Cantrell: The Early Years, Part Four

The Test, part two, a Cantrell: The Early Years, Part Four, Update

Brianna saw Solkar, strikingly handsome in his youth. Tall, lean with deep brown eyes that bedazzled all who gazed into them. She was aware, too, of feelings that were not her own but rather those of his young bride trembling as she drew near the marriage cup, swept up in the power of that gaze. Brianna  sensed the strength of T’Pau’s love for him. She shook her head slightly, afraid of being absorbed by such an unfamiliar memory and the feelings it evoked in her. 

She wondered why T’Pau had led her here until Brianna’s own mind momentarily flitted back to the soul she had ‘bumped’ into such a short time ago. Reminded of it suddenly, and finding herself similarly mesmerized by him, she forced herself to back away from it, move on, sifting through the layers for another, safer strand to follow. 

Too late.

Already, T’Pau knew of her encounter. And just how profoundly affected Brianna Cantrell was by his touch. She was aware, too, that the High Councilor was conducting her own search, carefully picking through her mind to gain the confirmation she sought. 

Brianna was at once humiliated and angered, not ready to share such a private moment with anyone, let alone the High Councilor, who was until this moment a complete stranger. Yet, T’Pau had done nothing wrong. Brianna Cantrell had, quite inadvertently, led her there herself. She had simply been unable to resist the probing, thrown off her guard with the memories of Solkar — as if compelled to share a similar moment in return. 

Retaliation was swift as the girl focused on a particularly vivid memory. She played with a sehlet, a dangerous game of tease. The huge, bear-like creature reared back, suddenly raking a powerfully sharp paw across her face ... T’Pau found the memory distressing, the child’s trauma intense with fright. She backed away from the emotion, vaguely aware it was not her own, realizing the mind-link had been complete. 

And broke it. 

Brianna Cantrell lowered her hand and opened her eyes. Abruptly, T’Pau pushed back the fringe of Brianna Cantrell’s headdress to examine the half-moon scar in the upper left-hand corner of the girl’s forehead — a lasting reminder of the formidability of sehlets. 

A hush fell over the room as T’Pau rose to her feet and moved to the rear of the dais, her back turned to the Council, deferring to the High Priestess as she spoke in undertones. Abruptly, T’Lar turned to glance back at Brianna, her head tilted in contemplation, her slanted eyebrow raised nearly to the edge of her headdress. She then spoke a few words in a mutter, her hands raised above her head in supplication. Somewhere in the distance a deep gong resounded.

Brianna Cantrell felt weary to the bone, completely drained. T’Pau had largely resisted the mindmeld, perhaps to prove Brianna’s ability. Or perhaps, she thought suspiciously, to see her publicly humiliated by her failure. Maybe that was why T’Pau had chosen that particular memory, hoping the girl would withdraw rather than let it be known she had so shamefully broken the Discipline. But Brianna Cantrell hadn’t backed down and well, the sky didn’t fall, either. Surprisingly. Fascinating, she thought, at once crinkling her delicate brow at her rather curious choice of expression, knowing it wasn’t quite her own…

Besides, T'Pau’s motives no longer mattered, she decided, so long as they understood one another. Brianna  surreptitiously watched the aged High Councilor as the ritualistic chanting resonated throughout the temple; T’Lar chanting loudly in a commanding voice, receiving a corresponding response from the maidens, interspersed with the clang of the giant gong. T’Pau seemed equally weary, as if her age had suddenly caught up to her and at that moment Brianna knew that she and the High Councilor did indeed understand one another, recognizing the same stubborn persistence in the old woman during the mind-probe. 

The girl resisted a smile as T’Pau turned back to her. “It is done!” she proclaimed. “T’Bree, thee hast proven thyself a Vulcan in every sense. Thee hast earned the privilege to wear the symbol of IDIC — with honor.” T’Pau stepped aside as T’Lar held open the Latinum chain. Dangling from its center was a round medallion, pierced by a triangle, a sparkling rare blue gemstone set at the tip of the triangle. Brianna lowered her head allowing the Priestess to place it around her neck. It was surprisingly heavy, or maybe she was just acutely aware of it, resisting the urge to reach up and fondle the medallion, even so. Brianna was never more proud than at that moment, tears once again threatening to break through her practiced shield of reserve.

