman stopped and seemed almost amused, letting her eyes twinkle and her mouth draw up slightly. Starting her gait again, she shook her head. "No, T'Pol's cousin was named after a woman who tried to seduce Surak. She was … I believe your word would be a … harlot?"
"Harlot?" Furrowing his eyebrows, he shook his head. "Valara's family hardly seems like they'd name their daughter after a … tainted woman."
She blinked quickly and looked at the ground. "Rama became one of Surak's greatest students. She forged a friendship with him that would last until Surak died."
"I thought Surak was married to T'Pana?"
"He was." The two walked as the old woman recounted a tale as the captain listen, mesmerized.
Surak's word was spreading among the people of Vulcan, but he needed to advance logic and peace to the farthest reaches of the planet. Fah, one of the largest villages, was his next destination. It belonged to a woman – a powerful one.
T'Pana was with child, and could not make the distance, but because she was the companion of Surak and the mother of logic, she reasoned he should make the journey alone. As Surak touched her fingers for the last time, he whispered that he and his wife although parted would be never parted and always touching. Stroking her belly, hoping to excite the life he'd helped place there, he stared at her.
"I will send for you when the baby is born."
With that, he took off to Fah.
In those days, women were not the leaders they are now, but rather usually the servants, farmers and wives. T'Pana was unique in this way, one of the reasons why Surak bonded with her. And Rama was just as unique.
Rama was born to a poor family and had obtained her status, privilege, wealth and property by using her guile and beauty. She was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman on Vulcan and captured the hearts of many tribesmen, peasants and statesman. Rama was sex and love personified – like a goddess. Her hair was the color of night and shone brilliantly in the sun. It was long and lush, scented with oils and combed to perfection. To display it to the world, she wore it loosely about her shoulders even in the desert wind, which was too afraid to pollute her tresses. Her eyes were green, like the color of an oasis – rare for a woman of Vulcan. And her figure … they say her figure appeared sculpted – almost as if artisans had chiseled it from the purest clay and baked by the most prosperous kilns.
But, her most devastating gift was her wiles. It was a gift that would keep men in her bedchamber -- happy and content, despite their wives and families. Seduction was perfected by this creature, and the rumor was no man could refuse her. No man. Anyone who was invited to lie with her was her slave, performing her bidding and dedicating their lives, wealth and property to her.
It gave her amusement, but little satisfaction. Even she longed for a mate who would speak to her mind – challenge her as well as satisfy her desire. It seemed impossible to achieve and yet she longed for it.
When Surak reached the village of Fah, he sought a hearing with this matriarch; he wanted to introduce his ideas and teach the people of that village for no profit, in return for the basics needed for survival: food, shelter and clothing. Without fear, he marched into her government house, as was the ritual, and asked for audience.
Every day for 31 days, he sat on the steps of the house, waiting for her arrival for naught. Surak was a patient man, and would not give up which worked to his advantage. Out of boredom she finally granted him an audience and heard his request. When Surak entered, a white toga fitting him and piled over his shoulder, she immediately became interested.
His argument was refined and imaginative. He spoke not of his own personal gain, but of the benefit to her people and those of Vulcan. It was intriguing. In addition, Surak treated her not as a goddess of beauty, but as a leader. He didn't fall into a stupor, beg on his knees, or open his heart or purse. The father of Vulcan logic spoke to her as if she was his equal and made his requests without the outpouring of emotion.
After sitting through his request, she permitted Surak to teach, provided him what he'd requested, but insisted he stay in her house.
"I can learn also, Teacher," she claimed, batting her long, dark lashes.
Almost smiling, the Vulcan returned. "The greatest minds admit they don't know everything. Your excellency, it would be my pleasure to teach you. I too can gain."
After months of training, Rama began to understand that logic – the ability to argue based on fact – was powerful. She enjoyed being challenged and questioning her mentor. Mating with Surak, and taking him as her lover, would give her access to that knowledge any time she wanted. It could challenge laws and win more wealth.
But, it wasn't just Surak's logic she wanted. It was him. During their conversations, she'd noticed many things about the philosopher. He was a handsome man – tall and with broad shoulders. Unlike those who chased her, he was gentle and humble. Intelligence and wisdom hung on him like a crown and humility draped on him like a mantle. His voice was steady and his manners were graceful and elegant.
After their lesson, Rama asked Surak to visit her that night.
"I have something for you," she said. "It is a gift to thank you."
"Teaching and the pursuit of knowledge is it's own gift, Rama," he replied.
"This will help you gain more knowledge. Think of it as a gift to us both," she whispered.
He bowed and left her, remarking he would visit as the suns set.
Rama went to her bedroom and prepared herself for seduction. Dowsing herself with the finest perfumes, oiling her hair, pinching her cheeks and throat to give off a green-glow and slipping on a green transparent robe, she laid on the bed – her hand holding her head as it fixed on the door – and waited for him.
