Pilgrimage: 4 Worlds

Posted on Fri Aug 23rd, 2019 @ 8:42am by Az'Prel & Commander Rita Paris & Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox & Lieutenant Commander Sonak
Edited on on Fri Aug 23rd, 2019 @ 8:48am

Mission: Family Detention
Location: USS Hera, Deck 8, Commander Paris & Mr. Sonak's Quarters
Timeline: 2396
Tags: Vulcan Pilgrimage Part 1

As such things usually tended to come to pass, it began when Rita Paris got an idea in her head.

Scanning the files as she entered the spacious apartment that was laughably referred to as ‘quarters’ in the modern era, the old-school officer was pleased to find her husband had arrived home before her, his shift completed and apparently no experiments requiring his personal attention at the moment. Left to his own devices, her studious scientist tended to work rather constantly. Should she request time with him or for him to be ‘home’ at a certain hour, he always obliged her within the confines of his duties. Finding him off shift and in quarters before her was a pleasant surprise for her, which of course lit up her face in the warmest of her warm smiles.

In the many varied expressions that graced the face of the pretty young woman, there was one smile that was reserved only for him... a subtlety of expression that only he was observant enough to perceive the difference of between the myriad of cheerful expressions she shared with those around her. Yet it was one that consistently came to her, which was offered only to the kolinahr who held her heart.

Some would say that a human woman could not possibly be happy with a Vulcan male, as extremes of logic and emotion could not successfully mix. But in Rita's experience, nothing could be further from the truth. She found him attentive, always willing to compromise, caring, protective and tender, while still respecting her capabilities and skills. Never motivated by pride, wrath, or greed, he respected logic but allowed for intuitive leaps and motivations beyond logic as well. While she had learned to present her ideas in a logical structure, he had embraced her human 'hunches' and 'gut feelings'. Her t'hy'la entrusted her to plot their course, in both their relationship and in life overall; that responsibility she had gladly accepted, and had always done her best to steer them both truly.

It had led them to another universe; a reality similar, yet far, far beyond their own. It had led them to the very end of their own universe, brought about by their own actions, in order to save this one; which was, it had turned out, the prime timeline. It had led them to the Hera, and into the far flung future of their own age. It had led them to wed, and to bond on more levels than most could even conceive. It had led to growth, change and a love far greater than either of them had ever imagined possible.

Now Rita Paris had an idea, and it was time for her to lay in a course.

Approaching the kolinahr, who was no longer the last, she extended her index and middle fingers toward him, in the traditional Vulcan manner. While she sought his embrace more often than not, and he was always willing to engage her, she found a delight in observing the rituals and traditions of his people. Once it had been in an effort to keep those traditions alive for him, as his world was no more and his people were endangered, his culture a lore that threatened to be forgotten. Now it was merely because they freely shared their cultures with one another, and it pleased her to blend their cultures together as too they blended their lives.

“Greetings, he who is my husband,” she offered in the style of his own oft-used greeting, although hers was offered with a smile. “I have an idea that I wish to share with you, which may result in a plan of action…”

''She who is my wife has a habit of doing that,'' he greeted her in return. It was delivered in his trademark deadpan tone, and yet the dry humor of it was unmistakable; the clear clue that the bonding of a Human female with a totally emotionless Kolinahr master was most certainly leaving a mark upon him.

Of this he was quite conscious. And as always he found this most... intriguing; one of the many things his relationship with Rita Paris brought to his personal growth as a sentient living being. Logically, that would in turn allow him to better contribute to the woman's own fulfillment. So far, all data pointed to this mutual benefit of their union. As a scientist and a husband, Sonak found this most gratifying.

Another consequence of their bonding was that his original psionic faculties seemed to be slowly making a return. They had once been far beyond those of normal Vulcans, particularly those of this universe; but they had been greatly diminished when he had arrived in the Prime universe. At least with Rita, he could now exert his telepathy again at a distance- without the need for physical contact. It was that revival of his mental powers, as modest as it was, coming into play at this very moment.

''You are thinking about Vulcan.''

That brilliant smile grew a bit wider. "I am indeed thinking about Vulcan."

Taking his fingers with her own, she gently led him to the couch. He could hear her thoughts and knew her mind, of course. But she often preferred to form her sentences and choose her words, as she was working out her thoughts and emotions by speaking them aloud, forcing her to order her thoughts and examine them as she shared them. It was not a terrifically logical process, admittedly. But he always preferred for her to communicate at her own speed, in her own time, and in the manner of her choosing. Which she appreciated considerably.

