Chapter 6: Vulcan
Neither Buffy nor Kirk were prepared for the sudden, violent jolt that sent the drill platform lurching unexpectedly upward. They had been leaning over the side of the disk, their focus entirely absorbed by the catastrophic events unfolding on the planet's surface below. The sudden jarring motion knocked Buffy off balance, but her Slayer reflexes kicked in, allowing her to regain her footing. As she steadied herself, she turned her gaze toward Kirk, their eyes locking for a fleeting moment.
In the next heartbeat, Kirk was gone, tumbling over the side of the platform, his form vanishing into the perilous abyss below.
"KIRK!" Buffy's frantic scream reverberated through the tumultuous air; her heart filled with dread.
Without a second thought, Buffy sprang into action, leaping after Kirk, her determination unwavering.
Kirk's Starfleet training had prepared him well for moments of crisis like these. Despite hurtling toward apparent oblivion at breakneck speeds well over a hundred kilometers per hour, his instincts as a seasoned crewman and as a human being took over. He spread his arms and legs wide, striving to maintain a parallel position to the ground, doing everything within his power to slow his plummet, to eke out as much time as possible.
High above him, Buffy adopted a starkly contrasting strategy. With her legs held together, her face resolute against the howling wind, and her hands pressed tightly to her sides, she descended like a meteor, descending toward Kirk with a fearless determination. Even as she drew closer to him, she knew that the perilous midair maneuver they were about to attempt was their only shot at survival. Streak past Kirk, and the opportunity would be lost, leaving them with no recourse in the face of the looming catastrophe.
With her left arm slightly extended to adjust her angle of descent and her head held high, chest thrust out to maximize drag, Buffy finally made contact with Kirk in a not-so-gentle rendezvous. The impact was jarring, but in their desperate situation, Kirk had no complaints. With her arms securely around him, Buffy's voice filled with a mix of relief and urgency as she shouted into the man's face, her words carrying over the deafening rush of wind. "I GOTCHA—PULL MY CHUTE!"
Kirk nodded vigorously, signaling his comprehension. His left arm encircled Buffy's waist as he reached down, fingers fumbling until they located the crucial control. With a firm touch, he triggered the release mechanism, causing Buffy's parachute to snap open and billow out above them, bringing their rapid descent to a momentary halt.
However, their combined weight, coupled with the intense inertia acquired during their harrowing plunge, proved to be too much for the already stressed parachute cords. In a cruel twist of fate, the cords snapped, sending them hurtling back toward the inevitable.
Desperation coursing through her veins, Buffy wasted no time. She urgently transmitted a distress call through her suit's pickup, her voice carrying the weight of their dire circumstances. "Enterprise, we're falling without a chute! Beam us up or Jim's dead!"
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
On the Enterprise's bridge, Chekov's urgent cry resounded through the newly restored communications, setting the crew into a whirlwind of activity. Springing to another console, Chekov's fingers moved rapidly across the instrumentation. While he had performed this sort of task dozens, even hundreds of times before in simulations, the real-life situation was a pressure cooker of stress. His voice rang out as he shouted toward the console communicator, desperation evident. "Transporter room, come in! This is Ensign Chekov on the bridge. Emergency command override, transfer full control to the forward console!"
Uhura, equally frantic, worked feverishly at her station, requesting, manipulating, and entering critical information. "Preparing intercept coordinates—stand by for transfer!" she announced urgently.
The officer who had assumed Spock's responsibilities at the science station looked up with anxiety etched on his face. "The singularity's expanding. We won't reach minimum safe distance if we don't leave!"
"SHUT UP!" Uhura and Chekov responded simultaneously, their voices sharp and commanding. It was not the regulation response, but it had the intended effect. The replacement science officer turned back to his console, grim-faced.
At the forward transporter console, Chekov's fretfulness grew as he struggled to manipulate the manual targeting control. The situation was far from ideal, unlike the simulations he had practiced. There were no safety nets, and the realization that real lives hung in the balance, not just career points, weighed heavily on his shoulders. His voice trembled with urgency as he reported, "I can't get a target lock on their pattern signatures! They're falling too fast!" The race against time was reaching a critical juncture.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
As Buffy and Kirk hurtled through the empty void, Buffy's mind raced with a mix of adrenaline and concern. The world around her became a blur of motion, the air rushing past her with an unrelenting force. Far below, a panorama unfolded, revealing a vast expanse of untamed terrain, its jagged peaks and sprawling valleys a testament to the unforgiving nature of the planet they found themselves on.
