From: plp1@Ra.MsState.Edu (pat parker)
Subject: T'Selar Part 1 (REPOST)
Organization: Mississippi State University
Date: Wed, 13 Jan 1993 03:39:09 GMT


Star Trek
The Next Generation

_T'Selar_

_Part_I_

By Patrick Parker, June 1992

* * * * *

      The doctor was not wearing her blue and black Starfleet regulation
medical uniform.  Instead she wore a coarse, neutral-colored pullover with a
hood.  The hood was pulled back allowing the wind to blow through her inky
hair.
      She turned around slowly, surveying her surroundings; a barren plain
strewn with rocks and sand.  Her face was the color of the sand, the color of
slightly oxidized brass.  As she turned toward the morning sun, its red rays
tinged her face an earthy-grey tone.
      She lifted her face and watched the sun rising, her nictitating
membranes turning her dark eyes a milky color.  She relished the heat of the
crimson orb.  On the Enterprise, the normal temperature was twenty degrees
below her comfort zone.
      As she stood facing the sun, her pointed ears picked up words floating
through the air.  She was listening to poetry, though few humans would have
recognized it as such; the language and rhythms being alien to their ears. 
Even translated into Federation Common, it would have seemed more of a
computer program - or a scientific paradigm, than a poem.
      The poetry was not alien to the doctor, however.  It touched her and
moved her spirit.  It called out to the logical part of her and she reveled in
its precision and succinctity.  It was Vulcan poetry, and it was very much a
part of her.
      After the words had faded to silence she stood quietly meditating.  She
was able to repair minute cracks in her emotional defenses by doing this.  She
had always found it challenging trying to work with humans, but they had
seemed particularly inane for the past few weeks.  She desperately needed to
go back to her homeworld, but recently it had looked like she was not going to
get any time off.  She decided to inform the CMO of the necessity of a
vacation - today.  
      "Computer, freeze program."
      Instantly the wind died and the sand that had been blowing in it hung
suspended in midair.  The sun halted its ascent through the sky, and the
temperature began to drop.  The doctor shook her pullover vigorously, causing
sand to cascade to the ground around her.
      "Computer; save program, discontinue, and exit."
      The vast world disappeared from around her and was replaced by the
sterile fifty-foot by thirty-foot grid of holodeck four.  She exited the
holodeck and proceeded to her quarters to finish preparing herself for the
day.

* * * * *

      Beverly Crusher moved down the hallway quietly; stealthily.  Anyone
seeing her would have noticed a slight change in the way she walked, but
probably couldn't have put their finger on it.  She was concentrating on the
way she walked.  She had been to her T'ai Chi class again last night and was
really beginning to enjoy it.  Lately, she had been trying to stay aware of
her balance and inertia as she walked.  The result was a quieter tread.
      Beverly neared sickbay and could see Dr. Selar standing in the outer
ward.  She was leaning against a table, rubbing her temples.  As Dr. Crusher
neared the door, Selar straightened and turned to greet her.  She was looking
a touch greener than usual today.  Dr. Crusher's forehead wrinkled with
concern.
      "Dr. Selar, are you all right?"
      "I am well, Doctor.  However, I shall wish to speak with you privately
at the end of my duty shift."
      Dr. Crusher picked up a medicorder from the table and flipped it open. 
The Vulcan seemed about to object, but Dr. Crusher was already scanning Selar.
      "You are not all right, Dr. Selar.  Your Kiptotropin and Expotropin
levels are at one-hundred and ten percent of their normal levels.  Numerous
other hormones are at slightly reduced levels.  I think you should lie down
and allow me to examine you further"  She looked up at Selar.
      "That is not necessary, Doctor.  This hormonal fluctuation does not
interfere with my ability to perform my duties."  Selar spoke in her typically
flat tone.
      "Then perhaps we should have that talk now - in my office."  She turned
from the Vulcan doctor and walked into her office.  Selar stood for a moment
with an eyebrow raised, then followed Dr. Crusher.
      "Dr. Selar, What is the matter with you?"
      "As I have indicated, this is a normal hormonal condition.  It does not
impede my functioning at the present."
      "At the present?"
      "Yes, Doctor.  However, I must return to Vulcan soon."
      "Return to Vulcan, Why?"
      "For - medical reasons."
      "Medical reasons!  Selar I'm tiring of this.  As one of my staff you
have an obligation to tell me what is the matter with you and why must you
return to Vulcan."  Crusher was scowling now.
      "I must return to my homeworld for physical reasons."
      Dr. Selar's cool demeanor made it all the more obvious that Dr. Crusher
was about to blow her stack.  Suddenly, realization dawned on the Chief
Medical Officer.
      "Selar!  You've been here about seven years, haven't you?"
      "More accurately, six years, eleven months."

