Vulcan for Intimate - ch. 5

Vulcan for ‘Intimate’

By John O.

Rating: R – Sexual Content
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek characters/names/fans’ souls/etc. No copyright infringement is intended nor profit gained. Only literary immortality.

Chapter 5

Day 23 (Continued)

He dropped to the sand directly in front of her raucously, hoping to rouse her attention. She refused the bait and remained still and silent.

“I know you can hear me,” Trip grunted in an annoyed whisper. The drawl and low key of his voice was unexpected and sent shivers down her spine that flickered down her legs and other regions she endeavored to ignore.

“You could not, in fact, know that with any certainty as humans are not telepathic,” T’Pol responded curtly though her eyes remained closed. After an exhausted sigh and a few moments of stillness, T’Pol opened her eyes to find Trip still watching her expectantly. He tossed sand about at his knees like a toddler, feigning an absence of purpose to his interruption. T’Pol watched him carefully. Something weighed heavily on his mind she thought… she could feel it. Her telepathy was not normally this potent with those around her but lately she could sense his feelings easier than before. She worried it was a side effect of less rest, meditation and far too much time spent with Mr. Charles Tucker.

“Days are gettin’ a lil’ warmer,” Tucker ventured finally, just as T’Pol was preparing to dryly cut the tension with Vulcan grit. His eyes wandered in the sand but avoided her glance as the morning breeze tossed his hair to and fro. It stole her eye for a fleeting moment, resisting the urge to reach out and return several errant strands to their rightful droop. She was growing irritated with his silence as well as her own degrading mental focus. He was apprehensive, and it was making her apprehensive. Finally, she decided to accede to this meaningless small talk in hopes that his true intent would emerge.

“The climate is indeed growing steadily more temperate,” she responded dryly. He finally turned up his eyes to meet hers. Here goes…

“Ya’ know it might not even be so cold at night pretty soon,” he nonchalantly leaned back onto his hands, watching T’Pol as she finally eased herself from the lotus position signaling she was officially acknowledging their conversation. Her eyes held his curiously, with a glint of suspicion and anxiety in this train of thought.

“I ‘magine it’s real cold at night here for you, I mean your planet’s a lot warmer than this?” Trip asked, cocking his jaw to one side. T’Pol nodded lightly, her eyes falling to the sand slightly to avoid the shimmer of his blues.

“’Cause… well,” he rubbed his jaw nervously, unaware of the attentive eyes of the Vulcan as they watched his prickly stubble, imagining its rough tickle.

“I think I’ve been havin’ these dreams, I don’t know,” Trip shook his head as he looked to the sky, trying to hide the nervousness in his voice. “Sorta’ like, I feel someone-“

“Dreams are of a very intimate nature to Vulcans, Commander,” T’Pol interjected suddenly. “Perhaps it would be more appropriate if we did not discuss them,” she continued, her voice weakening slightly. Trip watched her with a tongue against his cheek in thought, deciding his next move carefully as she pursed her lips and continued to avoid his eyes.

“You know…” Trip went on in a lower voice, returning to a normal seated position and leaning forward. He dipped his head to catch her eye, and finally she met his face. Rims of golden brown looked at him calmly with a Vulcan strength behind them but human frailty pierced her as she tried to hold his gaze and not lose her control.

“I know that it’s your custom to repress them,” he continued carefully. “But everybody has feelings, and it’s not easy to be out here alone. Besides the fact that, before comin’ here… me an’ you,” he chuckled as he flicked a finger between them. “I don’t know what to call it, T’Pol,” he chortled again nervously. “But we weres more than colleagues,” he finished evenly. “More than friends,” he added bravely.

“I believe it would be most appropriate if we discontinued this conversation!” T’Pol spat roughly, barely getting the words out behind a shaky voice as she rose from the sand and sped away as quickly as a composed-looking walk could manage her. Stunned into silence Trip let out a frustrated sigh and fell onto his back, staring up at the sky. He shook his head against the grainy sand that lie beneath him and sighed aloud.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Day 44

Three Weeks Later

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Trip muttered, as he lay flat on his back, staring up at the stars.