In the midst of her rapid descent, a flicker of curiosity sparked within Buffy's consciousness. Despite the perilous circumstances, a fragment of her mind registered the sheer distance they had plummeted, surpassing the towering heights of a nearby mountain. It was a realization that both fascinated and terrified her, a stark reminder of the gravity-defying predicament in which they were ensnared.
"Enterprise," Buffy's voice pierced through the chaos, her plea resonating with an urgency that bordered on desperation. Her words were laced with a potent cocktail of fear and determination, a command that begged for immediate action. Each repetition of the word held a crescendo of emotion, an unwavering resolve amplified by the perilous circumstances that unfolded around her.
"Now, now, now!" she implored; her voice infused with an unyielding sense of urgency. It was a cry from the depths of her being, a fervent prayer that the Enterprise would heed her call and come to their rescue. In that plea, she poured all her hopes, her fears, and her unwavering faith in the crew that awaited their arrival, trusting that their vessel would swoop in like a guardian angel to snatch them from the clutches of imminent danger.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
"Boost the waveform on the gain stream!" Uhura's voice cut through the tense atmosphere on the bridge, her urgency palpable. "I need more signal to lock!"
"Trying!" Chekov yelled in response, his fingers dancing over the controls. Then, in an instant of triumph, he announced, "Got 'em—toopik!" His free hand slammed down on a large control disk.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
The re-materialization was far from graceful, far from regulation. It lacked the poise of a typical Starfleet transport, the precision of synchronized arrivals.
Instead, when Buffy and Kirk materialized on the transporter pad, it was with an unceremonious crash. Their bodies slammed into the deck with considerable force, an undignified arrival that was met with a chorus of surprised gasps from the tech crew.
But despite the less-than-ideal landing, both officers let out pained grunts rather than cries of agony, a testament to their resilience.
As the tech crew looked on in astonishment at the unorthodox arrival of the two officers, Kirk and Buffy slowly peeled themselves off the transporter deck, taking a moment to collect themselves.
Holding himself and wincing from the impact, Kirk blinked in Buffy's direction, his voice slightly strained. "Th-thanks."
Buffy, equally battered but resolute, responded with a wry smile. "That's what Slayers do."
Kirk began a thorough self-examination, starting from his head and working his way down his body, meticulous in his search for any injuries or damage. As his examining fingers traveled down his torso and reached his thighs, a growing sense of relief washed over him. It appeared, against all odds, that he had emerged from their harrowing descent intact.
"I swear we were so close I could smell the dirt," Kirk mused, his voice tinged with disbelief at their miraculous survival.
"We were," Buffy admitted somberly as the doors to the transporter room parted, allowing Spock and Dawn to enter.
Spock and Dawn wasted no time and positioned themselves for departure, their expressions resolute. Spock issued a concise order. "Step—or roll—aside. We're going to the surface."
Without waiting to see if Kirk and Buffy complied, Spock turned his attention to the transporter's chief engineer, relaying precise instructions. "You should already have received coordinates for a specific disaster shelter located near the city of Shi'Kahr. While physical design constraints prevent putting us down inside, get us as close to the entrance as you can."
"I'll do my best, sir," the transporter chief replied, immediately setting to work on the task at hand.
Concern etched on her face, Buffy turned to Dawn, her voice filled with worry and compassion. "Dawn?"
Dawn met Buffy's gaze with unwavering determination. "Someone I love is down there, Buffy," she explained, her words laden with emotion. "She adopted me a hundred years ago after a mind meld that had side effects."
Buffy nodded in acknowledgment as she helped Kirk step away from the transporter platform, their eyes still reflecting the gravity of the situation.
"The surface of what? You two are going down there? Are you two nuts?" Kirk couldn't help but voice his incredulity.
But Spock's response was swift and unwavering. "Energize."
In an instant, Spock and Dawn were dematerialized, leaving behind a grim team of transporter technicians, as well as Buffy and Kirk.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Spock and Dawn materialized on the surface of Vulcan with a sudden jolt, nearly losing their balance due to the unstable ground beneath them. The continuous earthquakes had left the terrain treacherous, varying in strength and intensity.
The transporter team had executed their instructions with precision, placing them directly in front of the entrance to the shelter. The looming opening beckoned urgently.
Without hesitation, Spock and Dawn raced toward the shelter, their footsteps light and agile as they navigated around falling debris and crumbling structures.
