Mausoleum ...

[T'aral 0]

The transport to the Men-Hilsu seemed to take longer than usual. Signals from the Comanche Creek confirmed that compensating for the surrounding space was more difficult than initially anticipated, but obviously not insurmountable. The ship was dark - ominously dark. Yet there were emergency lights illuminating corridor junctures, indicating that the ship's power was not completely depleted.

 

After an initial scan, T'Aral and Crewman Sovok immediately proceeded to the medical bay. The station was in perfect order; every instrument in its place. It was reassuring, in a way - in cases where Vulcan crews experienced madness in one way or another, medical was typically the first function to fall into chaos as it was the most likely source for unconventional weapons. Not here; all scalpels, probes, and other instruments were clean and meticulously stored.

 

T'Aral stepped into a side office to activate a console. The ship's medical log dutifully activated, documenting the last years of the Men-Hilsu. The story was tragic, more than all else because the death of the crew was prolonged. Analysis after analysis proved futile, as the space they were in failed to provide the slightest hint as to its nature or how to escape it. There was data ... endless spools of data for Lieutenant Belo to pour over. Perhaps with the advanced systems of the Creek there would be a new discovery. That hope would have to suffice, for despite the methodical analysis of the Vulcans a venue for exit was never found. Because of this, a dreadful sequence of events transpired.

 

The crew, faced with starvation over time, chose systematic suicide over so painful a death. The first selection identified over half the crew, which resulted in the rations extending out an additional five years. Before those ran out, another lottery claimed half of those left ... then again ... then again until finally there were not enough crew members to effectively pilot the ship. Only then did the last of the crew join their fellow Vulcans.

 

T'Aral left medical, making her way back to the ship's primary cargo bay to confirm what she had read. The bay was a frozen, airless mausoleum - filled with over two hundred lifeless Vulcan bodies. It was fitting and dignified given the circumstances, but no less disturbing. Yet the evidence given offered T'Aral an ounce of calm in facing what would otherwise have been a most distressing ritual. Their deaths, while tragic, were calm, orderly, and logical. This would be far worse if they died traumatically.

 

Returning to medical, T'Aral re-entered the side office and activated her tricorder to download the ship's entire medical record. Giving orders to Sovok that she was not to be disturbed for the next hour, she locked herself in the side office and lit a small candle. Meditating on the flame, T'Aral began to recite a single phrase over and over.

 

"From the darkness to the light ... let the lost be found ... let the wandering follow the light ... let the light lead us home."

 

She continued the recitation for a full v'hral before leaning forward, drawing breath in over the candle quickly - the air flow extinguishing the flame. "The light I draw to myself ... the light is within me ... I and the light are one. From the darkness to the light ... let the lost be found ... let the wandering follow the light ... let the light lead us home."

 

With the ritual over, T'Aral stood and collected her gear. She did not feel different ... had the ceremony worked? Was she now surrounded with over two hundred Vulcan souls, drawn to her as moths to light? That was the way it was supposed to be; she was now the custodian of the souls of the Men-Hilsu crew. She would light their way across the galaxy, away from the cosmic tomb that was once Vulcan to what would be their new home - their own Seleya.

 

T'Aral left the medical bay, making her way back to the midsection where the away team was to regroup. She took a detour, walking along an outer corridor so she could pause by a window to gaze out at the ship's warp ring. It was still intact ... still functional. It seemed a waste to leave a working vessel - to abandon so obedient and faithful a ship ...

 

She paused, then dismissed the thought along with the strange familiarity that went along with it. This was a ship - a thing, nothing more. If it could be salvaged then the Captain would find a way to do it.