Chapter 6: Time is a Fire
Gabi was still tugging her shirt into a more presentable position when the Red Alert suddenly shut off. She looked around the room, as if anything in the corners between the walls and ceiling could tell her what happened, and tapped her combadge. "Dixson to Lieutenant Taurik."
"Miss Dixson?"
She took a small breath at his voice, even though she knew he'd sound calm no matter what was going on. "Do you know what's happening?"
"The observatory in the Amargosa system reported they were under attack."
Gabi only knew about the small observatory because it had occupied a single line in the briefing informing the crew of their surroundings for the next several months while the Enterprise engaged in routine exploration and diplomatic missions after delivering a small contingent of colonists and scientists to a new settlement on a planet. According to that one line, the observatory was a reason for some tension between the Federation and the Romulan Empire. As usual, they accused the Federation of spying. And, as usual, the Federation denied it. It was a stellar observatory. It was in the name.
"Have you been recalled to duty?" Taurik asked.
The question caught her off-guard—not because it was difficult to answer in any way, but because it wasn't a question she expected of him. She didn't know if she should be concerned. "Not yet. Have you or Sam?"
"Sam left for the bridge approximately two minutes ago," Taurik said. "I am awaiting orders."
With a heavy sigh, Gabi checked the clock. Pressed on her angrily roiling stomach and the anxiety that bounced around in there. Sam being called to the bridge outside his usual shift made her even more nervous. "Do you think it's Romulans?"
"I do not know," he said. After a few seconds, he offered, "It seems unlikely. There are more pressing matters for them to attend to on either side of the border. Regardless, there is no cause for concern. The Enterprise is tactically a match for a Romulan Warbird."
Sure, maybe one, she wanted to say. But what if there was more than one out there? She wished she could get to a window to look for herself, but that was stupid. Cloaking devices were some of the coolest things in the galaxy she could think of, but she would never see one. Even if there was one out there, she'd be in Engineering if anything happened.
"Gabi?" Taurik pressed.
"Sorry. Just thinking." She took another breath and tried to slow her racing heart. It was impossible that less than thirty minutes ago she'd been laughing on the holodeck. "I don't have a duty shift until tomorrow."
"I am aware."
"I mean, I'm going to… to…" She looked around in her small room for something to do. A stack of PADDs had downloaded her most recent interest in the movement of chlorophyllic leaves to catch sunlight. "Read," she added.
No way she could concentrate enough to read about trees.
"On what subject?"
She smiled. Obviously, he didn't care what she was reading about. "Maple trees," she said. "The way the leaves grow and turn to absorb sunlight."
"I see." He waited for a few moments, maybe for her to have something else to say.
She didn't have anything to say, but that didn't stop her from talking. "Have you heard of the Acer sha'plak? I think it's a cross between one of Earth's maple trees and the Vulcan blood maple. Bred in honor of Ambassador Spock."
"Yes. The common name is the United maple. It is cultivated in large numbers on the Starfleet Academy grounds."
"I think I'll get one."
"A maple tree?"
"Yeah, you know. A small one. Whatever it's called." She didn't remember what they were called on Earth, though she knew she knew it. She also knew the Vulcans had their own version used in meditation, but couldn't remember the word for that, either.
"I believe the Earth term is bonsai. Pi'lap in Vulcan."
They were both quiet for what seemed to Gabi to be a very long time. She picked up the PADD containing her study on maple leaves, but put it back down after she turned it on and off several times. She went out to the main room and deposited two empty ice cream bowls from the night before into the replicator.
"What are you going to do?" she asked finally. She didn't know why she hadn't thought about asking until just now.
"Meditate."
"Oh. I should probably let you do that, huh?" It had been a tough day for everyone probably.
Not especially Taurik, though. At least, not after he meditated and remembered that Gabi was really just an annoying pest in his schedule most of the time. He never said that, but she was starting to read Vulcan eyebrows like their own language. He might miss her when she transferred to the Sadalbari, but not for very long.
Besides… she would send him a message two or three times a week. Sometimes he and Sam seemed like her only friends anymore. Which wasn't fair, but she wouldn't make the same mistakes on the Sadalbari.