In point of fact, Sonak more than indulged in it; he found it most vitally important. Putting thoughts into word and expressing them made thoughts more than just data; it made them personal. Alive, in the way that literature made a simple accounting of facts an experience rivaling the actual living of an event. Be it diction or not, it made the entire transmission of thoughts a wellspring source for new thoughts, thus enriching both the minds sharing it.

There had been no more enriching experiences for Sonak than those shared with his wife. So he welcomed her putting her thoughts into words, and answering in the same manner.

"All those years ago when we met, your home was no more than memories in your mind. Memories you've shown me, which gave me some idea of your lost world. But here, in this universe... it's still there. It's real. I want to hear the chants of the Monks of T'Panit. I want to see Vulcan's Forge, and the L-langon Mountains. I want to see Vulcan High Command, even just from the outside. I want to swim the Voroth Sea, and explore the Osana Caverns. I want to see where you were born, to explore it, and see it with my own eyes... beside you."

''After our own experience with the Talosians and their illusions, perfectly rivaling reality, you and I both know more than most the difference... and it's importance.'' Sonak intoned gravely.

Interlacing their fingers together, she looked deeply into his steel-grey eyes. "We are of two worlds, two cultures. When you were alone amongst the stars, I taught you my culture, and showed you my home, to make it your own. Because of the amazing, unreal lives we've led... here, your home still exists, and has been thriving for all this time. The elder statesmen of the Federation, the greatest scientists and logicians in the galaxy, with millennia of history and traditions."

''It is indeed most gratifying to know that the entire uniqueness of my people does not rest upon the shoulders of a few thousands displaced from their destroyed place of origin,'' Sonak conceded. ''I must admit, I experienced a certain sense of... gratification, when I found myself back upon my homeworld, in my travels voyaging here to find you.''

"I've asked the Captain for a few weeks of leave, and she's agreed, universe willing, as she put it. So please, Sonak... take me to Vulcan?"

Sonak's eyebrow upraised slightly.

''Vulcan is hardly what you Humans would consider a... vacation spot. The gravity is greater, the heat and dryness constant, the air quite thin, forests sparse and oceans small... not even a moon to light it’s dark, cold nights. And the inhabitants are much like their planet; hard, dry, sparse of words and feelings, frugal and distant, rather... unwelcoming by Human standards; much like the planet itself. I understand your curiosity and your interest; but I am afraid you, like most other sentient species who visit Vulcan would find the experience rather... underwhelming, if not disappointing.''

"I want to feel the heavy gravity. I want to smell the dry, dusty air. I want to see all of these places and things, and the millions of logical people who live there. I know they are not particularly welcoming of outsiders, and that's fine- it is their planet, their culture, their ways. I'm just an explorer, so that's a part of the experience, and one I welcome. I know I'll struggle in the thin air and the lack of humidity and lower oxygen content, and I want to experience all of that." Her gaze softening, Rita held their interlaced hands up to her cheek, pressing the backs of his fingers to her face.

"We're going to have children, you and I. Those children will be of two worlds, and I am determined that whatever paths they choose in life, they will know both worlds equally. So if someday in the future we'll be taking summer vacations on Vulcan with the kids, then Mom had better get a headstart on knowing what to expect, hm?" Having explained her logic, Rita beamed that smile at her logical lover, that smile filled with hope and optimism for a bright future, together, here at the close of the twenty-fourth century.

Sonak bowed to the simple yet effective logic of her argument.

''Regular tri-ox compound injections would supplement your system to compensate for the thinner air and relieve some fatigue from the strain of gravity. Actual water showers taken daily, not sonic ones, would also alleviate the effects of heat and dryness. As for our children, they would benefit from their paternal heritage and feel quite comfortable; all known half-Vulcans never experience difficulty living on Vulcan, even when away for extended periods of time. But yes, it would be good for them to have their mother also more at ease on their father's planet. I recall that both Human wives of the legendary Sarek acclimated themselves well after enough time planetside.''

He nodded to her.

"So, Vulcan it will be.''





The shipboard life of Ensign Vril Tilly was not terribly exciting, but for his first assignment, he rather liked it that way. Working in the Science department of the USS Armstrong was surprisingly fun, and challenging. He was getting the hang of being part of a team and a crew, and making friends both in and out of his department on the enormous Sovereign-class starship. Working on his latest experiments trying to determine relative strengths of covalent bonds between dark matter molecules, he was surprised to see that he was receiving an incoming transmission at his workstation, displaying the UFP symbol as the thumbnail.

