oo.com Received: from [66.218.67.198] by n4.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 02 Mar 2004 15:22:26 -0000 X-Sender: stephenbratliffasc@earthlink.net X-Apparently-To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 49845 invoked from network); 2 Mar 2004 15:22:25 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.167) by m5.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 2 Mar 2004 15:22:25 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO mallard.mail.pas.earthlink.net) (207.217.120.48) by mta6.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 2 Mar 2004 15:22:25 -0000 Received: from sdn-ap-022dcwashp0273.dialsprint.net ([63.191.161.19]) by mallard.mail.pas.earthlink.net with smtp (Exim 3.33 #1) id 1AyBiw-0000db-00 for ascl@yahoogroups.com; Tue, 02 Mar 2004 07:22:23 -0800 To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Organization: Alt.StarTrek.Creative Virtual Staff Office Message-ID: X-Mailer: Forte Agent 1.92/32.572 X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 207.217.120.48 From: ASC-VSO X-Yahoo-Profile: oldmanasc MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCL@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Delivered-To: mailing list ASCL@yahoogroups.com Precedence: bulk List-Unsubscribe: Date: Tue, 02 Mar 2004 10:22:34 -0500 Subject: [ASC] Momentary Distractions 1/2 ENT (T/Tu) [PG] Reply-To: ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Forwarded by the ASC-VSO Posted: 02 Mar 2004 04:43:14 GMT In: alt.startrek.creative From: juli17@aol.com (Juli17) Title: Momentary Distractions Author: Julie Evans Email: juli17@aol.com Series: ENT Part: 1/2 Rating: PG Codes: T/Tu Summary: What happened after T'Pol cracked Trip's back? A Author's note: I wrote most of this story shortly after "The Xindi" aired. I wasn't quite happy with it, and soon got involved in other projects. With the airing of "Stratagem," this story--and T'Pol's POV in particular--seemed more fitting. So I dug it out of my hard drive (okay, I brought it right up in My Documents!) and took another stab at finishing it. Which I did. A special thanks to my beta-reader, Janet, for her timely suggestions and corrections. "Momentary Distractions" by Julie Evans T'Pol pressed her palms against Commander Tucker's bare shoulders and felt resistance. Whether he believed it or not, even his body language was recalcitrant. Even more so than most humans, the commander needed no words to express his feelings. His head turned and he shot her a challenging look. She returned his look evenly, raising her eyebrow just slightly. He turned away, relaxing into a careless slouch, his posture as smugly skeptical as his expression. A moment later he jerked upward as she applied the necessary amount of force with her right palm and adjusted the alignment of his back. Though she could not see his face, she estimated a very high probability that his mouth was hanging open and his eyes were wide with surprise. He let out a low, startled gasp, and she briefly lessened the force, moving her fingers along the warm skin on either side of his spine. After a few moments she found the neuropressure points, closer to the fourth vertebrae on his human frame. His back muscles rippled beneath her hands as he shifted under her ministrations. "Damn, that feels pretty good." "To achieve the best result, this technique requires that you remain completely still," T'Pol said. "And silent." "O-kay." Despite the sardonic edge in his voice, he complied. She resumed her efforts, her mind silently calculating the passage of time while she expertly manipulated the neuropressure points beneath his skin. As she felt his muscles relax further under her fingers, she could not help but notice that he was in excellent physical shape for a human. Her firm touch, which might be bruising to the fragile anatomy of many humans, did not produce any ill effect to him, despite the fact that his skin was surprisingly soft and smooth in contrast to his hard muscles. It was a curious contrast, one not found in Vulcan males, whose skin was quite a bit thicker and often coarse to withstand the harsher environment of their homeworld. The paradoxical combination made the commander seem oddly vulnerable despite his obvious vigor-- "Ahhh...Where'd you learn to do this?" Tucker's appreciative murmur and question interrupted her train of thought. Though she'd merely been making factual observations, she nevertheless welcomed the opportunity to refocus her thoughts. "Eighty four point six seconds." T'Pol could sense the commander's momentary confusion, as if he were trying to ascertain a plausible connection between his question and her reply. Then his back muscles flexed again as he turned to look at her. A small, wry grin lifted the corners of his lips. "Right. I'll shut up." "Thank you," T'Pol said, and she continued the technique without having