The High Councilor then raised her hand once again in the Vulcan greeting. “Live long and prosper, T'Bree.”

“Peace and long life, T’Pau,” Brianna murmured, bowing her head in respect for the woman’s high office.

Author’s Note: This was taken, with a few alterations, from chapter seven of my published Star Trek fanfiction mini-series Night Whispers Volume One The Incident. Thank you.

A Request, a Cantrell: The Early Years, Part Four Update

Three weeks later Spock sat in front of his private console gazing at his mother's handsome face coalesced on the small compti screen.  The training cruise successfully completed; he was back in port at his modest base quarters enjoying a short leave between graduating classes.  

Content for now with his mission as a training instructor at the Academy and his recent promotion to the rank of captain, it was a position that would lend itself to some flexibility, allowing room for an active courtship.  Meeting the woman was only the first step, although to that end, things seemed inordinately slow, complicated, leaving him to ponder the feasibility of the whole thing. No doubt other suitors were in the mix. He imagined the line quite long.

So much depended on whether they even liked each other, should the interest prove mutual, he could hardly plan beyond it.  Certainly, after he confessed to T’Pau his breach of the rules, and dared ask “Who is she?’ Her cold response left him little hope. In fact, he may be so far back in the line of suitors, a mere introduction was moot. 

That was probably it, what his mother was finding so difficult to tell him.  Yet, he remained undaunted by that line.  Instead, intrigued by his little mystery woman, he made the decision not neglect this one should he garner the chance, as he had T'Pring, deliberately allowing another man to slip in through the back door, stealing her affections away.  No, this one was special, he had sensed that the moment they touched. 

To that end, Spock had taken measures to keep himself uppermost in the candidate’s mind.  Unable to regain his shattered peace from the moment they broke contact, he had unconsciously sought her out, traveling down that residual psychic link into her very dreams several times already since the original incident.  Indeed, he felt the remnants of her touch even now having wandered into her sleep again last night.  He didn’t know what it was about her, he just couldn’t seem to stay away.  And she, too, always seemed glad he had come.

Spock shifted slightly in his chair, again studying his mother's visage trying to read her.  Initially, he could barely contain his excitement when the call came through.  Now, he was barely able to breathe, the news the Lady Amanda bore unbelievably distressing to her son.  He clasped his hands together, index fingers extended and touching as he drew them to his face in contemplation. 

 "Two things," his mother was saying.  "She's young."
"How young?"  Spock asked.  "She must be seven to sit the K'Matra."
"She's a little over seventeen and a half standard Earth years.  Seven point nine-two, I believe.  In Vulcan years."

"Not so young that we shouldn't at least meet.  What we experienced was extra-ordinary.  I fail to understand the harm here," Spock said.  "I am merely asking to meet her.  Anything else can wait."

"It's not as easy as that, I’m afraid."

"The other obstacle?"  The depth of that line of suitors, no doubt, Spock thought.
His mother visibly sighed.  "She's human," Amanda said quietly.   

"I see," Spock said, nodding resolutely.   "I am a fool to believe my life will ever be my own.  That my choices will ever be deemed sufficient.  Tell me, Mother, if I were still the second son would that fact make any difference?"  Spock said, assuming at once that his social position had everything to do with it. 

He was First Son of the Ruling House of Talek Sen Deen.  It just never occurred to him before that fact would stand in his way. His father, the Elder Son of the House had married a human.  Of course, his first marriage to a Vulcan princess had produced a true First Son;  The one who had ruthlessly jammed the crown onto the head of his younger half-brother before he fled in disgrace!

He left Spock with all the pressures, family responsibilities and trappings of their Nobility.  Trappings that were beginning to pinch, Spock decided, shifting uncomfortably in his seat again.  So this is to be my legacy . . . It was all he could do to conceal his anger.   Amanda gazed at her son with kind eyes that bespoke her understanding.  His had not been an easy way.  At last he spoke.

