Blue on Blue

Chapter Nine

Her hand remained gentle but firm on the side of his face.  Within the meld, they followed the captain down the tunnel.  It was older here and much less refined.  The lantern hooks came at wider intervals.  Striated limestone, compacted earth, flecks of mica and crystalline quartz created odd shadows and reflections as the scanner washed magenta, yellow or green light across the stones.  Scatters of fallen dirt and rocks made the going narrow enough at times that they had to juggle the canisters while using the wall for balance.  Every few yards, both Trip and the captain used their scanners to record the coordinates as per standard procedure. 

The tunnel roof grew higher.  The ground sloped more sharply downward.  Loose rocks scuttled into darkness as a boot connected with them.  There was the occasional sound of tiny scrabbling feet, the flick of long tails and the high pitched protests of rodents caught in the unexpected glare of head lamps.  The air grew increasingly damp and there was the distant patter of dripping water.

Trip’s breath caught as they stepped from the close confines of the tunnel into a huge, subterranean room.  “I thought this might be what the sensors were picking up!  This mine was built around a pre-existing cave!” 

The captain’s smile flashed again as his gaze swept over columns, spires and pinnacles, glimmering in clear gem tones, purple, rose, yellow and blue.  After a long moment, during which neither of them made any move to check the scanners, Trip let out a low, appreciative whistle. 

“I haven’t seen anything like this since I was maybe eight or ten.  Something like that.  We took a family vacation up to Florida Caverns Park, just outside this little town called Marianna-”

She felt a wince, then a fleeting question- Wonder if its still there?  -before Trip deliberately threw himself back into the flow of words and remembered delight. 

“It was a series of dry caves.  Room after room like this.  All those stalactites hanging down like icicles and huge stalagmites pointing up from the floor.  I said that they looked like dinosaur teeth.  Lizzie told me that if all the lights that were strung along the ceiling went out, those teeth were all ready to snap! right together and eat me up.  Gave me nightmares for a week!  Sisters!”  Sweet  reminiscence eased the bitterness of grief.  “You don’t know what you missed, being an only child!”

Jonathan laughed, a quiet, easy sound in the motionless space, and one even more foreign than that smile.  It was interesting that during these private moments Trip often thought of him as Jonathan, his long time friend, rather than as his captain, though she’d never heard him use the name any more than she had had heard the captain refer to the engineer as “Charles”.  She herself had never thought of Trip as “Charles” either, after her first few weeks aboard Enterprise. 

Jonathan’s gaze focused on a tapering pinkish stalactite poised at the highest point in the domed ceiling.  “It might have been fun to have siblings growing up- at least some of the time,” he said now.  “But I didn’t miss out on the chance to see a lot of caves.  My Dad loved the skies, loved to fly anything with wings or thrusters, but he also loved all kinds of exploration.” He let out a long, satisfied  sigh.  “He wanted me to have as many adventures as possible.  To give me a chance to dream big…  We’d go spelunking on our own to what caves we could, or go places they had public tours.  We went to Carlsbad, to Talking Rocks and a lava tube cave in Oregon I don’t remember the name of and we’d learn how the formations were created.”

They were companionable in their silence for several seconds before Jonathan continued.  “It caught my imagination, that water dripping down year after year, building those shapes out of rock residue.  All the while it was carving away at the same rock, digging underground rivers and scooping out spaces for subterranean lakes.  But-”  He quirked a questioning brow Trip’s way.  “You called yours ‘dry’ caves.”

“Well, yeah.  Since we lived on a peninsula, most caves in Florida opened onto the Gulf Coast or the Atlantic.”  Trip paused to run a sweep of their surroundings before he went on.  “A lot of the caves were either completely underwater or subject to the pull of the moon, affected by the neap and ebb tides.  Anyway, they weren’t safe for exploration, except by experienced, certified spelunkers.  The park we visited had the only ones in the area that were open to the public.  I wanted to go back there again the next year, but our parents opted for Disney Universe.”

That wince of recollection came again, brief and fleeting before Trip stepped ahead of the captain into the high ceilinged room.  “Don’t think I saw another cave until we checked out Jarrin Ibbray Caverns in the Sirius B system.  They didn’t hold a candle to this.  Or-” his laugh was quick, only a little forced, as he glanced over his shoulder and tapped his helmet.  “-a lamp!”  

Jonathan nodded.  “Kalandarah Prime has some fine caves, too.  I had a chance to visit them on my last mission before Enterprise.  You might want to…”  He stepped forward to watch Trip’s scanner display as he played it over a triple column of stalagmites.  The colors flickered, faded within the meld as another awareness was superimposed over the flow of images.  It had been there before the joining.

