Uncertain Path
Careful not to make any sound, Falkner pushed a branch aside, catching a glimpse of where Admiral Zagayev was going. Now why would the Commander in Chief of Starfleet, successor of the sacked Sam Gardner, visit a busy industrial estate during lunch-time a second day in a row?
When the Admiral disappeared into one of the offices, Falkner looked for a way to follow him. It was a bet with lousy odds that the scene he was going to witness would probably be the same sickening procedure as yesterday, only that today he had a bug and a hidden camera in place to record the event and didn't need to risk detection. Now it was just a case of downloading the data.
Crossing one hundred meters of tarmac unseen would be impossible, unless he managed to blend into the scenery, but he had spent enough time scoping out the place to know that a good solution was not far distant.
He jumped out as a forklift passed by, and in a swift movement the driver was incapacitated and tossed aside into the undergrowth. He saw the unconscious body disappear into the greenery as his accomplice Gardner dragged it further in to hide it from view. Normally he wouldn't work with amateurs, but Gardner was the only one he could rely upon, seeing that they were sacked from Starfleet.
The vehicle barely swerved as Falkner skillfully regained control of it and steered it to a ramp not far from the office that Zagayev had disappeared into. Fortunately there was a spare hi-vis jacket on the back of the truck's seat so he hurriedly shrugged it on in case anyone noticed he wasn't wearing one and came over to ask awkward questions. To maintain his cover, he started to transfer empty barrels between loading bays, keeping the door of the office shack in sight.
It didn't take more than ten minutes for Zagayev to come back out, and Falkner steered his forklift towards a darkened loading bay to avoid detection, careful not to speed up or give any sign that he was what he appeared to be – just an anonymous site worker, interested in nothing but the weary grind of moving barrels. Parking up inside, he pretended to be checking something on the vehicle's control panel, but out of the corner of his eye he kept an eye on the yard. The Admiral looked around often, but the camouflage of the hi-vis made a humble worker effectively invisible; Zagayev's gaze passed across him indifferently. Barely two minutes later, a Vulcan walked out of the office.
It was the same guy he had seen the day before, and a shiver ran down Falkner's spine. Not since Harris's pet mind-rapist Tarok had he seen a Vulcan with such a lunatic facial expression – one that had 'psychopath' written all over it.
Once Gardner had sent the agreed sequence of vibrations to his communicator, notifying him that both Zagayev and the Vulcan had left the premises, he drove his fork-lift over to the office, where he brought it to a halt and, with a last cautious glance around to make sure he was unobserved, started downloading the data from both surveillance devices.
Now it was a matter of getting the data to the rogue First Fleet. He remembered that there was an office vacant here. Slightly tainted by a burn mark on the carpet, of course, but with a non-registered subspace terminal. And it was easy to break in if one knew the secret codes.
=/\=
Admiral Valdore walked into the Praetor's office, knowing that his life had run its course. All he could hope for was that his private spies on Earth would finish his plans. He had set the operation in motion to topple D'deridex and become Praetor himself, but at least it would now serve to save his family from sharing his own fate.
The dark face of the Praetor left no doubt about the purpose of the meeting. He wasted no time on superfluous preliminaries before launching the attack.
"Seven thousand, four hundred and twenty-six warriors and engineers died, Valdore." His voice began low, but rose to a scream. "Seven thousand, four hundred and twenty-six! We have no more shipyards and the Coalition now has a ship that can easily match a warbird. Since their shipyards are still intact, they will soon have more!"
"May I remind you, who told them where to find our shipyards? It was the same vang'radam you flattered as if he was your own son?" the Admiral growled back, unflinching. He was going to die anyway, so he might as well let the veruul behind the desk have a piece of his mind. So many things had burned and festered within him for all these months, what would it profit him to die with them unsaid? At least with the words uttered he could die in peace.
No-one had ever offered D'deridex such insolence. He almost swayed with the shock. "You will be silent, Valdore!"
"Know this, mighty Praetor," Valdore snarled, making the title an open insult. "Even as we speak, operatives that answer only to me and my family are on Terrha working on destroying this Coalition. I hired them to get youoff your throne and take your place. Now they will be what safeguards my family and keeps you from losing power. The people have no admiration for failures, and you don't have many victories to proclaim."