Deep within the sanctuary, amid the chaos that surrounded them, six sets of hands rested on the katric ark, Vulcan's most sacred artifact, which was believed to house the katra or soul of the ancient known as Surak. The Elders were linked together through a powerful mind-meld, their voices chanting softly as they sought solace and unity in the face of the escalating calamity. Among the melded group were T'Pol, Amanda Grayson, and Sarek, each contributing their unique presence and strength to the collective effort.
Amanda, though unable to participate in the mind meld directly, was a vital presence, for Sarek deemed her involvement essential to the endeavor.
Amanda was taken aback when her son and Dawn burst into the sanctuary, their urgency palpable. Spock wasted no time in conveying the dire situation.
"Mother, the planet is not safe," he began, his voice carrying a weight of gravity. "A singularity has been ignited in the core. There may be only seconds left."
With those words, Spock tilted his head back, allowing himself one last sweeping look at the sanctuary that held immense cultural and spiritual significance.
Dawn moved swiftly to T'Pol's side; her words intended for her adoptive mother despite the ongoing mind meld. "Mom, I know you can hear me despite being in the mind meld. We must evacuate this shelter immediately. Nothing is going to remain. Nothing."
"T'Lekus is correct, mother," Spock affirmed, his expression resolute.
Amanda's gaze shifted between her son and Dawn, a mixture of concern and trust in her eyes. She might not fully comprehend the situation, but she placed her unwavering trust in Spock and Dawn.
"Go help T'Lekus tell your father and the others," Amanda instructed, understanding the urgency of the situation.
Spock glanced at Dawn; they both knew the Elders would be reluctant to leave. A comparable group of humans charged with similar spiritual duties would have been adamant in their desire to remain, to perish with their relics and their sanctuary. It was possible that the Elders felt similarly, but the decisions of Vulcan Elders are not made on the basis of how they happen to feel. A runaway singularity would destroy their planet. It must not be allowed to destroy their civilization. Removing the ark from its pedestal, they carried it between them as they rushed to abandon the collapsing sanctuary.
T'Pol acknowledged Dawn's words with a nod as they followed the others, their steps hastened by the impending catastrophe. The dire circumstances didn't allow for extensive pleasantries.
"It is good to see you, T'Lekus," T'Pol replied.
Dawn's expression carried a mixture of concern and determination as she responded, "I wish I could say the same under the circumstances, T'Pol. That said, I do have some good news. You have, if you so desire, a new adopted daughter. My sister has finally joined us in this time."
T'Pol's gaze held a trace of warmth despite the urgency of the situation. Dawn had shared with her the story of Buffy and the revelation made by Fate regarding her daughter's identity.
"I am glad to hear that," T'Pol stated. "If she consents, I would be happy to call her daughter."
As they emerged into the open, they were met with a surreal and horrifying sight that defied imagination. Vulcan's terrain, in every direction, was disintegrating, with mountains, bluffs, ridges, and desert collapsing inward as if the very planet was folding in upon itself.
Without wasting a moment, Spock swiftly retrieved his communicator and urgently relayed their situation to the Enterprise. His voice resonated with a sense of imminent danger.
"Spock to Enterprise. Emergency transport for seven additional individuals in my and Commander Summers' immediate vicinity, together with the large object we are carrying—now."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
In the tense atmosphere of the Enterprise's bridge, Chekov felt the pressure mounting as he strained to simultaneously and accurately lock in a transporter room full of strangers and their precious cargo. Every second counted, and he needed more time to ensure a safe and successful transport.
Across the bridge, Sulu remained focused on his instrumentation, his expression taut with anticipation. The countdown to their departure was rapidly dwindling.
"Thirty seconds before we must leave—or we never will," Sulu stated firmly, emphasizing the urgency of their situation.
Chekov's voice broke through the tension as he made a critical announcement, his fingers flying over the controls. "Locking signatures," he declared, his tone unwavering. "Transport in five, four, three..."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Amidst the chaos and destruction of Vulcan's collapse, Amanda Grayson shared a moment with her son, Spock. Her gentle words carried a profound understanding of their predicament and the emotions that surged within them. As the world crumbled around them, she offered him solace, acknowledging the fear that they both felt.
"It's okay," Amanda whispered quietly, her voice filled with love and reassurance. "To be scared."
But their brief exchange was abruptly interrupted by the cataclysmic events unfolding around them. The sanctuary's walls tore free from their stabilizing pylons, and the ground beneath Amanda's feet gave way, sending her plummeting into the abyss below.