 "I tried to follow the Traditional course.  With a woman I never found entirely acceptable or agreeable.  Now in a manner I cannot explain I have found my soulmate.  I have touched her and felt my future.  There was something there, Mother.  Even in that fleeting moment.  You may tell my father if I am denied this woman, it is highly unlikely I shall ever marry.  I am not threatening.  I am merely pointing out that the odds are increasingly against it.  The possibilities dwindling."

"Spock, it's not about the House of Talek Sen Deen. We haven't even gotten that far.   It's about the feelings of a father."
"Mother, my father is Vulcan.  He does not subscribe . . . "

“Hers, not yours." Amanda said.  "You touched a human girl and her human father is furious!  You would have had an easier time of it I'm afraid had you been caught on the couch making out with his teenaged daughter.  That he understands.  But you mindmelded with her.  And in some real sense, I suppose, he perceives that as the greater threat.  Because through the mindmeld she really does become yours."

Spock tilted his head to the side in contemplation.  "Are all human fathers typically this jealous?"
"Some.  And some human mothers, too," she confessed.  "There have been one or two women you've brought around over the years I haven't felt were good enough for you."

"Indeed?"
"Indeed," she said with a small grin. 
"Where do we go from here?"

"We don't,” Amanda sighed, heavily. “Her father forbids any pursuit of the matter.  He wants her to grow up and fall in love with someone when she's old enough to know what love is.  He won't release her name.  We don't even know who the father is.  He spoke to the Council through an electronic disguise."

"She is the Anomaly.  No other human has sat the Test," Spock reasoned, leaning back in his chair.
"Yes, of course.  But her true identity has been carefully preserved all these years by order of the High Priestess, T'Lar.  Even High Councilor T'Pau who presided over the Test is bound by Oath not to reveal who she is.  Try to understand, dear.   It has always been for her protection."

"I see," Spock said quietly.  He drew in his lower lip in a manner his mother recognized as a sign of distress.  

"I'm so sorry, son.”  Amanda shook her head, looking vexed, her aged blue eyes sympathetic.  “This whole thing has gotten completely out of hand.  It's become politicized.  Other Houses have gotten into the middle." 

"You would, of course, be referring to Sarkal of the House of Kooli Ton Lok and his cousin Strone of Seltu Dai Sei."  Spock said, sitting forward again.
"As per their habit of late, yes.  Using any opportunity afforded them to jockey themselves into a better political standing.  Or so it would appear. It doesn’t help matters that Lord Sobel has called for the girl to have a keeper. Of course, he submits Sarkal . . . I know of the rivalry that exists between you two ---"    

"Mother, that presumes ego.  As a Vulcan ---"
"Oh please, dear, it's only too plain Sarkal wishes he were you.  Now, spare me the litany and just listen," his mother said carefully.  "You're not to press the issue.  By order of the Council.  Don't defy them.  Promise me you'll let the matter drop.  At least for now.  The House of Talek Sen Deen can ill afford the scandal."

"And my father?  I would know his views.  I presume he is most displeased.  This certainly will not serve to ease things between us."
"Your father has retreated to his meditation."
"Both his sons have caused him disgrace."  Spock sighed quietly.  "It is something I swore I would never do."

"You cannot make up for the sins of your brother.  And if there is any disgrace in all of this, it's in the actions of the others.  Not yours.  Kiftiri, Spock.  That's what T'Pau has labeled it and T'Lar has concurred with her.  Your father is merely --- Frustrated at his inability to make the Council see reason.  I only wish I had known what was happening at the time.  I witnessed her test.  At the reception later that evening I exchanged a few pleasantries with her.  Oh, she was completely veiled, and we weren't given her name.  I couldn't pick her out on the street, I suppose . . ."

"There is nothing you could have done, Mother.  I, on the other hand, am going to have to once again seek the Kolinahr and become a monk," he said.
"Oh, Spock, no.  Don't give up.  In only a few, short years she'll be of age.  Why, I was barely twenty when I married your father."  

"But I do not know who she is," Spock insisted.  

"Sometimes you simply have to rely on a higher source.  Kismet, Spock.  If you're truly meant to be together, you'll meet again," his mother assured him.  Spock wished he shared her illogical rational just now. He signed off and went to bed later that evening feeling the pain of his autonomy more acutely than ever before. 

