A/N: Many thanks to Mana for editing!
Admiral Gardner called once more and this time, Mel decided to close her eyes, grit her teeth and bear it. She still had absolutely no idea what was wrong with her senior officer and friend, but Starfleet had a right to know the admiral coordinating whatever offensive they were involved in was restrained in Sickbay, cursing like a sailor at anyone and anything that came near him and most probably a few cards short of a deck.
Sitting in front of the screen, she switched on her monitor and watched the swarthy face of Admiral Matt Gardner appear with a frown covering his face.
"Where the hell is Archer?" he said.
The man wasn't a fool and she realized by putting him off for more than seven hours, she may've actually hurt the allies chances to win the war. Sighing, she leaned into the terminal in front of her.
"For his protection as well as the safety of the crew, he's restrained in Sickbay. He's ill, and Phlox isn't exactly sure what's wrong."
Matt swore and then leveled his glare at her. "You knew I was trying to contact him; you could've told me sooner."
"I wanted to have all the facts, sir," she said. "I … I thought it would be something Phlox could cure right away."
"This is exactly what we don't need right now."
"I know."
"There's no one to coordinate with the other ships accompanying you."
"I know."
"Who are we going to relay information to?"
"I don't know, sir."
He put his head in his hands and she heard the man give a long sigh. His fingers massaged the bridge of his nose and then he eventually extolled another deep breath. Vega knew she was in big trouble.
"I'm going to start having to relay information to you for the meantime."
"I don't have an admiral's clearance," she said.
Matt shook his head. "You don't need it. We busted Archer's clearance back to captain a month ago."
She was about to inquire about that, when the admiral continued. "Continue to wait there. Commander T'Nara and Stek from the Vulcan ships as well as Tavin – an Andorian – and Kev a Tellarite will rendezvous with the Panama at oh-nine hundred in two Earth standard days. When they reach your coordinates, I'll provide new instructions to you."
"I've never led multiple ships or bartered between races before," she said.
"Time to start learning," he said. Grimacing, he mentioned a couple of admirals who could be activated to serve in the front. "I'll have to think about it and discuss it."
"Of course, sir."
"Keep me posted on Archer's condition. I want to know the moment you hear something, you got that mister?"
"Yes, sir!"
The screen faded into black and Mel slouched in her chair and threw her eyes to her lap. She was out of her league. Way out of her league. She trusted herself to get through difficult situations, but diplomacy was never her strong suit. Never. Pushing eventually away from the station, she bounded through the Ready Room door and took a quick scan of the bridge. Travis almost instantly turned around, a smile vanishing from his face.
"He reamed you, didn't he?" he asked.
Scanning the Bridge, she gave a slight smirk. She figured the red rushing to her cheeks was evidence enough.
"Captain, I am receiving a faint message from a ship," said T'Var, her hand on the ear piece sticking out of her ear.
"What kind?" asked Vega.
"Unknown."
"Romulan?" Mel turned her attention to the science officer -- Ensign Indigo Jansen. The woman fumbled over the keyboard.
"It's out of long range sensors," she said.
T'Var said, "I am uncertain which species owns that vessel, but have attempted to run the communication through various protocols to decipher who it came from."
Her terminal beeped and Mel found herself standing in front of the Vulcan. "Did you learn anything?"
"No," said T'Var. "It did not register."
Vega frowned and then turned back to Travis. "Then, Mayweather, let's dart behind that moon over there," she said, pointing to the screen. "I'd like to stay hidden until I know it's friendly."
"The vessel will be unable to communicate with us if we do so," said T'Var. "The moon will interfere with the signal."
"I can handle that risk," she said.
Then Mel dragged her eyes across to Simon Levy who nodded in agreement with the order, as if he would be worried if they stayed in the black waiting.
Mel said, "Convey those orders to the Shenandoah and the Constantinople."
"On whose authority?" asked T'Var.