"Mother!" Spock's anguished cry filled the air, echoing his desperation.
In a matter of moments, the transport process began, and eight of the assembled Elders, including Spock, dematerialized and reappeared on board the Starship Enterprise. But the ninth, Amanda Grayson, had become one with the disintegrating body of Vulcan, forever bound to the planet that had been her home.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
In the bustling main transporter bay of the Enterprise, dedicated technicians worked tirelessly to finalize the transport process. As the swirling patterns of energy solidified, eight distinct forms began to take shape. The Elders, including Sarek and T'Pol, materialized in the designated area, their expressions a mix of awe and disorientation as they assessed their new surroundings.
Among them, Dawn's empathic abilities allowed her to sense the emotions of those around her. She glanced toward Spock, recognizing the turmoil in his emotional state. His gaze remained fixed in the distance, as if he were searching for something that had been left behind and could never be retrieved.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
On the bridge, an agonized Chekov spun around, his face contorted with desperation as he bellowed at Sulu. He had tried, desperately, to bring nine signatures on board. His voice cracked with anguish as he gasped out, "Transport complete!"
Tension filled the air as Chekov knew he had managed only eight, and his heart sank like a lead weight in his chest. His eyes darted to Sulu, searching for any sign of hope.
Sulu's face mirrored the urgency of the situation. Without pausing for confirmation—there was no more time for confirmation, or anything else—he swept a trembling hand over the glowing controls. His fingers trembled with the weight of the decision as he choked out, "Maximum warp—engaging emergency power!"
As the starship bolted in the general direction of the center of the Milky Way, its rear-facing sensors recorded a disruption that was insignificant on the galactic scale but terrifying in human terms.
The crew watched in horror as Vulcan imploded. Cheeks blanched, and eyes widened as the planet crumpled in upon itself like a candy wrapper in a child's hand. The once-vibrant world, with its deserts, atmosphere, oceans, and bustling cities, vanished before their eyes. The pain of loss was etched into their faces, and tears welled up, unshed.
In their place, a brief blaze of intense light lingered on the retinas of those looking on—the last glow of the planet's molten core. Then it, too, was gone. The bridge was filled with a heavy, sorrowful silence as the realization sank in. Only a very small black hole remained at the interstellar coordinates where once a high civilization had thrived. It was a chilling reminder of the devastation they had just witnessed, and the crew could hardly comprehend the scale of the tragedy.
The incredible gravitational strength of the indiscernible monster that was the singularity reached out in all directions. It licked at the fleeing Enterprise, but the range of its all-consuming grasp extended only to a zone from which the starship had already fled. Behind lay the rest of the Vulcan system—and memories of a world that was no more.
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
While the other Elders murmured among themselves, Sarek and Spock, as well as T'Pol and Dawn, embraced tightly. Their expressions were a complex mix of sorrow, worry, and determination, hidden behind the stoic Vulcan facade. To those who weren't empathic or telepathic, it was impossible to discern the depths of what Sarek, Spock, and T'Pol were thinking.
Kirk, his heart heavy with sympathy, found himself moving toward Sarek and Spock, a genuine concern etched across his face. His voice held a comforting warmth as he spoke, reminiscent of the way he would console a neighbor back in Iowa. "Spock—I'm sorry."
Spock remained silent, his Vulcan features impassive, but his eyes held a glimmer of acknowledgment.
Dawn, having learned much about Vulcan culture during her time as T'Pol's adoptive daughter, understood the Vulcan tendency to retreat into logic when faced with tragedy. She stood with T'Pol, offering silent support.
Amidst the somber atmosphere on the bridge, Spock removed his recorder and spoke into it with a measured tone, his words carrying the weight of responsibility. "Acting captain's log, stardate twenty-two fifty-eight—point forty-three. In the absence of Captain Christopher Pike, and pursuant to the relevant Starfleet regulations, I have assumed command of the Enterprise. We've received no word from Captain Pike since he was taken aboard the atypical Romulan vessel known as the Narada. I have therefore classified him as a hostage of the war criminal known as Nero."
"Based on readings taken as the enemy vessel departed and in consultation with the Enterprise's computational facilities," Spock continued in his signature logical manner, "it is hypothesized that its next destination may be the Sol system—and, presumably, Earth." His words hung in the air, casting a shadow of concern over the bridge. "Further updates will be forthcoming as new information becomes available."