* * * * *

      Two figures stood on the edge of the cliff, the wind buffeting them from
behind.  Their voluminous cloaks were wrapped around them and their hoods were
pulled over their heads.  The two stood there watching the red sun reflect off
the coppery sand as it was blown off the top of the cliff.
      The two were father and son.  The father was nearing his second century,
yet was still a strong and vital man.  The son was in his fourth decade and
yet did not seem nearly so strong as his venerable father.  The younger one
shivered even though the temperature was above one hundred degrees.  He
dropped to one knee until the trembling stopped.  When his composure returned,
he slowly stood and walked stiffly with his father away from the precipice
toward the city.
      "Son," said the father as they struggled against the wind, "perhaps you
should contact her vessel and verify her return."
      "She will return.  This affects her as it does me."  The son's voice was
strained, as was his control.
      "It does affect her, Styhk, but something clearly prevents her timely
return.
      "If she does not return, father, she will die.  If that occurs, I will
die also."  Styhk was struggling up a slope and his father took him by the
elbow to help him.  "In either case, I will wait."
      "You are not thinking clearly.  If she were able to return, would she
not already be here - prior to the time?  You must let us find another."
      Styhk pulled away from his father and struggled up the hill.  His father
followed Styhk, and when the father got to the top of the hill, the son was
shouting above the gusting wind.
      "You will not find another.  You will not contact Enterprise.  I will
wait until she returns or until we both die."  There was an awkward pause when
he realized that his response to his father's logical suggestion was
emotionally motivated.  He turned and hastened toward the city, followed by
his father.

* * * * *

Captain's Log, Stardate 49201.0.  The Enterprise has
just received new orders from Starfleet command.  The
USS Dauntless, a neutral zone patrol ship, was damaged
in a battle with the Romulan warship Retribution.  For
some unknown reason, Retribution broke off her attack
and returned to Romulan space - without destroying the
outmatched Dauntless.  The Dauntless is limping back
to Starbase 473 for repairs and the Enterprise is the
closest ship available to beat the border until the
Dauntless can return to her patrol.