It was a common question asked when peers were communicating orders and Mel understood the question perfectly; she wouldn't have expected any less from her first-rate communicator. Slowly letting a smile slide across her face, Captain Vega shot her gaze to the Vulcan and then everyone in the room.
"On my authority, the one Admiral Gardner just gave me."
-----
Countless messages for the past day were sent to the Panama and went unanswered and unacknowledged. Logically, Skon knew the signal of his vessel, the Viking, was not strong enough to reach Admiral Archer, but quite illogically he hoped the human would know through his bond that T'Pol needed him and was trying to communicate with him.
The bond is not strong enough, he thought. If Archer were not human, maybe he would know.
Worse, than not receiving any word from the human, there was a single remaining canister of sedative – one he knew he should keep. Unfortunately T'Pol was already waking again, sweating and shivering despite the heat … and begging for another shot to her neck to put her out.
"There is only one left," he said. "If your symptoms worsen, you will need it."
A growl came to her lips and she writhed under his scrutiny. And although he thought now – maybe by the hour – of providing her assistance, he continued to respect her wishes and spoke to her soothingly.
"The fire is overwhelming," he whispered. "I know. But, the flames will worsen and madness will ensue, which is why we need to save it."
"The sedative."
"I am sorry."
"Please."
"No."
Like a child denied a toy, she threw her fist into her leg and tears formed in her eyes. Skon wanted to comfort her – the lack of control of emotions was disturbing to his people, and he knew it was unsettling even to her -- but he knew if he touched her that the burning would consume him too and they would mate.
Picking up the thermos of water – something he collected for her while she was still unconscious – he held it out.
He said, "You may not think you are thirsty, but you need to drink."
"I'm not thirsty."
"Drink, T'Pol."
"No."
Instead of arguing with her, he foisted the water to her lips and tilted the metallic bullet so that water ran down her throat. Although she gulped, she did so defiantly.
"See, it is refreshing," he said.
Panting, hot with Pon Farr, she wiped her lips against her forearm. A glimpse of sanity sparked and she furrowed her brow.
"Have we heard from his ship?" she asked.
"No."
"How long?"
"I have been attempting to contact them for a day."
"No, how long until we reach him?"
"Another two days, assuming they stay at those coordinates. If they go to warp …."
She turned her head and her eyes slipped closed for a moment. "No."
"You may think of another, but in exactly two days you will have no other options," he said.
"Then I die," she said.
"Your skin aches to be touched, caressed. There will come a point, T'Pol, when your body takes over and ignores your mind and logic."
"No."
"Oh, yes. I have touched the flames myself, felt them searing my flesh. My wife was away on business when Pon Farr took me. It took her three days to reach me, and it was almost too late for both of us. It is the female who writhes under the gaze of her mate … or even under another man's eye. And it is the male who dominates, who will take whomever he can to satisfy the craving and heat."
T'Pol panted, pushing a piece of sweaty hair from her face.
Skon said, "I was fortunate to have my wife return in time. Had she not …."
"You would've taken another, despite your marriage?"
"Yes. There comes a point where you have little control what your body does."
"Then you know why I return to my mate."
"The Panama is not Vulcan. Your body urges to return there."
"Yes."
"By heading to his ship, you risk death. He may not be able to satisfy your fever and you may still pant for Vulcan."
"We have discussed this already. It grows tiresome."
Skon drew a long breath, and if to persuade her to give in, he pointed to his console. "I have attempted to contact his ship, but they have not acknowledged my hail."
Confusion spread over her face and then she closed her eyes.
He continued, "I know they have received the transmission. Why would they choose not to communicate with us? I believe the evidence points to one of two conditions – he has chosen another or he does not feel the bond, the mating urges."
She shook her head. "He's in Sickbay, writhing for me …. I have to reach him!"
A trembling hand reached for the controls and she typed in a few commands as Skon raised an eyebrow.
"What are you doing?"
She finished and when she was done, she defiantly stared up at him. "Sedate me!"