T’Pol’s invisible form moved in the darkness as she returned several tools and utensils to their rightful placement and ordering. She kept the Starfleet field kits supremely organized. Her human companion, however, had insisted upon “fixing her supper”. She had begrudgingly accepted the invitation only upon being assured that local wildlife would not be on the menu. She made a mental note to include a caveat that he must adequately return the cookware to the correct storage receptacles in the future. Then it hit her. The future, she thought… could be longer than they previously expected. She froze for an instant in the darkness as she processed the implications of this truth. It had been almost three weeks since their argument on the beach and neither had spoken a word of it since. Trip had tossed it over and over in his mind each night, hoping the familiar embrace he was now beginning to miss would return. He started to wonder if he really had been dreaming and T’Pol had never done any such thing at all. The thought terrified him that not only had he made an enormous fool of himself but insulted and shamed her as well. For T’Pol it was a time of reflection, tinged with self doubt and uneasiness. She confessed in meditation that these feelings for Tucker must be nothing more than manifestations of her Pa’nar syndrome. It had been six weeks since treatment, and each day that came and went she was sure was one closer to her last. Yet, the other symptoms of Pa’nar had not returned, and for this she had no explanation. Deep within, however, a confession not ready to be made whispered of the truth behind what she did the nights Tucker was talking about. She was not ready to recognize the motivation for her actions were within her, and not Pa’nar.

Only a week after their argument, a day came when she began to realize how much she depended on her one companion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was the day they found Hoshi. Trip had finally admitted defeat and declared the distress beacon a lost cause when T’Pol returned from scouting a distant area of the jungle into which they had not yet ventured. Even T’Pol, her nerves and controls apparently frayed more than she knew, wore a ghostly pallor when she came to Trip as he removed the last remnants of useful material from the pod. When she told him what she found, he was devastated, and surprised to find tears welling in his eyes. T’Pol shook almost visibly as he wept when they buried her. The sight of the dirt toppling over her features set Trip on a dangerous edge. The reality was becoming cold and tasteless now – they were on no island getaway, no temporary vacation. They were here – here to stay.

The experience of burying Hoshi is a memory that would never leave him, despite consolation by one who cared so deeply for him – it was a horror that T’Pol could do nothing to help drive from his dreams. As T’Pol looked out over the fire that evening, she glanced down at the head that slept without peace in her lap. She could not seem to remember how they ended up this way: her sitting lotus and Tucker sleeping away dried tears with his head in the crook of her thigh and hip. She could sense the pain filling his dreams and did the only thing that instinctively came to mind to consol him. Her fingers stroked his blond hair, continuing to idle about his rough beard as he snored. She couldn’t bring herself to touch him so intimately when under the weight of his brilliant eyes, but something tugged at her too powerfully now to be resisted. But she knew the moment would not last for long, for a disturbing reality had yet to be faced by the two of them.

Whereas Malcolm had clearly died of a great fall as evidenced by broke bones and crushed features – a sight T’Pol was thankful Trip had not laid eyes upon before she buried him – Hoshi’s cause of death was very different. A single phase pistol wound to the upper chest could mean only one thing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 44 (Continued)

It was after nightfall.

“T’Pol?” he called behind him, the firelight flickering across his features. They occasionally camped on the open beach at Trip’s insistence, when the nights grew warm enough. Instead of the typical joviality in his voice there was naught but irritation, and even a hint of concern. Every moment she was out of sight brought a new moment’s terror that something might happen to her too…

It had been weeks now since they found Hoshi and he still had nightmares of her face screaming in terror as he ran towards her, but she always fell to the ground with a smoldering hole over her heart just before he could reach her. The image flashed before him and he jumped instinctively.

Several days after her burial, he began to accept Hoshi’s death, knowing they had no choice but to go on. Once his mind cleared of her death, T’Pol grew unsettled by how dead set on vengeance Trip became. They argued repeatedly on whether to go find Mueller and how to deal with the obvious threat that now existed. After several such arguments that grew to yelling matches, T’Pol finally pulled rank and ordered Commander Tucker to obey her decision. He was livid to be sure, and stormed off for several hours. T’Pol sighed as he left and realized she was shaking, filled to the brim frightful emotions she could scarcely identify: fear, concern, and something she could not label. She knew humans were often wracked by the trouble of emotions, her experience and her education on Vulcan had taught her this. But now T’Pol was faced with one of the most volatile: desire for vengeance. And she found it buried within the man she had come to admire, respect and even care deeply for in a way no Vulcan ever had. She had found a way to inwardly justify her feelings by asserting Tucker was an excellent and unique specimen of humanity with a singular kind of emotional control of himself. Now she was forced to realize that he was indeed just like any human: prone to irrational despair following loss, and vengeance following anger. Yet perhaps the most disturbing realization to her was that these things made her care for him no less, but in fact magnified her concern for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trip’s emotional explosions decreased in frequency and intensity as he accepted Hoshi’s fate and realized (with albeit no relief), that killing Mueller would bring no respite from the pain or the nightmares. He slowly began to act as the same man T’Pol knew and her emotions became more easily controllable than before, but the improvement required her to increase meditation to a full four hours each morning. She feared that the Pa’nar syndrome was still with her as vigilantly as ever, although she culled its hunger for her peace of mind with abundant meditation and concern for their daily challenges. On the fortieth day, they officially ran out of field rations. In the four days since, Trip and T’Pol were still on meager diets while fine-tuning any means they could manage to sustain themselves.

