The Waste

The Waste

By KRN

Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Paramount and/or CBS own Star Trek, Enterprise, and all characters/place/objects wherein. No profit is made from this story.
Genre: Angst,
Warning: Character Death
Feedback – YES, Please!
Summary: An old acquaintance goes in search of a lost comrade. He does not like what he finds.

Dear Readers: This is my first (posted) fan-fic ever. Several influences converged to spawn this pestilent little worm that festered in my brain. It just wouldn’t go away, so I did the only thing I could – I wrote it down. That seems to have done the trick, and my imagination is back in ‘TnT-forever’ mode again. This story is a Tragedy in the truest sense. All episodes, including the craptastic TATV have occurred. There is more senseless death, Romeo & Juliet style. Ye Have Been Warned!

You’re feedback is most welcome. But please, this is my first time, so be gentle.

Last, but by no means least, a HUGE thank you to my beta, JustTrip’n. She stepped up and gave this newbie the courage to post. Thanks! On with the show….

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The monastery stood at the edge of the vast desert that covered much of the planet. It was a quiet, lonely place and the last lead he had as to her whereabouts. The lone figure approached the doors and struck the large gong that hung there.

A young acolyte answered the door. The two men raised their hands in the traditional greeting, and the traveler entered the monastery. He pulled back his hood to reveal a worn face. He had seen and done much during his long life. The search he had undertaken was one of his more personal ventures. It was a nagging . . . worry, which drove him to find her. He could not help but feel (he was getting old) a certain responsibility to her—since no one else was left to do so.

The acolyte had gone to retrieve a priest, who was now approaching. “Peace and long life, Councilman. What brings you to our sanctuary?”

“I seek a woman. I have searched long for her and my journey has brought me here.”

“What is her name?”

“T’Pol.”

“She is not here.”

His expression fell; he stared at the dirt. “Then my search has been in vain.”

The priest did not waver, “This is not true. She was here, but no longer.”

“Did she say to where she was headed?”

“You misunderstand, Councilman. Perhaps V’Shil can explain. She was the last to speak with T’Pol.”

A female acolyte stepped forward and addressed the traveler. “Were you aware, Councilman that T’Pol had exceeded seventy years of age?”

“Yes. I was an acquaintance of her father from before she was born.”

“Then you are also aware that she was never bonded. Nature made its demands upon her two weeks ago. It is inevitable. Even without a bondmate, a female will eventually succumb to the fever. It will force her to take a mate.”

“I am aware of this. It does not explain her whereabouts.”

“Allow me to continue. We are prepared to assist those in need here, and were making preparations to do so for her. I was sent to retrieve T’Pol, but found her outside the monastery doors. I went forth to bring her inside, to take her to the room made ready. She stood at the desert’s edge, looking out into the wastes. When I approached, she did not head my call. She began to walk out to the sands, so I called her back. To tell her all was ready.”

The old man seemed to know what would come next. With a resigned voice he asked, “What did she say?”

“Councilman, understand that these past years, T’Pol’s emotional controls were waning. She did not seek to remedy this. It was not that she was prone to violent outburst, but her words and actions were emotionally driven.”

With a hint of exasperation, the councilman said, “I understand. What did she say to you?”

“She turned and looked at me. Her words did not make sense….”

Empty, lifeless eyes turned to the acolyte. “None but my chosen mate shall know me.”

“None but my chosen mate shall know me.”

She turned to walk out into the sun-scorched sands, with naught but the robes on her tired frame. V’Shil tried one last time, “You cannot go into the desert; you will not survive.”

“I am already dead. Let the sands have what is left.”

“That was two weeks ago, Councilman. She has not returned. Surely the plak’tou has taken her.”

The councilman looked defeated. His fears had been realized. Such a needless loss, for foolish reasons.

V’Shil continued, “Although this we do not understand; the pon farr should have driven her to seek a mate.”

The old traveler walked to a narrow window that overlooked the desert. In his mind’s eye he could see T’Pol walking out into the dunes with assured determination. She could be so very stubborn. A pang of remorse crept into his thoughts. If only circumstances had been different. It was illogical to reflect on what might have been. He was getting nostalgic in his old age. The Humans have been “rubbing off” on him.