answered his question. Though he didn't speak again, he did let out a soft moan when she reached a particularly sensitive spot, much like the moan she had uttered when he had so skillfully stimulated her neuropressure points. Her fingers stilled for a moment, imperceptibly so to an observer, though she quickly resumed her rhythm. Her earlier vocalization had been a simple physiological reaction to the physical stimulation of receptive nerve endings. And it was surprise at his unexpectedly proficient technique that had caused her to so abruptly end the session. No doubt his ability to so thoroughly satisfy her request was based partly on the fact that her minor deception had been rooted in truth. The energy fields in the Delphic Expanse had affected her biological rhythms, and had left her more responsive than usual to the neuropressure technique. Still, she could not help but reflect that his dexterity and the strength in his fingers were nearly equal to that of any Vulcan who had ever performed the technique on her. T'Pol dismissed that train of thought also, and mentally assessed her loss of focus. She had administered neuropressure before, but had never found her mind wandering in such an undisciplined manner. Clearly her own fatigue *was* greater than she'd realized. She resolutely focused again on her task, one that the commander had remarkably allowed her to complete with no further interruptions during the past three point two six minutes. He would no doubt attain a restful sleep tonight since his muscles were now quite lax beneath her hands. She promptly removed her hands from his warm skin. "Commander--" Tucker slumped and immediately drifted backward. Startled, T'Pol gripped his shoulders firmly. "Commander, I believe you are sufficiently relaxed--" Tucker slumped even further and his head fell back. T'Pol shifted but she wasn't quick enough to get out of the way as he fell against her, his cheek coming to rest on her shoulder. Though his weight was not uncomfortable to bear, she immediately stiffened. Vulcans valued their personal space, and such direct physical contact was rare except during mating-- "Commander Tucker." T'Pol shook him lightly, then a bit harder. His only response was to burrow his face deeper against her shoulder, oblivious to her efforts to rouse him. T'Pol had never known anyone to fall asleep under neuropressure. She wondered briefly if Doctor Phlox had given Tucker an actual sedative rather than a placebo, then dismissed that speculation. She had never known Phlox to commit such errors. Perhaps humans were more susceptible to neuropressure than Vulcans. Or, most likely, Commander Tucker was so exhausted he had been unable to resist his fatigue. She had of late observed the dark smudges under his eyes, and the occasional loss of concentration during officer briefings. Doctor Phlox was correct. The commander was obviously in need of natural, uninterrupted sleep. But this was not what she'd had in mind. She could call Phlox and ask him to help her move Tucker to his quarters. She could even carry him herself, but the commander's quarters were some distance from hers. She would no doubt be observed, and though the distorted speculation humans called gossip was of no relevance to her, she did not wish to find her duties interrupted by numerous requests for clarification that would no doubt follow. And such physical conveyance to his quarters might also wake the commander. T'Pol sighed as she accepted the inevitable. The logical course of action was to let the commander sleep until he woke naturally. She looked down at him, suddenly aware of how closely he was pressed against her. Odd that she could have forgotten that intrusion for even a few moments, as if it was a natural thing to have his body warmth pressed to hers, to sense his calm mental state-- Impossible. Those telepathic theories the V'tosh ka'tur Vulcans had presented were unproven, lacking sufficient verifiable evidence. Her perception, compounded by her momentary distraction, was therefore unreliable. T'Pol lifted Tucker by the shoulders and quickly extricated herself, eliminating any further unnecessary contact. She lowered him onto the bed and with impersonal precision removed his shoes. He cooperated with her efforts by turning until he was reclined on his back, one arm hanging over the side of the bed. T'Pol straightened and looked down at him. Since he was several centimeters taller than she was, his body stretched the length of the bed. She needed less sleep than humans, and she could often use deep mediation to achieve the same amount of regeneration for her body functions that sleep provided. However, the Delphic Expanse had reduced the efficiency of her rest. She had planned to sleep tonight. It would be illogical to change that plan. Tucker remained close to one side of the bed, leaving her sufficient room to