T’Pol had not allowed such a thing to fall upon them suddenly; however, the task of learning and hunting the local wildlife (for Trip) was not an easy one. While T’Pol still abstained from consuming flesh, she assisted Tucker whose hunting skills initially left a great deal to be desired. He eventually improved to exceptional proficiency with a spear, even to the impressments of T’Pol. It was against a Vulcan’s beliefs to eat or kill an animal for food, but her options were to help or watch Tucker starve. Still, she convinced him to sample the local vegetation to augment his diet, which he surprisingly found to his liking.

The storms subsided, coming now only once a week or less and weaker in strength. The present evening was clear and comfortable, not more than a blissful fourteen degrees centigrade as T’Pol noted with her tricorder.

Under the open stars, Trip found some semblance of peace and quiet for the first time in more nights than he could remember. Perhaps, in some way deep down Tucker was trying to break his own depression. He recalled again that the other Hoshi was back on Enterprise, and hoped she was safe and sound as she should be. He called again for T’Pol through the flames as they danced between him and the dark night.

It was a small fire, but he didn’t plan on it staying that way for long. T’Pol, again, did not answer but appeared a moment later. A slender form materialized out of the darkness, moving with a grace he had never noticed. Tucker didn’t speak, only quietly continuing to watch her approach through the flames of the fire. She carried a bucket of seawater to extinguish the no-longer-necessary fire.

“No, no, wait!” Tucker called out in distress as he leapt from the sand. He held a staving hand out, telling T’Pol not to put the fire out while he retrieved more of the dry wood he had located just before dusk. She froze when the engineer panicked and watched in confusion as he acquired more wood.

“The meal is finished, is it not?” she asked when he finally returned with well over a cord of wood spilled around his arms. It was the first time she had spoken since their meal and her voice carried something electric as it entered Tucker’s ears.

“Yeah, but that’s not the point. It’s a campfire, T’Pol,” he insisted and began feeding and stoking the fire.

“I see,” she responded simply with a curious eyebrow. She rounded the newly invigorated campfire and planted herself on the grainy sand. Trip watched her from the corner of his eye as he knelt beside the pit, enlarging the radius of the rocks forming the boundary. When he turned and saw her looking up at the stars, he couldn’t resist the smile that immediately came to his face.

As if he had spoken, she turned from the sky and met his eyes. It was a relief to see him smile again, and the reality of how it lifted her spirits was a double edged sword that drew across her Vulcan pride. She quickly looked away and found she had nothing to look at but the sand in front of her and the crackling fire.

She enjoyed watching him when he did not know, but she feared to let him see. For the second time, she felt fear – and it lead to shame. He sensed her uneasiness and his smile faded. Hoshi’s death had indeed hardened his fear of losing the only person close to him, and he gave into the urge to be nearer to her despite the chance such a gesture could provoke a stonewalled Vulcan outburst. He stood, rounded the fire and sat near her. Several moments of silence passed while the pair merely watched the fire or the stars or the ocean or the sand – while desperately trying not to watch each other. Finally, Trip decided to make conversation on neutral ground.

“I’ve managed to salvage one whole power cell from the shuttlepod, but we don’t really have any use for it. It’s not enough for the sensor grid in the shuttle,” he added glumly.

“It may be useful for any emergencies that may arise,” she replied quietly.

He nodded, tossing a clamshell into the fire.

“I was thinkin’,” he went on.

