Surak's Soul - J.M. Dillard [7]
Giving in to guilt is as bad as feeling sorry for yourself. You couldn’t help. Leave it at that. But finding out what caused this tragedy might help others, including those on your own ship.
“It’s not your fault, you know,” Hoshi said suddenly behind him, from the passenger’s seat; he half turned his head to glance back at her—and realized that Hoshi was speaking not to him but to T’Pol.
“I do not understand,” the Vulcan replied evenly, without taking her eyes off the copilot controls. Of the landing party, only T’Pol had maintained a neutral expression, and had not exuded a sense of dismalness.
“That the man died back there. When you protected me.”
“Ah.” T’Pol’s expression and tone were cool, uninflected. “You are referring to my shooting the alien and his subsequent death.”
Archer had to admit to himself that he was surprised by the fact that it had been T’Pol, and not Reed, who had reacted more swiftly with the phase pistol. Of course, just because she’s a pacifist doesn’t mean she’s not a crack shot. Reed listened to the two women and averted his gaze, paying undue attention to the scene outside the craft; Archer assumed that the lieutenant was still somewhat embarrassed that he hadn’t been the one to react quickly.
“Yes,” Hoshi said earnestly. “I just wanted you to know that it wasn’t your fault. You may have saved my life, and you had no way of knowing that a stun blast would kill him. You shouldn’t feel bad about it.”
Archer felt for an instant like a self-absorbed heel. Here he’d been depressed about his own inability to help—yet how must the peaceable Vulcan feel, knowing that she was responsible for the death of one of the last survivors?
T’Pol’s eyes flickered briefly; watching through the ports as Enterprise loomed closer, she responded: “I still do not understand your need to assign or not assign fault. An event happened. It was simple cause and effect. I perceived the alien as attacking you, and responded by taking a particular action. I am incapable of, as you put it, ‘feeling bad’ about it.”
Hoshi’s expression soured; she folded her arms over her chest and said shortly, “Fine. I just didn’t want you to feel guilty.”
“Guilt is a human emotion,” T’Pol said, with something suspiciously like pride. So, thought Archer, it must be nice to live without any self-doubt. And here I’d been worried about her reaction to the alien’s death….
“Fine,” Hoshi repeated, and said no more until they arrived at the ship.
In the decontamination chamber aboard Enterprise, Malcolm Reed found himself presented with a situation straight from his fondest dreams.
Stripped down to her underwear, the long-limbed T’Pol, proffered him a large jar of iridescent decontamination gel. “Lieutenant,” she said, in her cool, low voice, “if you would be so kind.”
Reed only hoped he wasn’t staring. He’d done his best to maintain the ultimate decorum around all female members of Enterprise, for he was military first, and male second, and frowned on even the merest hint of fraternization.
As for T’Pol, Reed had been reluctant to admit, even to himself, his attraction to her. Only Trip Tucker knew, and then only because Reed had confessed his attraction during an incontrovertibly drunken moment.
He’d always considered Vulcan women very attractive—the exotic upsweep of their ears, perhaps, or more likely the fact that they were unapproachable, untouchable, unknowable, taboo….
But he had come to know T’Pol, at least, just a bit. She was everything a woman ought to be—graceful in her every movement, incredibly intelligent, courteous, refined, dignified…Come to think of it, Reed told himself honestly, everything that I wish I could be all the time. Except female.
And she was now standing in front of him waiting for Reed, to smear her back with the gel—after which, she would do the same for him.
Nearby, Phlox was finishing up the captain’s back for him, while Hoshi sat patiently, already