In the twilight of sleep, he reached for the girl, reliving the memory of their encounter like a video recording over and over in his head until, sound asleep, he was no longer alone . . . “I deeply apologize,” he pressed into her thoughts. “This will have to be the last time we meet like this. If I could change things, I would.

Author’s Note: Again, this is taken mostly intact from my published Star Trek fanfiction mini-series, Star Trek Night Whispers; Volume One, chapter Ten.

Unsavory Dinner, a Cantrell: The Early Years Update

Joseph Cantrell sat back in his chair, staring at the legal draft set before him.  The meeting wasn’t going well.  He was glad now that he had insisted it take place here in this very public spot, the Islander Restaurant, a notable place for fine dining.  He glanced around him briefly at the other patrons, taking in the ambience of this place, the low lighting, the intimacy of the booths and the tables scattered throughout the center aisle, where he and his companion sat. Waiters and waitresses flitted expertly from table to table toting heavy trays laden with food in a carefully choreographed dance, skirting close to each other, yet never once making contact.  He would have preferred a booth, needing the quiet it offered, but his huge six foot six frame just didn’t lend itself to such tight confines. 

Joseph took in a deep breath, gathering into his lungs the pungent aroma of roast beef marinated in au jus.  His guest was a strict vegetarian, but knowing the nature of the business they were to conduct on this cheerless evening, he decided some form of vengeance was in order.  He reached for the pen, changed his mind and grabbed his wine glass instead, taking a sip of the Von Haute Estate Meloire, a rare vintage Cabernet Sauvignon.  Stalling.  

“Is the wording contrary to your liking?” Ambassador Sarek said at last.  His gaze was cool beneath the gently angled eyebrows flecked with bits of gray, his brown eyes beginning to reflect his advanced years.  The Vulcan’s demeanor exuded patience as he waited for an answer. 

 Joseph drew in a quiet breath, glancing away again unable to look the aged dignitary in the eye.  He had lived on Vulcan for many years and he was familiar with the culture.  He embraced it with all of its intricacies and subtle nuances, he just never dreamed it would creep its way into his own household so very intimately.  Never dreamed he would be signing such an agreement as this.  So much of him railed against the notion, his hand nearly shook.  “No,” he said.  “No, it’s quite logically put.  It just occurs to me now that perhaps something more provisional should be offered.  You know, something with more wriggle room.  We’re talking about two people’s lives here.  What if they don’t even get along?  Hell, marriage is hard enough . . .”

“Arrangements of this nature quite often take place in your own culture.  Human history is replete with it.  I do not comprehend your continued reticence in the matter.  As for whether or not they will get along, it is up to them to make it work.  We must not forget how tenaciously they clung to each other after the Council ruled against such a match in the first place. It is Kiftiri, the will of the All —”

“Destiny, kiftiri, sounds more like a trap to me.  Listen, Sarek.  You’ve known me a long time.  You know my word is good, why do we need this in writing?” he said as he drew a line through some of the language on the page, striking it out, initialing each change as he went.  “Here’s what I recommend.  Rather than jump off the deep end, let’s just see how things work out.  Put them together on the ship, and we’ll go from there.  What do you say?”  Joseph shoved the amended paperwork across the table.  Sarek barely glanced at it.

“It is not for me to say, the Council requires more than a mere promise. Reputations are on the line, the integrity of his family. This is a serious business, the — moderator in question was accused of malfeasance. Surely, you would not deny him the opportunity to prove himself unfairly maligned,” Sarek said. “And what of your daughter? She pines away.  Already certain damage may have been done.  Why tempt fate?  We all made an error in judgement four point one-eight Standard Earth years ago.  It is time to rectify it, would you not agree?”  With that he scribbled something on the page, initialed it and scooted it back across the tablecloth.

Joseph made a pretense of studying the parchment.  He noted the emphasis placed on the word moderator.  He had requested the Ambassador withhold the identity of the man, for now, for reasons of his own.  It was all part of his backup plan should the meeting go against him.  Which it had been, steadily.  Sarek was a skilled diplomat, with decades of experience under his belt.  Joseph, although flustered, wasn’t really surprised the elderly statesman had wrung concession after concession out of him.   Still, he would not give in so easily.  He had one minor ace in the hole, and he planned to play it.

