Supernova

Supernova

By Samantha Quinn

RATING: eh..to be on the safe side, PG-13, angst
ARCHIVE: If you want it, take it. Be nice if you let me know, though.
DISCLAIMER: I don’t own them. If I did, there would be no “Night in Sickbay.” I’m not making any money, either, so there’s no reason to sue.

ANOTHER DISCLAIMER: This is the sequel to Pillar…you should probably read that one first. Otherwise, there’s no guarantee this will make sense. Actually, there’s no guarantee it will anyway, but if you read Pillar first, there is some hope. To everyone who enjoyed "Pillar" and sent me kind words, I thank you. I can only hope the sequel lives up to your expectations.

****

“Well, T’Pol, I don’t understand it, but it’s your decision to make and I respect it.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Are you sure you can’t tell me why-"

“I am certain.”

The Captain runs his hands through his hair while he speaks. It is a human trait which I have learned demonstrates frustration. It is fortunate that my Vulcan training enables me to prevent from showing my frustration as easily. Otherwise, the Captain would be able to discern the truth of my leaving. I must not allow that.

“Fine, T’Pol. What co-ordinates should I give to Travis?”

“The Vulcan science ship Intrepid* will rendezvous with us in sixteen point eight-five hours at our present course and direction. The Enterprise will not be adversely affected,” I tell him evenly.

“Oh, you’re wrong, T’Pol. The Enteprise will be affected. We’ll all miss you a great deal.”

I can only nod. He cannot know how badly I wish to stay.

“Captain, there is one request I have. I would appreciate if you did not inform the crew right away.”

The Captain demonstrates confusion.

“T’Pol, I can’t do that. You’ve made friends here. They’ll want to say goodbye.”
Friends. My Commander Tucker.

I speculate on how the Captain would react if I were to reveal to him that friendship is the reason I am leaving?

“I intend to tell them, Captain. I simply wish to do so myself.”

Archer smiles at my statement and I fight down the urge to strike him. How can he find amusement at a situation causing me such pain?

“That’s a bit emotional, don’t you think, T’Pol?” he asks as he chuckles.

I raise an eyebrow in response. “I have your word, Captain?” I ask again using all of my Vulcan training to control my tone.

Archer continues to look amused, but acquiesces. “I promise I won’t tell anyone, T’Pol.”

“That is to include Commander Tucker,” I say, a fraction more forcefully than I had intended. Genuine surprise is apparent on his face. Shaking his head, he states, “No, T’Pol, I won’t tell anyone until you give the word. Not even Trip.”
What Hoshi and Trip are doing is perfectly normal.

“Thank you, Captain. I will see you on the bridge in one point three hours.”

****

As I make my way to the bridge, I analyze my own apprehension at notifying Commander Tucker of my plans. Indeed, I am quite certain that it was easier to inform Captain Archer.

If Captain Archer had not shown emotion, it would not have concerned me. If Commander Tucker does not show emotion at my leaving, I shall know no greater ache.

It is irrational. Still, I want Commander Tucker to hurt for me the way I long for him. Perhaps if he did, I would have a reason to stay.

I become so enthralled in my own thoughts that I momentarily take leave of my own surroundings. It is for this reason that I bump into Commander Tucker.

“Good morning, Sub-Commander,” he greets me. Why does he no longer call me T’Pol? Once he did so without hesitation and without permission. Would he now, even with my permission?

“Good morning, Commander,” I reply calmly. “I trust you slept well?” Sleep? Why ask him that? How the Commander sleeps is none of my business. My friend does not look overly surprised as he responds.

“Yeah, slept like a baby.”

Foolish analogy. I am certain a baby would not have been sharing a bed with Ensign Sato.

“So, what brings ya down to engineering?”

His question causes me confusion. I had been headed towards the bridge. How had I ended up in engineering instead? But a quick survey of our surroundings confirms Commander Tucker’s words.

Because this is where I knew I would find him. Where he is, I wish to be also. Although I am uncertain why, I feel compelled to be reassured of his feelings for me, however unequal they may be.

“Commander, may I ask you a question?”

“Sure, but make it kinda quick. My shift starts in a couple minutes.”

“How strong is your friendship for me?”

During the two years I have been on The Enterprise, I have had much opportunity to observe humans at close range. I have become quite adept at determining the meaning of their expressions. However, the meaning of the expression of Commander Tucker in response to my question was one I could not discern.

“Whatta ya mean?”

“I believe the question is obvious enough. You consider me a friend, do you not?”

“’Course I do.”