Unless, of course, someone needed her to. Then she would absolutely sleep on someone's couch while they meditated or invite them to drinks after shift. No questions asked.
She'd almost forgotten she was still on the line with Taurik when he spoke again. "Would you care to join me?"
And, of course, he probably knew she was scared. For no good reason, of course. But that didn't seem to change her stomach's opinion on the situation. "If you don't mind."
The turbolift was only about a minute's walk from the quarters she and Eliza shared—all things considered, they had very conveniently-located quarters. Taurik and Sam didn't have quarters conveniently located to anything except the holodecks and cetacean ops. Taurik granted her entrance as soon as she called.
With the exception of a truly stupid number of souvenirs, her quarters and theirs were identical. A small table with four chairs dominated the main room, as well as a couch, a coffee table, a desk for working, and a bookshelf—Sam's and Taurik's were mostly filled with several hard-backed books, though there were some trinkets, too. Gabi had browsed them more than once, but most of them were in Vulcan. Of course, there was also the low meditation table that she was extremely familiar with by now. In ordinary quarters, that space would be taken up by another couch.
Taurik knelt at the table in his Engineering uniform—probably in case of emergency—but watched her walk in. "I anticipate we will hear something in approximately thirty or forty-five minutes," he said, and nodded to the spot beside him at the table.
Gabi joined him there, though she rarely meditated with him. Not technically. She just kind of sat quietly and thought about what she was going to do later. "From Sam?" she asked.
"He sent a message that Commander Riker, Worf, and a security team have beamed over to the station to investigate. However, the system appears to be deserted." He turned back to face the wall.
Gabi didn't give him the time to close his eyes. "But if it's Romulans, we wouldn't know."
"This is true," he agreed. "Nevertheless, this seems an insignificant target for a first-strike if the Romulan Empire truly intended to antagonize the Federation with any lasting consequences." He settled again onto his feet beneath him, and folded his hands. "Your fear will not benefit you in this situation," he said quietly.
"Don't you think if I could stop being afraid, I would?" At least she caught back her angry jab that he should be one to talk. His people were known for their ability to just stop feeling whatever they wanted, and he couldn't always do that, either.
With a huff, she planted her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her hands.
"It was not a criticism," he added. "Only an observation. I am finding it somewhat difficult to concentrate. Your impending transfer has reminded me of some rather… unpleasant emotions I had suppressed."
She watched his folded hands as though they were more interesting than they were. Beyond them, she could see the picture of Vorik staring at the room like he always did. "What emotions?" she asked quietly.
"Regret. Resentment. However illogical it is, I still consider my assignment to the Enterprise to have been a mistake. I allowed that assessment to influence my reaction to the news of your leaving in… unexpected ways. But, of course, neither of these emotions are constructive."
"A mistake…?" She didn't think so, but what did she know?
He was probably her best friend at this point. Sure, they'd only been close for about eight months now, and she'd known him for almost two years, the first few months only in passing. But now, definitely illogically, she felt like she'd known him her whole life. He probably didn't feel that way, because that was an incredibly emotional assessment, as he'd say. But that didn't mean it wasn't the truth.
"I had the option to accompany Vorik on his assignment when he didn't get assigned to the Enterprise. I should have remained with him." He took a small breath, straightened his spine and pressed his hands together more firmly. "I find myself speculating about the possibility of similar outcomes for those who are important to me. However, the notion that I could somehow maintain physical proximity to all of those people is impractical."
Gabi shifted to rest her forehead in her hands. It wasn't the first time she'd been wrong, nor was it the last. She held back from pointing out they wouldn't have to worry about it if they found themselves in a phaser-fight with a flock of Romulan Warbirds. And, of course, the more she thought about it, the more unlikely it seemed. And, as much as she didn't want to admit it out loud—and probably wouldn't—Taurik was right. Even if it did happen like that, being worried about it now wouldn't do her any good.
Maybe Taurik needed to hear that, too. "Not only that, but… worrying about whether or not we'll ever see each other again won't do us any good." She glanced at him, tried to show she intended it to be something of a joke.
