I’ve spent most of the last week writing. Tens of thousands of words of my current WIP, The Stars are Fire. It’s ragged and extremely rough, so I won’t be inflicting it on you yet. You’re most welcome. =)
Disclaimer: T’Pol and Trip , and all the rest of Star Trekare property of Paramount; no copyright infringement intended. I just want to play with them, and I’m careful!
A bit about the challenge:
Story a Day is just that- a story every day in May. To make the challenge more interesting for myself, I used all of the prompts offered, throughout the month.The stories are sequential, they will have various tones, POVs, and voices, due to the particular prompts that were in play during the writing.
For those keeping track:
- Installment #4 of Story #3, “Vermilion Threads”. The prompt was to write a story of about 640 words. An additional guest post was use the words “vermilion” and “musky” (that one’s in this WIPpet).
Today is June 25, 2014
- 25 sentences, for the date.
This snippet is a memory-fragment T’Pol experiences during meditation shortly after she reports for compulsory duty aboard the human starship Enterprise in the pilot episode: “Broken Bow Part 1”.It follows immediately after last week’s WIPpet, “Breathless”. The beginning of this clip shows the scene that inspired this WIPpet.
I drew a deep breath, held it until I could control my autonomic response, and nodded. Soval studied me for a wordless moment, his face revealing nothing but alertness. I held myself still under his regard, wondering whether I wished him to conclude that I was in fact unsuitable for this assignment.
“Although the service is compulsory, Subcommander T’Pol, you still honor Vulcan in your willingness to accept this challenge. You are at liberty for the remainder of the day, so that you may attend to your affairs, and tend to your meditation.”
I said nothing else. It would be illogical; it was not that I didn’t trust my composure to hold if I spoke.
Then came a grueling series of preparations – I allowed those memories to pass quickly, until the moment I was ready to step aboard the courier, and Soval offered me a small box.
“To remind you that, although you are traveling with humans, you are still bound indelibly to your own people.”
I took the box, opened it, and found the skein of vermilion thread.
And then I stood at the door to Captain Archer’s office – his Ready Room, according to the very young human Ensign who had directed me here. I heard two male voices, the words indistinct – but there was no mistaking his intonations, or my Awakened, yearning response. I was aware of Trip, as I entered; my eyes shifted to the precise place where he was before I could control the action. My senses were fully engaged, my mind alight with searing, quivering arousal. Trip looked back at me with a human expression that might be shock, or disbelief, or any number of other things I could not decipher- but I was certain that he knew me as I knew him. Commander Tucker, I admonished myself – I must not think of him as Trip, as the man I had yearned for since that chance, forbidden encounter fourteen months, two weeks, and six days ago.
I had postponed using the prescribed nasal numbing agent, so that I could learn from his scent what only my olfactory sense could tell me. His pungent human odor was spiked with musky overtones, and my own pheremones released in involuntary response. I turned to the Captain, and attempted to still my instinctive reaction.
The animal upon the floor – a small, large-eared canid – provided an outlet; that was fortunate, since my control had already slipped unacceptably and quite noticeably, making me react discourteously. I focused my attention on the creature, allowing the assumption that its natural odor was offensive to me – and Captain Archer apologized, remarking upon the olfactory sensitivity of Vulcan females.
“I took a shower this morning, How ‘bout you, Cap’n?”
All my efforts at control were as nothing, to the smile I could hear in his voice – how could I hear any such thing? The captain belatedly made introductions, and I was forced by courtesy to turn to face him. Trip Tucker rose, extended his arm to me, hand open, in a blatant offer to touch that would only be shared by sexual partners, on Vulcan. “Trip. I’m called Trip.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” I only resisted the impulse to heedlessly take hold of that hand, recklessly give myself to what would follow, by turning away and clutching my quivering hands behind me.
Will T’Pol be able to maintain control in the face of her attraction for Trip? How will Trip react to being spurned? Will the mission be a success, or a disaster?
Yup, you guessed it…you’ll need to either read below, or wait for next week, to learn more…
These posts are the seeds of a project that will germinate over the next months, so input is especially valuable. No need to feel shy; I’m a friendly sort, and will keep my phase pistol on stun ..for the most part.
Okay, I have to do this! =D