Promptly at suns-set, he came to her. When she called him in, although shocked, he didn't portray his discomfort.
"I apologize. I did not understand you'd be indisposed." His eyes captured hers, rather than acknowledge she was virtually nude.
"I'm not. I'm here for you, Surak. You may collect your gift," she said, patting the space next to her. "I've been longing to give it to you."
With dispassion, the Vulcan shook his head. "You needn't do such a thing."
As he turned on his heel to leave her, she stood and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Every man who has entered here has shown me that they are men. You are living in my village, Surak. Disobeying my command could earn you death."
The Vulcan gave a near frown. "Rama, of all the pupils I have had, you understand reason and logic better than almost anyone. You are a fast learner with a keen mind."
Skimming her hands over her nightgown, she disagreed. "I want you and your logic to swell inside me … to complete me," she said with allure.
Her lips dangled dangerously close to his. Even the great Surak had difficulty denying her – her body was perfection and available to his scrutiny, her smell was like an aphrodisiac and her mouth was open begging for his tongue.
He stepped back and conjured up the chants of his deepest meditation silently in his mind.
"I want you," she whispered.
"Your mind is the greatest asset of all. Whether you believe it or not, it has gained you wealth and power."
"No, my body has." She grabbed his hand to have it touch her, but he snatched it away.
"I disagree. Rama, there are women who are pleasing to the eye everywhere on Vulcan. They do not wield power – you do. Your mind has told your body how to get what you need. But, I hardly think you need to use your … arts … to get what you want. Your brain is your most attractive feature."
"You think I'm beautiful?"
"To deny it would be illogical."
"Then lie with me."
"I have a wife."
"I have slept with many married men."
"My wife is my companion. I have taken vows that I have no intention of breaking. We have a bond."
The woman in charge of the village would not give up easily. "Other men have said the same to me. They eventually succumbed to their lust."
"I am not other men."
"I suspect underneath it all, you are like other men," she whispered. Her hands traveled down his chest.
He backed away before it could reach any lower. "You do yourself dishonor, Rama. Someone with your mind could accomplish so much more than seducing men to gain trinkets. You have gifts that you can call upon even when your beauty fades."
Biting her lip, she stared into his eyes. They were emotionless and black like the darkest stone, hidden in the shadows.
"I suspect you've been looking for something all your life, seeking the admiration of men, money, power … and none of them have satisfied you," he whispered.
"That is untrue."
"A woman, such as yourself, could have any man. And yet you whore yourself and stoop to gaining the affection of poor teachers and married men."
Before she could reach up to slap him, he caught her hand.
"You are my student … my friend. We have been trading lessons … talking … for three months. During that time, I have learned much about you – come to respect and … admire you. Don't disgrace yourself like this. You are a great lady, able to accomplish many things … especially in a time when women do not receive the honor they deserve. Pay tribute to your mind. It is the only thing that will last. And, it will never leave you lonely or hungry by want."
Her head turned toward the ground. "I did not lie when I said I wanted you. I have admired you and respected you. Your eyes speak to me. Your mind … it speaks to me."
He did something he did not imagine he would do. As he was still holding her hand, he took it to his mouth and kissed the back of it, watching her eyes flash with surprise. It was not a romantic gesture, but touching and caring.
"You flatter me. But, you will find that having is not the same as wanting."
With a caress to her cheek, he caught a single tear – the only one she would let loose. " I will see you tomorrow at the usual time, my friend," he whispered.
With that, he left. Rama fell onto her bed, her brain turning over the information he had given her, and fell asleep musing that only one man had entered her bedroom without becoming her lover. And oddly enough, she was in love with only him.
The next day, Surak greeted her as he always did and began his lesson without reflecting on what happened the other night. In fact, his demeanor and the care he'd always shown her were still there, without discomfort, irritation or embarrassment. It was genuine and sparkled with true friendship. As they chatted, she was moved.
He moved her.
During the months that followed, Rama's mind soaked up logic and prompted her to give up the worldly things that tied her to wealth and power. As well, Surak and Rama grew closer – becoming deeper friends – including long walks, soulful discussions and the kind of intimate moments that exist between people who've known each other all their lives.
Rama hung onto each day, thinking there was the potential for love, but was met with merely the care of a friend. His heart was open to her, but he never trespassed boundaries … never crossed the line she was hoping he would. After all this time, Rama reasoned Surak was her soul mate. No man completed her more thoroughly, captured her imagination or sparked such a challenge. He was everything to her.
So each night, she would enter her room – now a cot and only the most needed possessions – and dream of him. It was the only location she knew they could be together without imposing on their friendship, embarrassing either further or driving a wedge between them.
