ALRIGHT! New chapter after so long a wait...I'm sorry. I had midterms and papers due and they all got me all caught up in the game. But I'm back, so enjoy.
A/N- Before I got all caught up in the game, I MAJORLY REVISED THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS! ANYONE WHO HAS READ FOR A WHILE I ADVISE YOU READ AGAIN! MAJOR REVISIONS!
OK, so onto the story. Impulse.
T'Pol sat in a private room in Starfleet Medical and felt cold. It wasn't in relation to her surroundings, but had everything to do with why she was here. Okay, it was in part to her surroundings. T'Pol, though a scientist, had never appreciated the clinical sterility of Starfleet's examination rooms. On Vulcan, the room would have been done in reds and browns in order to help the patient achieve a sense of relaxations. No one, not even Vulcans, liked visiting the doctors no matter how advanced the society was.
Of course, her coldness might also have to do with the fact that T'Pol was in a state of deep meditation. So deep, in fact, that she did not hear the Starfleet doctor enter the room.
"Commander T'Pol?"
T'Pol opened her eyes and studied the small man before her. He was of African descent but had blue eyes, a fact that T'Pol found interesting. In her interaction with other humans of his descent she had never encountered such an anomaly. "Have you received the results, Doctor?"
The old man smiled. "Yes. You were right. The head aches and fatigue are being caused by raised levels of certain neurotoxins in your brain. Might I ask how you knew that before I ran the tests?"
T'Pol inclined her head and answered. "I made an educated guess."
"Ah, well. It was a very good one. Now, would you like me to prescribe something for you? I'm not familiar with Vulcan physiology but I'm sure I can look something up."
"No. I can attend to this matter myself." T'Pol rose from her seat and started to leave. The doctor's eyes stayed with her, however, so that she felt a compulsion. "Doctor?"
"Yes?"
"Might I ask you a question?"
"Your eyes? I've never seen a human of your coloring with eyes of that color."
"Ah. You're not the first to ask. It's genetics. My mother had blue eyes as did her father. Just a really persistent trait among my family. The oddest little ones tend to stick in the gene pool for a long time. My brother has blonde hair. The last person in my family with blonde hair was my great-aunt Sheila. These little things just keep popping up."
"Thank you," T'Pol nodded while thoughts swirled in her mind. The meditation of the last week had done nothing to ease her mind. The past always catches up...much like genetics.
"Why is it the hot chicks are always bad?"
"I don't know. Something about the way they act, that mystery about them just draws men in like flies. They can't help it but gobble them up. Guys are so delectable that way," Hoshi explained to Malcolm's question. They were in the mess hall, once again transformed into a movie theatre. Today they were watching Die Another Day, a James Bond movie. Trip had been on a spy movie trip for the past couple of weeks and James Bond had been very popular with the crew. "Besides, you only think she's hot 'cause she's British."
Though they kept their voices low, a couple people in front of them shushed. Obligingly, they lowered their voices. "It's not because she's British, it's just an observation. Hot chicks are always bad."
Hoshi smiled. "So...am I bad then?"
Malcolm gave his impression of a deer in headlights and struggled to come up with an answer. "I...you...yes." Then, blushing furiously, he turned his attention to the screen and ignored her for the rest of the movie.
Hoshi giggled a bit and turned to the man beside her. "Trip? Popcorn?"
Trip shook his head to the offer and tried to concentrate on the movie. Repairs on the ship were going well, the crew's morale was recovering from the attack from the Insectoids and Rajiin's betrayal, and the captain had even deigned to come to movie night. Things were going well.
He couldn't keep his mind off of T'Pol, however. They hadn't spoken since their "fight" and Trip couldn't even remember what that had been about. He hadn't tried to contact her though. He wouldn't be the one to break the silence this time. She would have to. He was tired of having to be the one to compromise and the one to give in. Let her do it for once.
Trip broke from his thoughts to find that the movie had finished. Rising he shot off a grin at Hoshi and started to leave.
"Hey, Trip?" The captain said by way of greeting as he joined his chief engineer in the turbolift. "I was wondering what you were doing for dinner tomorrow."
"Oh? I figured I'd catch some dinner in the mess hall and then hit the gym," Trip said, not certain where the captain was going with this.
"Instead of that, how about you join my in the Captain's dining room. Maybe after, you'll want to watch the latest polo match with me?"
What was this? An olive branch? From the stubborn "I'm never wrong" captain? Trip mused to himself even while he nodded. "Yeah. Sounds good."
They stood there in awkward silence until the turbolift doors slid open. "So, yeah. My floor. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Okay," the captain nodded before pressing his level on the turbolift pad and shutting the doors. Trip continued to his quarters with a smile on his face. Maybe his life wasn't as hopeless as he had thought. It appeared like he was finally going to be getting his best friend back.