“We must at least make the attempt,” Sarek said, breaking the uneasy silence.  “If he does not find favor with your daughter after a time, she is free to Challenge him.  And honor will have been served.  If it were your son who stood accused, Joseph, what would you do?”

With that Joseph looked up, startled, for a moment thinking that the father-to-father tactic Sarek employed had something to do with the identity of the man in question.  Then he brought himself back to his senses.  Sarek only had two sons, one who had disgraced himself and the House of Talek Sen Dene years ago, the rumor of his recent demise carried on the wind, and another son by his second union, Spock of legendary fame. As things turned out, Spock, the younger son had simply gone into retreat, some years back, attempting to achieve the Vulcan Kolinarh.  

Due to a crisis, Spock was suddenly back in uniform, serving in Starfleet, as he had for decades. Shortly after his Test, at age seventeen, he fled the planet to join this auspicious force. Ran away, as humans would suggest. Joseph always wondered why. Many Vulcans were betrothed at that age . . . 

From what Joseph had observed, Vulcans were, for all of their sophistication, a mysterious breed, balancing technological advancements and logic with a deep faith bordering on the superstitious.  

How to exploit that, he pondered, in order to free his daughter from an uncertain fate?  It was time to play his ace.  “I’ll agree to most of this, but this is how I want it to come down,” he began and proceeded to lay out his plan, producing a legal document of his own for Sarek to sign.  When Joseph was finished running down the finer points, Sarek was the one who looked thoughtful for a time.  The Ambassador then leaned forward and with a bold stroke, signed the provisional agreement Joseph had countered with, Joseph doing the same, signing the parchment Sarek had presented, with a flourish. 

“There,” he said, handing it back to the Vulcan.

“It is done,” Sarek echoed, easing out of his seat.  He gathered both the paper and his copy of the provisional agreement Joseph was handing him, Joseph having slipped the small 4 cm cube out of the electronic recorder, coming to his feet as well.

“I shall take my leave.  My secretary will make the needed adjustments to this contract and you will get a copy of it, forthwith.  And I thank you for your courtesies tonight.  The meal was exceptional.  The next time Amanda comes to Earth with me, I shall bring her here.  Good evening, Joseph.” 

“Live long and prosper, Sarek.”  With a polite nod, the Ambassador strode from the crowded restaurant.  Joseph sat back down, pocketing the other cube taken from the device, his copy.  For a long time he just sat, finishing his wine and contemplating what he should do next.  Certainly, he couldn’t leave things as they were.  A few minutes later, the bottle of rare wine exhausted, the giant bear of a man lumbered out of the establishment, grinning at the workers, calling many by their names and seeing to it his server was handsomely rewarded for the job well done.

“Good night, Mister Cantrell,” the pretty young hostess called out as he left.
“Good night,” he said, hesitating in the foyer, reading her name tag.  “— Trudy. You’re new here, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good name recognition, Trudy.  Keep that up, you’ll go far in this business.”  With a wink and a smile, he was gone.

Author’s Note: This is taken from Chapter Two of my published Star Trek fanficion mini-series, Night Whispers: Volume Two: The Deception. With few exceptions, it is mostly intact. Thank you.

Bedazzled and Bewildered, a Cantrell: The Early Years, Part Four Update

Kirk and Spock were walking down the corridor, heading to the conference room. Rounding the last curve before reaching Sickbay, their intent was to pick up the Ships’ Surgeon on their way. The pneumatic door slid open but instead of Dr. McCoy exiting, a beautiful young blonde officer stepped out.   Nodding toward the Ship’s Captain, she said, “By you leave, sir.”

Smiling broadly Kirk said, “On your way, Lieutenant, J. G. . . .."
“Brianna Cantrell, sir,” she said, inclining her head, slightly in deference to his rank. She then turned and went on her way.

The conversation he and Spock were engaged in, prior, didn’t pick up again as expected. Instead, Kirk noticed the Vulcan was busy following the young woman with his eyes. Standing there, reluctant to lose sight of her. And the girl was also looking back over her shoulder. Both had a look of confusion on their faces. Almost as if neither expected to find the other here. Knowing what he did, Kirk found himself questioning his friend’s very odd behavior.

