Shadowtime ... ( Pt. 2 )

[T'aral 0]

The mountains were folding, the deserts were boiling, and the cities crumbled to dust as the core of the Vulcan race was devoured from within ...

 

 

T'Aral awoke from the dream as she had done so many times before; a little less disturbed than the previous time she had it. It was her new 'stress dream': that vision of uncertainty which comes whenever faced with too many challenges and not enough time to meditate properly.

 

The quarantine time was becoming a challenge for her. Because of the nature of the situation, she was the best medical officer suited to examine the away team. Everything had been going smoothly, but it was difficult at times to maintain her solitude. Unlike others on board the vessel she had not developed any personal attachments as such, and so was disinclined to share her time. This was becoming a problem as she was confined to a limited area which was shared, and solitude was a difficult thing to come by. Solitude was necessary if she was to meditate: most sentient species shared the common trait of curiousity, and they didn't mind interrupting her incessantly with the repititious question - "... what are you doing?"

 

At length T'Aral finally found a closet large enough to suit her, and with only a little work the door was modified for her needs. She meditated in peace and quiet for a full hour as she sought the answer to a fresh problem. The recent events of the Comanche Creek had added to the stresses she was already attending to, and changes were taking place. So far she was able to keep matters hidden from the crew, but internally her struggle was getting worse. She found herself to be irritable of late, and given to the strangest inclinations. The worst came at a recent mealtime, when she found the aroma of the Captain's bacon almost intoxicating. The irritability, the stress, and the odd cravings all pointed to a single cause - but it could not be. Her cycle wasn't due for over a year.

 

However, her time in meditation and the difficulty she had in stilling her mind only increased her belief that she was in fact amiss. A simple tricorder scan confirmed her suspicions - her hormonal levels were beginning to unbalance. Vulcan's destruction, the refugee crisis, and her inability to make a meaningful contribution to recent events to improve the outcome had all come together in a single stressful point. It had thrown off her cycle: T'Aral was entering the early stages of Pon Farr.

 

T'Aral set aside the tricorder and opened a small wooden box. Within it was a set of herbal remedies, which she sorted through to find a meditative mixture. The tea she brewed from it helped to calm her anxieties, well enough to allow her training to obtain the upper hand for the moment. She relaxed and allowed the moment to grant her peace - there was no cause for alarm. She decided to contact the New Vulcan colony, sending a coded message to her superiors. They would understand, and hopefully could aid her in the current situation. There were always alternatives; she simply needed to find one.

 

Two more days, and then the quarantine period would be ended. At that point she would speak to the captain about arranging for shore leave. The crew had been through much, and at a point where they were still learning their places. A little rest would be good for them. That T'Aral would also have an opportunity to resolve her own issues would be nothing more than an additional benefit.