recline also. His presence was immaterial to achieving the rest she required. She dimmed the lights, then settled herself on the unoccupied side of the bed without glancing at the commander. She turned on her side, facing away from him, and closed her eyes. Fifty-two point six seconds later she sighed. Tucker's presence was not immaterial. While they were not in physical contact and she could not see him, she could smell him. She had initially found the strong smell of humans mildly offensive, but as she had become used to them she'd become accustomed to their scent. She'd also learned to differentiate between the individual scents of those she worked with regularly, including that of Commander Tucker. At the moment she could smell the soap he had used to shower recently. Its clean, crisp scent contrasted with the rank aroma of organic waste. He had been correct when he'd said he needed further cleansing to remove all traces of the sewage. But, most of all, she could smell *his* scent, a combination of musk-laden pheromones indicative of his sex and species-- their purpose to elicit a mating desire among females of that species--overlaid by the keen tang of his natural sweat. It was not an unpleasant combination, but it kept her constantly alert to his presence beside her. T'Pol turned onto her back. Though she was not of his species, even among Vulcans certain primitive aspects of the midbrain had an unavoidable effect on the autonomous nervous system. It was a purely physiological reaction, nothing more. It was negligible and easily controlled. There was no reason she couldn't ignore his scent, as well as the soft whiff and whoosh of his respiration that was audible to her sensitive ears. After several moments, she turned abruptly and looked at him, as if her stare would influence him to cease making her aware of his presence. It was an illogical action indeed. He was deeply asleep, virtually motionless except for his bare chest rising and falling gently with each breath. She noticed absently that his expression was far more relaxed than she'd seen it since they'd first heard about the attack on Earth. He looked young, and quite peaceful, as if he'd been untouched by any recent tragedy. As if he might wake at any moment and smile at her, with the wicked, amused gleam in his eyes-- T'Pol sat up and dropped her legs over the side of the bed. Observing Commander Tucker was clearly not conducive to relaxation. It was illogical that she found his presence in her bed too distracting to allow sleep, however it was true. It was this Delphic Expanse--besides disrupting her biological rhythms it had clearly left her mental defenses weakened. To strengthen those defenses required discipline, and while sleep would best serve to restore her to full fitness, in its absence the prudent course was to pursue the best alternative. She rose from the bed and raised the lighting to a low level. Two minutes later she was seated on her meditation mat, her back upright in the standard meditative posture, her eyes focused on the meditation candle. She pressed her palms tightly together, steepled her fingers, took a deep, emotion-purging breath and allowed the cool clarity of logic to wash over her. It seeped into her bones and her blood, spreading like a soft, hypnotic blanket over her body and her mind, allowing her repose, and serenity-- T'Pol started and the mental blanket fell away. Something had disturbed her concentration. A second later an insistent sound penetrated her consciousness. Commander Tucker was snoring softly. T'Pol opened her eyes and stared intently at flickering flame of the candle. She forced down her frustration, refusing to be distracted. She closed her eyes again, took another deep breath and restarted the process, letting the cool logic again flow over her, coursing into and through her, accompanied this time by the soft, sibilant sound of Commander Tucker's snoring. That sound integrated itself into her meditative state, interweaving into the blanket of calm with unheeded ease. In her subconscious state it seemed natural, even logical, that the noisy evidence of his presence nearby should soothe her. She did not question it as she drifted deeper into the gentle oblivion that allowed her body--and mind--to mend and restore itself... (continued in part 2) -- Stephen Ratliff ASC Stories Only Forwarding In the Pattern Buffer at: http//trekiverse.crosswinds.net/feed/ ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. Comments and feedback should be directed to alt.startrek .creative or directly to the author. Yahoo! Groups Links To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? Tue Mar 02 10:27:25 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n19.