"Take him out!" the Praetor demanded, seemingly almost on the verge of hysteria. With a mocking salute, Valdore walked outside, followed by the firing squad.
He screamed in agony as the disrupter fire started to dissolve his flesh. Fortunately, it seemed that at least some of the soldiers secretly sympathized with him. Not all of the weapons were set on minimum.
It was painful, but at least it was relatively swift.
=/\=
"He's two hours overdue," Jonathan Archer said, sitting in the captain's chair of Molotok. The ship had been patched up hastily and was now en route to Earth with Buran, under the command of T'Len. Several Andorian and two Vulcan cruisers were also in the convoy, ready to engage Starfleet if it was necessary, but Jon preferred to save what was left of the coalition. The irrational orders from Starfleet had caused severe problems among the four species, and the fact that they had made a hard-line separatist like Admiral Zagayev the successor to Gardner certainly hadn't helped any.
"Falks may be late, sir, but he will get the information to us. He can't exactly walk into a post office to call us," a clearly irate Malcolm Reed shot back sarcastically.
Jon looked over at his former tactical officer. Time had been when that kind of disrespect would have earned Malcolm a sharp reprimand, but then time had been when it would be the last thing the Brit would have contemplated displaying. A lot of water had passed under the bridge since they'd all set out aboard Enterprise for the first time, and a lot of things had changed.
None of them for the better, in his opinion. And not a whole lot in Malcolm Reed's world either, it seemed.
He'd never thought he would see the Brit, who redefined the concept of 'stiff upper lip', cry, but when the matriarch of T'Pol's clan had died after her desperate attempt to save T'Pol, he had seen the battle-hardened man reduced to tears. It was a picture that still haunted him.
The news about Trip had hit them all hard. After two more seemingly endless surgeries, Phlox and Dr. Lucas were now convinced that Trip would have control over his bladder and digestive tract – provided he ever regained consciousness in the first place. This would spare him the cruel fate of having to wear diapers for the rest of his life, but considering that he would still have to live out his days blind and bound to a wheelchair, that was only a mild consolation.
A much bigger consolation was that T'Pol had regained consciousness and had taken the news with less distress than anyone had expected. The one hope that kept Jon going was that T'Pol would sure as hell now abandon her life-long fascination with micro-singularities and spend all her scientific prowess on researching ways to undo the damage that had been done to her mate. Somehow he took comfort in the feeling that one day Trip would walk or see again, perhaps even both. Such was the confidence he had in his former science officer. If she set her mind on something, she would get it done, no matter if it took months or years.
Hoshi and T'Pol had been left back at Salem One. Hoshi was required to stay there a little longer in any case as her short stint as an underground guerrilla had not done her healing wounds any favors; and there was no easy separating T'Pol from Trip anyway.
The beep on Malcolm's PADD told him that the long-awaited communication was coming in. Normally he would prefer to be kept in the loop, but he could hardly push Starfleet protocol on a rogue ship and he knew that by taking the message in the ready room, Malcolm was giving him plausible deniability in case the almost inevitable court-martial came.
=/\=
"What the fuck did we just see?" Gardner raged after Falkner had sent the recording to Molotok.
"The same that made you forget almost a week of your life," Falkner explained. "You can call it a mind-rape. A Vulcan forcefully mind-melds with you and plants false memories and hidden commands in your brain."
Gardner thought about it for a moment. "That's why this industrial estate seemed familiar to me, isn't it? I too went there every day to have my brain messed up by that pointy-eared asshole."
He saw Falkner nod gravely.
"How can you know this?"
"Harris had a pet psychopath like that one. The section did the same to Malcolm Reed and a whole host of other good operatives."
"That's why he called himself Hadrian!" Gardner realized.
"Yes, somehow his forced schizophrenia was triggered. But though god knows how he did it, Malcolm seems to have overcome it. He was back to normal this morning. Talked about a Vulcan killing his 'dark katra'. A Vulcan gave it to him, so it stands to reason that only a Vulcan can cure it."
"I knew Harris was a despicable asshole," Gardner ranted. "But that he went as far as that!"
"He had lost connection to reality a long time ago. Why do you think Malcolm and I walked out on him?"
