The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [98]
The shuttle continued to rock around them, but none of the others present were speaking, as if they were frozen in place. Exasperated, T’Pol turned and looked more closely at the man. There was something in his eyes…
He smiled and winked, and then reached up to tug on the zipper at the top of his head. His skin unzipped down his forehead, over his nose and lips, down his chin, and to his chest.
T’Pol reached over and pulled apart the skin, revealing the far more familiar face underneath. Trip smiled at her, his expression both sweet and haunted.
He was most certainly not dead.
“Wherever you are, do you ever miss me?” she asked, pitching her voice low to prevent the others from hearing. It didn’t matter, since it appeared that they were no longer aboard the shuttlepod anyway; they were in his quarters aboard Enterprise.
He looked surprised. “You mean…”
She nodded shyly. “Yes.”
He picked up the toy armadillo from above the bed and idly played with it as he looked out the viewport at the stars, which looked like so many twinkling lights set against a black velvet curtain. “You know how long it’s been?” he finally asked.
“That’s not what I asked you,” she said, standing, nude, and approaching him from behind.
He bent forward as she began applying neuropressure to his shoulders. “Well… uh… yeah… I guess, sometimes.”
The remainder of the green-tinted Vulcan skinsuit began to slough away under T’Pol’s ministrations, exposing more of Trip beneath it. She grasped it in the center of his back and tore it away. The remnants fluttered to the floor and became fine gritty sand, like the parched red soil of Vulcan’s Forge.
“I haven’t thought about those days in a long time,” T’Pol said, reaching around his sides to hug him from behind.
He turned around and looked down at her, smiling slightly. “Benefit of being a Vulcan.”
She lay back on the bed with him, sweat beading on her collarbone and forehead. A wave of ecstasy moved through her. His skills were so different from the savage couplings of Pon farr.
“After speaking with Doctor Phlox, I realized that we might never see each other again, dead or alive,” she said finally, the warm glow ebbing.
He climbed on top of her, pressing her down into the mattress as he placed his hands against her temples, spreading his fingers and placing his thumbs beside the bridge of her nose. “I can guarantee you that we’re not going to lose touch. My mind to your mind. Stop thinking like that. My thoughts to your thoughts.”
The tears flowed out of her again, pouring over his fingers and down her face in rivulets, filling the bed, submerging them both in seconds. Trip pulled her close as they sank into the warmth, his mouth coming to hers, his eyes seeing into her soul.
However long it may be… I believe I’m going to miss you, she thought.
And in her dreams, the tears and regret and happiness and love caused T’Pol no pain at all.
Twenty-Eight
Friday, February 21, 2155
Rator II
TRIP COULD SEE T’POL lying on the bed beside him, although he knew that her presence here was a physical impossibility. Even so, there she was, warm against his body, speaking with him, making love to him. It was obvious that she was no phantom image from some transient dream; she was every bit as tangible and real as he was.
Then Trip felt something grab his shoulder.
He awakened with a start to see a smiling Phuong standing over him. The visual effect was startling: a Vulcan- no, a Romulan- smiling. His heart racing, Trip sat up on the low sofa where he had evidently fallen asleep after Phuong had left.
“You okay?” Phuong said, his smile folding into a look of concern.
She was here with me, right in this room, Trip thought, still unable to relinquish the sense of reality the absurd dream-reality had carried with it. I know she was here.
“I’m fine.”
Phuong’s smile returned, and he patted Trip on the shoulder. “Well, I’m glad to see you decided to take my advice and get a little shut-eye while I was out scouting.”
“Scouting?” Still unnerved by the sudden transition