“Locating the source of the generator creating this big anomaly might be a good idea. There could be some kind of communication equipment in there,” he suggested, turning to meet T’Pol’s gaze. She agreed, but knew the task would be no simple one. The landmass was twice the size of Texas and they had only a global map from her scanner, with no local landmarks to work from.

“It would be the logical course of action, however, inclement weather has thus far thwarted the possibility of any such undertaking,” she replied. They both knew it was the only productive venture towards a possible escape from this planet they might hope for.

“However, my tricorder is not sensitive enough to triangulate its position and there is not enough power to activate the shuttlepod’s array.” Tucker nodded. He sighed in defeat and abandoned the idea for more contemplative thoughts. A desire to mend their unpleasant encounter began to surface once again.

“There is another option,” T’Pol replied. “It may be possible to locate the field generator using my tricorder; however, it is only capable of detecting field strength. It could take considerable time to find the generator,” Tucker nodded.

“Time’s one thing we’ve definitely got,” he muttered sorrowfully. “What about the cold?”

“There’s no way we’re sleepin’ in there; you’d freeze to death. And Hell, I’d freeze ma’ parts off,” he swung an arm behind them. At the mention of her wellbeing (and his parts) she looked up in moderately hidden surprise.

“You could go alone. It may still be unpleasant at night; however, with the field blankets and the exothermic heating pads your health would not be at risk and you may locate the generator.” Trip looked at her with incredulity.

“Are you kiddin? And leave you here with what, a grass skirt and the pod to cover you? You’d freeze even out here on the beach without the gear,” Trip chided her brazen selflessness. “No, we’re both goin’ or we’re both stayin’,” he declared with finality. She had all but forgotten that as his commanding officer she could order him to go and leave her but she was not anxious to pull rank on an issue Tucker clearly had his mind set on. On the other hand, a part of her was pleased to know he cared.

“There is the possibility that we could wait,” she replied in a lower voice. Trip’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“Wait for what?”

“I have finished a preliminary analysis of the data I took on the Enterprise as well as from the planet regarding it seasonal orbit. This planet cycles through varying seasonal climates and at this latitude, I believe the temperatures will continue to rise in the next several weeks. I believe it would be similar to Earth’s North American ‘Summer’ climate. It should be safe to travel and rest in the jungle at night. In fact the temperatures near the beach will rise and eventually become quite extreme for your biology.” Trip was pleasantly surprised and made a “hmm” of approval.

“Sounds like a plan. That first night here will be something I never forget,” he shivered in retrospect. Almost simultaneously a shiver rode up and down T’Pol’s spine and broke her resistance to remain unmoving. A brisk wind blew in from the sea and Trip cursed the cold gust. He stretched out and snatched up two bundles from their supplies. Without request, he stretched the blanket out across T’Pol’s back and pulled it around her shoulders. She turned to nod a neutral appreciation, but miscalculated his closeness. When she turned to him, coming just centimeters from clunking into his face, her eye level became even with the taller man’s cheek. When they realized the unintended maneuver had brought their faces so close, both of them froze.

Her lips came to a halt a few centimeters from him and slightly below his chin. His right hand was still slung around her back, and he considered using it to pull her closer. His arm remained still across her back, its weight naturally pulling her closer along with her own refusal to resist under their mutual stare. His heart raced madly.

He should have just kept moving, ignoring the intensity of the wave that slammed into him the moment that her eyes fell on him – but he couldn’t, he was spellbound. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman’s eyes could freeze him the way T’Pol did, and he searched back into every memory he could muster. It was as if every moment he had cataloged with Natalie all those years ago now paled in comparison. The Vulcan science officer that repelled every other human’s attempts to get closer to her looked up at Tucker behind gorgeous brown eyes, instantly transformed from his commanding officer to a woman in his arms.

There were no words from their lips, tides from the ocean, nor rustling of the trees. Even the flames that warmed their skin seemed to pause and watch. She blinked after several moments of stillness, bringing her soft lashes into contact with the rough skin of his cheek. He avoided the full beard that would grow unbidden by shaving occasionally, but his skin was still rough with a light covering of hair. The tiny contact was electric, causing her to tremble and close her eyes. She finally gave her head the slightest of tilts. She slowly moved into him, their cheeks meeting silently as Tucker took her cue. He continued to pull the blanket around her but as she continued to push into him, he was soon on his back against the sand. Her hair tickled the stubble of his chin as she buried her face into the neck of his uniform. It was dirty and dry from being washed in salt water but it also filled her face with his scent. Her lips opened against his skin, darkened to a golden bronze by the beating sun.