Uneasiness. 

It was faint, only a ripple.  But it must not be allowed to permeate the meld, divert Trip’s attention or alter his perceptions of what had happened. 

Concentrate.  Must concentrate. 

How long now had they been sharing minds?  Probably it was no more than moments, but she had never been trained in the ways of sustaining a meld.  She did not plan on getting trained, wouldn’t wish to indulge herself with such illogical, reprehensible behavior.  But admittedly right now it would have been helpful. It was illogical, wasting attention on condemning an act she was already committing.  She must focus on continuing to commit it. If she were a trained melder, would she find this endeavor so fatiguing? 

Neither Jonathan nor Trip had sensed danger yet.  Since she could not assist them by preventing it, she must not even dwell on her knowledge of its existence.

Concentrate…  Focus on the captain’s voice, picking up again in mid-sentence. 

“are really something.  You may want to check them out on your next shore leave.”  He glanced at Trip, who put down his empty canister, adjusted the scanner and made another careful pass over the stalagmites.  “Got something?”

“Yeah.  Look, Captain!  Do you see those blue flecks?”

Jonathan leaned forward.  “Some compound of quartz.”

“Yeah.  That yellow to your left?  Citrine.  The purple beyond it?  Amethyst.  Beautiful but basically inert.  This blue one here though?  That’s Cyrulinite.  You don’t find it at all on Earth.  A few handfuls of crystals like this, refined, then subjected to pressure and heat would be enough to power our engines for a month.  Might make a nice piece of jewelry too.”

Jonathan gestured to Trip’s pack.  “Shall we get started?”

“Not here.  The concentration’s higher a little further on.” Trip gestured deeper into the cave, where bluish glints from the rock formations were obvious in the lights from their helmets, even without the scanner readout.  “We picked up three or four other energy signatures from Enterprise that we could use, but I’m thinking we’ll go with this.  The others had a higher energy yield per milligram than Cyrulinite, but they’re more dispersed, a lot more volatile and would take a lot longer to extract and-”  Trip shrugged, then chuckled.  “Pretty as this place is, something about it is starting to give me the shivers.  Come on.  I think we’re about to strike the mother lode.”

She could feel Trip’s excitement, the lightness in his step, the comradeship between the two old friends as they descended a narrow passageway near the wall of the cave.  Trip kept his scanner trained toward a cluster of short low hanging stalactites.  They were not flecked but shone an almost entirely clear, translucent blue.

“Seems a shame to disturb something like that,” said a voice.

Something was odd here.  Wrong. 

Each word was distinct, but it was impossible to tell which of the well known voices had spoken or who replied.  “It looks like the formations down here have been disrupted …”

Even odder was the misty greyness dimming outlines and colors on all sides as they turned to walk away from that ghostly crystalline form that had seemed so very blue only moments ago. 

Deep breath.  Calmly now.  In.  Out.

Were they losing the meld?

Her breathing quickened, grew cautious and shallow until it matched his, breath for breath.  The connection between them was there.  

Concussion.  As they came closer to the moment of injury, the neural pathways would not retain all their stored information.  There could be more gaps like this one.  The captain must not disappear any deeper into one of them than he already had.

Tired, so tired.

Was this Trip’s exhaustion or her own?

They were coming out of the grey in a new location.  Presumably, it was one further down the path than before.  The formations were more jagged here.  Many crystals had broken free and lay scattered among chaotic piles of rock against the cave wall.  Gouged out gullies ran across the floor as though channels had been carved there. 

Jonathan knelt and raised cupped hands full of broken blue shards.  “How much of this can you use as is?” came his familiar voice.

The greyness had receded, but not completely.  Movement was slow and dream-like, the area of focus was not as wide nor the colors as bright.  A sort of light-headedness remained at the edges of consciousness, somewhat reminiscent of the transporter effect.

Trip crouched beside the captain.  “Let’s have a look.”  Slipping the pack from his shoulders, he pulled out the sampling case and opened the lid.  He pressed levers on its four corners which telescoped the sides upward to more than a foot in height, then reached for the smaller case containing a narrow angle scanner, a pair of safety goggles and a set of fine-beam phaser blades. 

They were talking again, but after the first few moments, their conversation began flickering in and out, rather like that last contact with Ensign Mayweather. 

“… needs… least one facet like this…”

“…looking at density, or size?” 