      Picard signaled the computer to end the log entry.  He sat in his ready
room staring out the window at the colorful warp effect.  The Captain wondered
what type of difficulties the Enterprise would encounter this time.  It seemed
like this ship had never been close to the neutral zone without meeting some
type of Romulan resistance.  He called out for the computer to prepare a cup
of hot, Earl Grey tea, and stood up to retrieve it.  Just then the door
chirped, indicating a visitor.
      "Come,"  Picard commanded, reaching up to pull his jacket down in the
front.  It was still a habit, even though the newer olive and crimson jackets
did not creep up in the front like the older ones.  The door opened up and
Beverly Crusher stepped in.  Picard could tell immediately that she wanted a
favor.
      "Good morning, Doctor.  May I get you a cup of tea?"  She nodded and he
told the food slot to prepare another.  He fetched the first cup and gave it
to the doctor as she sat down on Picard's couch.  He returned to the wall to
get his cup.  "Now, what can I do for you."
      "Well, we have an interesting situation in sickbay.  Dr. Selar must
return to Vulcan soon.  She has asked me for leave and I've granted it."
      "Return to Vulcan - why, Doctor?"
      "For medical reasons."
      "Medical reasons?  Could you elucidate?"
      "Dr. Selar must return to Vulcan for,"  the doctor paused looking for
the words to describe the touchy situation.  "Physical reasons."
      "Dr. Crusher, you are beating around the bush."  Picard took a sip of
his tea and sat down on the couch a discreet distance from her.  Her shoulders
slumped when she realized that he would not take her request at face value and
he would not let it drop.
      "You see, there is a physiological cycle that occurs in Vulcans
approximately every seven years.  It is called Pon Far and..."
      Picard held up a hand to stop her, realizing where she was leading.  He
knew about Pon Far from his mind meld with Sarek of Vulcan, but he had not
realized that the mating urge was as strong in Vulcan females as it was in the
males.  For Vulcan males, the urge was so powerful that it could cause
insanity and death if ignored.
      "How long does she have before she cannot function normally, Doctor?"
      "She expects to be in fervor within the next two weeks, but she is
already showing symptoms.  As it progresses there will be pain and
progressively reduced mental capacity.  We must go to Vulcan to allow Selar to
take care of this."
      The Captain leaned back on the couch and pondered the situation for a
moment.  "I'm afraid the situation is not as simple as that.  We will be
arriving at the Neutral Zone in three days, and we cannot afford to take the
time to divert to Vulcan."
      "Captain, Dr. Selar could die if we do not make this diversion."
      Picard considered this for another moment and then touched his
communicator.  "Mr. Data, report to my ready room."  Data acknowledged and Dr.
Crusher turned to Picard.
      "Jean-Luc, this is a very private thing for Vulcans.  I would suggest
you tell as few people as possible."  He nodded just as Data stepped into the
room.
      "Mr. Data.  After we arrive at the Neutral Zone, how long do you expect
it will take the Dauntless to relieve us."
      "The estimated repair time for the Dauntless is three weeks, Captain." 
      Dr. Crusher looked from Data to the Captain.  "She cannot wait that
long."  This got a look of curiosity from Data.
      Picard nodded and took a sip of tea.  "Data, if we launch a
shuttlecraft, how long will it take it to reach Vulcan?"
      Data calculated for a fraction of a second and replied.  "Captain, I
assume you would wish to minimize time-in-flight for this shuttle.  We will
reach a point in our path closest to Vulcan in two days, three hours.  If we
launch from that point, it will take eight hours at maximum velocity for the
shuttle to reach Vulcan.
      "Doctor, is a two and a half day delay acceptable?"
      "It should be, Captain."  The corners of her mouth twitched upwards.
      "Good.  Data, schedule a shuttlecraft to depart at that time."

* * * * *

      Poet Styhk of Vulcan lay on the ground staring up into the night sky.  A
human poet would have seen the stars and noted their innate beauty.  A human
would see representations of goals and dreams in the stars, but Styhk saw the
stars through different eyes.  Styhk perceived the order and the constancy
that they represented.
      Tonight he needed for the stars to preach to him their message of order. 
  He was in intense pain and was in danger of losing his emotional control. 
Coming at this point in his life, his father's words had stung him with their
perfect logic.
      Most other races perceived the Vulcans as emotionless, but this is far
from true.  Long ago they chose logic as their path to truth; and over the
centuries perfected emotional control as their path to logic.  They believe it
to be their strongest point; that trait which makes them somewhat superior to
other races.
      As Styhk's control slipped, he lost sight of the unanimity of stars.  He
could only focus on one at a time.  From which one, he wondered, was
Enterprise bearing Selar to him?  Would she even return for Pon Far?  Or would
they both die because of this insane cycle they were born to and were bound
to?  Perhaps she would find another and only he would die.
      "No,"  he mumbled, then louder, "No!"

