[USS Charon, Arboretum]
The hla'meth and rillan had taken nicely, and Sakarra gave a brief, satisfied nod before setting aside the pruning shears. Kneeling on the soft, thick grass the young woman inhaled the spicy herbal scent and savored the peace of this simple activity.
The sound of muted conversation floated across the lawn, and she suspected some of the crew made good use of the rose gardens while the arboretum was bathed in the violet hues of a terran evening. Glittering specks of light shimmered into view overhead, and a disc like polished silver rose on the simulated horizon as the projectors followed the familiar patterns of Sol's system.
It was a gentle sky, veiled in dark blue mystery and quite romantic in a way. But the young Vulcan in her heavy, amaranth robes found herself wishing for the fierce, rugged surface of T'Khut to shine over golden sands, making them glitter like rubies and polished copper, every stone and plant outlined sharply against a light the color of alien blood.
But there was no endless horizon here and no harsh, grandiose beauty. Only soft shadows and the heavy scent of abundant vegetation floating on air that was colder than any night on Vulcan could ever be.
Exhaling slowly, she made to put away her tools when a shadow too dark to belong here moved towards her. Few people walked so soundlessly and in an instant, Sakarra's head turned, black eyes searching the space between two terran trees where not even a leaf was stirring.
"It is quite different, no?" A deep, level tenor floated down from the shadows and she recognized the voice. Not that it served to relax her much, but the brief, imminent sensation of danger was receding to make room for annoyance.
Before Sakarra could reply or inquire whether he thought it was polite to take advantage of an unguarded thought becoming manifest, the tall Vulcan stepped out into the twilight and settled down next to her. Close, much too close to be anything but slightly rude, and she was about to make her displeasure clear when the realization dawned. Even now, he had barely made a sound, and the way he carried himself was too familiar to be coincidence.
A scientist? Perhaps. Only that? Certainly not.
The young woman's curiosity won by a minute margin and she studied the aquiline features and strangely luminescent violet eyes of the male kneeling next to her.
He acknowledged her scrutiny with a gracious bow, murmuring a most courteous greeting. Intentional or not, although she rather suspected the former, his face came close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off him, meeting and mingling with her own, before he returned to his still pose, gazing down at her upturned face.
Well, that was quite enough. She drew a breath to ask him to explain himself or leave, but the words died on her lips when a hand reached out to wrap around her fingers, lightly, almost playfully, but with the promise of considerable strength waiting to be employed.
He sensed the temper flaring. Hardly unexpected, though the force behind it was surprising. Voran estimated he had 0.9 seconds before she might become … harsh.
"Eit'jae wyh'veya nash-veh, t'sai."
Such small, slender hands, if he did not know full well what they were capable of he might have thought them fragile. With a tinge of amusement he noticed the flicker of recognition in her eyes – she had postponed a response for now, even though she was understandably offended by his brief intrusion into her mind, sending the image of one she would know. Know quite well indeed.
Slowly and leisurely, he took the chance to interlace his fingers with hers, giving the impression of a man encouraged to proceed – or at least not outright discouraged – with a rather bold courtship.
It had come as a shock, and a relief at once. And it explained a great many things.
The second Sovar's face had manifested in the forcefully established mindlink, it had felt like puzzle pieces falling into place one by one.
Damn him. And damn this one, too. What was he thinking, acting like a man struck by Shon-ha-lock, making advances like that – only it made sense, too, if he wanted to get close to her without raising suspicion. Imminently logical, and terribly annoying. But it bore the signature of Sovar rather than V'Shar and for the sake of her friend she remained still, seething but composed.
'Dana'uh.'
His grip had tightened subtly when he realized the extent of her anger, but there was something else floating between them, now that she allowed the exchange.
A favor called in, a message to be delivered. And his amused, pleased discovery that the … objective was not quite the haughty, aloof t'naeh'ru he had been expecting. No, it was not entirely a cover to make contact, not any more. That much he made clear when confident but tender fingertips traced the palm of her hand. Voran realized it would be advisable to answer her demand when the lithe figure before him shifted her weight and the prospect of physical violence flared at the depth of her thoughts.
Murmuring softly, like a Vulcan in his position would to soothe the righteous anger of she who was his desired, he lifted his other hand to her face, tracing across slanted brows that felt like velvet under his touch, and high cheekbones flushed with the heat of a terrible temper.
'Bear with me, t'sai. We are being observed.'