One day, on one of the long walks Rama took with Surak, she saw in the distance a woman with braided hair approach, a child cradled in her arms. From their discussions, Rama knew this women was his wife – T'Pana. She'd evidently had the baby and was able to travel without restrictions; his wife chose to surprise him and join him immediately. The boy her arms held secure bore the mark of Surak's son – dark, thick hair and dark eyes.
What surprised Rama most was that T'Pana was not a beautiful woman. She was attractive, but more statuesque than lovely – she was built on a large frame and was tall. This was not the Vulcan ideal of beauty. And yet, there was an outer glow … a radiance about her. It made her regal and comely.
After the father of logic touched fingers with his wife … and some say … mouths, Surak introduced the women to each other.
"Surak talks about you often. I am pleased he had such a friend as you to keep him company."
Rama bowed. "T'Pana, I can think of no finer compliment. Your husband has become my dearest friend. I welcome you with open arms."
Within a few months of T'Pana's arrival, Surak was ready to depart wisdom elsewhere. He informed Rama, "You know cling to logic and the pursuit of it more than I do? I need to leave and you need no further instruction."
'What?" she asked.
"I must be going. I hear the leader of Slan may be open to logic."
"You cannot leave me. We have so much more to discuss."
As if touching his sister, his thumb stroked her cheek – a symbol of their connection. "You mean more to me than you will ever know."
"Then take me with you."
"My friend, your place is here."
With tears in her eyes, she shook her head. "It is illogical to cry, but the emotion is impossible to suppress. I cannot part from you. You have become something less than husband and more than friend. I hang on your words – they are music to me; they give me solace. Please, let me accompany you."
Her words touched his heart. "Rama, all we will ever be is friends. You are not my wife or my lover."
Surak was frank, and the look in his eyes was something between regret and concern.
"Since that one night, I have never asked for more. Do not deny me. It is my destiny to follow your footprints."
"Do not play the role of mistress even to logic."
"I will not. I play the role of student and teacher. It is all that I am … now."
Silently, he acknowledged her strength, even if he thought her decision was unwise. With hesitation, he agreed. "T'Pana could also use a friend. And I know that you two have much in common."
Rama also had interesting ideas and thoughts about spreading his word. And she suggested meditation as a way to help Vulcans achieve logic, peace and balance.
"You will never regret this decision," she proclaimed. With that, she gave up her village and sold her possessions to travel with them.
Through the years, Rama rarely left Surak's side. She'd shared her innermost thoughts with him, making him the only man or person privy to the musings of her brain. They'd shared intimacy, the kind two friend's share, as she longed for more. She never married. When students would ask her, she would claim that logic had taken her heart, but she was careful to add, "I only give me heart to it, because I receive so much in return."
Some say, she loved the man until his dying day – loved him not only as the father of logic and her friend, but as a man, despite her vow to non-emotion and logic. Even when T'Pana died, which was untimely and before Surak's death, the two never married. The father of Vulcan logic reasoned he was past the Pon Farr and claimed his companion was lost. When asked if he would marry again, some say he looked at his friend Rama and said, "Although I have other companions, my love for them is too pure to taint."
And on her deathbed, Rama told her favorite pupil (who'd become a teacher himself), "When I am to be remembered, I want to be remembered as Surak's friend and greatest ally first. It is, emotional as it is, what I am most proud of."
V'Lin stopped and Archer furrowed his brow. "That was a sad tale. She had unrequited love for Surak?"
"We will never know. Love is not an emotion that Vulcans acknowledge or discuss. It may be felt in our hearts, but is rarely whispered from our lips. The fact that Surak mentions his feelings, and that it's written down, may mean something more. But nothing is chronicled of … more."
T'Pol had told him of her love for him. But, he didn't think it was his place to say so. It might embarrass T'Pol; it was unVulcanly.
"I know T'Pol feels love for me. Having her utter those words isn't important."
"That is good to hear."
"Why did you tell me that tale?"
As if she was hoping he'd ask, she turned to him. "Rama's devotion to Surak was unwavering. She denied many pleasures to be with him … without the promise he would ever give her more. Her beauty, her youth, her money, power … she gave … everything … everything to him. She made the ultimate self-sacrifice."
Archer blinked. "It seems to be the very essence of love. It's the kind of love I feel for T'Pol."
With raised eyebrows, she asked, "You do?"
He didn't need to think about the question. The answer came to him quickly and the certainty in his voice caused her to take a step back.
"Yes."
"You must climb the mountain before the suns set."
Archer craned his neck up and stared into the distance trying to peer at the peak. The top was impossible to see; masked by thick puffy clouds he had no way to gage the distance. He only had relative depth perception and it was telling him he'd never climbed something that high, in extreme heat, and certainly not so quickly. The feat was impossible. But, he reflected on the story – he could at least try. Nodding, he started to wander toward the shuttle.