With a silent sigh, he turned to the priest and V’Shil. “It is my belief she had been bonded. And it was devotion to her mate that drove her into the desert.”

T’Pol’s body shook with rage and fever and lust. Her low keening could be heard echoing over the dunes. She staggered forward across the blistering sands with unblinking eyes.

V’Shil seemed almost upset, “Where was he when she required him?”

“He died. Six years ago.” Quiet settled over them. In an almost hushed voice, the traveler continued, “Since that time, T’Pol has slowly withdrawn from society until she seemed to vanish. I took on the responsibility of locating her. And now it appears my journey is at an end.”

Her screams tore at her scorched throat. Broken nails ripped fabric and flesh.

V’Shil appeared shaken by the councilman’s words, “Such devotion is highly unusual.”

Her legs would no longer support her. Green blood oozed forth from her eyes, her nose. Her body’s moisture was being sucked away by the unrelenting heat.

“Perhaps. But, they were not a ‘usual’ pair. Their katras drew them together, yet circumstance pulled them apart.”

Her broken, blood-stained, sand-caked body convulsed upon the dunes. Twin moons crept into the sky, always joined but forever denied each others touch

The old man continued, “Many ancient human cultures believed in reincarnation. And we accept that the katra can be transferred to another, even an object.”

The convulsions were subsiding. Back forever arched in agony, eyes seared blind by sun, her cracked lips moved again and again desperate to form a soundless word.

Councilman Soval looked out over the wastes that had consumed T’Pol. “Perhaps the universe will see fit to bring their souls together again, in a time and place where circumstance will no longer interfere.”

A final breath whispered the word she sought. “Trip.”

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Have a comment to make about this story? Do so in the Trip Fan Fiction forum at the HoTBBS!

A whole mess of folks have made comments

Just one little nitpick: T'Pol wouldn't have walked into the desert. She would have come on to Malcolm. (He he . . .)

Other than that, nice job! Welcome to the club!

Very... ummm... graphic, KRN. I never bought the idea of T'Pol killing herself or allowing herself to die rather than take another mate after Trip's death if there was any other option available to her. Your title says it all... a most illogical waste of a useful life. You did explain it somewhat, though. If her Trellium damage impaired her ability to think logically, she might succumb to despair. There's no logic in despair. I guess even Vulcans can become suicidally depressed. Sigh. Now I'm bummed. : (

Your descriptions are quite vivid. I am impressed with the way you are able to compress a lot of meaning into a few words. Like a good sketch artist, you are economical. A good artist can give an impression with only a few strokes. You are giving a clear impression of people and places with only a few words. Very well done, especially for a beginner. Congratulations.

As mentioned, this idea wormed into my head and festered. I don't think she would choose death either. Not sure about Malcolm ;), but perhaps some nameless Vulcan guy.

The idea came from a mix of sources: first, Distracted's 'The Naming' story got me thinking of Herbert and the image of T'Pol standing on the dunes saying "I am a desert creature." got into my head. (I actually tried to fit that into this story, but it obviously doesn't work -- I still like the image though). Then eK's 'Coitus Conceptus Part 3' was suggesting the whole TATV breakup idea and that was bumming me out. THEN there was the whole Pon farr debate on the BBS that got my brain thinking about, "what DOES happen if they don't mate or kill? what kind of death would it be?"

All that came together in my head and spawned this story. UGH! No, it's not logical - but that's a tragedy. There has to be senseless death.

Thanks for your comments - I appreciate them. Wish I could write longer, but alas that's all I've got (so far). You're too kind BnB - flattery will get you everywhere. :) Sorry I bummed you Distracted - go back and read John's 'Red on a Rose' again. That stripper bit cracks me up!

duh - that's me above
-krn

Well written, especially with this being your first fic. There was very much a Dune-like feel here, especially circa Dune Messiah wherein the blind Paul walked into the desert.