"You killed him didn't you?" Gardner said, pointing to the floor of Harris' former office. "And not with a Starfleet issue weapon either. I've seen these burn marks before. Each and every one of them meant a Rommie had offed himself on Salem One before we retook it."
Falkner nodded wordlessly.
"Good man," Gardner said dryly. "Now let's see if we can help Archer and Reed clean up this mess."
=/\=
Jon slowly gravitated towards the right side of his chair, away from Malcolm Reed who had come out of the ready room wearing what could only be described as a 'thousand yard stare'.
"If you would excuse me for an hour, sir," the Brit stated in a lifeless voice, "I need some time to wreck the gym."
Without waiting for his captain's answer, he walked off into the turbo lift. The whole bridge crew recoiled in horror as a blood-curdling scream of rage and agony could be heard through the doors, fading away as the lift descended into the bowels of the ship.
=/\=
Zagayev stared at his screen, watching in horrified incredulity as the Nork class Tellarite cruisers left orbit when Archer and his rogue fleet arrived in the solar system. They didn't attack the rogue ships – they joined them. The last ship still left was Enterprise, docked on Jupiter station, but no hails were answered. He was an Admiral without a fleet.
Left without options, he took out the phaser from the top drawer of his desk, put it to his temple and pulled the trigger.
=/\=
"Where exactly are we going, Malcolm, and what was that show about two days ago?" Jon demanded as Reed steered the shuttle down. Had he not forced his way aboard, the Brit would have gone on his own.
Wordlessly, the other man put a data chip into the computer and played a recording.
"Tolaris!" Jon gasped in horror, when he saw the mad-looking Vulcan putting his hands to Admiral Zagayev's face.
"Bring me Gardner," the Vulcan demanded, clearly deeply sunk in a mind-meld. "He resisted and wanted to kill my T'Pol instead of giving her to me. He has to die. I shall disembowel his treacherous body and devour his organs with the greatest pleasure after I have taken her. She will be mine! I shall take pleasure in her cries for help and mercy. She deserves punishment for refusing me. Now that her human is dead, I shall have her. Bring her to me. Bring Gardner and T'Pol to me! She is mine. You cannot refuse."
Jon covered his mouth with his hand and tried to swallow a surge of bile as the recording was displayed on the screen.
"What? The human is not dead? Why is she so far away? Who is the one who took her away from me? Tell me his name! 'Malcolm'! I shall consume him, too. He too must die. Clueless Rihanssu. They freed me and thought I would work for them. Valdore will not be pleased."
There was a pause in which the Vulcan's face took on an irritated look. It seemed as if Zagayev was putting up a fight. Tolaris' features distorted into an ugly grimace of rage.
"Why do you want to know that? Stop resisting. Bring me my prize, bring her, nothing else is of consequence. BRING HER!"
Jon looked on in horror as the Vulcan used his telepathic abilities to inflict what must be unspeakable pain on Zagayev's brain, making the human groan and weep in agony. Finally Tolaris let go of the hapless admiral, and the human stumbled off with a completely lifeless look, void of emotions and conditioned to serve the Vulcan's bidding.
"I would... challenge you for the right to kill him," Jon said weakly, wiping the taste of bile from his mouth. "But I take it you have the experience to make it as painful and excruciating as possible?"
He saw Malcolm nod wordlessly. The gray eyes of the Brit were as hard and cold as slate in winter rain.
=/\=
T'Pol and Hoshi sat at a remote table in Salem One's mess hall.
"How are you?" Hoshi asked. She hadn't seen T'Pol in two days as Phlox had made her return to the hospital zone.
"Considering your appearance, that is something that I should ask you," the Vulcan replied tiredly.
Hoshi shrugged a little bitterly, disregarding the discomfort the movement caused. "My wounds will heal."
She looked up in surprise when suddenly T'Pol took her hand.
"You love him, do you not?"
It was couched more as a statement than a question, but nevertheless she recoiled, startled and guilty. "I – I don't know what you mean!"
"Hoshi, I saw you when I reconnected with Trip. You would not have been there would not both of you love each other."
She looked back at T'Pol and had a hard time fighting the tears. It was telling that the Vulcan was using the L-word instead of saying 'having an affection' or 'desire him'.
