Blue on Blue

Chapter Twenty

On the low table in T’Pol’s quarters the meditation candle still burned bright, but the tea was gone, the cup empty of even its last lingering warmth.  Setting it aside, T’Pol rose and walked back to the monitor.  She stared at the words written there.

There had been so much more to the incident on Algieba Three than what she had managed to find words for in the personal logs included with her communication.  She wondered if they would be enough to express all she had come both to question and to believe in the past weeks.

The time on Vulcan with Captain Archer and the Syranites had been a time of strain and of revelations.  The Vulcan council may, or may not have been acting to oppress the telepathic resources of the population for reasons of its own.  The Syranites certainly believed there was some as yet undiscovered agenda behind the formidable moral strictures it had placed on Surak’s mind rules.

These were such uncertain times, not only on Vulcan, but here, aboard Enterprise as well.

She had slept off much of the meld’s effect over an entire ship’s cycle, then, under Phlox’s orders, been held off two further duty shifts for rest and recovery.  It was, in her view, more restful once she resumed her familiar routine of bridge operations.  The captain, who had developed a respiratory infection after his time in frigid waters, came back three shifts later.  It was almost a week before Trip resumed his duties in Engineering.

It was back to business as usual.  But everything had changed.

According to Phlox’s daily crew updates, Trip’s dizziness had subsided several weeks ago.  So, she noted during oral reports at staff briefings, had his tendency to breathe in quick, shallow gulps.  Even the suggestion of a limp had faded, except after long duty shifts.  That too would disappear with time.  It was only, as the doctor had conjectured, Trip’s memories that had not been recovered. 

Nor had the easy rapport they shared during the meld.  Perhaps it was the confusion between what his mind could tell him and what his heart said about a new closeness in his relationship to her.  Moments of painful tenderness alternated with cynical, cryptic comments designed to keep her at a careful distance until he could sort it all out.  This he would be unable to do without recovering the memories of what had happened in the tunnel.

She knew of only one way to help him restore those memories.  But should she try it?  She had only attempted one other contact since then, and she’d had assistance from the one-time carrier of the katra of Surak.

Which brought her back to the half finished document filling her computer screen.  After brief consideration, she slipped into the chair and began to write.

Over the span of hours that it took to complete the search and rescue of Commander Tucker and yourself, I found my attitudes about engaging in Vulcan telepathic abilities, including mind melding, coming into serious question.  If Commander Tucker and I had not forged a prior bond, I do not know whether the rescue team would have succeeded in finding either of you for several potentially fatal, hours.

That leads me to the subterfuge I engaged in with you.  When you asked me to attempt a meld with Ensign Sato to retrieve eye-witness information about the kidnapping of Doctor Phlox, I told you I had never initiated one.  Technically, this was true.  Trip and I had established a definite, though unintended mental connection some time before I reached him in the tunnels on Algieba. 

It was not reluctance to assist you, the doctor or Ensign Sato that made me hesitate.  I did not know if I could initiate a meld with someone I was not bonded to.  And, to be honest, Captain, I carried some culturally acquired shame over the pleasure I took in my meld with Commander Tucker, aside from any of our needs at the time.

When, as the one-time keeper of Surak’s katra, you offered to help with Ensign Sato’s meld, I was simultaneously grateful for that offer, aware of my need to comply and amazed at the lack of shame you displayed about giving your assistance.  The attitude you conveyed was so honest and practical, I found that it mirrored the beliefs I was reaching during our hours in the mine.

That combined with my readings of late, is causing me to make some major revisions to many lifelong beliefs.  I am coming to the somewhat uncomfortable realization that with the High Council’s condemnation of mind melding and other telepathic abilities, Vulcan culture has been denied one of its birthrights.

I would welcome, Captain, an opportunity to discuss these issues  with you at greater length.  Perhaps you would also consider the idea of mentoring me again, this time in some non-emergency melding exercises.  I would be most grateful.