"T'Pol," he said more sternly. And then he glanced over at the instruments, his jaw slackening with emotion -- terror. "What have you done?"
She'd managed to jettison some of the fuel – hoping to send off a flare. If they were lucky – and Skon didn't believe in luck – a human viewing long range scans would see it … and not an enemy. When his head turned to see T'Pol again, he felt anger and attempted to stifle it by reaching in and retrieving the last of the canisters.
"You have acted foolishly," he said. And then the hypo touched her neck and she slumped over.
-------
Phlox was a patient man – most of the time. Now, however, he poured over information from every single source he could think of regarding human illnesses, diseases, viruses and psychosis. Although he didn't exactly think Admiral Archer was cracking up as the humans would say, there was absolutely, positively no other explanation. The activity in his brain was abnormal – unlike readings from any other Earthling he'd ever seen.
While looking over his patient, he mixed the concoction: a mixture of Veran root, seeds found on Xelian III and exactly three drops of juice from the pomp tree found on Andoria. Together these ingredients – known to every medical man on Denobula – acted as a natural sedative, sending the admiral into sleep as soon as it was dripped down his throat. Phlox thought the natural potion was better for the human's system than receiving a chemical sedative, despite the side effects it had: increased hair growth, dizziness, and fertility.
Putting the small bowl up to Archer's lips, he tilted it and then watched it begin to drizzle into the madman's mouth. Fortunately, the admiral wasn't awake enough to deny it and only fluttered his eyes as it trickled into his body. Satisfied, Phlox took the bowl away and washed it. Tapping his finger to his chin, he waddled back to his computer and pulled up the various scans he'd taken of the admiral, hoping some new information would reveal itself. The moment he shut off his monitor was the second Captain Vega walked into Sickbay.
Just as the admiral may've, she paced from one side of the room to another.
"I'm sorry, Captain, I have no new news," said Phlox.
"Nothing?"
Shaking his head, he said, "I told you I would inform you as soon as I discovered something."
She sighed. "I know. I was hoping …."
"I know."
A furrow remained on her brow, and he knew instantly the woman had more on her mind than just her commander. With a small smile, he offered her a chair next to his work station.
"I could use the company," he said. When she hesitated, he said, "I heard from Commander Hess that we were staying in the location, so it seems like you have time."
A half-smile reached her lips and she grabbed the seat next to him.
"There's another problem?" he asked.
"Huh?"
"It appears you have something on your mind."
"No."
Watching her, he noticed her eyes didn't quite meet his – a telltale sign there indeed was something else troubling her.
"I understand we have been receiving hails," he said.
"What don't you hear?" she asked.
A small smile reached his eyes. "Very little."
"We did. We don't know who's sending it."
"And that concerns you."
"I'm not ready to act as the lead. In less than a week, we could be joined by our allies for an offensive. I've never led a fleet."
"There's always a first time."
She frowned. "I'm not experienced."
"And yet you are the most experienced."
"That doesn't mean much."
"Oh, I disagree. You have more than one hundred people on this vessel who trust your judgment implicitly, including me."
She was silent, when he decided to smirk. "I heard from the admiral that you never lacked confidence."
Her eyes narrowed. "Did he tell you I was egotistical?"
There was bountiful advice he wanted to provide, but just as he opened his mouth, Ensign T'Var entered the room. A PADD in her hand, she headed toward the captain and then thrust it in her direction.
"The vessel that has been contacting us has done something most … illogical," she T'Var.
"What?" asked Vega.
"The science officer was able to pick up what looks like a small explosion on long-range sensors."
Phlox crossed his arms. "How interesting."
Vega continued to stare, confusion spreading across her face. "What was the explosion?"
"Unknown."
"Keep an eye on it," said Vega.
Then T'Var turned, an eyebrow barely cocking, to the patient. "The admiral?"
Vega frowned. "We don't know what's wrong yet."