But it wasn't a joke. It was possible the Enterprise would meet Romulans out here, or Klingons, or whatever, and this would be the end of all of them.
Taurik would say that was unlikely. But it could happen. Weird things happened all the time.
Taurik contemplated that for whole seconds before finally nodding. "That is correct. So I'm meditating." He hesitated, tapped her shoulder with his. "Would you like me to guide you?"
She took a breath and matched her hands to his. Adjusted to sit on her feet. "Sure, why not. Let's meditate." She shut her eyes. "Couldn't hurt."
She only heard him settle again, raise his hands to lean his arms on the table. "Indeed." Other than his quiet breath, he was completely still and quiet until he instructed her to imagine herself as the flame of the meditation lamp.
Gabi wasn't sure how well the meditation worked. For all she knew, it was just the time passing between panic and deciding nothing had happened so far so it probably wasn't going to. Either way, she followed Taurik's instructions on enlarging the flame of her soul until it was bigger than the darkness that surrounded her. It was a surprising meditation, since she was used to the metaphor of the flame as passion. Apparently in Vulcan conventions, fire meant something different.
She decided to ask later. After.
When the door opened behind them and Taurik suddenly spun toward it, she realized she probably wouldn't have the chance today.
"Sam," Taurik said. "Has the away team returned?"
"Yeah." Sam gave Gabi a nod of greeting when she turned to look, too. With what sounded like a heavy sigh, Sam sat on the couch. "They found two dead Romulans on the station," he said, and Gabi's stomach felt like it dropped on the floor. "Most of the scientists were dead and the place was ransacked: they accessed the central computer, turned the cargo bay inside out."
Gabi tried to arrest her shivering hands and listen to what Taurik had to say.
"Did anyone have any guess as to what they were looking for?" he asked. When Sam only shook his head, Taurik mused, "This could indicate a new Romulan threat in the sector."
"Commander Riker sent the information to Starfleet. They're mobilizing reinforcements to the area." Sam unzipped most of his uniform, revealing the gray undershirt beneath.
Taurik looked at his hands, still resting in their folded position on his bent knees. "This is concerning."
If even Taurik was concerned… "You think the Romulans are actually out there?" she asked.
"There is no way to be certain," Taurik said. He looked at her, then, and she watched his eyes narrow first on her eyes, then at her hands clasped and quivering in her lap.
As soon as she noticed, she pressed her palms to her knees and resolved to calm down. Even if the Romulans were waiting to attack the Enterprise, being worried about it now wouldn't do her any good. She was bigger than that. She was more than her fear.
Wasn't that how the meditation went?
It was just a few minutes ago, but she couldn't remember…
"Would you like to accompany us to Ten Forward?" Taurik asked Sam as he rose.
Sam smiled, but he looked tired. Worried. "I'm good, thanks. Gonna get some rest. Got shift in a few hours."
Gabi looked up at Taurik from the floor. "Ten Forward?"
"The distraction may be helpful… provided you do not consume any alcoholic beverages." He eyed her hands again. "I doubt we will be recalled to duty, but in the case that we do you should be alert."
Gabi nodded, focusing more on the first part of his sentence than the last—he doubted anything would happen. It didn't make sense that his speculations were so comforting. He didn't know any more than she did.
But he would also always be smarter than she was.
Gabi had never seen Ten Forward so full. It seemed not only she needed to relax, but the increased numbers of colonists had increased the Enterprise's occupancy from just over a thousand to just under double that. Gabi had never seen so many children in the corridors. Either everyone was nervous, or no one was.
Taurik moved through the crowd to one of the tables in the back by the windows while Gabi got drinks. Guinan seemed busy talking to Commander La Forge and Data—neither of them seemed concerned at all. That was good to see.
Ben stepped up to the counter in front of her, the glance over her shoulder just barely perceptible before he addressed her. "Hello there, Gabi. Vulcan spice tea and Samarian sunset?"
"Two spice teas, actually." She sighed, leaning on the counter as he tapped in her request.
"On edge?" he asked.
"The 'all hands to battle stations' always makes me jumpy." She tried to smile, but was suddenly shocked into awareness.