"Let me get my gear."
V'Lin's voice stopped him in his tracks. "You may not use it. Rama gave up everything in her devotion. You cannot use your gear."
"Can I at least have water?"
"Yes." V'Lin reasoned, Even Rama had water.
"Binoculars?"
"No."
Archer placed his hands on his hips. "What you're asking is impossible."
The Vulcan made no motion.
"It's too high."
She didn't refute it, but remained neutral. "I have given you the challenge. Do you still accept?"
Wetting his lips, he thought about how hot he already was. He also surmised that despite taking the Tri-ox compound the abnormally thin air at higher climbs and would be intolerable, especially while exercising. And worse than all, during the story V'Lin retold, he actually became slightly aroused. Although he hated to admit it, he was imagining that Rama, the one in the story, looked exactly like T'Pol – a translucent gown adorning her naked body. It made him burn as if a fire stoked in his stomach.
"Jonathan?" she asked.
Blowing out a slow breath, he rejoined reality.
"I'm thinking."
There had to be a trick … some catch. Maybe if he started climbing something would happen. Staring up into the heavens – the mountain – he decided he had to at least try. He loved T'Pol and he'd come too far not to at least give everything he had to at least try. It seemed foolhardy, but … so be it.
After what seemed like minutes, Archer gave a firm nod. "All right."
She folded her hands behind her back and joined T'Pol as Archer scoped out the rock face with his naked eye determining which path to take.
"Jonathan has agreed to the challenge."
The younger Vulcan saw Archer pace around the mountain. "What is the challenge?"
"He must climb this mountain before the suns set."
"How high?" T'Pol asked, nonchalantly.
"To its peak."
Concern alighted her face. "Why isn't he removing the gear from the shuttle." Her tone was near panic and her eyes snapped from Jonathan to her aunt.
"He must climb the surface with his bare hands."
T'Pol's eyebrows knitted together. "What do you mean?"
"Exactly as I've said."
T'Pol looked up the mountain. Mt. Selaya had the highest point on Vulcan. Her species had climbed to the top, but even they required the aid of equipment, including a breathing apparatus or intense training to take in air at the very highest altitude. What V'Lin was proposing was folly.
Although her boyfriend had proven indestructible and lucky (although she wouldn't call it luck), scaling the side of this mountain this tall would surely get him killed. Images of him lying on the ground with a broken neck flooded her mind.
"Jonathan, don't do this."
The captain ignored her and dug his climbing shoes (gear he already had on) into the ground preparing his mind for the journey.
"V'Lin, this challenge is unfair. He isn't Vulcan. The air is too thin … the heat …."
"He has accepted the challenge."
And before she could say anything else, Archer began to scale the rock face. Fortunately, it was craggy – holes and notches large enough for his hands were available all along it. The only thing that bothered him was the heat, which immediately baked his skin. Although he'd covered himself in sunscreen before leaving the house, he had a feeling it wasn't enough. Ignoring the sun and the mumblings of his brain, which thought about the story of Rama in lingerie, he scaled higher.
Below T'Pol watched on nervously – his form moved like a spider along a wall. Soon a few feet become ten … and then twenty and then he began to drift out of site – his face pained, his breathing ragged and sweat dripping off his brow and cascading down his back. She swung her eyes back at the women next to her.
V'Lin, was the epitome of patience. Leisurely, she dug into her robes and pulled out a pair of binoculars.
"Would you like these? I hypothesized you may want to see his progress."
Without meaning to seem rude, but too interested in the action, she snatched the lenses and focused in on the distance.
Immediately her voice quivered. "He's too high. If he falls, he'll kill himself."
"He has agreed to the challenge."
"V'Lin –" T'Pol zoomed in and noticed the strain on Jonathan's face. His hair was soaked, dowsed with water and his shirt was dark as if it were drenched with perspiration. As the figure in her sights gulped his water, she threw her eyes on her aunt as if to make an accusation.
"He knew the consequences," V'Lin said.
Through the binoculars, T'Pol saw Archer wheeze and tire. She noticed his grip was getting clumsy. Biting her lip, she watched as rocks crumbled at a loose stone under his feet. His hand, which was dirty and bloody, clung to the form above him as his body dangled without support.
"Jonathan," she whispered as her knuckles turned white, her grip clenching the steel in her hand.
As if he was using all his energy, gasping, he pulled himself to solid ground. Standing up, he looked at his hands, probably noting the scrapes that ran along them and stared up. Licking his lips, he continued his ascent.
"No, he can't do this."
Her aunt, although seemingly troubled, continued to peer into the heavens with her naked eye.
"Please don't make him do this," said T'Pol.