Even as Trip was thinking of how good his life was getting lately (excusing the mission) the tactical alert started blaring and startled him from those thoughts. Trip turned without thinking and headed back to the turbolift and up to the bridge. When he stepped onto the command deck it was relatively calm. He had expected another attack, widespread panic, and all he got was this?
"What's goin' on?"
The captain stood in front of his chair and didn't bother to look at who asked the question before answering. "Scanners have picked up a Vulcan vessel."
Trip faltered in his swagger to his station by the captain's words, but then continued without answering. A Vulcan vessel! Could that mean...Was T'Pol on board? Had she come to join them? Was there some emergency on Earth that required the Vulcans to come here? Trip let his racing thoughts spin as he situated himself at the engineering station and assured himself that his engines were in the best shape they could be.
"Captain?" Ensign Doherty looked up from where he'd been looking at the results of scans through the eyepiece at his station. "There interference but I don't think there are any life signs on board. There's heavy damage to the ship and almost no life support. It appears to have been in the field for a while."
Trip's chest eased at the idea of the ship being here for a while. At first, when Doherty had said that there were no life signs, he'd panicked. If T'Pol had been on board and dead...well, it might have affected him a bit more than he'd have expected.
"What can you tell me about the asteroid field?"
"It's composed of iron, copper, several other common metals, several I can't identify, and trillium-D."
"Trellium-D? In there?" Trip asked, incredulous. The chemist they'd met at the port had led them to believe that trillium didn't occur in nature often, in fact, it was near impossible to find. "Captain, if I could get some of that trellium we could insulate the ship and be free of the anomalies."
"How would you get it done?"
"I...I guess we could use a shuttle pod. Maybe the transporter."
"Try the transporter first. I'm gonna take one of the shuttle pods and a team to the Seleya. I want the other free in case something goes wrong."
"You're expecting trouble, Captain?" Reed asked as he rose to join the captain on the turbolift.
"In this place, I expect anything."
Trip grinned at Travis over his console. "Hey, Trav? Wanna help me use the transporter?"
"Do I!" Travis signaled for his replacement to take his seat and started for the turbolift. Suddenly a thought occurred to the pilot. "How'd the captain know what ship it was?"
"What do you mean?"
"The captain. He called the Vulcan ship the Seleya. How'd he know what ship it was? Doherty didn't tell him."
"Oh...I don' know. Captains keep all these little secrets Trav. Can' trust the lot of them."
They shared a laugh over that and soon were at the transporter.
"Hey, Trav? Did I mention that this stuff is highly explosive?"
"What!"
T'Pol sat in a cushion in her living room, meditating in the soft light that shone through the light curtains on her bay windows. Other than that, the only light came from her meditation candle in front of her.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Genetics. As the captain said, you never know what will pop out. It appeared that T'Pol was continually surprised by that. Here she was, a little over sixty years old and thoughts of her father still made her feel like a child.
Of course, when compared to her father she was a child. Always would be. S'Lat had died before he could see his daughter grow into adulthood. Her mother had always told T'Pol that she took after S'Lat.
S'Lat had been a great scientist on Vulcan. T'Pol had chosen his field as her own. S'Lat had chosen unorthodox ideals in life. Some on Vulcan said T'Pol did the same. S'Lat had been without a betrothal and had to take a mate in impulse when he'd entered his Pon Farr. It appeared T'Pol would have to do the same.
There was the option of contacting Koss and ascertaining if he would like to resurrect their betrothal, but their last meet on Vulcan, weeks ago, had not gone well.
(Flashback)
"You are well." Though intended as a question, Koss's tone made it an accusation.
"Yes. And you?"
"Yes. Are you settling back into society without difficulty?"
T'Pol thought of her new apartment, her new job, and all the tensions swirling around her. "There are always some difficulties when is reintegrated into society after a long absence."
"That absence was your choice."
"Yes. I do not regret making it."
Koss got right down to the point. "Our betrothal. Do you regret severing it?"
"I am not certain how I view our betrothal. I will meditate on it."
Koss glared at her over her mother's table. "Do that."
A week later, T'Pol had been gone. On her way to Earth for her new appointment.
(End Flashback)
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
She'd lied. Contrary to popular belief, Vulcans are quite capable of lying. She had when she'd told Koss that she wasn't certain how she viewed their betrothal. She knew quite clearly how she felt about their betrothal. She disdained it. Koss was a small-minded Vulcan, with no allusions to greatness. He had no ambition, no drive. He was content with designing standard buildings to be built for standard purposes. T'Pol had greater ambitions than that. She wanted to be remembered for something. Another trait she received from her father.
(Flashback)
"T'Pol. You should be asleep. Your body requires it."
"What are you doing, father?" T'Pol asked as she studied the tall imposing shadow that was her father. He was up late working in his lab again. T'Pol had snuck in; intent on finding out what the secret project was that her father was working on this week. Almost every week, her father would receive an encrypted message from the High Command and would hole up in his lab.