A few moments later, the two officers were a single melded heap lying silently under the stars. She wanted to – no craved, to look up and to wrap her arms around his trunk and… where the desire led terrified her. She laid there, her comparatively tiny body atop the Commander’s and her arms and legs ensnared about his. A fire burned between their bodies as she rose and fell with every breath he took, each one sending a cool shiver across the back of her neck as he exhaled.

He reached to pull the exothermic blanket wide and around the both of them. He shuffled their combined form sideways to be nearer to the fire. Even T’Pol’s borderline panic at giving in to such forbidden emotional temptation began to drift away, leaving only peace in its wake. The uncertainty, the fear and doubt - all seemed to flutter away with the brisk ocean breeze, leaving Tucker looking down at T’Pol’s kempt brown head as she hid her eyes in his chest. She still could not bring herself to look at him, fearing to lose control… I have come this far, she rationalized inwardly.

He instinctively caressed the Vulcan’s laser-straight brown strands and drew his hand down to cup the nape of her neck. With this motion he felt her lips part against his chest in a silent gasp, and close around a pocket of his skin, tasting and kissing the flesh between her lips. She finally looked up and pushed herself upon her hands decisively, crawling up his longer form to meet the level of his face. Without any warning she crashed into him like a wave, spilling into his mouth and slinking her fingers around his neck. They instinctively began to tug at his collar, passively at first but then with a powerful tug she forced the zipper down several inches. Her lips pressed softly but completely against his, moved around them, below them, kissing his chin and rough stubble. She returned to his mouth with a slow and passionate purpose, occasionally allowing his tongue to probe and prod against hers. T’Pol had never kissed a human, and for that matter had never kissed a Vulcan. She knew humans used it to express affection and more she had seen it in the films on movie night – but these were not the reasons she knew how. An instinct drove her mouth into his, a drive deeper and older than Logic, and stronger than resistance urged her on.

It was an altogether alien but wildly arousing sensation, something Vulcans only experience during the throws of Pon Farr, but even then clouded by madness and depravity. In this passionate exchange, she was free to taste what she knew to be forbidden, so un-Vulcan and terribly exciting. It was completely unlike the violation she suffered under Tolaris, that forceful invasion couldn’t be further from the warm and tentative kiss of Tucker’s lips.

He touched her carefully and considerately as the fire she lit inside him was stoked by an overwhelming shock that this was happening. T’Pol pushed her body harder into him, encouraging his roaming hands. He couldn’t believe T’Pol was pushing him on, and her arousal was driving him mad, making him hotter than he had ever been with any woman. With the blanket covering her back from the cool air, he relieved the zipper of her uniform only far enough to slip his hand to the small of her back, not wanting to rush the moment. She pressed up from his lips finally after what seemed like hours of methodical kissing. He leaned himself up on his elbows, afraid for a moment that it was a prelude to second thoughts. He breathed hard and fast, his lips twitched into a smile as he felt a flutter of tension and arousal all through his body that ached for her to be close to him. She did not retreat, nor lose the deep and singular purpose in her eyes as she pulled him up to meet her as she straddled him. He watched her movements in awe and wonder. The child in his eyes was so contrasting to the sexual man she wanted to take here and now that T’Pol watched him for several moments in fascination before she continued on a woman’s journey. She looked at him and realized for the first time that he was a worthy mate, even for a Vulcan. He was brilliant, kind and honorable, despite his brash emotions and outspoken attitude. Even when he challenged her patience and tolerance, there was always an endearing honesty in him, and most of all, uniqueness that she knew would exist in no other. No Vulcan could ever be like the man in front of her. She kissed him again, rough and carnivorous as she lost herself in the emotion. She released her passions into him, tugging at his uniform until she relieved every speck of cloth covering him. In her deepest desires she wanted to go slowly, to experience what she feared was inescapably beyond her ability as a Vulcan to do – love. She rapidly threw herself on her back and pulled him atop her, madly kissing him and pulling her legs around him. She secretly feared the romantic feelings within her, and squelched them with lust. Trip grunted against her kiss, straining to catch his breath.