V'Lin gave her niece a stony gaze. "I'm not making him do anything. This is of his own volition."
"He'll never complete it."
A small sigh escaped the aunt's nostrils. "He may not."
"Then why? This challenge is illogical."
"Your outbursts are the only things illogical here, T'Pol," she said sternly. "You are Vulcan. I suggest you conduct yourself accordingly." A single eyebrow met the comment. "You knew he would face a difficult obstacle."
"Not one that would result in his death."
"The challenges are what they are. This is how it has been since the time before Surak. This is the challenge. The tradition lives within thee," she said, stating one of the older teachings of Surak.
"What is the purpose of this challenge, to see him suffer and die?"
"T'Pol, you became involved in with off-worlder. You knew he would face tests – difficult ones."
"No," she retorted.
V'Lin's eyes stayed focused on the figure above, ignoring the glare from the Vulcan next to her.
"No. There must be something else."
"There is not. It is quite specific. This is the challenge."
"Please, V'Lin."
"I cannot."
Meanwhile, Archer continued to ascend. After climbing roughly four stories, he immediately felt the affects of the thinner air and heat. The rocks of Mt. Seleya were sharp and jagged, making it easier to climb, but hard on the hands – they were already cut and bloody.
Panting, he dug his fingers into a crevice and pulled his body higher, noting the rocks were becoming less stable. Leaning up against a small cliff, he withdrew his camelback and took a swig. His forearm swept across his forehead and he stared up.
Better to stare up than down, he thought to himself. It was an old climber's code and one that he liked to think about on the rare occasion where he'd climbed himself into a jam.
As he drank his water, waves of heat began to pour out of the mountain. He knew it was an active volcano that hadn't erupted for decades, but didn't think about the warmth that escaped the small vents and chambers – which just happened to be along this route.
Worse, the heat made him think of last night and making love with T'Pol. At the time, his insides -- his lungs, liver, heart, stomach … every organ and muscle … everything had been on fire … and the only way to extinguish it was to mate.
Mate? That's not a word I use everyday.
It wasn't a word he used really any day. "Mating" sounded primal, as if it was only used to satisfy sexual desires. Although he loved T'Pol, he had that … urge …. Urge. It was overwhelming drive to take T'Pol and … giving a small swoon, his hand reached out for a rock. He felt dizzy and weak.
I have to continue.
Taking a deep breath and attempting to clear his mind, he stretched his index, middle and ring finger, grabbed onto a rock and hoisted himself up.
I've got to hang on.
T'Pol saw Jonathan's step falter considerably and out of reflex, grabbed the arm of her aunt. "Make it stop."
"He has accepted the challenge."
With ferocity, she turned back to her leveling her eyes – the sparkled with danger. "Make it stop!"
"Your voice is not one of control. He has accepted the challenge."
"I withdraw from the challenge."
"You withdraw?"
"I do not wish to see him hurt. Please, end this."
"You knew the consequences when you agreed to put him through this."
"No! I cannot see him die."
"Don't you want to be together?"
"I … I would rather he live. I … I could … marry him without your approval."
V'Lin looked her niece squarely in the eye, her gaze almost frightening in its intensity. "You would not have my blessing. The Vulcan High Command would never allow you to continue. You would be drummed out of the VHC, unable to return to Vulcan, forced to hand over your property to Sovok …. You would give up everything … everything … to be with him."
"So be it!" T'Pol said. She glanced back up the mountain becoming unglued at Archer's struggle.
"Why would you call it off now?" V'Lin asked.
"He is important to me."
"Important? I have documents that are important and tasks to perform that are … important. It seems you will eventually find another."
"Find another? No! I … care for him a great deal."
"You cared a great deal for your sehlat. Your outbursts, T'Pol, do not become you."
"I cannot hold my tongue with dispassion."
"You should. You learned that technique in the Kolinahr."
As T'Pol opened up her mouth to continue the debate, she watched Archer's water fall. After reaching a little over five stories, he would never be able to continue without it – not on a hot day with the sun firing down on him. She watched him peer gingerly over the edge to watch his canteen flip over the rocks and smash against the ground, spilling the contents.
Everything about this task was foolish!
"Please," T'Pol pleaded. "I cherish him."
"It is unbecoming a Vulcan to …."
"I don't care. I hear his mind; he's frightened. I feel the ache of his heart – he'll continue for me … for my sake. He's not listening to my plea."
"He has accepted the challenge."
"I can't allow that to happen." Her hand balled into a fist and she stamped the ground, "Please …. I withdraw from the challenge."
"I don't …."
"Please, V'Lin, I love him. I'd do anything." Frantically, the Vulcan was eyeing the shuttle as if she could rescue him by flying dangerously close to the mountain and gave a small frown – it could kill them both.