In the face of such naked courage and honesty, nothing other than equal honesty would serve.
"Yes, T'Pol, I love him. I tried not to but I do. I think of Trip and Malcolm and I want them both. It is so egocentric, but that's how it is. I don't know when it happened. But I promise, I will never get in the way of your marriage." Of the effect of these complications on her own marriage, she tried not to think; time to face that when she must. Right now she had as much to cope with as she could bear.
"I do not blame you, Hoshi, and you will not become a danger to our marriage. He will need both of us. I wish only one thing. Let us promise to each other that we will stop at nothing – nothing at all – to make his life worth living once he wakes up, no matter how damaged his body or mind are."
"Nothing, nothing at all," Hoshi promised in a whisper as tears ran down her still bruised face.
=/\=
"You wanted to know who took her away from you?" he called out into the great dim space of the hall. "It was me, Malcolm Reed. Come out and make good on your promise, scumbag! You wanted me brought to you. Now I'm here. Come on, if you think you're hard enough!"
The empty building that had once been a factory was dark and dirty, and the sound of his voice echoed from the walls. Just the right place for a psychopathic rapist to hide. If there was one redeeming thing about this madman, it was the fact that he had abandoned the mission given to him by the Romulans who had freed him from prison. But that was hardly for altruistic motives, but rather because his rejection by the lovely Vulcan all those years ago had festered in his warped brain and turned into an obsession for revenge into which every other desire was swallowed up. As long as he was alive there would be no safety for T'Pol, and Malcolm would rather serve time for cold-blooded murder than expose her to the risk. It would be just one more added to the many stains of blood on his hands anyway. What difference would it make?
"Malcolm." A menacing voice sounded from the shadows to his right and the Brit hastily adjusted his position to put a pillar behind his back. Somehow the Vulcan had managed to sneak up on him. He was not best pleased. The Section had trained him better than that. Must be getting careless; or maybe just getting old.
He wouldn't get to be much older if he fucked this up.
Suddenly the shadows disgorged the Vulcan he'd come to hunt down. Gone was the smoothness that had characterized him on board the Vakhlas. Now the insanity that had lain beneath the surface had boiled up through it and was clear for anyone to see. His face was distorted with hatred and his eyes blazed. There was foam at the corners of his mouth.
"You despicable creature," Tolaris snarled, lunging towards him. "You desire her! I sense it! She is mine!"
Bloody hell, he's quick! It was only the long years of training and a dozen dirty fights for his life that enabled Malcolm to dodge the strike, though even so the edge of the blade caught him.
"Close your eyes and you'll see what I've come to bring you," he replied, ignoring the sudden wash of blood from the gash across his temple. He struck back fast and low, and slashed the Vulcan's right arm with his knife.
His opponent recoiled in pain, but the grimace remained. Green blood was running down the arm that Malcolm had slashed open.
"You will never have her if you kill me," the Vulcan taunted him, wielding his blade with the uninjured arm. "Your Starfleet will not countenance a murderer. You will be locked away, and she will not even remember that you exist."
"I won't 'have her' in any case. She's the wife of my best friend," Reed said coldly. "But I will make sure that you'll never again pose a danger to her, even if it costs my own life."
"We could have her together, Malcolm. He is crippled and could not mount a defense. She would be ours. Think about the pleasure of hearing her beg for mercy as her helpless cripple cries in agony while we enjoy her."
"You sick bastard!" Before the Section, there might have been hot, honest rage in his soul as he rammed his knife into Tolaris' lower abdomen. Now there was only the bitter cold of the trained killer carrying out yet another job. Yet another victim looked back at him, eyes wide in horror and pain as he twisted the blade, deeply buried among the Vulcan's organs. A sickening squelching sound filled his ears as he jerked the blade back and forth for maximum effect, shredding the innards of the psychopath he'd come here to kill.
He let go of the knife's handle as the dead body of Tolaris sunk to the ground, green blood pooling on the ground around the corpse. He was no longer employed by the Section; this time there would be consequences. His face as cold and hard as polished marble, he walked away wordlessly to face them.
=/\=
"Why did you resign?" T'Pol asked as she and Hoshi sat on either side of Trip's biobed. They both held one of his hands.