“I merely wish to ascertain how intense that friendship is.”

The strange look disappears from my Commander’s face and is replaced with one I do recognize--fear. No doubt, he has discerned the nature of my feelings for him. I do not wish to leave the ship having lost his friendship. Hastily, I attempt to repair the damage my careless speech has caused.

“I speak of friendship, Commander. That is all. As we have discussed previously, friendship is a difficult concept for a Vulcan to grasp.”

Is that look one of disappointment? Surely not. For the Commander to be disappointed, my feelings would need to be reciprocated. They are not. For he loves another.

“Well, Sub-Commander, back home we had a sayin’ about people we care about. If we cared about them a lot, we’d say, ‘my feelin’s for ya are as deep as the ocean; higher than the stars above.’ ”

He crosses his arms and leans against the corridor wall. I have always appreciated his unique phrases, however, this one leaves me more than slightly perplexed.

“I do not understand. The star portion of your analogy is irrelevant, as we are amongst the stars and thus, they are not above us. The ocean is approximately .9% sodium chloride and thus inconsumable by most humanoids. Yet, this phrase is supposed to convey feelings of friendship?”

The Commander sighs and runs his hands through his hair, unconsciously mocking the Captain’s earlier actions. I have caused him frustration. I reflect that frustration is the emotion he feels most frequently towards me. No doubt, it inhibits his ability to have other emotions for me.

I doubt Ensign Sato causes him frustration.

“Look, Sub-Commander, I really don’t have time to go into this right now. Maybe we can talk about it later? Dinner?”

I do not wish to have such a conversation in the presence of the Captain.

“We will be sharing dinner with the Captain. Perhaps we could have lunch instead,” I volunteer.

“Sure…er, I can’t. I kinda promised Hoshi. . .”

“I see. Dinner shall suffice then. And Commander?”

“Yeah?”

“If your friendship is ‘as deep as the ocean’, why have you increased the usage of the term ‘Sub-Commander?’”

A frown appears on my Commander’s face and he raises his voice to reply.

“If you are my friend, why don’t ya ever call me Trip?”

What Hoshi and Trip are doing is perfectly normal.

“I will see you at dinner, Commander Tucker,” I reply and turn to leave. Vaguely, I can hear him call my name--T’Pol-but I continue to the turbo lift. Once safely inside, I halt the lift to give myself time to compose myself. Mentally, I scold myself for allowing such a lack of control to occur outside the sanctity of my quarters. Yet, I knew of the high probability of such a reaction. Is that not reason enough for me to leave the Enterprise?

Satisfied that I have once again gained control of my emotions, I permit the turbolift to resume its course. As I intertwine my hands, I feel the delicate scarring of tissue on my left palm. Glancing down, I notice the thin green line running perpendicular to my thumb. Illogically, I run my finger over the scar, allowing myself to soak in the memory of the emotions that caused it.

I am jarred from my memory as the turbolift stops. Ensign Sato steps in.

What Hoshi and Trip are doing . . .

No, I will not think of that now.

“Good morning, Sub-Commander,” the Ensign greets me cheerfully.

If I were in her place, I am certain I could find a more apt adjective than good.
“Good morning, Ensign,” I say, lacing my fingers behind my back. “I trust you slept well?”

She looks at me with surprise. Although she is no more surprised than I am.

First Commander Tucker, now Ensign Sato. Surak help me to control myself for the next fifteen hours.

“Y-yes, I slept well,” she stutters. Under my gaze, she flushes and glances down at her feet. I watch in interest as her typically porcelain skin tone turns a deep red. Unconsciously, I rub the scar on my palm.

If my Commander Tucker were to cause such emotional turmoil to Ensign Sato, the line on her palm would be red, reflecting the iron that acts as an oxidizing agent in their blood, as opposed to my people’s copper.

Other than that discrepancy, human blood and Vulcan blood are remarkably similar. They both share a remarkably higher concentration of liquid in the blood stream than other humanoids. In fact, the percentage of water in human blood is nearly equal to that of their planet’s water to land ratio.

As deep as the ocean.

As the turbo lift comes to a halt and I step onto the bridge, I hear Captain Archer’s greeting and I nod in response. Taking my station, I allow myself to ponder my Commander’s frustration earlier.

I must share some of the blame for our confrontation. Pointing out the errors in his judgment-

Earth’s ocean is approximately .9% salt and thus inconsumable by most humanoids was unnecessary.

In my desire to prod him into admitting feelings he did not have, I made him uncomfortable and worse, provoked anger.