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.74]) by kite (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1aYbL65953NZFkD0 for ; Tue, 2 Mar 2004 07:24:36 -0800 (PST) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1977044-13263-1078240970-stephenbratliffasc=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yah oo.com Received: from [66.218.66.97] by n19.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 02 Mar 2004 15:22:50 -0000 X-Sender: stephenbratliffasc@earthlink.net X-Apparently-To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 28954 invoked from network); 2 Mar 2004 15:22:29 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.166) by m14.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 2 Mar 2004 15:22:29 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO mallard.mail.pas.earthlink.net) (207.217.120.48) by mta5.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 2 Mar 2004 15:22:29 -0000 Received: from sdn-ap-022dcwashp0273.dialsprint.net ([63.191.161.19]) by mallard.mail.pas.earthlink.net with smtp (Exim 3.33 #1) id 1AyBj0-0000db-00 for ascl@yahoogroups.com; Tue, 02 Mar 2004 07:22:26 -0800 To: ascl@yahoogroups.com Organization: Alt.StarTrek.Creative Virtual Staff Office Message-ID: X-Mailer: Forte Agent 1.92/32.572 X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 207.217.120.48 From: ASC-VSO X-Yahoo-Profile: oldmanasc MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCL@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Delivered-To: mailing list ASCL@yahoogroups.com Precedence: bulk List-Unsubscribe: Date: Tue, 02 Mar 2004 10:22:38 -0500 Subject: [ASC] Momentary Distractions 2/2 ENT (T/Tu) [PG] Reply-To: ASCL-owner@yahoogroups.com Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Forwarded by the ASC-VSO Posted: 02 Mar 2004 04:43:29 GMT In: alt.startrek.creative From: juli17@aol.com (Juli17) Title: Momentary Distractions Author: Julie Evans Email: juli17@aol.com Series: ENT Part: 2/2 Rating: PG Codes: T/Tu Summary: What happened after T'Pol cracked Trip's back? A (continued from part 1) Nearly six hours later T'Pol slipped out of her meditative trance as easily as she'd slipped into it, alerted by her body that she had attained the maximum possible regeneration of her body's physical and mental processes provided by meditation. She breathed deeply and slowly, still caught between the subconscious state and full alertness. She opened her eyes, seeing first the low, flickering flame in front of her, then the chronometer on the wall beyond. Four thirty-two hours. Even as she internalized the time, her mind came fully to conscious awareness. Her senses immediately told her what she had forgotten in her awakening state, and she was momentarily nonplused. She was not alone. She turned and looked at Commander Tucker, still asleep on her bed several meters away. During the night he had shifted position. He lay now on his side, his face toward her, one hand tucked under his cheek. He was no longer snoring, but breathing softly and evenly. Her brow furrowed as she observed him. As if her gaze had alerted some subliminal part of his mind, his eyes opened. He stared at her for several moments, his gaze unfocused, as if he was not quite cognizant of his surroundings. The moment he recognized where he was might have elicited a laugh from her, if she were human. His eyes widened, and he sat up so abruptly he nearly slid off the bed in his haste. He stood, his feet tangling in the sheets, and struggled to retain his balance. "Uh, what--" he pulled at the tangled sheets and glanced back at the disturbed bed. "I guess, um...I fell asleep?" Her right eyebrow lifted at the sight of his sheepish look. "An astute observation, Commander." Tucker rubbed his face, and ran a hand through his hair. "I must have been really tired. Sorry." T'Pol stood, ignoring the slight stiffness in her muscles from sitting in one position all night. "No apology is necessary. It is I who miscalculated the extent of your fatigue. I was unable to rouse you." Tucker glanced at the bed again, then away as quickly. "You shoulda kicked me or something." "That might have caused you injury. I did consider carrying you to your quarters"--the commander's horrified look told T'Pol he would have found that no more agreeable a solution than she had--"but the most logical course was to let you sleep. It was my ministration that induced your somnolent state." "Yeah, that neuropressure really worked." Tucker shook his head as if he found that fact surprising, but there was a small, pleased smile on his face. "To tell you the truth that's the best sleep I've had since...well, in a long time." Since his sister died. She suspected that was what he'd started to say. "You did appear to be sleeping very deeply." Tucker nodded. "I didn't have the nightmare I've been having recently, where my sister is sitting in the park and the blast radius is coming toward her, and I'm screamin' for her to run, but she doesn't hear me--" "Perhaps you should not dwell on that