V'Lin nodded. "Very well. If you can hear his mind, tell him to hold still."
Aisha, do not move.
The matron retrieved a small device from her robe and opened it – a Vulcan communicator.
"V'Lin to Station 1, thank you for assistance. Transport him to the ground as soon as possible," she said.
T'Pol raised an eyebrow as Archer mysteriously transported back down to the sand at the base of the mountain. The man was dirty and sweaty, with blood flowing down his fingertips leaving streaks down his arms and heaving into the air as if he couldn't get enough oxygen. Even only after an hour, he was near exhaustion.
Rushing to him, she petted the side of his face. "I called off the challenge."
V'Lin talked to the air, as her niece was preoccupied. "I'm pleased they have a transportation station on Mt. Selaya."
The younger Vulcan didn't hear, but was instead, scanning over her boyfriend with concern.
"Are you hurt? You're bleeding."
"I'm okay," he huffed. "Why did … you call off … the challenge? This was important to you." His chest rose and fell with effort and his hair dripped water down his face.
"Not as important as you are to me."
"You can't call off the challenge," he said, huffing into the dry air. "I want to be with you. I'm not giving up."
"No. You'll kill yourself."
"T'Pol …."
"I will not jeopardize your life for pointless archaic rules. Jonathan, it is a fool's mission to continue …."
V'Lin watched the two argue for a moment and she eventually wandered over to them. Glancing at her chronometer she noted the time it took for T'Pol to ask to call off the challenge and admit her feelings – only an hour. It was not as fast as she would've expected, but still she was pleased with the result. After all, she liked the captain.
Breaking up the discussion, V'Lin asked, "Do you have an answer for me?"
"I'm continuing," said Archer, straightening and breathing with more control.
"No, he isn't," T'Pol said.
"I don't want you to give up coming back to your planet because of me … and I can't spend the rest of my life without you. I'll try again."
"I will not let you go back up there," she said stubbornly. "I will renounce my Vulcan rights."
The chubby Vulcan stepped between them and said, "Jonathan, I did not finish my tale to you. I wonder if I may now. It comes with a saying."
"What?" he asked, his face strained with confusion.
A pleased look spread over her face and she provided more information.
One of Surak's most basic teachings is that sacrificing one's self or contentedness for a cause is full of courage and strength of character, but sacrificing one's self or contentedness for someone else's cause is full of heart.
He gazed at her with confusion. "V'Lin …"
She added, "Love is not unknown to Vulcans, it is rarely whispered from their lips.
"I don't –"
"You have both passed this test. Future tests will have no announcement. But, I suppose it won't hurt anything to tell you," she said leaning in, "the next one will be conducted by Sovok probably tonight."
T'Pol raised her eyebrows. "I was being tested?"
"Of course."
"I do not recall that is the procedure."
V'Lin's eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'm sure you didn't."
Stunned, Archer looked on. The test wasn't about scaling a mountain in a short amount of time without gear, it was to see whether he'd do it. And it sounded like having T'Pol sacrifice her own happiness, by not enabling her to ever come home, was a test as well. As bewildered gazes passed between the two lovers, V'Lin turned her eyes to the shuttle.
"I don't know about you, but I think it's a tad warm outside."
The two snapped their eyes back on her.
"I asked T'Pol's cousin, Stak, to drop me off here. I was wondering …. Would you would be so good as to take me home?"
Throwing a bewildered look at her relative, T'Pol nodded. "Of course."
The three headed to the shuttle as V'Lin leaned toward the captain, without touching him.
"She said she loved you."
Archer bowed his head and gave a long sideways gaze to T'Pol, noting how beautiful she looked warmed by the sun.
Giving a playful grin, he decided to admit something to V'Lin. "She's said it before."
"Oh?" asked V'Lin. "You could've saved yourself some bloody hands and exercise if you'd told me."
Archer stopped for a moment.
"But, what is the word humans use? It does not seem like it would … gallant. And you seem like a man of honor."
The captain chuckled – in all his years, he'd never figure out Vulcans.
"Yes, it's clear young man, two things are certain: you love T'Pol … and she loves you."
"I'm a lucky man."
The Vulcan gave the slightest nod, even though she would call it something other than luck. "Yes. I believe you are."
As they all boarded the shuttle, V'Lin watched her niece's eyes wander over him – staring at his chest and taking a moment to gawk at his backside. Although Vulcans felt desire, they were taught since the earliest ages to suppress those emotions. T'Pol may've been more emotional than many, but she had never been lecherous. Her feelings gravitated toward the romantic, as if the child was day-dreamy and caring. And, T'Pol always had a bit of eccentricity – the kind T'Lan, her mother always had.
I suppose I'm a bit off, too, V'Lin mused.
