Seven hours ...

[T'aral 0]

*: The Men-Hilsu is the finest craft constructed. Surely it will be salvaged.

 

+: I consider it illogical to assume that the Captain of this vessel will consider it a priority.

 

^: That belief is illogical. All evidence suggests that this is a practical human, with practical needs.

 

*: The vessel must be recovered - not simply salvaged, but recovered for the Vulcan people.

 

+: There is concern here: something has happened.

 

*: You believe this?

 

+: I am certain of it; she has closed herself to us - logically there is a reason.

 

^: Perhaps she finds our presence disruptive, and simply seeks calm. We should not assume.

 

+: We must assume, or we must take action to determine what it is that we are not to know.

 

*: We will do no such thing. Our host acts out of courage and dignity - do not dishonor that sacrifice.

 

^: We shall not, but should we not inquire regarding what troubles our host?

 

*: If she wished to share, she would. Respect her privacy.

 

+: Indeed - we are losing focus. We must return to considering how to recover our ship.

 

*: We can do nothing; it is up to the humans.

 

+: We can therefore consider the ship lost - the humans are not reliable.

 

*: Perhaps, or perhaps they are more capable than we have come to believe.

 

^: High Command was never of a mind to test the humans, to see what they were capable of. Perhaps there is hope.

 

+: To place the fate of our ship in 'hope' is illogical. We must take action.

 

*: What 'action' would you suggest?

 

+: Our host can gather the other Vulcans - it would not take many to operate our vessel.

 

*: We could not plot a course to escape; what makes you think they could?

 

...

 

 

So it went, on and on within T'Aral's perceptions, and that was only one conversation. She could sense the entire Men-Hilsu crew, with nothing to do for all eternity but to observe and converse with one another, sharing their views.

 

T'Aral sat on the floor of her quarters in a plush robe; relaxed, meditating on a single flickering flame, keeping her thoughts to herself while resting her body as best she could. To attempt sleep would be no help; her mind would have to relax, and if she relaxed the thoughts of hundreds of souls clinging to light would overwhelm her.

 

T'Aral would not be able to sleep again until she accomplished her task. She could only hope that the crew of the Comanche Creek would be able to summon a miracle which eluded her Vulcan kin.