nightmare," T'Pol said. She knew little about human psychology, but it seemed logical to her that focusing on a negative event could not be healthy. His obvious agitation at the recall would seem to support that assumption. Tucker took a deep breath. "Maybe not. When I woke up just now, I was dreaming about Lizzie, but it was good. We were both at this lake my parents used to take us to when we were kids. It had the bluest water you've ever seen. And the trout---there were so many of them they just about jumped up into your arms. The sun was makin' these diamond-like patterns on the water and we were laughin' because--" He stopped suddenly and gave her an apologetic look. "Jeez, I'm sorry. I'm probably boring you." "You are not." She'd found his rising level of animation as he spoke of his sister intriguing. "You were obviously very fond of your sister." The light in Tucker's eyes dimmed a little. "Yeah. She was a pest sometimes, when we were kids. But she sure grew up to be an amazing woman. Beautiful, intelligent, funny, always seein' the best in people..." His voice trailed off, and T'Pol felt an unaccountable urge to offer a response. "I have no siblings, but I know there is a connection between them due to shared childhood experiences that cannot be easily replaced." "Even among Vulcans?" Tucker's tone was cynical, and T'Pol understood his meaning. Vulcans lived by logic. Love did not exist among them, not as the all-encompassing emotional, yet often transitory, condition known by humans. What did exist was both deeper and stronger in its way, but it was not something she wished to explain to the commander at the moment. He still clung to certain prejudices, ones that some of her fellow Vulcans had done little to diffuse. Apparently, neither had she. "Yes, even among Vulcans." Her somber reply seemed to unsettle Tucker. He looked startled for a moment, then he slapped his hand over his eyes, and shook his head. "Damn." He whipped his hand away and rested both hands on his hips, just above where his pants rode somewhat precariously. The top snap had become undone during the night, revealing a sprinkling of hair that disappeared into the top band of his briefs. "I'm sorry, T'Pol. I guess my gentlemanly behavior has been lacking recently. Just because I've been feelin' testy, that doesn't mean I should take it out on you." She suspected he'd been drawing energy from his negative emotions, from his anger and his desire for revenge. He had not stated that desire to her, but she'd heard him say as much to Lieutenant Reed. Such ineffectual and unhealthy behavior was why Vulcans had long ago suppressed their emotions and devoted themselves to logic. Perhaps logic did not lend itself to good humor, as Captain Archer had once remarked after a meeting with Soval, but nor did it burden one with the kind of pain the commander had been experiencing. At least not pain that couldn't be pushed away, buried deep inside, and ignored. T'Pol saw Tucker's expectant look and nodded briefly. "Apology accepted." "Good," Tucker said, looking relieved. His gaze fell on the mat behind her. "Hey, you didn't actually sleep there, did ya?" "I meditated." Tucker's eyebrows rose. "All night?" "Yes. Vulcan meditation can be as rejuvenating as sleep." T'Pol assured herself it was not really a lie. Perhaps a half-truth. Tucker's expression indicated doubt. "Still, I shouldn't have fallen asleep on you and taken over your bed. My mother taught me to be better company than that." T'Pol's eyebrow arched. "What makes you think you are not good company when you are asleep?" Tucker let out a short laugh. Though it sounded a bit rusty, it was genuine. "Touché. I just hope I didn't snore." When T'Pol didn't answer Tucker dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling for a moment before looking at her again, his expression dismayed. "Ah, I did, didn't I?" "It did not disturb me." As she said that, T'Pol realized it was true. She could not recall clearly when his soft snoring had changed from a distraction to an agreeable extension of her meditative state, but she knew it had. *That* disturbed her. She moved to the bed and picked up her robe from where it had slipped to the floor, and pulled it on. Tucker looked down and seemed to suddenly realize his state of undress. He hastily jerked his pants higher and fumbled with the snap with one hand, while reaching for his discarded shirt with the other. "Uh, I'd better go--" His voice was muffled as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. "Listen, thanks for your help last night. Really." He pushed aside the sheet that had fallen to the floor and pulled out his shoes while T'Pol cinched her robe tighter. "You are welcome." "About, um, what I said before..." Tucker paused, and his face flushed. "Look, I know you weren't making sexual advances, T'Pol. It was a crazy thing to say. It must