"Oof!"
Gabi turned suddenly, saw the surprised look in Guinan's eyes, and Commander La Forge's intense interest as Commander Data seemed to shiver in response to whatever he'd just taken a drink of. She and Ben exchanged a glance as Data agreed with Guinan in apparent delight that he hated it.
"Well, that's new," Ben said, sliding two tea cups on the counter toward her. "Anything else?"
"Am I crazy, or should we be more worried about this?" Gabi whispered.
Ben shrugged, looking back at the commanders and Guinan. "If Commander La Forge isn't worried, I'm not worried."
Gabi sighed and picked up the teas. "He's never worried. Even when there's a warp core breach, he isn't worried."
Ben chuckled obligingly and went to the waiting ensign beside her.
Gabi strained to hear the continuing conversation at the bar, but Taurik was sitting too far away, his back to one of the glass chess sets. With a nod of thanks, he accepted the tea and took a drink.
#
Taurik briefly recalled the first time Gabi brought him tea in Ten Forward. He hadn't asked for it. He hadn't even wanted it. But it seemed like a kind gesture, and it would have been rude to turn it away. So for eight months he'd been drinking Vulcan spice tea, which he didn't really like, because it seemed like less trouble than telling her she'd made some sort of classification error.
"So, Commander Data is drinking something he hates over there," Gabi said, nodding in the commander's direction as she sat across from him.
Taurik found the back of the android's head through the milling crew and colonists. "Commander Data?" he said, almost like he was seeking clarification except that he knew he'd heard correctly. "He hates it?"
"That's what he said. Made a face and everything." She raised her eyebrows at him conspiratorially. "Hell of a day to suddenly have emotions, huh?"
As far as Taurik was concerned, most days were in that category—but he'd never seen Gabi as afraid as he'd seen her earlier. He was concerned, intrigued, but not afraid. The last time he was afraid, it wasn't because he thought he might die. It was, in a way, because he thought he might not. As Gabi had predicted, the intense emotions of that time had been ephemeral.
The ones that remained were no less pleasant, though dull enough that they pain they caused was more manageable.
"Not one I would have chosen," he said anyway.
"Now that's the dream," she said, pointing at him. She did that sometimes to emphasize a point, or when she had an idea she'd never considered before. "Emotions are something he can just install—switch off and on."
Taurik wasn't sure that was how it worked. But still… he sighed. "That seems convenient."
Gabi nodded, and suddenly shifted in her chair when she looked up at the maroon shirt walking past their table.
Taurik glanced once at the captain, but he didn't dwell on it. It was unusual that the captain would be mingling with the crew, and he seemed to be looking for someone in particular. But he seemed… different. Taurik wasn't that familiar with him, since he didn't venture down to Engineering with any regularity. Gabi didn't restrain her apparently awestruck reaction, watching the captain pass by without shame.
"Ah, yes, Captain," the man the captain stopped to talk to said. "Thank you for coming."
"I understand there's something urgent you wish to discuss with me?"
Taurik hadn't intended to listen—but they were standing almost too close to ignore. Except, of course, he could have chosen to ignore it the same way he ignored Commander La Forge talking to Data about his emotion chip. The way he might have ignored Vorik trying to get his attention while he was busy.
But there was something different there that he couldn't explain. A difference in the captain's expression and a difference in his voice. There was no reason Taurik should notice anything different about him, as his interactions with the captain were severely limited to the point of near non-existence.
Something different and yet familiar… in the eyes, in the tone. Something Taurik knew as well as he knew himself. Something he saw and heard every day.
It was irrational, of course. He didn't know what he might have in common with the captain. Probably nothing. The captain was a Human from Earth with decades of experience and a career that led him to a central seat on the bridge of the Federation's flagship. Taurik was extremely young—twenty-four years old—with no such aspirations. And even if he had such ideals, he wasn't sure he could achieve them.
Even though it was rude, he listened. "Then," the captain was saying, "I will allow you and your colleagues to return, but, until then, there's nothing I can do."
"Timing is very important in my experiments. If it is not completed in the next twelve hours, years of research will be lost."