“…if you’ll hold… I’ll adjust…  extract…” 

Then the words faded.  The cutting edge of the phaser blade flashed yellow bright for an instant, then it too dimmed.

“That’s it.  Hold ‘er steady.”

Tired. They were getting so tired.

“Got it.” 

But there was a soothing sense of companionship in the unhurried voices and the hands moving in intuitive, rhythmic cooperation, something almost hypnotic. It was a different sort of mental melding: that of old friends with a shared project that was interesting to both of them.

Was that Jonathan’s voice weaving through the hum of the blade and the patter of water dripping nearby?  “…enough crystals…  Keep you out of mischief…  Few minutes  …will take the scanner and scout ahead…”

There were so many stones to sort, all shimmering, precious, within work-gloved hands before they tumbled into the broad silver mouth of the canister: one and another and another in a steady, lulling rhythm. 

Or was it fatigue creating this new fascination with repetition?  Must not…  become… hypnotized by it…

“…making good time.  The canister is  half full…”

There was something about that canister.  Concentrate.  

It was filled without incident and carried almost to the mine’s entrance before whoever took it started back.  There was an interval of safety here for re-gathering strength and  impartial observation, almost a  form of self-training.  Later, she might consider it an indulgence, part of her fascination with emotions, as dangerous to her future as the Trellium-D had been.  Still, she could not afford the fatigue encroaching on the edges of her consciousness.

Breathe steady as a heartbeat.  Breathe deep and tidal.  Neap and ebb.  In and out.  Breathe and observe. 

Trip’s skilled wielding of the blade was creating his own form of peaceful meditation. Jonathan’s movements were relaxed, unhurried, as he made short forays among the stone formations, engaging in a bit of long-yearned for exploration.

It was his voice that brought the moment back into focus.  “Hey, Trip?  Phase one is done.  This canister’s full.”

“Hmm?” Trip angled the blade, tried to narrow the cutting beam another five per cent.  The dial kept slipping beneath his fingers.  Maybe he should shed these old work gloves.  They were getting so wet and tacky.  Guess somebody forgot to fix the roof.  No, he’d leave them for now since the position was almost, almost right for getting that last crystal near the rear of the formation.

“Hey, Trip?”  Jonathan chuckled as he dropped one last crystal into the canister, then locked the cover down.

“Hmm?”  Maybe he’d leave the large one that camouflaged the worst of the damage along this part of the wall.  What had caused that, anyway?  It hadn’t looked like this where they entered the cave, but here it was pretty extensive and from what he could tell, was even more so further along.  It’d be kind of interesting, if they had time, to do a little investigating into what might have happened…

“Planet to Commander Tucker!  Trip, I’m taking this canister back to the exit.  With all the samples you’ve put in that case, we’d have a hard time getting it and both canisters in one trip, especially through those narrow spots.  I’ll use the opportunity to contact the ship.”  He checked his chronometer.  “Hoshi will be expecting to hear from us in the next half an hour or so.  Meantime, you can keep right on chiseling merrily away down here.” 

“Okay, Captain.”  Trip didn’t look up, but continued to work, curling his fingers around a Cyrulinite crystal as it fell into his hand.         

Though T’Pol knew the attempt to contact the ship had failed, that might have been interference from the ore’s emanations.  The captain’s leaving triggered no alarms within Trip’s memory. 

“What do you think of my taking your pack on ahead as well?  You’re never going to get that sample case back in there.  One less thing to juggle later?”

At last Trip looked up, dropped the crystal into the canister, clicked off the blade and waved it in the captain’s  direction.  “Sure.  As long as I can fit this thing into yours when I’m done with it, I’m all for the idea.  I lugged so much measuring and excavating equipment along we didn’t need once we caught on to these veins of Cyrulinite, I don’t think I could get a toothpick in there without bursting the seams.  The less bulk we got to deal with when we haul out the rest of this stuff, the better.”

“I’ll meet you back here in a few minutes.”  Jonathan lifted the hefty pack, slung it across his shoulders and reached for the canister.

“By the way, Captain!,” Trip said with a grin.  “Don’t think I don’t remember what you’re carrying away with you!  Make sure and leave a little of that coffee for me, too!”

“Right you are!”  Jonathan shrugged the pack into a more comfortable position and tugged his collar out from under one of the straps.  Picking up the canister in both arms, he staggered a step or two as he adjusted its balance, then turned and made his way back up the path.  Trip looked after him until he was no more than a speck of helmet light reflecting smaller and smaller against the cave walls.