The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [92]
“Ironically, I have been having difficulty getting to sleep,” T’Pol said.
Phlox understood that she was referring to more than a year earlier, when Trip had been unable to sleep after his sister had died in the Xindi attack on Earth. Phlox had referred Trip to T’Pol for Vulcan neuropressure; since that time, the two had become increasingly- if sometimes combatively- involved with one another romantically.
“I can prescribe a mild sedative for you,” he said, sidestepping the neuropressure issue. He backed away slightly to study the readings on his scanner, then set it down on a countertop and turned back to her.
“Beyond recent events in your life, I can think of another possible causal factor for your recent… emotional lapse,” he said. “The aftereffects of the trellium.” While Enterprise was searching for the Xindi in the hazardous unknown region known as the Delphic Expanse, T’Pol had become addicted to a mineral known as trellium, a substance that had enabled her to escape the restraints of logic, at least temporarily. Phlox had helped T’Pol end her addiction, but the physical repercussions of her chemical dependency were still measurable.
“I have been able to control my emotions since that time,” T’Pol said, a hint of defensiveness in her voice. “Until now.”
Phlox nodded. “Have you? Or were you struggling to control them on a deeper level?” He approached her again, staring into her eyes. “I’ve seen you fighting your emotions, T’Pol. More and more. Understand that I don’t consider emotions to be a negative thing. Denobulans revel in them, as do humans. So I cannot compare my situation to yours. But if you are susceptible to emotional outbursts due to a residual chemical imbalance in your body, it may be more harmful to you not to give in to your emotions, at least from time to time.”
T’Pol nodded, but Phlox could see that she had discarded his advice the instant he had voiced it. He stepped away and pretended to tidy up his counter.
“There is something else,” T’Pol said, her voice clearer. “Something that I do not believe can be blamed on the trellium, or on my present lack of emotional restraint.”
Phlox stiffened slightly. This is where she tells me her suspicions, he thought. He turned back toward her.
T’Pol crossed her arms across her chest and shifted her weight from foot to foot. Despite these telltale signs of nervousness, her face remained an all but inscrutable mask.
“I believe that Commander Tucker is still alive.”
Phlox carefully masked his own responsive body language, glad that the first officer was only a touch telepath and couldn’t read his thoughts just now.
“That’s an interesting notion,” he said at length.
“I know that it’s a logical impossibility,” T’Pol said, gesturing with one hand. “If Trip isn’t dead, that would mean that you and the captain, and perhaps Lieutenant Reed as well, would have to have faked his death for some unknown reason. An alternative possibility is that I am becoming delusional.”
Phlox clasped his hands behind his back tightly. “Putting aside the absurd notion that there has been a conspiracy to make Commander Tucker only appear to have died, the second notion strikes me as equally absurd. At least until you exhibit other symptoms of having experienced a break with reality.
“I must also point out to you that denial is one of the stages of mourning that people commonly experience after the loss of a loved one.” He paused, and modulated his voice. “Why do you think he isn’t dead?”
“There are… things we shared, which have forever linked us,” T’Pol said.
He could tell that she was holding something back, and wondered if she was talking about a mind-meld between Trip and herself. He stayed silent, though, and resolved not to pry into that deeply personal aspect of their relationship, even though he found the Vulcan practice of telepathic