Once more, he had derailed her from placing him neatly in the low branches of the nearest tree. Taking her cues from his sharp senses, she expanded her own and had to agree, however grudgingly. One, for certain, breathing quietly not too far away. Alone, and all too obviously trying not to make a sound. Another, possibly, waiting in the shadows. Much more skilled, that one, fading into the background so only one trained as the two young Vulcans kneeling on the cool grass and actively seeking would have been able to notice.
Of course her annoyed acquiescence prompted an inward smile from the violet eyed Vulcan and he was all too pleased to take a few more … liberties. Painstakingly slow, his fingertips grazed across silken hair and traveled down smooth temples, brushing against the meld points as if by accident.
'You are deriving an extraordinary amount of pleasure from this deception.'
'If it were a deception, such a thing would be quite distasteful, I agree.'
It might have triggered her good humor, his boldness combined with the completely absurd situation. And there was a brief echo of it, only it was quickly drowned by the renewed urge to see him flying across the lawn. Preferably straight into the roses.
Sighing inwardly, he realized her patience was hanging by a rapidly thinning thread.
'So, there is another.'
She did not answer, but the new flare of anger told him it would be wise to abandon this query. Right now.
Moving closer yet again, Voran perfectly portrayed a man engaged in friendly flirtation to any but another Vulcan, who would have recognized his actions as both brash and likely to either win him the lady's favor in a short while - or an expedient trip to sickbay. Naturally, he would seek to deepen the mind touch and increase pressure of his fingertips, becoming even bolder with his caresses, and just as naturally, she would subtly narrow her eyes as she decided on how to respond to this.
Only it was not passionate confessions floating through the weaving thread now. Instead, it was a tale so preposterous, Sakarra would have been inclined to dismiss it out of hand if it had not been Sovar who had sent the man to tell it. Surely, not even T'Pelar would be so mad…
And yet it made sense. All of it.
What had they been thinking? What…
Sovar. What had he DONE?
His touch became soothing, gentle, but the fingers that still were intertwined with hers tightened in a silent warning. No, the V'Shar did not know. If this had been a sanctioned contact, there would have been no need to employ this … charming diversion.
That and more he told her and her growing wrath made it increasingly difficult to not become ... distracted. It was as much for the sake of ending this as to satisfy a need that had manifested itself from the first second he had touched the face hovering before him, lovely even with eyes ablaze and expression set in stone cold fury, that Voran let his fingers drift towards warm lips, softer than the petals of the roses that filled the air with their scent.
It had the intended effect in that it completely shocked her out of her angry thoughts, and with the determination of a man who knows this would be the only time he would be able to steal a kiss from the woman glaring at him with murder in her eyes, he held on to her face and the merging of minds for just a second longer than his survival instinct insisted was wise.
His composure all but in tatters, he was still able to silently laugh at himself that he should be caught so off guard.
Sakarra's voice was not threatening, nor angry.
It was simply letters chiseled in stone and weighed with lead, sinking into a deep, cold pool. This is how it will be. Now.
"Kroykah."
He released her with all due speed, and even mustered enough composure to give the deep bow indicating he had gone too far and asked forgiveness.
"Fa-wak i'trasha dh'u."
"Ha, t'sai."
She watched him leave until he was no more than a shadow among shadows, outwardly the perfect picture of a calm Vulcan, barely showing the minor annoyance of having to put up with a persistent suitor.
Inwardly, her mind was reeling.
She had to tell the Captain.
Tell her what? An outrageous tale for which she had no proof but only the assurance that she was willing to trust a man who for all intents and purposes had made not very subtle advances towards her?
Illogical, if not outright ridiculous.
How could she even begin to explain to her CO the risk Sovar and this … irritating man had taken to send her word of T'Pelar's deception? And not just T'Pelar. If those back home who had brought about this madness were to learn how they had been subverted…
The young woman's hands gripped her robe and she had to remind herself to breathe. It would look odd if she appeared to upset over this episode, and her ears told her none of her silent watchers had left. No, she could not reveal her source.
But she could obtain proof.
The fierce light in her eyes would have been enough to send people who knew her well running for cover. But she went about putting up her tools with an air of complete, unwavering calm before she walked past the rose garden and out onto the path illuminated by wrought iron lanterns.
By the time she reached her quarters, her decision was made.
'The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one.'
The screen rose over the young Vulcan's desk and two urgent communiqués with the request to meet in transporter room three were sent to the Chief of Security and the half Klingon engineer whom Sakarra remembered as being not only quite resourceful, but straightforward and trustworthy.
That left but one more thing.
Turning towards the empty air in her quarters, the raven haired Vulcan took a deep breath.
"Savant. I believe we should speak."
[End Log]
Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helm
USS Charon
Voran
V'Shar