"We're doing the best we can. If you'll excuse me."
"They say," the man the captain called Doctor Soran called the captain back to listen with only a harsh and unyielding tone. "Time is the fire in which we burn. Right now, Captain, my time is running out. We leave so many things unfinished in our lives. I know you understand."
The hesitation in the captain's response was as clear. He promised he would try to accommodate Doctor Soran and left immediately.
Gabi tapped the table between them. "Something's wrong with the captain," she whispered.
Taurik didn't doubt only he could hear her with the surrounding chatter. He'd come to trust Gabi's sense in such matters—at least, Taurik was always surprised how correct she was about him. "Why do you say?" he asked anyway, loudly enough for her to hear.
"Didn't you see him?"
"I did." She'd said that as if visual observation was all that was required for her peculiar gift. Perhaps it was, since he doubted Gabi had heard any of their conversation. It seemed innocent enough to Taurik, though something about it had evidently upset the captain. "It seems the doctor noticed the same thing you did," he offered.
"Well, yeah, it was written all over his face," she said. Gabi watched him for a moment, and it was obvious she was trying to decide something. Possibly whether to continue to talk about the captain. Finally, she said, instead, "That guy is shady as hell."
Taurik could only assume Doctor Soran had moved off or, better, left the room. "Have you considered a career in counselling?"
She laughed, and he would have been pleased except he couldn't decide if it had been a genuine suggestion. "With as much time as I've spent in a counsellor's office, I probably should have."
"I was unaware you attended counseling," he said, and wondered how that hadn't come up before… especially with as much as he had been seeing Counsellor Troi at her behest.
Upon reflection, he realized most of her statements in regard to counselling referenced her familiarity. He hadn't realized.
"A lot less now, but yeah. I've told you before that people from my planet suck, right?"
He frowned, recalling her having said that perhaps once or twice before. That didn't often come up, either, somehow. "Yes, I believe you did mention that." He took a drink of his tea. He didn't get to offer his own opinion, which was probably ultimately for the best. He didn't have one.
"You know, I think he enjoyed hating that drink," Gabi said.
Taurik turned his attention back to the bar where La Forge and Data still sat together, sampling a wide array of beverages from tiny flutes. "Possibly the introduction of any sensation where there had been none would be intriguing." He picked up his tea, realized he hated it, and that he, too, somehow still enjoyed it to a certain degree—and to him the sensation was not even new.
Obviously, there were many reasons to experience opposites in unison. Perhaps Data didn't have the experience or vocabulary to know just how many emotions he was experiencing in that moment.
As Gabi said, it was a hell of a day to have emotions.
Their conversation drifted away from the captain and even from Commander Data's newfound opinions on beverages. He heard her underlying anxiety even as she talked about the trees she studied, and he had to admit her studies were, as usual, interesting. Almost as useless as excursions to the holodeck to fight pirates, but still fascinating.
He had no one to tell the trivia anymore.
Gabi excused herself after thanking him for the distraction, and went back to her room, he assumed. He stayed in Ten Forward, watching the room empty over a game of chess he'd played with Vorik once while he contemplated the possibility of war with the Romulan Star Empire. He knew that such an event would affect him, but all related matters were beyond his ability to affect. Even now, he could only react.
He went back to his quarters, noting that Sam's door was shut. Since he'd slept the night before, he didn't feel particularly tired. His exercise in meditating earlier with Gabi had been sufficient for his own needs… leaving him with very little to do. It hadn't occurred to him until just now that he hadn't been unusually tired in perhaps months. He also had returned to meditating only approximately an hour a day. Even more interestingly, he wasn't particularly concerned about that.
He had an appointment with Counsellor Troi this morning—his monthly visit, and on a day when his thoughts were so occupied by an illogical sense of impending loss.
He replicated a cup of white tea with lemon and directed his attention to all the information he could access on Romulan engineering systems. Most of it was classified with clearance higher than his presently allowed.
Taurik redirected his attention at midnight to accompany Sam for his "breakfast" before he left. He was somewhat quiet, and neither of them mentioned Romulans. Much later that morning, he went to the counsellor's office on deck nine—a room and location that had become distressingly familiar.
