"Here." Sakarra set down the glass and motioned for Lamont to take a seat opposite her, as comfortably as he deemed fit. Almost instinctively, she assumed an air of gentle authority, merely a shadow of that which is hallmark of the tranquil monks of T'Shen, but enough for any who knew to recognize the touch of a place held most dear among her race.
Hardly unexpected, conscious memory followed instinct and with the joyful, inward smile showing in the depths of black pools, the young woman realized she was already breathing slowly, steadily, while her entire body settled into a languid, graceful pose.
"Before I begin any instruction," she inquisitively tilted her head to the side, keeping her hands loosely folded in her lap "it would be helpful to know if you have ever practiced any of the terran forms of meditation."
"I have never received any formal instruction however I often find solace in classical music or simply in dark silence where I can contemplate the day's events if especially trying or difficult. I have found certain issues become clearer with deep contemplation. Events, actions, even people themselves sometimes make more sense upon reflection. But I digress.
Noshau pok oren-tor nash-veh, osavensu."
"K'zhir t'du."
Briefly inclining her head, the young Vulcan reached out and let her fingertips hover only centimeters from his chest, silently asking permission.
There were countless ways to reach a meditative state, though most required practice and patient learning. Under the circumstances, Sakarra felt it logical to simply act as guide rather than begin with lessons that would take weeks, perhaps months to be mastered.
He nodded assent and watched her slender fingers come to rest against the smooth fabric right below his ribs. Almost imperceptibly, pressure was exerted and withdrawn, dictating a steady, relaxing rhythm.
"Breathe. And listen. Allow all that is around you to fade, until there is only your breath and my voice. There is no right or wrong, nothing to be mastered and nothing to be won or lost. Only the dark silence, and peace."
Ian closed his eyes as the Vulcan instructed listening to her soft, melodic voice. The many thoughts and emotions within his mind slowly slid away as a calm, silent, nothingness took their place. His breathing slowed as did his heart rate. Sakarra's story of the Vulcan science team, the intrigue surrounding them, the Charon's fate, and even the brig itself seemed to dissolve like salt in a glass of warm water. Naturally suspicious due to his line of work Ian had difficulty relinquishing control be it physical, mental, or otherwise yet in the presence of the Vulcan with her calm steady voice and light touch upon his chest he found himself drifting off to a place of quiet serenity.
If she'd ever had any doubt he trusted her, it dissolved right now, along with their surroundings.
It was nothing short of astonishing, the speed with which he allowed himself to fall into the experience, and Sakarra found herself both marveling at it and chuckling silently, inwardly.
Murmuring softly in her native dialect, she allowed her mind to become still, rise over the turbulent ocean of emotions, drawing tranquility around them like a blanket. The waves tugged at her, heavy and fierce, wanting to pull her back, but with the grace and elegance that comes from long practice, the young Vulcan kept moving steadily, not ignoring the turbulence but not deterred by it either.
It is said that Surak traversed Sas-a-Shar while the plains still ran hot with blood - and with logic, he cooled it. It was as good a metaphor as any for walking through the storm untouched, for seeing and knowing the grief, the maddening anger swirling around and below, and taking away its power by acknowledging it. How could you fear that which you knew, recognized, and accepted?
It was not until she was finally hovering in the peaceful twilight, knowing that Lamont had steadily followed, that Sakarra's voice fell silent. The temptation to simply stay, rest, and let all else pass her by, was as strong as ever. And for long minutes, she did just that.
Unencumbered by doubts or fear, Ian simply trusted his guide and allowed himself to relax. He implicitly trusted the commander and felt at peace in her presence as her words slowly faded into a quite hum before disappearing completely like a puff of smoke in a brisk breeze. His mental shields slowly fell and he surrendered to the calm silence that engulfed him. At first he felt the sensation of fear and trepidation sinking so quickly into the darkness. He resisted the strong urge to fight the feelings. Lowering his defenses left him feeling mentally naked and exposed which at first was immensely disconcerting yet he drew strength from the nearby commander's presence and simply let go as if stepping off a cliff into a dark, unknown abyss. Finding no danger or harm in quiet solitude he embraced it and slipped into an unknown, but remarkable place far removed and safe from the weight, worry, and pressures of existence.