The Vulcan strolled over to the man's bed and then bent down. The moment her eyes perused the admiral, Phlox had the most peculiar idea. Many years ago, a patient of his had a coma and yet his memories came to light thanks to Ambassador Soval.
"Ensign," he said. "The admiral has peculiar disorder that we have been unable to determine. After reviewing the human database, performing multiple scans and analyzing the, I am no closer to finding what is wrong with him."
T'Var lowered her head. "That is unfortunate."
"There is something you may be able to do," said Phlox.
"What it is?"
"Perform a meld," he said.
"A mind meld?" she asked.
Phlox noticed out of the corner of his eye, Captain Vega closed in on the two of them.
"Yes," he said.
"Although I have studied the Kir'Shara, I am not proficient at--"
"Perhaps you could at least try," said Phlox.
T'Var's eyes scanned the human and then she nodded. "I will attempt to help. But, as a human might say, it is best to not get one's hopes up." Looking then to her captain, she said, "Allow me to meditate before doing so."
"Shall we reconvene in an hour?" asked Phlox.
"That should suffice," said T'Var and then she headed out the door.
The only thing the Denobulan could do was to think to prepare as he noticed Captain Vega stared at the door as if perplexed at the notion two beings could exchange thoughts.
Humans have many things to yet encounter.
He spent the hour telling her what it was and how it might help as she knitted her brow and explained more than once she thought it was myth.
----
Mel Vega had heard rumors of mind melds – where Vulcans could apparently peer into another's thoughts and glean information. The captain never believed the rumors were true, thinking no creature could have such wondrous powers without abusing it. Now she'd get a firsthand demonstration.
When T'Var entered Sickbay again an hour later dressed in ceremonial Vulcan robes, Mel noticed she seemed more serene and relaxed. Vega always thought the long robes made the pointy-eared creatures look as if they were floating, levitating off the ground. To her, it made the Vulcans appear mysterious.
Mind melds, and the fact they existed, made the logicians even more of an enigma.
"Are you ready?" asked Phlox.
T'Var nodded and strolled over to the admiral, placing her hands on his nose, temple and jaw. Although the Vulcan had asked for a certain distance, both Mel and Phlox huddled nearer to see the spectacle.
"My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts," whispered T'Var. "Our minds are merging."
Almost a minute passed before T'Var turned her head to Phlox. "I cannot."
"Try again," he said.
And so she repeated the steps, this time using both hands to cradle his face. Mouthing the words, as if to help her focus, she squinted her closed eyes.
"Admiral?" she asked.
Melanie found herself moving closer through the silence, trying to see exactly what was happening. By the look on the Vulcan's face, her eyes darting from side to side, the captain guessed not much was really going on.
"Admiral?" she asked again.
Vega could tell the Vulcan was about to ask again when her shoulders lurched forward – a look of pain spreading across her face. Melanie's hands reached out, just about to rip T'Var away from the meld when Phlox shook his head.
"Wait," he said.
"T'Pol?" asked T'Var. "She's trying to contact me. She needs me. Vulcan."
Jon arched his back, his eyes still closed, as the expression on T'Var's eyebrows knotted and her lips drew tight. Her nostrils flared and she shook her head in response. Fear.
"What is it?" asked Mel.
Only a few seconds later, his eyes shot open and T'Var gave a gasp, stepping away from him while shivering.
Suddenly, the admiral who should've been out for another four hours, began begging to be released and struggled against his restraints. Phlox – confusion spreading over his face – hastily mixed a concoction and forced it down the admiral's throat (despite his head squirming) as Vega reached out to her communications officer.
"Are you all right?" asked Mel.
"Captain," she said in a whisper, her voice reverberating with emotion. T'Var breathed deeply and then closed her eyes.
"What did you see?" asked Mel, aware the admiral had finally grown silent.
T'Var righted herself, Vulcan airs drifting over her again despite the sweat beading at her temple, and shook her head. "I cannot say."