Counsellor Troi smiled when he entered her office. "Good afternoon, Lieutenant. Thank you for coming." The way she said it made it seem as if their continued association had not been his idea. "How have you been?"
With a still glance at the irregular couch, Taurik couldn't decide if omission of his musings today could be classified as a lie. He sat. "My physical and emotional states are both satisfactory," he said.
Troi nodded, though she seemed unconvinced. "Well, something's got you unsettled." She walked around the small round table tucked into the one of the bends in the couch and took a seat as stiffly as she usually did. She was barely a meter away from him.
He sighed. "Do you recall Miss Dixson?"
She smiled again, folded her hands in her lap. "Of course. One of the engineers you work with."
He had mentioned her multiple times, especially early in their association. After all, Gabi had been the one that insisted he begin seeing the counsellor. She was, to his mild discomfort, correct in her suggestion—even if her reasoning had been flawed. It was an annoying confluence of illogical course and beneficial outcome he'd become accustomed to living among Humans. Taurik still preferred to think he could have resolved this situation on his own. It would have taken longer, but he could have.
"She conveyed the news yesterday that she would be transferred to the Sadalbari early next month," he said, and didn't know how else to characterize his thoughts over the past sixteen hours.
"And how are you doing with that?" Troi asked.
"I believe it's an advantageous move for her career," he said. It was, at the moment, the only logical benefit he could see to her leaving the Enterprise.
She nodded in such a way he knew she would simply wait for him to say something else. In truth, most of their time was spend in complete silence while she waited for him to talk. It seemed impolite to wait when she knew so clearly he was withholding something… he thought the same when Vorik used to do it.
"Of course, I assume the Sadalbari requires her skills in some way," he added, since that, too, was a perfectly reasonable motive to transfer someone. "However, her absence in Engineering will be…" Manageable, actually. The Enterprise was an enormous ship. "Her absence will likely go unnoticed in Engineering."
Counsellor Troi obviously didn't anticipate his assessment. "Tell me what you mean by that."
"There are approximately two-hundred seventeen Engineers working on the Enterprise on average in a twenty-six hour period," he said. Only a small fraction of them worked in Main Engineering regularly enough to be noticed, though all of them passed through at one point or another throughout their day. "The loss of a single crew—even one who will not be replaced—is negligible."
"Negligible." Counsellor Troi didn't seem to be asking a question. "I assume you mean mechanically negligible. As in, her work will be easily covered by others in Engineering."
"She's skilled for someone with her years of experience," he said, since he realized what he'd said before hadn't exactly been positive. "Her presence on the Sadalbari will likely be appreciated."
She smiled. "The technical effects of crew transfers don't typically figure centrally in counselling sessions, Taurik. I'm sure she's just as capable as anyone with similar training. It sounds to me like you're deflecting from other effects her transfer might have."
"Logic isn't a deflection."
Counsellor Troi's smile turned a bit small. "I don't think you're concerned her transfer will leave Engineering in the lurch."
Of course. A classification error. He frowned. "No. It seems I was incorrect. I apologize."
She waved that away, patted the section of couch between them the way she did when trying to brush off the previous thought or topic in favor of a new one. "You already know a it's good thing to be able to look at an entire situation dispassionately: assess not only the way it affects you, but also everyone else. Clearly the Sadalbari needs crew like Miss Dixson. She wouldn't be transferred otherwise. But for you, I think, it's important to accept how that change might affect you—both positively and negatively. And this exercise doesn't have to be logical."
"It clearly is not logical." Taurik sighed. "However, it would be helpful if it were."
Counsellor Troi seemed to find the notion amusing. "Well, give it a shot."
Taurik was regularly fascinated by how absolutely different the two of them were. He had to imagine she was often overwhelmed with emotion, though from sources outside of herself due to her empathic abilities. She had obviously developed ways to suppress that, just as the average Vulcan might have. Nevertheless, her philosophy of dealing with them couldn't have been more different.
Other Vulcans on board did make use of Counsellor Troi's expertise, of course. Different perspectives could be helpful.