"I'm sick of it. We nearly lost him and any one of us could be next. I don't want to lose you or Malcolm, too. Trip has given the ultimate sacrifice, and we've all been through enough. We've given almost six years of our lives, constantly in danger of losing everything. For what? Starfleet will discharge Trip, honorably yes, but bereft of any pleasure. You heard Phlox. He won't walk, he'll be blind, he can't have sex. He'll be sentenced to a life in a body that doesn't obey him anymore. It could take decades, if it happens at all in our life-time, until medicine is ready to undo his injuries."
T'Pol shivered at Hoshi's anguished summary. The gravity of Trip's situation hit her hard all over again, and her eyes became moist, too, despite her continual struggle for emotional control.
"I want to dedicate my time to making life as independent as possible for him," she heard Hoshi say in grim, if still tearful determination. "I'll teach him Braille and I think I have learned enough about sensor technology and communications electronics that I can start working on a voice controlled wheelchair that can navigate places autonomously."
"We will both work on it. I too contemplated resigning my commission, but we will need to provide for ourselves. I shall request a planet-side posting. In my spare time I shall support your research."
"That means we'll have to find a place to live not far from each other," Hoshi said.
T'Pol took her companion's free hand and put it to her cheek, gently trying to soak up some of the sadness and despair she could sense in the young human's mind through the touch-telepathic contact. She at least could try dealing with it during meditation, a 'luxury' that Hoshi did not have.
"I wish for all four of us to reside in one domicile," she replied after a while. "T'Pau, most likely after consulting with the Eldest's katra, has theorized that our relationship has transcended the status of mere friends, and I am beginning to understand her logic. Trip will not regain his will to live if you are absent and I submit that neither would I have done were it not for your presence when the Eldest Mother gave her life to reconnect me and Trip. I am sure we can find a domicile that has two levels. One for you and Malcolm, and one for Trip and me."
Hoshi was crying silently and T'Pol fought hard not to follow her example.
=/\=
Malcolm was led into a chamber of the Vulcan embassy, where Soval and T'Pau were waiting for him.
The recognition confirmed his previous bleak assessment of his fate. If the head of the Vulcan government saw fit to make the journey to Earth it could only mean that someone had demanded his arse on a platter for the cold-blooded murder of one of their citizens, even if the citizen in question had been an out-of-his-mind wannabe rapist.
Somewhat to his surprise, however, the Vulcan guard removed the shackles from around his wrists.
"I apologize for the injustice you have been exposed to by your incarceration," Soval began, and Malcolm looked at him slack-jawed in surprise. He had expected to be read a death-sentence, not handed an apology. In the circumstances, he'd thought that he'd be summarily handed over to the Vulcans for trial and sentencing. For a moment, he could do little more than blink in confusion.
"I could replay the recording that Commodore Falkner has produced of your encounter with Tolaris, but I would prefer than neither of us is exposed to such an unspeakable experience again."
"It was still murder, sir," Malcolm replied evenly.
"The crime for which Tolaris was sentenced two years ago called for his execution already. Now, he had revealed his intention to commit a more unspeakable crime – the physical abuse of T'Pol. With that he had forfeited his right to live and it does not matter who performed the execution."
"I appreciate your wanting to absolve me from all culpability, sir, but..."
"You cannot be absolved from a guilt that does not exist," Soval interrupted him, his tone severe and final. "It is of far more importance that I now need your help in defusing this volatile situation. The coalition is on the brink of failing due to the meddling of the Romulans and Tolaris. And you have seen all the recorded events. Your testimony is vital to keep the coalition alive."
"I'm not sure how much help I can be, but I'm willing to try," Malcolm agreed, making the mental adjustment with some difficulty. "I would prefer a uniform over a prison garb though."
"T'Pau has obtained a uniform for you," Soval said.
Malcolm saw the raised eyebrow on the Vulcan's face when he just ditched the prison garment, stripping down to nothing more than his blue Starfleet issue underpants before taking the uniform.
"Nothing she hasn't seen before," he remarked dryly as he pulled up the zip. "Let's go."
=/\=
Two weeks later...