The matron suddenly was aware he was looking at her with the same want. It seemed odd, even for hedonistic humans – after all, he'd received quite a work out. His legs and arms were shaking from lifting his body at high gravity and his lungs were still panting.
The old woman sat in the back and wondered. As the shuttle lifted off, she tented her fingers under her chin in thought and said, "T'Pol, your birthday is in seven months, is it not?"
"Yes," said the Vulcan.
"You hear Archer's voice?"
"Yes."
"Have you felt … peculiar lately?"
T'Pol shook her head as Jonathan spoke up for her. "She has."
"I've indicated I feel fine," T'Pol corrected.
V'Lin furrowed her brow and remained silent, her mind pondering the emotionality of her niece, the wanton looks passing between the two in the front seat and the two sharing thoughts. If Jonathan was Vulcan, she would easily claim it was the Pon Farr. After a slow building of feelings – including sexual desire from the woman … he would eventually become inundated with lust. The man's blood would begin to boil and she would fall prey to her basest emotions. Of course, the pace for her would be languid; she would ease into the feelings until she was teetering on the brink of sanity, unable to focus … her heart, blood and eyes would become flame.
Wiping her brow, V'Lin remembered that time. Although it was something all Vulcans fear – the madness and loss of control – she quite enjoyed aspects of it. Yes, she quite enjoyed aspects of it a lot.
Stopping the shuttle and touching down, T'Pol said, "You're home."
Archer opened his door and helped the old woman step to the ground. As their hands touched, V'Lin stared into his eyes a near-frown forming on her lips.
Withdrawing, knowing Vulcans hate to be touched, he apologized. "Sorry. Are you all right?"
Quietly, she said, "No, I'm sure it's nothing and headed for her house." As she reached her door and looked back at the shuttle she called out. "I'll be at dinner tonight."
The woman recited the symptoms of the mating cycle and decided she would definitely be at dinner tonight.
Archer, watching her stare at him, furrowed his brow, shook his head at the ground and then boarded the shuttle. If he didn't know any better, he'd have guessed she'd seen a ghost.
I'll never understand Vulcans, he thought, giving a broad smile to the one in the driver's seat.
As they entered the house, Archer felt keyed up – more than he'd felt since his journey to Vulcan if that was possible. The moment T'Pol closed the door, he came up behind her, slipping his hand around her hip and stroking the bone.
Despite his smell – he was sweaty and filthy, she nearly crumpled into his touch. Lips darted down her neck and she snaked her hand behind her, reaching for his hair.
Jonathan, she thought.
Shuddering, he had the urge to take her against the door. His body pressed closer into hers and he heard himself telling her things he wanted to do to her, using language that he usually reserved for his most extreme anger. As they fell from his lips, instead of retreating with disgust, he felt her body rub against him.
"Yes," she whispered.
His lips pressed against the back of her neck and suckled the skin. With pleasure he noted the harder he sucked, the more she moaned until finally she said a few words so hoarsely, he thought the timbre of her voice dripped with passion.
"I want you."
Spinning her so she faced him, he pressed her up against the door and kissed her wildly. Her hands slid down his chest as her lips crashed against his. The release of the pent up lust was delicious, but each needed more. Much more.
Their tongues tangled as their hands darted over each other, fondling and caressing urgently. Finally with a growl he said, "I feel so hot. Like I'm boiling."
"Yes, me as well." After she spoke, her tongue teased his into her mouth and he groaned at the temptation.
Skimming the shirt off him, she traced her fingers over the bruises and tiny scratches that littered his chest, shoulders and arms. Bits and pieces of last night came to her as her hands worked over the marks.
"My dream," she said, breaking their embrace.
And as if recalling a vision that had been out of her grasp all day, she began to speak as if in a trance.
I dreamt last night. I dreamt that I came into your room naked, wanting to seduce you. You were drowsy with sleep and you denied me. I couldn't hear your thoughts …. But, I needed you – I needed your touch and your soul, so I entered your mind … stirring it. I showed you things you've wanted to see … things you've yearned to see for so long: images of my mouth kissing down past your stomach … images of us together at sunrise in the Grand Canyon … images of you crouched behind me draped over my back and holding my hip, sweaty with a pink flush to your cheek.
It awoke you, but you were still tired. I needed for you to shake off your weariness. I needed you … your touch … your mind.
My eyes were flame. My heart was flame.
I worshipped you, taking you into my mouth – all of your flesh. Kissing it. Flicking my tongue against you to tease and taunt your skin. You moaned for me to stop, but your body begged for me to continue. Like a beast I sunk my teeth into you and tore at your flesh. You were gasping for air, groaning my name in whispers – your hair was wet and your skin was moist. And for a moment, I couldn't tell if your sweat was caused because I had suckled that spot and left it raw, because you were weeping with pleasure or because you were sweating.