T’Pol studied the last few paragraphs of her communication.  It had, she believed, expressed the letter, if not the entire spirit of the issue.  The inner peace, the sense of personal completion she had experienced during the two melds she had engaged in to this point was more than words could convey.  While the meld with Trip had been a more personal experience, the act with Hoshi had clarified to her that, unlike what she had been told, she was a natural, if untrained, telepath.  Her readiness to engage in the practice with Trip had not stemmed from deviance, but her basic nature attempting to assert itself.

She still found the entire subject somewhat confusing.  But what area of study was not initially motivated by questions or confusion?

Rising, she picked up the hand held pad and moved to the low table.  She gazed at the light pouring from the candle in its center.  Was it the misdirection of Captain Archer that caused her difficulty with meditating the past weeks?  Or was it her inner turmoil as she tried to adjust to the lack of emotional control brought on by the Trellium?  Or was it her attempt to deny that she wished to learn more of her deepest self?  Maybe she would access a new portion of the complete writings of Surak and use it for the basis of another meditation attempt. There was no doubt in her mind that this one would be successful.

She was scrolling through section titles when the door chime to her quarters sounded. Setting down the pad, she went to the door.  “Come,” she said as she approached it. When it slid open, she was somewhat surprised to see Commander Tucker gazing at her.  He had propped a shoulder against the doorjamb in a not quite casual “I’m just holding up the wall here” pose.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Ready?  For what, precisely?”  She studied him in some confusion.  There was no briefing or planning session scheduled for their next mission.  Even if she had spent longer in reminiscences than she had intended, she couldn’t, wouldn’t, have allowed so much time to pass that she had forgotten to attend any of the officers’ functions.

But then, the commander was out of uniform, dressed in casual, off-duty clothes.

“Well, T’Pol!  I’m surprised at you!” exclaimed Trip, fighting a losing battle with a grin.  “Famous Vulcan memory and all that!”  The sparkle in his blue eyes faded to seriousness.  “Look, I know it’s been a while, but…  T’Pol, I’ve…  Well, I’ve missed you and I kind of wondered…”

“Wondered what, Commander?”

“Well,” he shrugged.  She could sense he was looking for something solid beyond the awkwardness that had grown between them these past weeks.  Something familiar.  After a moment, he burst out.  “Don’t you know what day it is?”

“Commander, I am perfectly aware that it is Tuesday.”

“Tuesday, right.”  He nodded, waited the span of a heartbeat then quirked a questioning eyebrow at her.  “And that makes this…?”

One more heartbeat and she remembered.  Something familiar.

“Movie night.” They said in unison.

“Indeed, the thought had escaped my mind,” said T’Pol.

“Well?” asked Trip, more hope and eagerness apparent in his voice than he probably knew.  “I know that it’s been a while, but, do you want to come?  There’ll be popcorn.”

T’Pol nodded.  “I will be with you in a moment,” she said.

She did not bother to close the door, but allowed him to stand there, watching, as she walked to the small table, set down the pad and blew out the candle.

Just as she had no doubts that, when she returned to light it again, her meditation attempt would succeed, she was equally certain that it could wait. For a brief moment, she glanced from the rising wisps of smoke to the computer where she had saved Captain Archer’s letter and then to the crystal glimmering blue on blue beside it.  Blue on blue…  Trip’s one-time memory that she, alone, still carried.

At least for now. 

Without a second glance she turned and walked to the door of her quarters.  She paused in the entranceway, reached out a hand and touched Trip’s sleeve before he could start down the hall.  “Commander…” T’Pol began, then started again.  “Trip?”

“Yeah?” He turned to look at her.

“After the movie,” she said,  “I would like to invite you back here to my quarters.”

He stiffened slightly, but waited for her to go on. “As you said,” her voice was very quiet,  “It has been a while but…  I’d like to show you something.  And perhaps tell you a story.”

“Okay, afterward.  It’s a date.”  He grinned.  “Come on, T’Pol.  Popcorn’s waiting.”

T’Pol stepped away from the door.  Whisper-quiet, it slid closed behind her as she and Trip fell into step side by side and started away down the corridor.

End