“Everything all right, Mister Spock? You seem preoccupied,” Kirk asked. 
Snapping to, Spock said, “Forgive me, what?”
“As if your mind was somewhere else.” Kirk explained.
Nodding, Spock replied, “I deeply apologize, Captain.” Spock’s gaze continued, before he managed to pull himself fully back again.

“What’s gotten into you? Is it the girl?” Kick nodded toward the way they came.

“It is difficult to say.” Spock cleared his throat, stalling. “I am apparently suffering from what you humans call déjà vu. I don’t believe I have met her previously, I don’t recognize her face, however, there is something about her so very familiar I cannot shake the sense that somehow, I do know her. And those blue eyes of hers . . .” He recalled his mother’s mentioning the blue of the Anomaly’s eyes. They were gorgeous, just as his mother said. And in the next minute he chided himself for having noticed.

"Well, all right, but I need your assurance you’ll focus on the mission ahead.”

Giving Kirk a disbelieving look, Spock raised an eyebrow, tilted his head to cast his gaze on the Ship’s Captain. “Have I ever let you down? A Vulcan is capable of divided concentration while remaining focused, Captain.”

“Really? Because I could swear just now your mind was wandering.”

“I have not wandered anywhere, Captain, that would be inappropriate. All I was doing was admiring the scenery. Fascinating. My Time truly is drawing near.”

“I see, sure that’s all it is? I mean, aren’t you the one who said she was being placed on this ship with you. For the sole purpose of allowing you to get to know her?”

“Indeed, that was the mandate that came down from T’Pau.”
“Why couldn’t Cantrell be her?” James Kirk was suddenly as excited as a bridegroom, “Or are you expecting a more formal introduction?” 

Spock patiently waited him out. "Remarkable leap you just made there, Jim. Yes, it could be her, I cannot rule that out. But assumptions often bring more peril than merit. I am clearly attracted to the lieutenant. Should she prove not to be she who is without name, and should I indulge the attraction, in my current state of mind it could lead me to disgrace myself yet again. Then, where would I be? I am already in what my mother often suggests, dire straits with T’Pau.”

“I see your dilemma. Best steer clear as much as you can, then. Do you have a definitive date on when the formal introduction is to take place?”

“As of this moment, no I have not, which is also most curious.”
“Perhaps, this is all to test Kiftiri, if that is what truly occurred between the two of you.” Kirk shrugged his shoulders. “I could be wrong; I know so little of these things.”

“Indeed? Were I to allow a guess, I would certainly believe you know more than that which you allude, Captain.”

At that moment, Dr. McCoy caught up with them. A few paces more and they arrived at the conference room. “Gentlemen, shall we?” Kirk said, gesturing them inward. 

“Good day,” Kirk began, gazing about the table. “It’s so good to have our little family back together. Are we all here?” he saw the empty seat. “Where’s our A & A officer?” Sulu glanced at Chekov; Scotty looked to Uhura then to McCoy.

"I finished her physical. She should be here.” At that moment the pneumatic door parted and in burst Brianna. “I keep reminding myself, this is not the Excelsior,” she exclaimed. Gazing about the room, she felt horribly self-conscious for more than just her tardiness Recognizing the faces, she quickly realized. My God, they’ve put me in with the Big Boys. She could feel her cheeks suffusing with her sudden embarrassment.

“Captain. I’m sorry to be late, it won’t happen again, sir.”

“What caused your delay, Mister Cantrell?” Spock asked. Head of the Science department, her immediate boss, he was well within his purview to inquire.
“I, ah, I don’t like to give excuses, sir.” Seeing expectation in their faces, she added, “I’m afraid I got lost. I did my training on the Excelsior. That layout is so different. It’ won’t happen again.”

Spock nodded his head at her. “I believe a tour of the ship is in order. Nineteen-hundred hours, does that suit you?”
“You need only give the word, sir.”
“C-Deck, Turbo shaft A.”
“I shall await you.”