My ... thoughts on female pon farr are well known so I won't go into them here. That said, this scenario, unfortunately, makes more sense than any of the others I've seen wherein T'Pol jumps into bed with the first person who comes along after Trip "dies" (whether that person is Archer or Reed or whoever). The very idea that she would so easily "move on" flies completely in the face of established Trek canon, particularly in light of episodes like E2 and the damage wrought by the trellium abuse. T'Pold had CLEARLY not gotten over Trip. Vulcans take a very long time to get over their lost mates and given that T'Pol was a very emotional Vulcan, it's absurd to think that she's going to "move on". Am I happy with that? Of course not. T'Pol is one of my favorite characters from the show so I want her to have a long and happy life ... something that TATV effectively robbed her of.

Thanks, Beebs. :mad:

Damn! Now I'm all depressed.... Great writing however!

Damn! Now I'm all depressed.... Great writing however!

Damn! Now I'm all depressed.... Great writing however!

A beautiful little story, wonderfully described, and from T'Pol's behaviour, it unfortunately would seem to be quite accurate.

Yeowzah. That was... I don't have the words. Well done, though. Well done.

I can see this. If T'Pol had no copmpelling purpose such as being there for the E2 crew she may fall into this type of depression.

Depending upon how one sees the mating bond linkage, she may well have been unable to completely suppress the loss of her bondmate. It may have affected her more strongly after time passes considering the trell-d damage and Panars damage that were not repaired. Perhaps her lapses become noticable to the point of becomming an issue for her Vulcan coworkers.. The other Vulcans may let it slide for a while but eventually become uncomfortable with her increasingly emotional behaviour and request transfers, Eventually it would become known no Vulcan can work with her for very long and she may be moved from job to job and eventually "retires". She seeks the only solace available, a Vulcan monestary. Following the suggestions of the elders as best she can but finding no relief she eventually looses the struggle.

HtH

I truly loved your story, it seemed a fitting end to the passion of Trip&T'pols romance. It would have been nice to see them finally achieve some semblance of resolution to their passion. A fitting end to the Romeo& juilet of Enterprise. Thank you it was very well written.

I truly loved your story, it seemed a fitting end to the passion of Trip&T'pols romance. It would have been nice to see them finally achieve some semblance of resolution to their passion. A fitting end to the Romeo& juilet of Enterprise. Thank you it was very well written.

I truly loved your story, it seemed a fitting end to the passion of Trip&T'pols romance. It would have been nice to see them finally achieve some semblance of resolution to their passion. A fitting end to the Romeo& juilet of Enterprise. Thank you it was very well written.

I think it is very well written for your first fic! If you ever say you cannot write, I'll send my pet balrog after you. LOL! I now have the image of T'Pol's death burned into my retina. You might consider rating it PG-13. :)

Wow. This is so heartbreakingly powerful. Amazing - especially for a first fic! I liked the 'twin moons' line: "always joined but forever denied each other's touch" I really, really liked this story. In the shadow of TAtV's nauseating dismissal of Trip and his bond with T'Pol, her unwillingness/inability to 'move on' or to accept another at this time of madness, for me, is appropriate - It's hard to believe that Vulcan mating bonds are so fickle as implied by that 'valentine'.

Your writing style is wonderful- very economical, yet you paint such a vivid scene - easily invisioned (in Technicolor and Dolby sound) Please continue to share your work here.

-jc

p.s. ("heed" my call)

wow - thanks everyone for the kind words. I appreciate it. I wasn't sure how this one would go over - since it's so depressing. But ya'll seem to like it.

thanks! -krn

I was reading through the story, and found a little oops. Starting with "She turned to walk out... and finsihing with "...Let the sands have what is left." should be italized.

Sometimes you stare at something so long you stop seeing the mistakes - as I just noticed it now.

sorry about that - krn

It is dark and painful but it does suggest a possible outcome. I admit it is different but possible.

Nicely done for a first work.

Lisa

Wow, very dark and beautiful. You have an elegant writing style, it is simple but profound. Yes it is somewhat depressing but honestly, most of the best eipsodes were sad and powerful. Keep up the good work!

Really nice for a first fic. It is great the story in your head just had to come out. That seems to be how it starts for many of us. And the next stories will probably come easier. Each writer on this site has their own unique voice and each writer is precious in the effort to keep these characters alive.