Author's Notes: Okay, everyone, so, so sorry for the long, way too long hiatus. I just couldn't nail the structure of the remaining chapters down and on top of that what I had written for this chapter stubbornly refused to get in publishable shape. I did think of closing my eyes and hitting the publish button anyway, but in retrospect am glad I didn't.

Because it's been months already, I'm publishing this short chapter rather than going for the longer one I had planned. I do feel like the muse is smiling on me again. May she hang around for a while.

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Sacred Grounds

"It is time to go to the sacred grounds!" the large Eylordene interrupted the speaker on the dais, his white-capped robe underlining the urgency of the message. The speaker stopped mid-sentence and bowed to the audience. "To the sacred place!" the assembly roared in response.

The dignitaries fell into a formation of sorts, gathering into a procession in a manner that appeared somewhat rehearsed, an indication that the sacred grounds were an important part of the ceremonial. Most probably the site of additional protracted and structured - and lengthy - officiations. T'Pol looked around, wondering whether she should get up as well. The Eylordenes were highly formulaic and directive when it came to their ceremonials, and her status as Federation representative gave added weight to her every action.

She decided that staying put was the better choice. Immobility could not be interpreted wrongly, it being the absence of action. Immobility was the more efficient option as they were out of replacement cartridges for the breathing crystals and it would be almost a full day before Lieutenant Reed was back with more. And immobility was also the less painful option when any motion heightened the chafing of the filters against the sensitive lining of her nose, though she would have claimed that was not a factor in her decision.

The decision to stay put seemed to have been the right one. The sable-colored Eylordene that was her guide and guardian was coming to her side to bring assistance. "It's time to go to the sacred grounds," she told T'Pol as she approached.

"I gathered as much," the Vulcan replied, an eyebrow slightly raising as a subtle underlining that the Eylordene was repeating information but not providing enlightenment. Since the odds were that further edification would not be forthcoming, she added, "What is to happen at the sacred grounds?"

The Eylordenes would accept the fact she did not know the steps of their highly formulaic ceremonies more readily than they would accept that she had no idea where or what the sacred grounds were.

The sable alien's robe positively rippled with excitement, "Oh, of course, I'm sorry, I forget offworlders may not know our customs!" T'Pol inclined her head gracefully in full-hearted acknowledgement that the Eylordenes were somewhat insular in their approach to the outside world. "We need to prepare the grounds for the Joining!" the Elyordene added in a gush, "They're waiting for you!"

Reflecting that the alien's pronouncement was tantalizingly incomplete, T'Pol got up and followed, pushing the discomfort of the breathing apparatus to the edge of her consciousness. She and the Eylordene made their way to the head of the crowd, which let them through with an alacrity that reminded her of Starfleet's 'make a hole!'. Soon they joined the speaker where he was waiting. He welcomed T'Pol with a bow, lowering his voice in a conspirational manner, "We're going to the sacred grounds."

T'Pol nodded. It would serve no diplomatic purpose to point out that the speaker was repeating already known information. "As representative of the United Federation of Planets, I am honored that your excellencies graced me with an invitation to participate," she replied. Two days of listening to the various speakers had instructed her as to the Eylordene's preference for a highly officious form of delivery. Privately, she reflected that she could have conveyed the same message in exactly two words.

The speaker nodded, his robe rhythmically smoothing in pleasure at her words, before turning to a pair of ornate shell doors, the height and width of which dwarfed the assembly. The officials massed up behind him. The speaker waved multi-tentacled hands at the crowd as he intoned, "We're going to the sacred grounds!" Silence fell.

The speaker waited further until not a sound could be heard. He gave a complicated signal and eight of the most important dignitaries stepped forward, each flanked by two junior aides. After two days of watching and listening to lengthy elocubriations, T'Pol had memorized the names and relative standing of all four hundred thirty-four attendees. It fell to the junior aides to push the doors open, first with much effort, until some inner mechanism sprung in motion and the doors swiveled creakingly, revealing the world beyond. At the speaker's invitation, T'Pol stepped through, conscious of the hundreds of Eylordenes ready to do the same behind her.

She stopped abruptly, paying no attention as the dignitaries rushed past to the right and left of her, sometimes jostling her. Instead, she was intent on controlling the intense sense of disorientation that had seized her. The air was too humid, even more humid than in the chamber, thick with humidity, drenched with it. There was a strange bluish cast all around, reflected in the cerulean skies. Her mind reeled as she tried to adjust to the unnatural blues all around. She blinked quickly - what she had mistaken for the skies were the seas. All around, in various shades of turqoise. Water. Strange and alien, unsettling water. The high ionization was making her skin tingle in a most unpleasant fashion. And there was the noise too, a thundering background noise. At first she thought the deep basso rumble came from engines, hundreds of them, perhaps war machines. She blinked rapidly as she realized it was the sound of the seas. Which were no further than one hundred yards away. Or one hundred fifty-two yards. The noise, the alienness of the setting, made it difficult to find her bearings, to process information. The monitor on her wrist threw an orange glow in response to the increase in crystal consumption. T'Pol frowned slightly. She was breathing too fast.

She anchored herself in her mind, calling on her inner peace to quiet the maelstrom outside. Little by little the sensory inputs coalesced into a stable picture. The wrist monitor grew dark again. She could finally make sense of what was in front of her, the various bluish shades of the seas all around, the narrow band of ankle-high sebum-like yellow grass extending from the ceremonial doors to the ocean, the winding path on which the dignitaries were already proceeding. She took mental notes, the focused exercise helping her modulate her breathing. There were water barriers. One water barrier. A hedge of gigantic rocks thrown haphazardly together as if in a half-hearted attempt to dam the ocean. She looked dispassionately at the highly insufficient structure, calculating how long it would take before the surf rose to cover the point where she was standing. The water barrier would not pass the most superficial engineering test.

The thought reminded her of Trip. She had no idea where or how he was, she had been unable to meditate and reach out to him, between the discomfort of the breathing apparatus and the non-stop induction speeches in the hemicycle. The only information was in the form of Lieutenant Reed coming back again and again from ever unsuccessful searches. Thoughts of Trip led to a rise in her breathing rate. That could not be. She focused on the absence of change in the bond, grabbing it as an indication he was still alive, and slowed her breathing down.

She opened her eyes on the sable-colored Eylordene waiting at her elbow, pressing without seeming to. T'Pol looked up, saw the other officials were all walking ahead. She started after them, keeping her pace slow and steady, as befitted a high-level dignitary, keeping her breath slow and steady, intent on limiting the draw on the crystals. She noticed the path dipped out of sight behind a grove of waving tall bushes.

Her eyes widened as they turned the tall bushes, her Eylordene guide still at her side. The path only seemed to dip. An unfortunate optical illusion. Instead, it rose straight up, an impossibly airy structure that would never be called a bridge on Vulcan. The bridge gracefully arched up, up and over the churning seas, to land just as gracefully on dramatic half-moon of high cliffs jutting out of a small island. Those were the sacred grounds.

T'Pol focused inside again and gingerly set foot on the bridge. The thought crossed her mind that she should have asked for some of the pills that Dr. Phlox had given Lieutenant Reed. She was not anxious, there was no reason for anxiety or fear. She wilfully ignored the sound of the waves crashing all around. There was nothing to fear but fear itself. A large wave rose under the bridge, seeming to reach out for her, and she blinked nervously. The wrist monitor glowed orange again. She stopped. She was not anxious, there was no reason for anxiety or fear. She would not be able to induce a light transe while among a throng of dignitaries. There was nothing to fear but fear itself. The wrist monitor darkened again and she resumed her measured progress.

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