Confessions ...

[T'aral 0]

T’Aral walked through the ship’s corridors calmly. She was off to visit the Captain for a long-overdue discussion. It was not that she was afraid of it, nor that she expected it to even be unpleasant. It was simply that Humans so easily misunderstood Vulcans. The very idea that Vulcans could have a spiritual side was all but unthinkable to many Humans, and Vulcan spirituality was a very sensitive subject - not easily spoken of even by those like herself who were trained in it.

 

As she came upon the Captain’s office, she paused to collect her thoughts. The Captain was neither harsh nor unreasonable. She would hopefully understand, and if she did not it would still be sufficient for her to know that T’Aral was not in any way conflicted: her duties as a Medical Officer and as a Vulcan priestess had blended smoothly, so much so that she had no trouble moving between priorities. She would assure the Captain of this, answer any questions she may have, and all would be well. At least, that was T’Aral’s intention.

 

Chiming the door, she looked in. “Captain: are you busy?”

 

‘Busy’ was indeed the term to describe the current state of the Ready Room; set off the main bridge control center, the normally well kept CO’s main office looked like a plasma bomb had hit. Report flimsies and hard copy data slates were scattered across the desktop, and several old school paper style galaxy maps, charts and graphs had been tacked on a cork board.

 

Was she busy? Say more along the lines of a jackrabbit trying to stay ahead of a Coyote. The Admiral had been popping off wireless updates to her line captain steadily for the past few days; it was a wonder Crash’s inbox hadn’t been maxed out to the limit, and she had spent a good portion of the travel time to Earth handling damage control on her end of the situation.

 

The Starfleet admiralty was in scramble mode to contain and remedy the recent and long range damage caused by the rogue group within Intelligence. The Intel division chief was doing her part, though her resolve was flagging. The Federation council was in an uproar over the problems within Intel as well as the Neural Incident as it had now become known, and the trans-galactic press companies were as bloodhounds on a scent.

 

Calestorm glanced over towards her CMO at the chime and query. The elder woman’s features were drawn and tired, though not alarmingly so. She cracked a ghost of her normal devil may care smirk. “Busy? Nope. Come on in and have a seat Doc.

 

T’Aral stepped in as the door closed behind her and sat; tall and proper as was Vulcan custom. “I shall not take up too much of your time: I have come to explain the ‘prayer meetings’ you mentioned the other day. To put it simply, I am a Priestess-Adept among those Vulcans who are Deists. We believe that the universe includes one or more gods, or some other spiritual component.”

 

She paused briefly before continuing. “I do apologize for not bringing this to your attention earlier, but Deism among Vulcans is a sensitive subject. While we do maintain a logical foundation to our lives and most certainly to our religious approach, it remains a most sensitive subject to us. Matters of the Vulcan heart are not spoken of openly.”

 

Cale had sat back in her office chair. Perpetually slouched, she clasped her fingers together and rested her hands on one crossed knee.

 

“What I’d like to know is why you felt the need to worship in secret? Sensitive I understand, but I also don’t patrol the corridors looking to stamp out religion. We have a ships chapel that services several beliefs among the crew - why not ‘logically’ employ it for your own groups activities and beliefs?”

 

T’Aral almost smiled … almost, but didn’t. “Because such an act would be public. Vulcan religion struggles with one fact: it seeks to address the one thing Vulcans suppress - their emotions. There is no logical reason for one to seek out an experience of faith or spirit, other than one wishes to. Such experiences nurture the soul, improving harmony and balance. The price for this is to turn away from a solely logical path, allowing one’s self to experience rather than to just observe.

 

“It is not forbidden, nor is it discouraged among us. However: Vulcan society is very closed. We are uncomfortable with such matters even among ourselves; opening our ways to people of other races would be most painful. To speak of matters of the heart openly - desire, affection, guilt, and the like - is difficult under the best of circumstances. To have others aware of any part of ourselves that could be perceived as a weakness or a loss of absolute control would be unendurable.”

 

She settled back in our chair. “Some would see it as arrogance, others as a flaw, but it is what it is. The face of any Vulcan that you see is the face we wish you to see. Our real face - the one which bears our inner thoughts, which you humans wear openly - that is kept well hidden. We do so because our history is mired with the consequences of open Vulcan aggression. Part of that is keeping our personal lives to ourselves. That is what it means to be Vulcan.”

 

“Being Vulcan does not imply that you need to or should hold your services in a closet or a cargo bay,” Calestorm waved a gentle hand to forestall any comment; the gesture wasn’t cutting, merely a ‘let me finish’, “...with that said, the decision of location decided on by yourself and your congregation will be respected. All I ask is that on this ship, you don’t keep secrets.”

 

“I admit I can be a royal pain in the ass when I set my mind to it, as can some of our crew. Especially when we’re all confined to this metallic puddle jumper for months at a time.” The comment was blunt, and held a no nonsense edge to the tone and words; you needed to consider the source, of course. Not to say it wasn’t completely true though.

 

 

T’Aral sat patently as the Captain talked, not even minding the ‘cutting’ gesture. It was completely unnecessary as she had no intention of interrupting. However: the Captain was accustomed to dealing with humans, who often felt that speaking first was more important than speaking well. She waited until Caelstorm spoke her peace. As she did so, she considered what was being said. The Captain didn’t understand: with Vulcans, it wasn’t about rights or equality. It was about maintaining appearances and a level of personal decorum that was above and beyond any Starfleet expectation.

 

It was not, however, worth arguing over. The Captain was trying to be nice and the emotion, however misplaced, was well meant. “Thank you for your concern, Captain. I will share your views with the others.” T’Aral knew how the discussion would go: they would not use public facilities. Indeed: they would have to be more discreet about their activities in the future, and cease using Medical Bay rooms. That was problematic, as she had no doubt that having gatherings in her quarters would raise still more attention. Yet it was merely a problem to be solved.

 

There was one other concern - not one that the Captain raised, but one that was very important to address. “I wish to ask if you have any concerns regarding my service or obligations. I would not wish you to feel that you cannot trust me to serve effectively and loyally.”

 

“Not even a concern Lieutenant. Myself and the Ex Oh are perfectly aware of your service and loyalty. And we all have obligations that we balance with our duties. And if you and the others wish to keep your worship activity private for now, so be it.”

 

T’Aral nodded. “I will not take up your time any further, sir. Good day.” With that T’Aral rose and left the Captain’s office. As the doors slid closed behind her, she looked about to see that no one was in the immediate vicinity. Spying no onlookers she took a moment to set a spread palm against the Captain’s door, her fingers spread in a gesture every Vulcan knew by heart.

 

“Mene sakkhet ur-seveh.”