After some time in silence, contemplating his answer as much as Counsellor Troi's perspective, he arranged his thoughts to coherence. "I will suffer no lasting effects from Miss Dixson's departure. Also, she is persistent. She will likely ensure we maintain regular contact," he offered.
The counsellor nodded encouragingly, evidently feeling his reaction to a memory of the day before. An unwelcome thought that he hadn't had time to subdue and sweep away.
Even though he thought it was unrelated, he asked, anyway. "Have you heard the idiom 'Time is a fire in which we all burn'?"
"I haven't."
"I heard it for the first time yesterday. Similar idioms occur in several languages and cultures including Human, Andorian, and Bajoran." Obviously, not Vulcan. It was too evocative for that. The Human phrase was actually a rhyme, and included comparisons of time being a school—but it was unimportant.
"And what does it mean?"
"All that remains after a fire is heat and ash." And, after more time, not even those things. "I have adapted to the solitude. I have stopped compulsively speculating on the experiences that Vorik will never have… raising children, obtaining new assignments, learning skills. I believe he may even have become captain one day."
She smiled, softly. Sadly. "I'm sure he could have."
"I… I fear that one day I will be as though he never existed." He tore his eyes off the counsellor, to find something else on which to fix his visual attention. For being such a large room, the decorations were almost as sparse as his own room.
"If it's any consolation, I very much doubt you will ever forget him." Her tone was gentle, yet authoritative.
"If I conform to averages, I have lived only perhaps one-eighth of my projected lifespan. The notion of living the next sixty-thousand days in this pain is unwelcome, but more welcome than the idea of living without any." He took a breath, finding he hadn't for what seemed like a long time. "It's illogical."
Counsellor Troi leaned in, tapped the couch between them to draw his attention back to her. "Fire is destructive, yes, but it's also a source of warmth and light."
Taurik didn't know what that meant, but it didn't matter. Their time was almost over. "That is a curious observation, Counsellor. I will contemplate it. Though dwelling so much on metaphor seems inconsistent."
She smiled. Seemed amused. "I find that metaphor is only useful when we apply it to things we cannot otherwise understand or measure. Will I see you next month?"
Another curious observation. "Assuming no catastrophic events occur between now and then," he said, and rose. "Thank you, Counsellor."
Though he did not have a duty shift today, he went to Engineering anyway to sign for an additional shift. It was an emotional impulse. He had time and fire to think about. Since he wanted to think about neither, his time was better spent working than doing anything else.
Commander La Forge seemed once again completely unconcerned with the situation with the Romulans, though it seemed that half the department was working to analyze the Romulan tricorders recovered from the observatory. Taurik skimmed the report for mild interest, and was surprised how thorough they had been.
He attended his post, watching the warp core twitch with inefficiencies brought on by its years of use and, as usual, sent various ensigns and petty officers off on tasks to tune various machines and computerized processes.
Just as he was about to close the report he was investigating on unstable power distribution in the lower decks, he heard the familiar voices of Commanders Worf and Riker come into Engineering from the hallway behind him.
"Geordi?" Riker called, and paused at the central console. "What have you got for me?"
Taurik watched Commander La Forge pat Ensign Halloway on the shoulder before departing to report to Riker. "We've analyzed the Romulan tricorders. They were scanning for a signature particle of a compound called trilithium."
Taurik felt his lungs fill with cold fear for half a second, his hands seemed frozen on the console where he worked. He knew very little about trilithium, except that it was extremely volatile and powerful. In theory, it could be synthesized from dilithium, but the Federation had not, to his knowledge, had any reason to move away from dilithium as a power source due to its relative stability. Its entire usage repertoire was in weaponry.
"An experimental compound the Romulans have been working on," La Forge said. "It's a nuclear inhibitor. In theory, it could stop all fusion within a star, but the Romulans never found a way to stabilize it."
Worf folded his arms across his chest. "Just as well. The Romulans no doubt seek to weaponize such a compound."
"But why would they look for it on a Federation observatory?" Riker asked.
Taurik found his concentration again, and tried to listen as well as keep his concern in check. Even if the Romulan Star Empire had no interest in starting a war at present, the presence of trilithium weapons in the galaxy would surely shift the balance of power.