“Wait…” he tried to coax her to slow down, to stop – well, maybe not to stop. She flattened her hands out against his sides, slowly finding his muscular torso, a process she repeated over and over until he couldn’t think straight. He managed to call out in between attacks of her lips, beginning even to worry about what might be going on with her. He tried to pull away with more strength. She lifted away the gray tank from her shoulders and wriggling out of her tight shorts. Her nude body ground against his, forcing him up into a sitting position to try and pull away and look her in the face. He finally freed himself from her embrace and met her white hot gaze.

“T’Pol, I want this too but…” he cried in a low voice, his mouth close enough to her lips still for her to feel the hot breath. Deep concern mixed and confused by intense arousal looked back at her as he held back her arms by the wrists. For a moment, she struggled but he held her firmly and finally her eyes fell back onto his. She could easily have overpowered him, but deep insider, her logical mind was not completely derailed by the fervent passions boiling to the surface and she withheld her assault and looked away from him with humiliation with eyes brimming to the surface in shame.

She realized as pleasant a thing as she wanted, to allow him to make gentle love to her, she could not endure and call herself a Vulcan. The fear and uncertainty was so abound in her, at her core so very unknowing and inexperienced in ways of expressing emotion – so immature in her Vulcan way.

She knew a human female of Trip’s comparative age would be readily prepared to accept his feelings, his emotions, and return his honest passion. And of course, at the very heart of her anxiety, lie the Pa’nar syndrome. The treatments Phlox had given her before their accident had thus far staved off the deleterious effects but it must only be a matter of time until the disease re-asserted itself. She recoiled in terror from that thought. She feared to let her true emotions show and not the empty, violent lust she masked it with.

She panted as their naked bodies beamed against one another’s. Short breathes captivated the silence as he finally let go of her arms and allowed his fingers to rest on her taut hips. Her hands hung in midair where he had held them, her mind a blur of fear and confusion, her spirit confounded by the feelings that such intimate contact with Trip elicited and the shear contentment he caused her. Finally, her fingers dropped to his chest, warmly lying against his flesh. He cocked his head to look into her evading eyes, and finally she succumbed and met the blue orbs.

“I…” he shook his head in befuddlement, bent on trying to understand what was bothering her yet afraid he wouldn’t know how to help. I don’t understand… The fear and anxiety lie still within her but the steady care and warm concern in his face calmed her, restored her focus and her eyes widened as the full brunt of the effect he had on her became apparent to T’Pol. She could deny the desire to feel his compassionate embrace no longer and she let the emotions slip out along her fingers as they slowly reached up to cradle his jaw. She rose up to bring her body into total contact with his, straddling his lap. He began to object but when the slow and intimate way she moved became evident, he was too captivated by awe to utter a word. She fell into his kiss and slowly eased him back onto the sand, smoothly releasing the anxious knot wadded up in her belly. He gently rolled her over and kissed her lower lip with a content smile.

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As galactic chance would have it, at roughly the same moment that Commander Charles Tucker III of the Enterprise found himself begrudgingly removing his shirt for the first neuropressure session with T’Pol; his long lost counterpart found his T’Pol sleeping soundly against his body the next morning. It was early still. They had managed to make their way into the shelter last night amidst their rising passions as the night grew colder. Outside, Trip could see the haze of twilight still over the endless sea. To wake meant stirring T’Pol and facing the reality of what transpired between them last night, but to sleep longer meant pulling her closer and kissing her lips as she slept. Trip smiled and eagerly chose the latter.

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Chapter 6

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

Beautiful...
:)

Very nice, John. Some absolutely beautiful imagery there, and I really like how you got into T'Pol's head. I wonder, though, what effect the Pa'Nar will continue to have upon her and whether her lack of treatment will affect them. And alas poor Hoshi ...

Unless time runs differently on the planet, however, there's an error in that last scene. TnT have been on the planet for 44 days - didn't they say that it took 3 months (~90 days) at warp 5 just to reach the Expanse and they were in the Expanse for several weeks before the first neuropressure session. Not to mention, I seem to remember them stating that it it took them a couple of weeks just to get back to Earth before the Expanse mission ... not to mention the time necessary for the ship upgrades...

Clearly, that nifty display in the atmosphere in the previous chapter was a result of time dilation, right? :-D

>:|

haha, actually you're right - there are two time-related mistakes here. In fact you are on the right track with your intended joke at the end - originally, there was intended time dilation (tachyon fields, heLLO! ;)) but it got too complicated and I felt, drew away from the storyline with too much trek-no-babble. IN addition, as edits and time went by, the day-counts got altered and that last paragraph is a product thereof. It was written awhile back and the time-difference is something that sort of slipped past me, my apologies.