* * * * *

      None of the pricks of light that Styhk saw that night were the
Enterprise returning Selar to Vulcan.  The only things visible in the sky
above him were the stars - but there was something else.  Something lurked
near the planet.  It wasn't visible to naked eye or to powerful technology. 
Logically it shouldn't have been there, but it was.
      The Retribution hung in the magnetic disturbance of Vulcan's nearest
planetary neighbor; invisible and motionless.  As the ship soaked up
information from Vulcan, most of her crew slept confident in their ability to
remain undetected.
      Falkl'or lay in his cabin, but he wasn't asleep.  He stared at the
ceiling and listened to his consort sleeping beside him.  He thought of the
danger his ship and crew would be in if they were discovered.  Not from the
Federation or the Vulcans; he could surely escape from anything they sent
after him.  The Romulan Council was another matter.  They would have his head
if he failed.  Especially since his predecessor had failed so miserably with
the Vulcan Reunification.  He would not sleep until his ship was safely inside
the Romulan Empire carrying the information they had been sent to gather.
      His mind turned to the Vulcan people.  They, with their faulty logic,
simply did not understand the way of things.  They actually thought they could
suppress their emotions.  They couldn't even fool other races into believing
in their perfect emotional control, but they believed it themselves.
      "Why bother," he mumbled.  The fiery passion of the Romulan people was
what made them strong.  It was why these lesser cousins of the Romulans would
eventually fall.
      Falkl'or knew that the Romulans didn't have a particular use for Vulcan,
yet they believed in 'reunification' fiercely.  It wasn't reunification they
wanted.  It was revenge.  Revenge for having their superior ideology scorned
by the Vulcans; revenge for being forced off the Vulcan homeworld so long ago. 
Falkl'or decided that his ship was aptly named.
      He looked over at his sleeping partner lying naked, her back to him.  If
he couldn't sleep, at least he could amuse himself.  He shook her until she
rolled over and submitted to him.

* * * * *

      "Dr. Selar, I think someone ought to go with you."
      Bev Crusher was standing just inside the door of Selar's quarters.  She
had never been in the Vulcan's room, but she held her curiosity for another
time.  "I've seen the way you've been acting all day today, and I'm not
convinced you can make the flight by yourself."
      Dr. Selar stood beside her sleeping mat packing the few items she
planned to take with her.  She looked at Crusher with a look that an
uninformed person could have mistaken for aggravation.  "I do not require any
assistance, Doctor Crusher.  The shuttle will be piloted by computer - so my
functioning is not of concern."
      "Still, you will very likely need medical assistance.  I have watched
you getting worse for the past two days.  If you don't select a travelling
companion then I will select one for you."  Beverly had proven many times that
she could be just as stubborn as any Vulcan.  She pulled a datapad out of the
pocket of her jacket and began scrolling through names.
      "Doctor Crusher, I do not require a companion."  Selar seemed obstinate,
but when this didn't impress the CMO, she continued.  "Allow me to restate it
differently, Doctor;  I do not _want_ you to select a travelling companion for
me."  This caught Dr. Crusher's attention.
      Dr. Crusher realized that Selar was having a hard time controlling her
emotions.  She put a gentle tone in her voice - but was still firm.  "Selar,
that statement makes me even more determined to assign you a companion.  When
a Vulcan admits having desires, you know that she is in bad shape.  You are
leaving in an hour, with a companion"
      "Doctor, I don't want a companion - because I don't want any of the
other medics to know about this.  It is none of their concern and it is
possible that it will adversely affect their ability to work with me when I
return."  Selar had begun this statement a bit shaky, but she seemed to pull
herself together toward the end.
      "Fine,"  The fiery-haired doctor stated.  "I already know, and this
cannot affect our professional relationship, so I will go with you."