Seeing all of the Command Crew’s faces looking at her, to Spock and then back again, she realized his offer was possibly rare for him to make. She was at once honored and at the same time wishing for a less than public display. At that moment she understood the words of her brother, Erik. She, also, didn’t ask for all of this attention.

“Allow me to introduce you to our newest addition,” Kirk said, sweeping away the awkward silence. “This is Lieutenant, J. G. Cantrell. She comes to us with a meritorious degree in Physics, mastering in Anthropology and Archaeology while at the Academy Welcome aboard.” 
Those around the table nearly in unison echoed, “Welcome aboard.”

Very shortly, Kirk brought the meeting to order, and they quickly got down to the business at hand, the upcoming mission. “So,” Kirk said, “Sulu, what do we know of this plant-creature menacing the galaxy?”

Scrolling through his notes on his P.A.D.D. Sulu directed his report to the captain, but also glanced about at the others, busy taking their own notes. “From the reports given, there is one central being referred to as the Mother, who is all encompassing, knows all and offers peace to the planet’s inhabitants. Some of which are, in their infected state, busy recruiting others to follow. Spores are used to spread the infection. Prolonged contact with them leads to death. Recruitment has been high.”

“Why would anyone give up their autonomy like that? I just don’t comprehend,” Uhura said.

Brianna glanced first at Kirk and then to Spock, directly across from her, who nodded his head. Although only 106.68 centimeters away, it felt as if he was the expanse of the Great Chasm on Vulcan away. The distance was painful. She needed him to be nearer and had no clue what she could do about it. Quasit tu? She tried to press into his mind, to no avail. The First Officer’s Shield was fully intact, impenetrable. She stopped her efforts, lest she disgrace herself for a second time.  

“Peace has a powerful draw to it,” she began. “Most long for it, especially when they rely solely on themselves and reject the notion of something higher than themselves even exists. This creates a void in the spirit that must be filled. It would appear that this plant-based entity knows this and uses this as the draw.”

All for now, thanks for reading!

Parted From Me and Never Parted, part Two, a Cantrell: The Early Years, Part Four Update

continued from part one:
Brianna’s heart was suddenly leaping wildly about in her chest, accompanying the butterflies in their unique symphony swirling inside of her. From the moment their paths cross this morning, it was this way, especially when he focused his attention on her.  She felt immediately awkward and unable to think, hoping she wouldn’t say or do anything else to further embarrass herself — so much so, she was forced to keep her eyes from him.

The last thing she wanted to do was destroy his apparent image of her.  She already felt the shame of her earlier lapse in discipline, to which he eluded, blatantly allowing her emotions to get the better of her, reacting as she had to Crewman Rhoades’ taunting.  Right in front of Spock, again, of all people … Spock seemed to read her like a book.  He was also busy trying to make eye contact with her, too.  What else did he see when he looked at her, she pondered?

“Forgive me, I was —” Brianna wrapped her hands around the mug of tea resting on the table, sitting on the edge of her chair as if she would jump up from it any second and escape. 

“Lieutenant.  There is nothing to forgive.  I realize you have Vulcan citizenship.  But you are also human.  You are not expected —”
“But I was taught better than this,” she said, gazing at him earnestly.  “Really.  I am d’Vel’nahr.  Or at least I used to be, although by my behavior you would hardly know it now.  Certainly, T’Pran would cringe, if she could see me.  All her teachings shot straight out the nearest torpedo tube … I don’t seem to be in control much at all, lately. 

A klaxon went off in Spock’s mind at the mention of T’Pran. The name wasn’t all that common. He found himself wanting to inquire if she was T’Pran of the House of Seltu Dei Pick? His heart began to flutter, he grew warm and wondered if he was having a medical incident, such as his father had aboard the Enterprise so many years ago. McCoy had to replace one of Sarek’s heart valves, a tricky surgery at the best of times, let alone on a Vulcan. 

“Perhaps, being around so many humans,” she said, shaking her head and sitting back into her chair more fully.  Taking a sip of tea, she placed the cup and her arm back on the table again.  Busily, she traced the lip of the gray Styrofoam-shaped ceramic mug around and around again, in her own way withdrawing from the uncomfortable subject.  She sighed again.  “I don’t know.  It’s just.  Well — I guess on top of it all I’m a bit nervous, sir,” she said, again dropping her gaze.