La Forge's shrug and answer was useless. "I don't know."
Riker nodded, though, as if it was somehow helpful. "You and Data go over with the next away team. Keep an eye out for this… trilithium. And if it's over there like the Romulans seemed to think it was, I sure as hell want to know how it got there."
"Aye, sir." La Forge went off, maybe to collect Data for his away mission.
That was an excellent question that Taurik hadn't considered. If the Romulans had been doing experiments with trilithium, presumably possessing a supply of their own, why would they have crossed the border to scan for trilithium here? Perhaps the Romulans were baited here by a third party?
Taurik certainly preferred that possibility, at least until the theoretical third party was confirmed and discovered. But even still, the Romulans were developing their use of trilithium. There was no scenario in which that fact featured that he would have chosen if he could.
It was only a matter of time before that happened, though. It seemed unlikely that the Federation was expending its resources exploring weapons of such volatile and destructive capabilities… though it might be logical to do so.
#
Sam tapped idly at his monitoring controls. To no one's surprise, the observatory was still sitting there. The star was still pumping out radiation. The planets were still rotating. The bridge was still quiet in nervous concentration.
Sam had been sitting at his post—back-up conn—for the last three hours. Sam hadn't worked the evening shift since his promotion, and pulling a double-shift that included back-up conn was probably not his favorite place to be sitting. It was interesting most of the time, but in an emergency it seemed like it could be terror-inducing.
He'd never been back-up conn in an emergency. Not yet. It was bound to happen sometime. And, of course, he'd never been primary conn in an emergency. He would have had some wild stories to tell about electrical burns or exploding consoles and concussions, presumably. Or he'd be dead. There weren't many other situations worth telling stories about.
Maybe curious aliens projecting themselves onto the bridge, sans viewscreen?
Suddenly, Sam's station lit up. The observatory winked at him once, followed by a streak of calculations that were too quick for him to process. The next second, the viewscreen flashed bright orange.
"Report," Riker said, standing and turning to look at the row of stations behind Commander Worf.
And, of course, the question was directed at Sam. "Sensors show the observatory launched a solar probe into the sun," he said, and pulled up the logs.
Riker reached for his combadge. "La Forge?"
"Commander?" The science-blue ensign turned, her expression drawn and lips blanched. "A quantum implosion has occurred within the Amargosa star. All nuclear fusion is breaking down. The star is going to collapse in less than ten minutes."
"How many minutes is 'less than ten,' Ensign?" Riker snapped, and the turbolift doors open to allow the captain entrance. He asked for a report, and Riker relayed the information.
"Sir," Worf added from tactical. "The implosion has produced a level twelve shock wave."
Sam consulted his console. It sure did. Everything in this system was going to be crushed and then burnt. Including the Enterprise if they didn't get out of here in about five minutes.
"Transporter room to bridge. I can't locate Commander La Forge or Mister Data, sir."
Picard turned to Worf, his words strained. "How long before the shock wave hits the observatory?"
"Four minutes, forty seconds," Worf said.
With hardly a word, Picard, Riker, and Worf shared a conversation that apparently involved them beaming over to the observatory to find La Forge and Data. Words were apparently unnecessary in this situation.
Sam's heart fluttered in his throat, though he knew that Picard would put the safety of the ship before even the four people on the observatory.
Still, time was running out.
He pulled up a timer measuring the shockwave and the amount of time they had before it hit the observatory, then pulled up the direct link to Taurik's PADD and hoped he was holding it.
Amargosa star collapsing.
Two seconds later, Taurik's text response returned. How?
Solar probe from observatory. Sam appended the sensor logs for Taurik's perusal.
Taurik responded so quickly that Sam doubted he'd even opened the logs. Time?
3:10
Is La Forge on the station?
Yes.
The gap before the response was significantly longer—though he was still only dealing with minutes and seconds. Just as Picard was telling Riker that he had two minutes left, Taurik responded—his message unusually clipped. Trilithium-based weapon.
Romulans?
The next message Taurik sent was almost ten seconds later. I hope not.