"What?" asked Vega.
Phlox gathered around her as well, holding a bowl of the mixture he just made. "He should be out for a while." Turning, to T'Var he asked, "What happened?"
"It is never to be spoken of."
"What?" asked Vega.
"It is not for others to know."
The captain caught the woman's arm and knitted her brow. "What did you see?"
Phlox also slid in front of her as if to block an escape to the door. "Ensign," he said.
"I cannot say."
Vega frowned. "Do I have to order you?"
"I … cannot say."
Suddenly, the doctor's furrowed brow eased. "Captain, you said he called for T'Pol when you were … with him. He called for her again, didn't he, Ensign?"
She gave a short head nod, ducking his eyes.
"He called for Vulcan, too. Captain, didn't you say that he tried to take this ship there?"
"Ummm, yes," said Vega. Although the doctor seemed hot on the trail to an answer, she was terribly confused.
"Pon Farr," he said. "That's it isn't it?"
Ensign T'Var looked away and Phlox sighed. Vega guessed her communications officer would need a little nudge and so she gave her an order, despite not knowing what the hell the two were talking about.
"Ensign, I'm ordering you to answer the doctor's question."
T'Var turned on the captain. "To speak of these things, they are … inappropriate."
"What would be inappropriate?" asked Vega. "What's Pon Farr?"
"We would keep this confidential," said Phlox.
"You misunderstand. Vulcans … we are logical people. To speak of the madness …."
"I don't understand," said Vega.
"I'll take that as a yes, Ensign," said Phlox. "Maybe you can answer this – did you detect a bond between the admiral and Ambassador T'Pol?"
"Yes," she said.
Phlox nodded, muttering under his breath in Denobulan and then finishing it with a few phrases in English. "I've been blind he said."
"Could someone catch me up?" asked Vega.
Phlox sighed and then turned to T'Var. "How long does he have?"
T'Var answered, "Two days at the outset. The Science Directorate--"
"We know all about the Science Directorate. Thank you, Ensign. You've been most helpful."
As she bowed, Vega was about to ask again about all the confusing terms and information, when the doctor called out after the ensign.
"As your physician, I'd like to recommend you take the rest of the shift off. We appreciate your assistance and will keep what you shared confidential."
The doors slid shut and finally without much patience left, Vega nearly stamped her foot. "What the hell is going on?"
"Admiral Archer needs to have sex or he will die."
This is going to be a long day, she thought.
-----
Logic.
Reason.
The two words chanted in her minds attempting to dislodge the chaos that existed. She clung to them like a lifeline, hoping to garner the last bit of control she had.
No!
There was only flame. The heat, scorching her insides causing her to sweat and tremble in its wake. Water dripped from her skin and bathed the floor of their small vessel. It made her want to scream. It made her hands ache to drift over her body to douse the burning. As she panted, watching Skon, she wondered if perhaps she had – she'd lost track of her movements thanks to the madness.
Sucking in the air around her, she smelled him. The scent tasted sweet on her palette like fruit after she'd starved herself as a child while learning control from a priest. Savoring it, she let the aroma – sand – hang on her tongue and sucked it. Suckled it.
He'd offered himself to her hours ago – maybe days, and for an instant, she wondered what mating with another Vulcan would be like. Half-lidded, she watched Skon and imagined he would dominate like a Vulcan male. His green tinted skin would be almost completely free from hair and no doubt his fingers would clench around her temple to force a meld as he spoke to her in their ancient language. Logic and control would be ripped from him as he gave into her mating cycle, crushing her body to his. Maybe he would even smile or curse under chaos' whim as his long fingers stroked her flesh.
It left her panting.
His head turned to her and she knew the glaze in his eyes meant he was succumbing to her heat. A shaky voice called to her, speaking only in Vulcan.
"You do not have much time left," he said. Two fingers stroked her cheek and she gasped under their motion. "We have only one day before your fever kills you."