Thoughts, images, and ideas bubbled into being before him one blending into another and then slowly fading. He felt compelled to remain here in this blissful state of restful peace where time had no teeth. Here he remained for what seemed like a small eternity. He fought the strong, compelling urge to completely let go and allow himself to be pulled into the realm of unconsciousness and sleep. How easy such a thing seemed as the darkness's siren call compelled him to venture ever further.
With calm confidence he slowly reached out to explore threads of thought. As he did so he became aware of something just beyond his consciousness. Was it a thought, a long forgotten memory, or something else? Venturing toward it the thread stayed beyond his reach fuzzy, indistinct, yet oddly compelling.
Reaching out with his mind he struggled to touch this unknown. With effort he closed in on his target his mental fingers closing around this fuzzy thread.
Suddenly the peace around him exploded in a giant flash as images, thoughts, dreams, ideas flooded the dark bliss like a tidal wave rushing in engulfing and swallowing the land. He was awash in the unfamiliar. He soon realized these rapid, blurred, but immensely intense and raw feelings, images, thoughts, and emotions were not his own. "Sakarra?"
As if he had touched an exposed EPS conduit the world around disappeared in a sudden brilliant flash. The ambassador drew in a sharp breath as his eyes snapped open reality pouring back upon him with relentless force. Electric was the sensation as his mind reeled unable to cope with whatever it was he had touched. His breaths were short and quick, his heart rate accelerated, his pupils contracted as his body reacted to being thrown from peace into near chaos in an instant.
He couldn't speak for a time his mind too busy coping with the unknown stimulus it has been exposed to. He had no idea what had just occurred and had no reference to classify the experience in thought or in words being both unique and compelling and chaotic and horrifying at once.
Ian finally regained enough physical and mental control to bring a hand to his forehead to help stabilize himself. Several long moments later the beating of his heart slowed and the pounding of blood through his veins subsided. He said nothing, but simply looked up at the Vulcan his green eyes filled with confusion mixed with panic and fear. Obscured in his eyes behind his emotions was intense curiosity and a desire to know what had so violently thrown him out of the quiet calm. He wanted to cry out and ask a dozen questions at the same time yet he could find no words to do either. All he could do was watch as his mind reeled attempting to make some sense of the experience for which there seemed no answers.
Aware of the human's presence as one is aware of a light breeze rustling the leaves or the minute tug on a silken thread in ones hand, Sakarra noted the calm exuding from him and silently retreated just a small distance so as to not intrude into his thoughts. For a moment, she had been surprised by how deeply and fully he had been willing to give himself over to the gentle twilight, near sinking into the darkness of a trance. But he had steadied himself without assistance – remarkable enough – and come to rest in the stillness of his own mind.
Leaving even that thought behind, the young Vulcan reveled in the magnificent silence a moment longer before her focus shifted back to the turbulent swirl of the storm below. All those feelings, one more excruciatingly deep than the other, put aside but refusing to be denied, demanding to be lived. Under her still regard, the ocean stirred, rising in endless tides.
Observe, accept, move beyond.
One by one, sensations, memories, emotions were plucked from the storm and examined, allowed to be felt as they needed to, and integrated into the glittering mosaic that was the Vulcan's mind. She looked upon her own fury with forgiveness and understanding, suffered the exhilarating agony of it, and let it sink back into the darkness it had come from.
This, too, is me.
The fierce hurt, the heart wrenching sorrow – accepted with silent approval, made part of her as much as every silken eyelash, every drop of blood coursing through her veins.
[To be continued …]
Ambassador Ian Lamont
And
Lt. Commander Sakarra Tyrax