* * * * *

      Falkl'or lay contemplating getting up and going to check on the progress
of the data gathering.  He had occupied himself with the Engineer, R'annec,
for most of the night and didn't want to get up just yet.  Just as he was
about to pull himself from bed, the klaxon sounded.
      The sound startled the sleeping R'annec.  She leapt from the bed into a
fighting stance, one arm pressed against her breasts to hold them in place. 
Falkl'or got up almost as quickly and began pulling on his uniform.  He had it
on and was out the door by the time R'annec had realized what was going on
enough to begin dressing.
      In the bridge, the main bridge officers were still gathering.  When
Falkl'or stepped off the lift, one of the crew began informing him of their
situation.
      "Lord, Federation cruiser T'karin off our port side.  She's making
sensor sweeps.  Looks like broad range radiation sweeps."
      "Damn, they're picking up radiation emissions from the cloaking shields. 
Have they located us yet?"
      "No, my lord.  They made a pass and are coming about for another, but
their course does not indicate that they have found us.  It'll probably take
them another couple of more passes.  Shall this soldier ready the weapons
systems?"
      "No, wait until they pass, then move us away from the T'karin.  Plot a
course along the pattern of this planet's magnetic field.  As soon as you have
the planet between them and us, take us out of here."
      The bridge crew plotted the course and waited in silence as the forward
tactical display showed the relative positions of Retribution and T'karin.  As
the Federation ship glided silently over the Retribution, she slowly slipped
into a magnetic line and moved away.  A few moments later she was headed back
toward the Romulan Empire.
 
* * * * *

      Having slowed to impulse speed long enough to eject the shuttle, the
Enterprise leapt back into warp to complete its journey to the neutral zone. 
The doctors watched from the shuttle as the huge starship seemed to lengthen -
then burst out of existence in a spray of color.
      Dr. Selar pressed a button to activate the program that Data had written
to pilot the shuttle to Vulcan.  The shuttle oriented itself and leapt
forward, the occupants settling in for a long, uneventful ride.
      The Vulcan leaned back in the pilot's chair and folded her hands in her
lap.  She closed her eyes and assumed a completely neutral demeanor.  Dr.
Crusher slid an isolinear chip into a slot just below the copilot's viewer and
sat back while the viewer scrolled through the book she was reading.
      It was mind-numbing reading.  A new medical thriller in documentary form
called _Zeta_Strain_.  It had been meticulously researched by the author and
it had a great deal of real information about Starfleet Medical Headquarters. 
Some Starfleet agents had even allegedly debriefed the author to find out
where all the semi-valid details in the book had come from.  According to the
rumors, she had looked most of it up in a library and postulated on the
remainder.  The result was a startlingly believable book.
      Beverly was not really into reading such fiction as this.  She knew too
much about Starfleet Medical Operations to buy into the story line - but so
many of the interns and medics on the Enterprise had been raving about it that
she had decided to pick up a copy of it.  Within a few minutes of powering it
up, she realized that she couldn't even remember the previous page.  She was
about to doze off when Selar opened her eyes and turned to her.
      "What are you reading, Doctor?"  Selar had attempted to place herself
into a meditative trance, but she was used to being alone when she meditated. 
Crusher's routine tapping on the page-advance key of the reader was agitating
her.  Fortunately she was able to use a neutral tone of voice for the query.
      Beverly's head snapped up.  "Oh, this?"  She glanced back at the screen
trying to remind herself of what she was reading.  "It's just a new piece of
fiction.  I'm really not that interested in it.  Would you like to read it?"
      "That is quite all right, Doctor."  Selar had quickly decided that if it
was too uninteresting for a human, that it would certainly not be suitable for
a Vulcan.  She got up from the seat and moved to the rear compartment of the
shuttle to attempt to sleep her way through the trip.
      Vulcans normally needed only a few hours sleep every few days, but the
hormonal changes associated with Pon Far changed that.  She had found that she
tired quickly and had difficulty staying awake during the later part of her
duty shifts.
      Yesterday she had even fallen asleep during a meal break.  Dr. Crusher
had to go find her when she did not show up after lunch, and she received an
unwanted break for the remainder of the day.
      The Vulcan was soon asleep in the back of the shuttle and it didn't take
long for the human to nod back to sleep in the front.
* * * * *