have been the fatigue. I wasn't thinking straight." "Indeed, you were not," T'Pol agreed, accepting his hurried explanation. Sexual attraction on either of their parts would be illogical. She was well aware that he was considered a "prime specimen" among some of the female crew, as one ensign had once remarked in the mess hall. Right now, as he stood before her, his clothing disheveled and his hair mussed, a shadow of stubble across his jaw, looking sleep- tousled and contrite, she surmised based on human standards that those females would find his attractiveness quotient quite high. Given that regard, the commander did not need to seek physical intimacy from her, and as a Vulcan she certainly was not looking for-- "T'Pol?" Tucker was watching her curiously. She nodded curtly. "As you stated, fatigue clearly affected your thought processes." She mentioned nothing about what it had been doing to her own thought processes. "I trust your judgment will be improved by our next session." Her voice was sharper than she intended though Tucker didn't seem to notice. His eyes widened. "Next session?" "To achieve the maximum therapeutic benefit, neurotherapy requires repeated sessions." "Oh." Tucker nodded slowly. "Uh, okay. Sure." "If you wish to schedule another appointment--" Tucker shook his head. "No--I mean, I'll have to let ya know. What with the havoc this Expanse has been playin' on the ship's systems, I'm not sure when I'll have time again." T'Pol could have pointed out that increased sleep would enable him to complete that extra work more efficiently, but the commander had never been one to be swayed by mere logic. Instead she said, "Very well." Tucker moved to the door and pressed the release. "I guess I'll see ya later then--" T'Pol nodded as Tucker slipped out, raising his hand in a brief farewell gesture just before the door closed. She felt an unexpected sense of relief, which was without reason, though not so unreasonable as the tinge of disappointment that followed-- Her comm panel beeped and T'Pol started, then quickly activated the channel. "T'Pol here." //Ah, Subcommander. Doctor Phlox here. I hope I'm not disturbing you.// T'Pol glanced at the chronometer. "It is four forty-seven hours, Doctor." //So it is. But you're not asleep, are you? I know you like to rise early, as I do. We are both rather like the Mesifluvian mothbat of Rukhbar Six, which--// "Doctor, did you want something?" T'Pol asked, cutting off his rambling reply. //Ah, yes. Of course. I was just wondering whether the neuropressure treatment was successful?// T'Pol hesitated fractionally before answering. "Yes." //Excellent. So Commander Tucker was able to sleep?// T'Pol was reasonably certain that Doctor Phlox could not be aware of what had transpired hours earlier. Like humans, he often requested information in imprecise wording. And it was not her place to answer for the commander. "Perhaps you should ask him." //I would, the computer lists his quarters unoccupied.// The doctor was silent for a second. //Perhaps I should have the computer locate him. As his doctor I am very concerned about his lack of sleep and how it might affect not only his emotional state but his ability to carry out his engineering duties--// "He fell asleep while I was performing the neuropressure technique," T'Pol interjected. There was no point in allowing the doctor to formulate inaccurate conclusions, and she did not wish to prolong this conversation. //I see.// There was another brief pause. //Perhaps I should have expected such an outcome, given the commander's level of exhaustion. But I'm sure you handled it admirably, Subcommander.// T'Pol saw no reason to reply to such an obviously correct deduction. "Commander Tucker should be in his quarters shortly." //No need to contact him now.// The doctor's voice was cheerful. //Perhaps he will grab a bit more sleep before duty calls. It can only do him good. By the way, did the commander happen to mention his sister?// T'Pol's eyebrow rose. "Briefly." //Hmm. I believe the commander has been suppressing some of his feelings. In humans that can cause psychological complications. It would be therapeutic for him to talk about his loss.// "I am not a psychotherapist." //No, of course not. Just a friend.// T'Pol was not sure the doctor's assumption was accurate. Though humans defined "friend" quite broadly, certainly she was not one who could fully understand Tucker's emotions, as a human friend might. "Doctor, Commander Tucker has several close friends, including Captain Archer and Lieutenant Reed, who would be better able to...empathize with his feelings." //Perhaps, but with humans those feelings often come out when they're least expected. And relaxation techniques like neuropressure can produce a favorable environment for such spontaneous releases. If Commander Tucker does exhibit a desire to talk, listening is always a very effective response.