Cantrell: The Early Years, Part Four

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

 

T’Pran led the way from the room down the narrow, dark passageway to the stairs that wound ever downward. From there they exited the Hall of Ancient Thought to traverse the courtyard square outside. The heat was unrelenting, more so for the human than the Vulcan. Brianna was grateful for the material of her frock, blocking out most of the sun’s intense rays.

 

At last they reached the doors to the Inner Temple. Two men bearing large, sharp lirpahs, the half-moon blades glistening in the sun, guarded the sanctuary. They stepped aside easily with the proper words from the old governess, “The candidate begs permission from the Holy One to enter.” Brianna in tow behind her, clearly in a restive state, stepped out of the harsh sunlight into total darkness. 

 

Lacking the inner eyelids Vulcans possessed, it took several seconds for her sight to return. The deep, narrow hall rose to a stony, vaulted peak several meters high, lighted only by torches along the walls and the sun’s rays suffused through stained glass windows lining the angled ceiling. 

 

The windows cast eerie, colorful patterns on the cobbled floor far below. Spectral, the designs were vibrant, hypnotic. Brianna was held transfixed wondering how the many people who entered this hall hadn’t become forever lost in the power of their spell. The bell banners sang out, recalling her from her reverie, breaking the oppressive silence that permeated the Grand Hall. 

 

No longer could she hear only the shooshing of her skirts. She became aware of the presence of people, specifically the members of the Vulcan High Council, each of the thirteen Ruling Houses represented, gathered in the sanctuary to witness the mindmeld. Until now, she had never quite realized the vastness of this hall. The room was packed to overflowing. One thousand Vulcans or more filled every nook and cranny. No one wanted to miss this momentous event. Each row was crammed with people who dared not move lest they bump headdresses and send them toppling into the aisle. 

 

Brianna could feel their presence, their collective intelligence as she made her way down the center of the hall. She fought to ignore it, to keep her mind focused on what lay ahead without broadcasting her own thoughts. To do so cost her all the years of intense training in the Vulcan Tradition. 

 

Getting to the top of the aisle seemed to be taking forever, her ascent slow like that of a bride’s. With all eyes on her, she was glad at least that her skirt stopped at the top of her booted feet so she needn’t fret about tripping on her hem. At last, she reached the top of the aisle, where T’Pran left her, to join a row of maiden-acolytes as they awaited the ceremony. 

 

Brianna drew in a deep breath, centering herself as she raised her hand in the customary, split finger greeting. She bowed her head in respect for High Councilor T’Pau, who sat on her throne to the right of the carved stone steps that led upward to the altar. Dressed in the finery of her station, her long, flowing robes of a deep blue with gold trim, fell in pleated furrows around her feet. Unlike the others T’Pau was sans a headdress, but carried an intricately hand-carved, black-lacquer staff, instead. Yet a handsome woman, she was formidable.

 

Above her, the equally wizened T’Lar stood deep in meditation, her white hair crowned with a veil that flowed down her shoulders and back. The maiden-acolytes wore small crowns. The High Priestess wore robes bearing the colors of her House draping about her lean form. Hands raised in supplication, the huge rings she wore on her fingers twinkled in the ambient light, catching Brianna’s eye as she tried to take in everything about this moment. Slowly, T’Lar lowered her arms again and Brianna Cantrell had a sense that things were about to begin, battling down that familiar unease she had before a final test at Uni. 

 

Dropping to her knees at once, Brianna kept her head bowed and her hands steepled as she awaited the approach of the High Priestess, T’Lar. However, things didn’t commence as expected. For a scary few seconds, she was left to worry her actions of just moments ago had disqualified her.

 

T’Pau got up from her throne, took a few measured steps back toward the High Priestess bowing low before her in a repentant attitude, visibly shaken for a briefly unguarded moment. T’Lar reached down and touched the side of the High Councilor’s face, melding with her then nodded her head for the ceremony to proceed. At once a gong resounded and the jangling of the bell-banners filled the uneasy silence. It was T’Pau who stepped forward to address her, much to Brianna Cantrell’s confusion, using her Vulcan name. It soon became apparent T’Pau would be presiding over the Test.