“Indeed?  Then I submit by your own criteria, you have been rather nervous since you got here.  While your grasp of Vulcan custom and protocol is rather commanding, your application seems capricious, at best.  Vulcan-by-Choice, did you say?  By whose choice, yours or someone else’s?”

There was a moment of silence that followed.  Someone’s loud guffaws could be heard in the background.  Spock sat back in his chair, momentarily nonplused.  “That was not a criticism, Lieutenant.  Merely an observation,” he said, at last.  She seemed unduly hard on herself, leaving him to wonder, Vulcan-by-Choice or not, who in their right mind had taught her to restrain herself so completely? — not that the lessons had taken entirely, leaving him slightly amused and curiously relieved at the same time.  This T’Pran of hers sounded harder-nosed than his own father.  Seltu Dei Pick. Has to be her.

“I guess it was a bit insane to think I could ever be Vulcan.”
“Perhaps, more for the fact that you are human,” Spock said, gently.  He reached over again, almost without presence of mind, to touch her arm.  Brianna was wearing a white duty smock, an attractive almost caftan-style tunic, vee-neckline, her sleeves ended just below her elbows, edged with lace.  Absentmindedly, Spock stroked the lace with his thumb.  “Trust me, Lieutenant, I know.  For me, it is a constant struggle.”

“What’re you actually two people in one?” she grinned at last.
Spock felt the warmth of her smile, grinning ever so slightly in return.  “If I may confide in you for a moment, there are times when I would actually prefer to throw my hands into the air and run ranting from the room, just as our good Doctor McCoy is so often inclined.”

“But your Vulcan-side holds you back?”
“Mercifully, yes.  And then I just get on with it.”
“Straining your Vulcan reserve to the maximum.  I see how it is.”  She took another sip of her tea.

“Indeed.  And if I may prevail upon you even further, it would be to ask that you not be unduly hard on my new friend Lieutenant Cantrell.  Judging her by standards that are impossibly high.  If I have learned anything, it is to just be yourself.”
“Oh, all the time, sir.  But tell me, which self is you?”

Spock drew in a breath, sitting upright, shaking his head at her.  “Madam, that sharp tongue of yours is going to lead to your undoing.  Now, out with it.”
“My tongue?” she said, innocently enough, her eyes wide.
“Negative.  Although at this moment if feels as if I am pulling teeth.  You were about to tell me what it is that has you so overstrung.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, sir.  Was I?”  Again, she hid her mirth behind her cup, taking another sip of tea.  Already it was cooling off, to her dismay.  She preferred her tea hot, especially with the ginger in it.  Otherwise, it took on a nasty taste, for which no amount of sweetener would help. I have to ask Daddy to send me some real Vulcan tea.

“You were, indeed, Lieutenant.  You are acting very much like a caged Le’mayta.  Something is troubling you.  And it is my concern that if you do not let it out soon, your restraint will, at long last, give way and I shall next have to visit you in the brig for actually having assaulted someone.  Be it Archer, Rhoades, or some other unsuspecting irritant. Either that, or you will simply implode.  Now, are you going to divulge your secret, or do I have to pull rank on you?”

“Wow, you can be extraordinarily tough when you want to be, can’t you.”
“Shall I order you, then?” Spock was enjoying this easy banter between them, keeping his ready smile under wraps for now.
“No, actually, I’ll tell you what it is,” she said, putting her mug back on the table, rising to her feet, “but do you mind if we continue to talk as we walk?  It’s like I’ve got this electric current going through me.  I could probably light up an entire Christmas tree without effort.”

“As you wish, madam,” he said, also rising, “but isn’t it rather early for Christmas?”  Spock resumed his role of tour guide, leading the way off of the recreation deck.

More to Come. . . 

Author’s Note: I have reversed my decision. The interplay between Spock and Brianna in this chapter, is just too difficult for me to recreate. Forgive me for using more of my published work.  This is taken from Chapter 19 from Night Whispers: The Deception, which is volume two of my Star Trek fanfiction trilogy. Heavily edited to fit my Sim Story. Thank you.