"Are you sure you don't want to reconsider, Captain?" Gardner asked with a look at the man before him. The rank insignia of Malcolm Reed lay before him on the table. Starfleet was about to lose both Sato-Reeds.
Captain Reed, in cooperation with Soval and Commodore Archer, had managed to convince the Coalition council that recent tensions had been the result of Romulan meddling. The Tolaris detail was swept under the rug to protect Captain T'Pol's privacy.
"We've done enough, Admiral, and one of us paid an awfully high price. You have the Romulans at your mercy for as long as it takes them to deal with the Klingons. You have lots of good men and women. You don't need Hoshi or me, but Trip does, as Starfleet seems to have seen fit to just sack him unceremoniously."
Malcolm saw that his disgust at Starfleet's decision had clearly been understood by the Admiral.
"That was a decision they took before I was given my job back. I don't like it any more than you do. But I'd prefer to change Starfleet from the inside with a few good men like you, rather than watching you walk out."
"That's too little too late, sir. We shipped out five years ago to go exploring. We came home broken and Starfleet didn't lift a finger to fix us. Just think about what Harris did to me and nobody did anything, and the arsehole would still be alive if Falks hadn't dealt with him. With all due respect, sir, we are no longer willing to give our lives for an organization that doesn't care about saving them. Trip fights for his life, I'm broken beyond imagination. The rest of us want to go out on our terms before you toss us aside like you did with Trip."
With that he pivoted and left Gardner's office. He did not afford anyone a further look as he left Starfleet Headquarters for the last time.
=/\=
"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the United Earth Broadcasting Corporation with the latest news.
"In an unprecedented move, United Earth Starfleet has released details of a wide-scale insurgency that had threatened to break up the United Coalition of Planets.
"According to the dossier released by the Press Office of Starfleet Command, two high ranking members of the Admiralty had been influenced by a rogue Vulcan acting under orders of Romulan infiltrators. Upon being requested for clarification by our editorial office, Vulcan authorities described the methods of influencing the Starfleet officers as 'unspeakable violations' but declined to offer further details. One of the attacked officers, Admiral Zagayev, has committed suicide while the unnamed second officer has reportedly returned to his post after Vulcan medics have confirmed there will be no lasting effects of the attack.
"The Fleet Command also confirmed reports that the first fleet under command of Commodore Jonathan Archer had mutinied in protest at unusual orders given by both of these 'influenced' individuals. Admiral Samuel Gardner was quoted as saying that without Commodore Archer's brave decision to risk incarceration, the coalition might have broken down due to the Romulan infiltration.. Commodore Art Marinus Falkner, head of Starfleet Security, has been named as another pivotal influence in diverting this attack.
"According to Vulcan intelligence sources, the enemy meanwhile has been thrown into disarray. Several high ranking members of the imperial fleet have reportedly been executed. With their ship building capacities destroyed, the enemy is currently unable to mount an attack. The Coalition council has, however, dismissed calls for an attack on Romulus, citing the fact that the coalition was formed to defend the four worlds that founded it, not as an attack force. Questions whether the coalition is using the weak position of the enemy to force peace talks have not been answered so far."
Hoshi sat next to T'Pol watching the news reel as Atlantis, under the command of Erika Hernandez, glided through space towards Earth. Since Hoshi was no longer a member of Starfleet, she had been assigned to one of the guest quarters and had spent most of the time with T'Pol, eagerly waiting for news from Malcolm or updates from Phlox about Trip's condition.
"Any news from Phlox?" she asked now.
"Trip's condition has been updated to 'stable'. However, the doctor believes that this will be the last change for months. He and Doctor Lucas have decided not to risk any more surgeries for the time being. Trip has been transferred to the hospital ship Marconi for transfer back to Earth. Phlox is traveling with him Due to the limited speed of the Marconi class it will take almost six months for them to arrive on Earth."
"All things considered, that sounds pretty good," Hoshi mused. "Malcolm's written, too. He's found a house on Fuerteventura that fits all requirements. It should give us enough privacy."
"Will Malcolm be comfortable living on an island?"
"He feels comfortable enough. He was more concerned with Trip's comfort. It's easily navigable by wheel chair and not surrounded by too many other houses. Fuerteventura is half-deserted anyway. "
"I thought it was a fairly popular holiday venue?" T'Pol asked.