(Originally it would have been 44 days x 2.5 (time dilation) = 110 days). But just so as not tl leave anyone confused, there isn't any time dilation.

Ahh...that was great.

Time dilation, shmime dilation... who cares? What an incredible scene! I held my breath the entire time. It would have been nice to get just a TINY bit more detail, but you made the right decision to remain deliberately somewhat vague. What an emotional impact! The idea that lust is less intimate... and therefore less threatening to a Vulcan than love... is inspired. I can't wait for the morning after.

About Hoshi2... sigh. So sad. Grief does do a good job at bringing them together, though, doesn't it? I guess I see why you had to kill her off.

Distracted called me "inspired"! =0 (gets all giggly) 8)

Also, yeah you all were talkin about Hoshi2 survivng and at that pt I already had killed her and build a large part of their reconciliation upon it - something I didn't want to go back and rewrite for appeasement - as much as I love all of you :P

Ah, the power to make a strong man giggly. Feels good. : )

Don't write to appease your readers, John. Write to satisfy yourself. We'll come along for the ride, and I'm sure we'll enjoy every minute of it.

At least she didn't call you a bloodthirsty misanthrope for killing off Malcolm and Hoshi. ;)

So ... if there is no time dilation, then how do you have account for the difference in time? Even if VfI began mere hours before "The Expanse" began, ENT wouldn't have reached those thermobaric clouds yet...

Aw, Rigil. I'm so sorry I hurt your widdle feelings with my name calling. Shame on me! You know very well that I enjoy your stories despite all the horrendously mangled bodies scattered about... and the kilometer-wide nuclear explosions... and the mines that scatter shrapnel to shred the hulls of every ship in the near vicinity... ; )

John did something that you didn't, though... he made EXTRAS before he killed them off. I'm not entirely sure WHY... but for some reason that's less disturbing to me. Go figure.

Must we account for the difference in time? Can't we just blow it off and enjoy the symbolism of each TnT pair growing closer in their own way at the same moment?

Excellent. Please write the next part soon !

Extras, like the extra Riker, so the trip and t'pol in TATV can go on their way while this trip and t'pol get rescued and can go their way as a happy couple?

THANK YOU distractd, THANk you! *nods in agreement*

NOTHING in TATV made sense so I pretty much discard it. Based on what the PocketBooks people are doing, I think they may feel the same as they're already working around it as indicated by "Last Full Measure".

And, Distracted, as a bloodthirsty misanthrope, I don't have feelings to be hurt. And YES, we have to account for the time difference. It's easy enough to do, especially with those darn tachyon fields...I'm actually a little disappointed that the time dilation was dropped. I think it works rather nicely with the weird light show that Trip saw in the previous chapter...

And John, is this fic in the same universe as "Your Mom and Me"?

Note to readers: TATV-Trip and T'Pol don't exist =D

Rigil -

It is not, YMAM is still unfinished - "VULCAN FOR" is all an S2-AU series.

Uh ... to be technical, "VULCAN FOR" has just entered S3 since ENT-TnT have had their first VNP session... :p

And I know that YMAM is unfinished; I was just wondering if these fics were in the same continuity as YMAM.

*chases Rigil with a frying pan*

they are not, and with respect to the Ent-side of characters, they are in the same continuity as the actual show.

Great chapter. The thing with Hoshi was sad, but it was a good way to bring TnT closer. Looking forward to the morning after and what's going to happen to Hoshi's murderer.

I just read chapter 1. Excellent writing! You can see all their expressions. RAVE REVIEW!

Just wanted to alert you that the link from chpt 1 to chpts 2 and 3 is not working!

I am quietly chewing my nails down to the knuckle here. Please hurry up and write something? Pretty please? Ack! ENT Withdrawal! It burns!

BTW, if anyone wants to hear it I can start a Loooong list of the documentable ways that TATV violates established canon as shown on various other series, as well as previously aired ENT episodes. Not only does it violate the chronology of history as established in prior episodes, it also violates several well established facts... never mind. You all know as much about it as I do. I still get disgusted just thinking about it. Sorry.