"I am working. What else would I be doing at this time of night?"
"Sleeping?"
"No time for that, daughter. The High Command would like my results soon."
T'Pol felt courageous enough to come out of the shadows and slide over to where her father was standing. "Will you tell me what you are working on?"
S'Lat turned to his daughter, ready to send her back to her room to sleep but could easily see that she was wide awake and if he sent her away she would merely get into trouble somewhere else. He patted the stool beside him and watched as she climbed up. Even at the age of nine, T'Pol had the long-limbed body and graceful movements that would later in life make her infamous on the Starship Enterprise.
"I have been asked to examine some medical findings."
T'Pol looked at the screen on the desk and studied the amorphous shapes on it. "Of what?"
S'Lat figured there was no harm in talking to her daughter about this small project, surely one that would never affect her. "There is a new medical illness growing within a certain type of person on Vulcan. The High Command wants to know if it is contagious to people outside of that group."
T'Pol turned their wide-eyed gaze to her father. "And then they'll heal the sick people."
S'Lat sighed. "No. The High Command sees this illness as just punishment. They do not intend to help them."
"Why not?"
"Those people are heretics."
"They are our people, though."
"T'Pol. You are never to speak of melders like that. They are not us. They are outside of our people. That is why the High Command will not help them. To do so would be to condone what they are doing." S'Lat did not raise his voice, but the scolding was clear.
T'Pol turned back to the monitor. "So no one is going to help those people?"
"No. Maybe one day, someone will take mercy and try, but I doubt that day will come anytime soon."
T'Pol yawned and set her head on her father's shoulder. At this young age, she doesn't have any where near the control on herself that adult Vulcans do, and will not even try for it until at least two decades later. Vulcan children were instructed in basic meditation techniques until their twentieth year, and then they underwent rigorous training to control their emotions. That thought reminded S'Lat of T'Pol's activities tomorrow.
"You must go rest now, daughter. You and your mother are trekking to Mount Seleya tomorrow. You are to begin your lessons in Kol'Ta'nor fighting style tomorrow."
"I don't want to fight, father," T'Pol explained, fighting off another yawn. "I want to be a scientist like you."
S'Lat picked up his daughter where she slumped against the desk and started to carry her to her room. He hoped his bondmate did not see him doing so. T'Mir was quite resolute about him not coddling T'Pol. His bondmate felt that he spoiled his only daughter, most likely stemming from the fact that they would not have another.
"Maybe one day you'll be a scientist like me, T'Pol," S'Lat whispered against his baby girl's forehead as he lay her down. But I hope you won't owe your soul to the High Command as I do.
(End Flashback)
T'Pol had cared deeply for her father. He had been the biggest influence in her life. She cared for her mother as well, but her father had been everything to her child's heart. When mere weeks later, her father had died in an accident returning from a meeting with the High Command T'Pol had mourned heavily. She had cried. It was the first and only time T'Pol could recall crying. Her mother had sedated T'Pol after that and demanded that the priestesses of Mount Seleya teach her daughter how to control herself. Twenty years early by most Vulcan standards, T'Pol had been taught to subjugate her emotions. Was it any wonder that she had been able to handle working with humans? She had more experience than other Vulcans her age with dealing with emotions.
Breathe in.
Even now, with her frenzied emotions stirred up by the flares of Pon Farr batting at her shields, T'Pol was in complete control. Even if she could already feel the burn starting in her pelvic area, already know that sooner rather than later, she would have to mate, she could control it. She was Vulcan.
Breathe out.
There was no other alternative but control.
"What do you mean you need the ship? We're jus' about to go get some trellium," Trip said exasperated as Major Hayes started to load his men into the second and only other unoccupied shuttle on the ship.
"The captain called and said they're having trouble, Commander. I think the away team's lives are worth more than some rock," Major Hayes replied as he lowered himself down the ladder and into the ship. Trip would have protested more but already the bay was emptying as the ship was readied for take off.
Trip hurried out of the bay and into a side room and watched as his only way to get trellium left the ship. After many failed attempts with the transporter, he and Travis had decided to just go out and mine some trellium but now that was bust. Travis was piloting the shuttle and the MACOs had needed it to rescue the captain.
Why is it whenever the captain goes off ship there's a crisis? That man has bad luck. Trip thought to himself as he let himself into the hall on B deck. He was close to his quarters so he decided to head there for a quick shower before grabbing some shut-eye. He'd forgotten that he hadn't slept after the movie and had thrown himself right into the trellium thing with Travis.
As Trip lowered himself, fully-clothed, to his bed...he thought of T'Pol. He wondered what she was doing right at this moment. Nothing could be as exciting as his life at the moment. Nothing.
Okay...new chapter...I hope the seven of you that have this story on alert like it. I try so hard.