But his analogy was illogical. As a Vulcan, I thrive for logic.

Even if the Commander could reciprocate my feelings--which he does not--I would always be Vulcan. I would always thrive for logic. Although I care deeply for him, could he love that part of me as well? Surely not, as my Vulcan nature causes him only frustration and disdain.

He would only be able to care for me if I gave up my logic and became more human.

More like Ensign Sato.

That is impossible. As dearly as I care for Commander Tucker, I cannot change who I am. Although if I were capable of it . . .

Glancing over at Ensign Sato, I know it is not possible. I could never be enough like her to make Commander Tucker happy. No more than I could change the oxidizing agent in my blood to iron instead of copper.

As deep as the ocean. . .

Even the Vulcan ocean is different from that of my Commander’s planet.

Earth’s oceans contain a much higher salt content, for example. Vulcan’s ocean is contains .7% sodium chloride whereas Earth’s oceans average .9%.

The same as their blood.

…and thus inconsumable by most humanoids.

Including Vulcans.

My Commander has descended upon the bridge. In anguish, I force myself to stop having such thoughts and instead focus on the incessant banter taking place amongst the Captain and the rest of the bridge crew. Vulcan ships do not have such banter. When I first arrived, I found it quite unprofessional.

I shall miss it.

They are speaking of a holiday celebration. Another human eccentricity. Vulcans have very few holidays, whereas humans seem to have one for at least every four of their calendar weeks.

They are discussing Valentine’s Day. It is not a celebration I am familiar with.

“Say, T’Pol,” Commander Tucker says, with a slight emphasis on my name that only he and I are aware of, “ya got anything like Valentine’s Day on Vulcan?”

“I am not certain. What is the purpose of this Day?”

Although my question is directed towards my Commander Tucker, it is Travis Mayweather who answers. “The purpose is to celebrate the person you love,” he states.

“And to get lots of free chocolate,” Ensign Sato adds, with a giggle.

I arch my eyebrow in response. I fail to understand the connection between chocolate and love, but no doubt Ensign Sato has more experience in the area than I do. I am certain Commander Tucker will provide ample amounts of free chocolate for her this Valentine’s Day.

My Commander resumes talking.

“And so, we’re trying to convince the Cap’n to let us have a party in the Mess Hall,” he explains.

“You object to this holiday, Captain?” It is the only logical reason I can think of for him to object to a party. He has not demonstrated such behavior in the past.

But the Captain is shaking his head. “No, I don’t ‘object’ to Valentine’s Day, T’Pol. I do object to the Mess Hall being painted red, though.”

I allow my brows to crinkle in confusion.

“Why would you need to paint the Mess Hall red?” I ask, again directing my question to Commander Tucker.

This time Ensign Sato answers.

“Because red is the color of Valentine’s Day!” she says, sounded exasperated. As though everyone should know such a common fact.

“Why?” I ask again and I can hear the sigh come from Ensign Sato and see Ensign Mayweather roll his eyes. Commander Tucker, however, answers me.
“Well, cuz red is the color of passion,” he says. “It’d be a little silly to have any other color represent Valentine’s Day.”

Of course. Is red not always the preferable color? Especially over green?
Picking up my PADD, I nod and head towards the turbo lift.

“There are items that demand my attention elsewhere, Captain,” I say to Archer. But before I reach the lift, I hear my Commander’s voice once again.

“The party’s this Friday, T’Pol, if ya’d like to join us.”

I pause, and turn only my head in response, keeping my body focused towards the turbolift. “I will be back on Vulcan by that time, Commander. Nonetheless, I wish you luck in planning your celebration. It is fascinating that you associate passion with the color of human blood.” Realizing too late that I have over emphasized the word human, I stride quickly to the turbolift, and allow myself to breathe again only once I hear the comforting swish of the turbolift doors. I refuse to allow myself to speculate on the nature of the look on Commander Tucker’s face.

*****

*Yes, I stole the name of the Intrepid from much later in the Trek history. If we can have multiple Enterprises, why not multiple Intrepids?
A/N: I make no claims that the science part of this story is 100% accurate. I have relied on the internet and my imagination. If any of it is incorrect, you can feel free to let me know and I shall contemplate changing it. Although, this does take place after a presumably Nuclear World War III, so who knows? Maybe that changes things. Anyway, Trek wouldn’t be Trek if it had to rely on sound scientific principles all the time, now would it? (thoughts of lizards and Warp 10 dancing in my head . . . )

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Continue to Chapter 2

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