Just WRITE SOMETHING SOMEBODY WILLYA! I am a non-fiction writer or I would do it myself. Have pity on a poor hack with no storytelling skills. *begs piteously*

OK, I've just finished chpts 2&3. Love the technobabble, loved the 6-days-alone-in-the-jungle- going-crazy part. Trip did alot of smiling and teasing for someone who just found one of his friends is dead, but that's fine. It does stay pretty close to the feel of the show. BTW, I love all the smiling and teasing; it's all very charming. Thanks, I was in the mood for an adventure story, with technobabble, and a plot!!!

Hope I'm not hogging too much space, but I just finished chpt 4!!!!Wonderful build-up of suspense. I love the science fiction aspects. The weird hole in the atmosphere phenomenon. This is very involving. Great interactions. Great mood.

Just read chpt 5. !!!!! :O (Shock and surprise)
:) (Big Smile!) Wow wee! The way you do R- and even PG-13 is better than most writers' NC-17.

I copied this part as I read because I thought it was interesting:

She [T'Pol] had found a way to inwardly justify her feelings by asserting Tucker was an excellent and unique specimen of humanity with a singular kind of emotional control of himself. Now she was forced to realize that he was indeed just like any human: prone to irrational despair following loss, and vengeance following anger. Yet perhaps the most disturbing realization to her was that these things made her care for him no less, but in fact magnified her concern for him.

Also, no one remembers that Distracted killed off her whole "Second Chance" colony in a nuclear explosion. Let he who is without sin caste the first stone! SORRY!!! STILL FRIENDS :)

Yep. I blew 'em away. *raises imaginary gun muzzle to mouth and blows off smoke* But... I didn't deliberately introduce them as sympathetic characters, allow the reader to become attached to them, and THEN blow them away. That's Rigel's forte... and he does it well. Gets me right HERE every time.

Come to think of it, John, you're not too shabby at it either. Hoshi and Malcolm's deaths occurred off camera in this, and they were still mighty affecting. Excellent emotional impact. Well done.

Ya know Distracted, there is no law requiring you to wait until August before starting your virtual season six is there? I mean I just finished reading a couple of your snippets over on FF.net. (hint hint) With those long summer days coming up you might find yourself sitting around with a few minutes to spare in the evening sometimes (Hint Hint) and maybe you could scratch off a few brief chapters. After all, there is no arbitrary length limit either is there? (HINT BLAST IT! HINT HINT!!!).

*ahem* Excuse me. Just forgot myself for a moment there.

Thanks for reading, Blackn'blue. Since this forum is for discussions which should at least indirectly refer to John's story, why don't you pm me at the HoTBB or at ff.net with your comments and suggestions? I'd love to hear from you.

Yipes! John, I humbly beg forgiveness. I got so involved in re-reading your story for the third time (I swear) that I forget to comment on it. I can see that you are pretty clearly leading up to a confrontation between the elusive Mueller and TnT. Trip's spear against a phase pistol? This ought to be good. :)

But, given T'Pol's earlier assertation that one who consumed the toxic vegetation would have a seizure of some sort, I'm going to bet on TnT. Especially since Mueller is running around hallucinating: he may have likely expended all ammo in the phase pistol (or expended its charge or whatever it does) shooting at things that aren't there...

And Distracted ... it's RIGIL ... with an "I". :p

Not the hynerian I've grown so fond of watching Farscape? ;)

Nope. NOT the Hynerian. Although we both ARE bloodthirsty misanthropes...

Sorry. Typo. Happens a lot when you type with two fingers. ; )

Bad news gang.

This weekend I installed a new video card and motherboard to my system, requiring a full reformat since I run an onboard RAID array. Anyhow, my raid hard drives are toasted (one too many reformats) so I'll be out of computing-commission (and therefore writing commission) for longer than expected. Fear not, however, I did take precautions to triple backup my fic folders to USB drive, webserver, and spare hard drive ;)

Many apologies for the long wait, I will get back on the gravy train as soon as possible - as I am eager to finish this most wonderful creative exercise you all have shared with me :).

This chapter was great! I love the dynamic between the two that you've set up and can't wait to see where you decide to take this. I especially like the way you ended the chapter and placing the planets happenings in context with what's happening with their counterparts on the ship, and what a moment to contrast it with! I really enjoyed this, great job!

Sorry to hear about the computer woes, John, but glad to hear that you saved it elsewhere just in case. I love this story, and can't wait to see what happens next.

And the Hynerian's name is spelled Rygel, no i's in it at all... I should know, I've got a website dedicated to his eminence. ;)