With the recorder deactivated, Spock stepped down from the transporter platform and left the room.
Buffy, her heart heavy with the news and her sister's well-being in mind, whispered to Dawn as she gently laid her hand on her sister's shoulder. "Dawnie?"
T'Pol observed the interaction with her characteristic Vulcan calm, her gaze shifting from Dawn to Buffy and back. "I take it, this is she?" Her words were measured, revealing her curiosity.
Dawn nodded with a warm smile, introducing her sister with pride. "This is her, mom. Buffy, I would like you to meet my adopted mother, T'Pol." Her voice held a note of affection as she continued, "Mom, this is my sister, Buffy Anne Summers."
T'Pol inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you," she said to Buffy. "Dawn has told me a great deal about you. I am pleased to see that she finally has you back. We have much to discuss. For now, tend to your duties while I see to Sarek and the other Elders."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
As Spock wandered through the main sickbay, his keen intellect was engaged in taking stock of the survivors. The total number of Vulcans in the room was pitiful, a stark reminder of the devastating loss their people had suffered. His gaze moved over the faces of those who remained, his thoughts dwelling on the countless others who were scattered throughout the galaxy—in missions, embassies, scientific outposts, and starships. They were a resilient people, but the scale of the tragedy weighed heavily on his mind. The once-influential Vulcan civilization had been reduced to a mere fraction of its former glory.
"Spock," came a voice, interrupting his contemplation.
Spock turned to find Dawn at his side, falling into step with him. Her presence brought a sense of comfort amidst the chaos and uncertainty that surrounded them.
"This is confidential, of course," Dawn began, her voice carrying a note of trust. "But I would like you to tell me what's going through your mind."
Spock considered her question carefully, knowing that Dawn, despite not being Vulcan by birth, possessed a deep connection to their culture through her adoption by T'Pol.
"Likely the same thing going through yours," Spock admitted, his normally reserved demeanor showing a hint of vulnerability.
Dawn shook her head gently. "No, not remotely," she countered, her tone sincere. "I am an adopted citizen of Vulcan because of my adoption by T'Pol." Her words held a profound significance, acknowledging her unique place in the midst of this Vulcan tragedy, and the bond that tied her to this world and its people in a way that even Spock, with his Vulcan heritage, could not fully comprehend.
"If I may ask," Spock inquired, his curiosity piqued, "How did that come to be?"
Dawn took a moment to collect her thoughts before answering. "T'Pol mind melded with me once. There were side effects," she began, her voice tinged with a mix of understanding and apprehension. She met Spock's raised eyebrow with a steady gaze. "I gained some level of emotional suppression, and I also now go through…"
Spock's eyes widened in surprise as he finished her sentence, his voice softening with a note of astonishment. "Pon Farr?"
Dawn nodded; her expression serious. "Yes, every seven years. My body wishes me to seek a mate. T'Pol had mind melded with me every seven years since that day to fool my body. But she won't be able to do that again. She's in the early stages of Bendii Syndrome."
Spock's Vulcan features remained composed, but his concern for T'Pol was evident in his eyes. "Has she begun to lose emotional control?" he inquired.
"Not yet," Dawn replied, her voice tinged with worry. "And without her help, my body is going to force me into seeking a mate within the next year or go mad. As it is almost time for me to begin Pon Farr." She looked at Spock pointedly. "We've deviated, you know."
"I am aware," Spock admitted solemnly. He felt the weight of the situation heavy on his shoulders, his Vulcan stoicism only partially concealing the turmoil within. "While the essence of our culture has been preserved, Nero has destroyed our home planet. Of its six billion inhabitants, I estimate that no more than ten thousand survived."
Dawn nodded in understanding, her eyes reflecting the gravity of the revelation. "Which means you and I, by my adoption, are part of an endangered species," she said, her voice filled with a mixture of sadness and acceptance.
Spock acknowledged her observation with a quiet nod. As they walked, they happened upon Kirk and Buffy. The two Starfleet officers were there, tending to the injured, displaying compassion and resilience in the face of tragedy.
Kirk, his demeanor a mix of professionalism and genuine care, tended to a Vulcan girl, his words soothing and reassuring as he attended to her injuries. A small smile graced his face as he wrapped a slender arm stained with green blood in a self-sealing bandage.
Noticing Spock and Dawn standing nearby and watching, Buffy's eyes conveyed a sense of regret as she sent a look of empathy toward them. She understood the pain and loss reflected in their eyes, a haunting familiarity that had always lingered in her own back in Sunnydale.