      R'annec had her arms elbow-deep in the cloaking device control subsystem
and was looking at a schematic lying on the floor.  For the past few months
the Federation had been getting progressively more proficient at spotting
cloaked ships, and she wanted to know why.  She felt like she was close.
      She was performing the modifications to the cloaking device by reflex,
and thinking about more personal matters.  She had planned for a long time to
entice the Captain into a relationship and ride him to a position of power. 
She wondered if Falkl'or actually thought she was his pet, or if he was
setting some elaborate trap for her; testing her loyalty.  No, she decided.  
Males are too stupid to see through the schemes of a woman.
      She extracted her hands from the control cabinet and walked over to an
engineering computer terminal.  Tapping a few keys, she instructed the
computer to run a broad range radiation scan on the cloaking shields.
      "So that's what they're seeing..."  She moved back over to the
schematic, glanced it over, and leaned back into the control cabinet.  After a
few more adjustments and scans she had the results she wanted.  "See if the
witless bastards can find us now!"  She replaced the cabinet cover and started
to the bridge triumphantly.
      On the bridge, Falkl'or sat in his command chair scanning through some
of the information they had gathered from Vulcan.  They had what they had come
for, so now all he had to do was get his crew back home.  The Council would be
pleased.  He glanced over and saw that R'annec had entered the bridge and was
moving over to his chair.
      "Lord, this engineer has located what she considers to be the reason
that the Federation ships were able to detect cloaked Romulan ships.  The
fault has been fixed through a minor adjustment of the field generators."  She
used the formal address for her captain only because there were subordinates
within earshot.
      He started to acknowledge the good work, but the sensor operator called
out to him.  "Lord, this soldier is detecting a small craft directly in our
path.  Federation shuttlecraft.  Its course indicates it is coming from the
general vicinity of the Empire, and proceeding to Vulcan."
      "Long range shuttlecraft, soldier?"
      "No, my lord.  Standard short range shuttle.  Couldn't have even made it
from Federation Starbase 473.  It must have come from a ship, but long range
sensors indicate no vessels in the area."
      "Soldier, what ship does the Federation shuttlecraft's transponder show
it came from?"
      "My lord.  NCC-1701-D.  Enterprise."
      Falkl'or's right eyebrow shot upward in curiosity.

* * * * *

      Dr. Crusher awoke when Selar started mumbling.  She turned in her seat
and saw that Selar was calling out in her sleep.  The words were incoherent. 
Dr. Crusher stood to stretch her legs and saw that Selar was shivering and
sweating.  She started to move over to wake her, but as she got close Selar's
eyes flipped open.  She was startled to see that Selar's eyes were white until
she remembered the Vulcan's nictitating membranes.  Odd, she thought, it isn't
that bright in here.  She pulled out her medicorder as Selar sat up on the
bench.
      Selar tried to complain that she needed no assistance, but realized it
would be futile to try to convince Dr. Crusher of the fact.  She pulled a
blanket from a compartment under the bench and wrapped it around herself.
      Dr. Crusher finished with the scan.  "Hormonal disparity is worse and
brain waves slightly off norm."  She pulled a hypo from her kit and put a
cartridge in it.  Selar tilted her head to expose the side of her neck and Dr.
Crusher pressed the device against the artery.  It hissed and she placed it
back in the kit.
      "That ought to hold you till we get you home."  Dr. Crusher used her
medicorder to monitor the onset of the medication.
      "Thank you, Doctor.  My condition is improving as we speak."  She folded
the blanket precisely and placed it back in the locker.  Her shivering was
calming and her nictitating membranes were sliding back.
      Just then the shuttle's proximity sensors went off.  Both stood and
turned in time to see the gigantic Romulan warship materialize directly in
their path.

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