// "Thank you for the advice, Doctor." If Phlox noted T'Pol's dry tone he didn't indicate so. //Any time, Subcommander, any time. I assume the commander has made a follow up appointment?// "His schedule is uncertain. He said he will 'get back to me.'" "Very well. Though if he dawdles, perhaps a bit of persuasion will be in order. I seem to recall a human aversion to slimy creatures--ah, that reminds me! I must feed my animals. It's their breakfast time, and they do get a bit, er, quarrelsome when their meals are delayed. Phlox out.// T'Pol rarely tried to understand the doctor's meandering thought processes, and she didn't attempt it now. Her gaze went to the closed door, where Commander Tucker had so recently departed, and her brow furrowed slightly. She had known him for over two years, yet in the past few hours her awareness of him had altered subtly, as if she had discovered something new about him. It was a puzzling development. He was the same person he'd always been, a human defined by his emotions more than most, and given to impulsive actions, like his ill-advised involvement with the Vissian cogenitor. He was her opposite in every aspect; emotional where she was logical, intuitive where she was cerebral, impetuous where she was prudent, gregarious where she was reserved--in short, human where she was Vulcan. Such contrasting dispositions could be expected to result in friction, as had frequently occurred between them. Yet that did not fully explain her altered awareness, nor the strange stir of senses she had experienced-- T'Pol strode toward her bed, redirecting her thoughts toward a more pragmatic objective. She had made her choice to resign from the Vulcan Council and to remain with this human crew, and she did not regret that choice. If she wished to truly understand humans, no one embodied their mercurial natures more than Commander Tucker. Despite her perplexing reaction to his presence, the opportunity to know him better was one she should logically embrace. She resolved to do just that. Commander Tucker would return for further treatment, if not immediately, then when he ran out of excuses to satisfy Doctor Phlox. She would listen, and be a "friend" in the human denotation of the term, to further her goal. Whatever momentary distractions she had experienced in his presence were of no consequence, mere aberrations resulting from fatigue and from the disturbing anomalies of this expanse. Should those distractions recur-- They would not. That firm repudiation had little logical foundation, but T'Pol did not acknowledge that fact. She pulled the bedcovers from her bed and deposited them in the recycler--a simple manner of hygiene rather than to erase the commander's scent, she assured herself. Then she quickly removed her nightclothes. Though it was early, she was eager to begin her shift and embrace the reassuring rationality of her work. She stepped into the bathroom, then paused as a thought struck her. She recalled the old Earth film she had watched on movie night recently, at Commander Tucker's insistent urging. In one scene, a particular action had been deemed highly effective by the lead character as a method of dispelling sensory and physiological distractions he'd wished to ignore. The character in question had been human, but such a physical shock to the system might achieve a similar result for a Vulcan as well. After a second's hesitation she turned the temperature control of her shower to its most extreme setting and stepped under the showerhead. She flinched involuntarily as the sharp needles of frigid water struck her warm skin, then remained still as it beat down on her, ruthlessly driving out all lingering stir of tactile awareness from her nerve endings, and allowing her stoic, imperturbable control to reassert itself. A few minutes later, she headed for the bridge, the recent unsettling distractions satisfactorily vanquished. For the moment. ~The End~ -- Stephen Ratliff ASC Stories Only Forwarding In the Pattern Buffer at: http//trekiverse.crosswinds.net/feed/ ASCL is a stories-only list, no discussion. Comments and feedback should be directed to alt.startrek .creative or directly to the author. Yahoo! Groups Links To visit your group on the web, go to: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to: ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to: http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/ From ???@??? Tue Mar 02 10:27:25 2004 X-Persona: Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n18.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.73]) by tanager (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1aYbJo1Rb3NZFmQ0 for ; Tue, 2 Mar 2004 07:22:49 -0800 (PST) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1977044-13261-1078240958-stephenbratliffasc=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yah