"Not anymore. The last tourist hotel closed over twenty years ago. With the rise in mean temperature, it's basically a miniature version of Vulcan with lower gravity. North and Baltic sea are the big venues these days."
"What about Malcolm's plan for his company?"
"He has found an industrial estate in Bilbao. We could afford both it and the house, but our combined savings would almost be used up, so he didn't want to decide without hearing at least your opinion. Trip, well, he can't say anything..."
Hoshi stopped mid-sentence as tears overcame her again. She felt T'Pol's arm around her shoulders and leaned on the shoulder of her friend, letting the tears flow freely as had happened so often during the last two weeks.
=/\=
T'Para inspected the vista with interest. Apparently T'Pau did not see fit to clear her mind of all distractions during meditation as normally there would be no vista to see. Instead the young one had recreated the image of the small island on Earth she had visited several weeks ago. The mental image that represented the young one's mind was sitting unclothed on the white sand near the water in the meditation position. The influence of her time spent with Hoshi was hard to miss.
The matriarch knew that her own image was created by T'Pau's mind, but nonetheless she inspected herself to make sure that T'Pau's mind had equipped her with proper attire so that the young one was not exposed to the ungainly sight of a body that was more than two centuries old.
"You are still confused by what you saw in T'Pol's mind, are you not?" she said without preamble as she took a seat across from the young woman.
"Indeed I am. Her bond with Charles was still intact when she had visions of intimacy with Hoshi in the shower. This should not be possible."
"You cannot apply our views to them, young one. In my opinion they have no longer been 'only friends' for many months. Each of them would lose a part of his or her katra was any one of them to decease. But the children fight this reality."
"You mean to say they have become a true quad? As the Andorians do?"
T'Para could see the confusion on the young one's face. Granted, this was not an easy situation to understand for someone so young. Indeed, it had taken her some time and much mediation to come to grips with it herself.
"In their hearts they have been one for many months, but their intellect is fighting it as neither our world nor theirs provides guidance for such a situation. They cling to the letter of their marriage vows. But even if they deny it, their mutual affection will allow them to overcome the hardships that await them. Healing Charles will be an arduous challenge, one that will test them in ways no armed conflict ever has. But one day, when they finally accept the reality of their lives we will see Charles go on to achieve greatness. I sensed as much in my dying moments."
"Are you convinced that he will be healed?"
"Only time will tell," T'Para answered. "Human medicine progresses fast and they have now the experience of several species to draw upon, but even if the damage to his body cannot be repaired, his mind hopefully can. It appeared injured, but savable to me. The human brain has a remarkable ability to survive even substantial damage. And do not underestimate the force that are T'Pol and Hoshi if they combine their talents. Charles' future might not look as dire as all believe."
"How will T'Pol deal with the loss of the bond? Especially since it was remarkably strong?" T'Pau asked, but T'Para waved off her sentiment.
"Yes, it was a bond the likes of which we have not seen among Vulcans, but it was what a bond is – a crutch necessary due to our biology. Her devotion to Charles will not diminish because of the loss of a connection that his physiology should not have allowed to form to begin with. And you saw yourself that it was easily overruled by her affection for Malcolm and Hoshi. Their affection comes from inside their katras, not due to a connection that biology forced on them."
"I take it you wish to follow their path in life a while longer before your katra is retired to a katric arc on Mount Seleya?"
"That is your decision to make, young one. I have no right to impose on your mind any longer than strictly necessary."
It was visible that the young one needed a moment to think, but then her answer came with firm conviction.
"I would find your continued presence and counsel most agreeable."
T'Para's image nodded her approval. While the corporeal remains of her existence were soon to be stored for mummification in the catacombs of the clan's mountain retreat, her spiritual essence relished the chance to follow the life of the clan's most unusual family a little longer.
=/\=
Author's Notes
Thus endeth another part of an epic journey. The ride continues in part 3 "Spirit In The Night".
A big shout-out goes to my beta reader Eireann who helped me immensely in the latter chapters as I ventured out of my normal angst-free comfort zone and added a few darker colors to my universe. You've been a great help ma'am and I can't thank you enough for all the time you invested on sorting out my drafts.
Kotik aka The Fat Hippo...