Oh, your mind … your mind was weeping with pleasure. It begged me to continue. It pleaded with me to end the temptation. Your skin was slick and ready.
As your body succumbed to me, you asked to make love to me. But I wouldn't let you. I wanted to bring you to bliss.
So, I took you. As you arched your back with pleasure, I raked my nails over your flesh and pounded my skin against yours. The small shivers that overcame me at first felt like freedom … it cooled me. But the burning came back so quickly. It raged in my like a furnace. I wanted you again and you took me to the next plateau … you brought me there so fast.
Slipping into the sublime I rode waves of passion for what seemed like hours as you touched more of me than I could ever remember. I begged for more, pleaded and you gave it to me – your face red and eyes hot with fire. As I twisted against your frame and muttered your name, the burning was dowsed and my body became malleable and limp. You bucked against me. Your voice was hoarse and incoherent. You were so weary and your eyes held questions and sleep.
Reason snuck into my brain. Mathematics. Science. It warred against the inferno.
As you fell into a slumber, I left you and our bed lest I take you again even in your sleep.
Waking from the memory, she saw Jonathan's eyes on her. They were ablaze with desire – the pupils expanding to the rims of his irises. His lips were slightly parted, his cheeks were pink and his chest panted.
With a husky voice he said, "That's what happened last night."
Batting her eyes with vulnerability, she whispered her words. "I … I want to take you like that again."
Wrapping his arms around her, he picked her up despite the ache and cradled her to his chest. "I want that, too."
He stalked off into her bedroom, feeling his blood begin to simmer and boil. When she'd mentioned the burning, he'd in recalled something in back of his mind … something reminded him that he'd vowed to take her to a doctor.
This isn't right. Stop!
Her voice answered in his mind, echoing: This is right. If you stop, I will surely die from this heat. Extinguish this flame.
Tearing at her clothes in a frenzy as her hands trembled to do the same to him, he pushed her onto the bed. Their tongues and hands madly pushed and pulled at the other. Instead of kissing her neck, he bit it – harder than he intended, but she didn't whimper; she gasped with delight and gripped her fingertips into his body until her nails dug into his skin. Fighting each other, they fell into a disarray of limbs, frantically moving against the other. He grunted and growled like a wolf catching the scent of prey as her moaning filled the room.
Water rushed everywhere spilling over its banks and past the shoreline. Churning, tumbling and turning it crashed against anything in its path. Building in force, gathering in intensity, like a hurricane it smacked and ravaged the land – drowning everything in its wake. He was fury and the water boiled and bubbled as if agitated.
In response the earth whipped and swirled – throwing particles everywhere in its path, creating tornadoes that spun miles toward the sky. Twisting and shaking the ground, the columns howled as sand pelted the heavens turning the sky red with clay. She was the desert. She was bedlam.
They collided with each other, attacking, mixing and combining until there was no telling where was sand and where was water. No beginning and no ending. Frightening. Terrible. Magnificent. Waterspouts and dust devils dueled, falling into a lover's embrace – frenzied and awesome.
It was turmoil. Chaos. Creation. And it disassembled into chaos again – with the waters rising and the sand storming – again and again. Pounding and attacking, it seemed there would be no finish … the chaos and creation would happen again … and again … and again.
T'Pol's eyes were blinded by darkness. And, with one final scream, the image was gone. The image … the burning … the drive to mate until her body was exhausted.
Looking into his eyes, she watched him join her in tranquility, his body shuddering powerfully as if on the edge of destruction.
Barely able to catch his breath, he said in a gravely voice that rang with confusion more than anger -- "What the hell -- "
Licking her lips, she saw the clock. Somehow, three hours had disappeared. The specifics on their mating, and that's what it was, were driven from her mind. All she knew was that she was satisfied and for the moment cooled. Her weary lips moved at an achingly slow pace.
"Jonathan, I think you were correct."
Still panting, he rolled off to her side. Although he was weary, he slid his arm around her waist and traced his finger down to the slop of her leg.
"What's that?" he asked.
Pulling her into him, he noted his exhausted – the kind where he could sleep for days. He was more tired than he'd ever been … or could ever remember being. Intertwining her legs with his, he kissed her cheek and began to feel his body beg for sleep.
"I believe I'm undergoing my mating cycle," she whispered.
Even as she said the words, "mating cycle" he felt part of his body respond and the other part rebel and complain.
With only a whisper left in him, he said, "I thought you had until your next birthday?"
"I don't know what to think. But, I should tell Sovok. This might change everything."
So sleepy, he couldn't even keep his eyes open, he said directly into her ear, as his lips barely moved, a few words that made her tingle.
"I love you, T'Pol."
After than moment, she could feel his chest rise and fall against her back.
"I love you, too," she whispered into the air, hoping it made its way into his dreams.