Tall and lean, the High Councilor made her way slowly over to where the petite human knelt. She raised her wrinkled hand returning the greeting, a solemn expression gracing her wizened face. “T’Bree,” she intoned, the name rolling off her tongue. “Thee seeks what no Outworlder may achieve. Thee seeks IDIC — Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations, the blending of two minds into one thought. Thee seeks to achieve the mindmeld. This is not without risk. And thee art human.”

 

Brianna flinched with T’Pau’s inflection on human. She spat the word as if in contempt of the race. Brianna’s worse fears came to surface. She may be barred this chance to prove her abilities altogether. T’Pau may simply and quite emphatically, from the sounds of it, throw her out of the temple. Again, there was a quiet rustling throughout the lofty chamber as if that idea occurred to the observers, as well.

  

T’Pau was suddenly leaning close to her. She cupped Brianna Cantrell’s chin in a remarkably soft, hot hand, bending down to peer into the kneeling girl’s face. Brianna Cantrell met the aged woman’s gaze. “Dost thee seek to mock the Vulcan people, child?” she said softly, her tone cold, dangerous. 

 

Brianna, admittedly a bit more stubborn than was good for her, returned the icy stare with piercing blue eyes that equally threatened to bore a hole into the old High Councilor. She was not, as T’Pau suggested, an Outworlder. She was born here, refusing to take kindly to the insult. “I seek IDIC,” she answered, coolly. The old woman abruptly withdrew her hand from Brianna Cantrell’s chin and stepped back.

 

“So be it,” she spoke crisply. “Thee seeks, also, recognition of thy Vulcan citizenship. If thee fails in thy attempt to achieve IDIC, know that thee also fails to achieve thy sought after recognition. Thee shalt forever be known as an Outworlder. Dost thee still wish to proceed in this foolish endeavor?” the High Councilor inquired again. 

 

Brianna found the stakes highly unfavorable. Give up her inherent rights for a failed attempt? She wasn’t merely a citizen of Vulcan, an Outworlder granted rights like her parents and others, she had been raised in the Vulcan Way, extending to her a rare privilege. Up to this moment she had been allowed in where others were banned. She closed her large eyes, bowing her head in an effort to still herself, to seal herself off from the tears that threatened to break through her practiced shield of reserve. 

 

Her parents had been granted Vulcan citizenship many years ago, but without the nuance of training, they had not even been allowed to attend this ceremony. The Vulcan Way was shrouded in mystery from antiquity, the Vulcan people jealous to keep it that way. In many ways, Joe and Louise Cantrell were still considered Outworlders, despite their legal status, or even their many years of residence on this planet and therein lay the difference. 

 

T’Pran said she would not fail. Could she humiliate her governess further by running away from the challenge once it was given? Which was the greater humiliation, to try and fail or to not try at all? Brianna opened her eyes, raising her head to gaze up at the woman who held her very future in her hands. She needed to fully belong. “I am ready to proceed,” she announced in a clear, calm voice.

 

“Excellent,” came T’Pau’s reply, as if satisfied with the girl’s show of mettle, a small smile almost escaping from the ruler’s lips. With a signal from the Priestess, T’Lar, the bell banners resounded once again. T’Pau touched her fingertips together for a moment of preparation and then sank to her knees before the girl. Brianna drew in a breath, readying herself for the contact then she looked up, catching the old woman in her gaze. 

 

“With thy permission,” Brianna said, as she reached forward with the fingers of her right hand, spread. The old woman nodded her consent and Brianna brought her hand to the woman’s lined face placing her thumb against her chin, her index finger against the left nostril and her middle finger at the pressure point at the woman’s temple. A warmth generated at the point of contact. Brianna Cantrell felt the old woman’s natural resistance slowly give way as she gently pressed into her mind, searching, careful not to delve more deeply than invited. 

 

Slowly, at first, a familiar euphoria swept over them both. Brianna Cantrell was floating somewhere out beyond herself, colors swirling into gossamer funnel clouds of energy invisibly between them. She began to perceive memories that were not her own; People, places, sensations. There was so much here, two-hundred-twenty-one standard years’ worth of memories plus her own, that Brianna Cantrell felt lost for a time unable to choose which strand to follow. Strangely, she settled into a particular memory, as if T’Pau meant for her to share in it, guiding her to it, in fact. . .