However, Spock, ever reserved, turned without speaking or responding in any fashion to Buffy's expression. With a purposeful stride, he exited the sickbay, leaving Dawn and Buffy behind.
Dawn leaned into Buffy, seeking solace in her sister's comforting presence. Buffy knew that words alone couldn't heal the deep wounds Dawn felt.
"Are you okay?" Buffy asked, though she already knew the answer. Dawn's pain was palpable.
"No," Dawn replied, her voice heavy with sorrow. "I'm not Vulcan, but because of my adoption, they are my people."
Buffy nodded in understanding, her arm wrapping protectively around her sister. "You basically see their faces," she said softly, her own experiences with loss and guilt giving her insight. "Like I always have with those I couldn't save."
Dawn's response affirmed Buffy's understanding. "Yes," she said, her voice tinged with sadness. "I'm supposed to feel the emotions of humans only. When I was made Millennial, space travel had not even been thought of beyond NASA's space program. But since my first tour of duty on a starship, I have found I can also sense other humanoids to a lesser extent. I could sense those left behind on Vulcan as their planet was destroyed around them. While Vulcans suppress their emotions for logic, they still, in reality, feel them. I felt overwhelming fear."
Buffy listened with empathy, her heart aching for her sister. She knew that Dawn was dealing with emotions and responsibilities that were beyond what anyone could prepare for.
"You should go back to the bridge, Buffy," Dawn said, her voice carrying a sense of resolve. "I think I will go meditate in my quarters."
With that, Dawn left the sickbay, leaving Buffy unsure of how to help her sister in this moment of deep turmoil. As she watched Dawn depart, she couldn't help but admire her sister's strength and compassion, even in the face of such overwhelming challenges.
"Buffy," came a voice from behind the Slayer.
Startled, Buffy spun around to see T'Pol approaching. "Yes," she replied, her curiosity piqued.
T'Pol's expression was solemn as she addressed the chief of security. "I need to speak with you in private," she informed Buffy. "Is there somewhere we can go?"
Buffy nodded and gestured for T'Pol to follow her. They made their way to her quarters, and Buffy settled on her bed, looking up at the elderly Vulcan. "What can I do for you?" she asked, her concern evident.
T'Pol's gaze was unwavering as she delivered the sobering news. "I'm dying," she stated plainly. "And Dawn's condition needs to be addressed."
Buffy's confusion was palpable. "Dawn's condition?" she asked, her brow furrowing. "She can't die, so why would she have a condition?"
"It is not an illness," T'Pol clarified, correcting the incorrect assumption. Her words hung in the air, laden with significance. "It is a biological imperative for Vulcans."
Buffy's brows furrowed in confusion. "But Dawn isn't Vulcan," she countered.
T'Pol proceeded to unravel a deeply unusual and private aspect of Vulcan biology that was rarely discussed outside of their culture. "Biologically, you are right," she began. "You see, we served together on the Enterprise NX-01 under Jonathan Archer. I performed a mind meld at one point with Dawn. The reasons for the mind meld are not important. What is important is what happened to your sister as a result. This is not something that is generally spoken of amongst Vulcans, let alone with people of other species."
T'Pol took a deep breath, preparing to reveal the complex situation they faced. "Vulcans go through what is called Pon Farr every seven years," she continued. "It is the drive to take a mate. Due to that first mind meld, Dawn's body reacted in a way that had never been seen before. I believe it could have been because of her status as a Millennial. Her empathic gift latched onto something within me. So, Dawn now experiences Pon Farr. Due to a Vulcan illness I have, known as Bendii Syndrome, I am not going to be able to mind meld with her again. She will need a mate. Due to her longevity, there is only one person who can fulfill that role. You."
Buffy's shock was evident in her voice as she struggled to process the gravity of T'Pol's request. "You want me to mate with my sister," she said, her words filled with disbelief.
"There is no one else," T'Pol admitted sadly. "If anyone else were to mate with her, it would be a temporary solution because once they die her body would force to take another. And then when they die another. It would be an unending cycle for the remainder of the Millennium. Because what has been done to you, she could mate with you and not have to take another for the remainder of her life."
Buffy's shock and surprise were evident as she processed the weight of T'Pol's request. "I... I would have to think about it," she admitted, her emotions in turmoil. She loved her sister, of course, but the idea of a romantic relationship with Dawn was a complex and unexpected proposition that left her uncertain about how to proceed.