Her tongue rolled out her mouth as if to dip his fingers against it. As her tongue neared his outstretched hand she felt the sizzle of her bond.
Jonathan.
And suddenly instead of imagining a hairless, green body next to her drenched with sweat, she saw a hairy one. It was a form she was infinitely familiar with, comfortable with. Their mouths would touch with yearning and they would exchange tongues allowing them to roll against the others. Jonathan would take his mouth to caress bits of her skin, love it, as he whispered her name.
Yes.
Skon was beginning to feel the fires, but Jonathan was already scorched with its heat.
"We must continue," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "We must continue as we are."
"Listen to reason," he said.
"No."
"Let me help you."
"No."
And for the first time, she heard anger in his voice. "I do not care if you think of another. Your temperature is high and I know your blood boils. You do not have long to live."
She shook her head vigorously.
"You will enter a coma in less than a day, T'Pol."
"No."
His fingers dated to her face again and ran down her neck. The heat that trailed along his digits made her pant.
"Please," she said.
"This quenches you, does it not?" he asked. His face flushed and his eyes turned to fire.
"Yes," she said. "But, I cannot. My bond."
"If he is caught in your desire, then you will free him by giving into your urges."
"No."
His fingers swerved under her chin and then ran along her lips; she shivered under the attention and found her heart pound against her breast.
"Perhaps you can teach me how to touch lips," he said.
Quivering, she noticed her head almost nod as the words "logic" and "reason" faded into the background. Heat, overwhelming like a sauna, crawled up her flesh and made her perspire more.
-------
Phlox had explained for nearly thirty minutes exactly what Pon Farr was, indicating T'Pol had probably begun to feel its affects, and provided a detail scenario of what needed to happen. But Mel found herself furrowing her brow more as the conversation continued. Apparently, Vulcans engaged in sex like they were salmon. They had to return to their planet and take a mate or die in the process.
Silently, she decided, it was a bad way for a species to procreate.
When the lesson was over and before the doctor could show her pictures to further her understanding, she looked at the admiral.
"We can't take him to Vulcan," she said.
Disappointment rang in his voice and he turned off the monitor above. "I suppose we can't. Although, I wonder whether mating would be enough."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"The salmon don't necessarily have to get home. They merely need to spawn. Perhaps engaging in sexual relations is all he needs."
"Are you sure?"
Phlox frowned. "No. But, it appears we don't have much of a choice." It was then the Denobulan turned to her. "Perhaps you can assist him."
Her eyes turned over to her friend and she scrunched her mouth to one side. "I don't think I'm who he wants."
A hand reached over her shoulder and he gave her a sympathetic smile. "You indicated he tried to engage you earlier."
This is just weird.
She stuffed her arms over her chest and continued to frown. Watching his sleeping figure, she tried to envision – although it wasn't difficult since she'd thought about it before and had recently experienced it – a kiss between them. The kiss, she'd wanted, would be of a man who believed she was his entire world. His hands would cradle the sides of her face and he'd gaze into her eyes – his green ones on hers – as he whispered to her that he loved her.
Just having sex wasn't quite the romantic notion she'd imagined. She especially wasn't keen on the idea that as his body stretched over hers, he'd think about T'Pol and maybe even call her name.
Shaking her head, she didn't think she was up to the task. And then she thought about a universe without Jonathan Archer. That didn't seem quite fair.
For an instant, she thought about suggesting another woman. Panama was filled with them – Hess, T'Var …. As she was about to confess to Phlox she couldn't do it, the admiral's eyes opened and he moaned as if in pain.
"I'm afraid to give him another sedative so soon," he said. "Ensign T'Var indicated he had maybe two days at most." It was the doctor's way, she knew, to tell her – hurry up and make a decision.
Wiping a hand over her face, she sighed.
"I need to take care of a few things, first," she said.
Phlox smiled an overextended grin and she cursed in her mind.
"I just hope this works," she said.
TBC