Frowning, he tapped at it to accept the transmission, and onscreen an officer in gold, but not an actual uniform, looked up at him, bright blue eyes and a brilliant smile that brought back to mind just exactly who she was. Commander Rita Paris, the chrononaut who got hauled away by the DTI when he had been her tourguide as a cadet at the Academy serving tour duty at Starfleet Command. The selfsame agency who had questioned him incessantly afterward, despite all of the scans of the two of them that had been secured. Seeing her actually brought a smile to his face, because he had wondered if they had dumped her back in the timestream where she belonged. Getting a transmission from her definitely proved she was still very much alive and kicking it in the 90's.

"Ensign Tilly! It's good to see you again! Congratulations on the exciting posting. I hear starship duty on one of those big beauties is quite a prize for a fresh young officer. You must have truly excelled at the Academy in that last semester," Paris offered sweetly.

As a condition of his silence on the matter, Paris had insisted that he be given the highest marks for his final semester and that he be guaranteed a ship of the line posting. He may not have stood bravely by her, but he'd served his duty that day and found his courage. Thus the old-school officer had seen to it that he had been rewarded. The Armstrong mostly made supply runs, but Vril was just content learning to serve on a massive city moving at warp anything it wanted. Which Paris had just gently and subtly reminded him that said career was owed to one out-of-date officer.

"Yes ma'am. I had a few special research projects that were really well-received. But thank you for noticing." As he nodded to the senior officer onscreen, in his own way he thanked her, and she nodded with satisfaction. Tilly had learned to speak the unspoken language of honor amongst officers, and as the one who'd taught him, Rita Paris was rather pleased.

"Ensign, I'm calling because I've got a window of time and a problem. I was wondering if you might be able to go talk to your captain and ask him if my chief science officer and I might catch a ride to Vulcan at, oh, warp 9.5 or so. We've only got a few days, and it's kind of important to us. Not official business, just a courtesy for a few fellow Starfleet officers and our retinue. Now, it would be remiss of me to ask you to do such a favor without something to make you risk approaching Captain Butterfield," Paris made it to the thought that was racing through the young officer's mind as she cannily laid the situation out for him.

Stepping back from the sensor, Paris flicked her wrists, and a phaser rifle appeared in one hand as a large firearm appeared in the other. They did not beam into her hands, they merely... appeared.

"I'm willing to let the Science department of the Armstrong study stable extradimensional space generators, to see if your people can do something with them that ours haven't managed yet. I'm transmitting our findings thus far, so you can familiarize yourself with the materials before you request the chance to brief the Captain. I'd invite the department head as well as your section chief, and apologize to all involved for breaching chain of command, but explain that it was my request, as I'm calling on the one officer I know in the fleet."

It seemed like an exaggeration, but insofar as regular Starfleet personnel went, while she'd seen plenty of them, the once well-connected Rita Paris knew no one in the fleet anymore. All of her most long-lived classmates children were starting to die off now, and none of them know the flashy gal from way back when. After all, while most of them had counterparts in this reality, the Rita Paris they knew had died in a transporter accident in 2259. Once she’d had the ear of commanders, captains, admirals and ambassadors as her father had plied his political gains, and Rita had networked, being pretty and charming and memorable. All of those men were dead, their families were dead, and time had taken it's toll as it must.

Thus, Rita had begun building anew, with a new generation of voyagers. Namely, one Ensign Vril Tilly. "I'd appreciate it if you could get back to me within 3 hours with a status update, Ensign." Setting expectations, the Commander lived up to the title, laying out the 'little favor' she was asking as basically an order. But from what he was gathering from the data she was offering, he began to understand... she came to him for a favor, true. But she came with an abundant payment for it in hand, up front.

Clearly, this too was another lesson in command, he realized. Smiling at the sensor, the scientist smiled, nodded and said with confidence, "Yes ma'am. I'll keep you posted."

"I've arranged for passage to Vulcan, darling. We should arrive in about six days, give or take, which will give us eight days planetside. Not exactly an extended stay, but enough time to see the sights for the illogical tourist, I would image?" Rita called into the bedroom where Sonak was packing, which for the most part involved making a requisition list of the replicators.

''Efficient as always, my wife,'' he acknowledged her. ''Although I am a perplexed as to you are asking to requisition the USS Armstrong. Sovereign class starships are capital ships, and the most powerful and advanced battleships ever commissioned by Starfleet. Their maintenance is onerous, their crews the best in the quadrant and their duties most critical for the security of the Federation. Diverting one for what amounts to personal business of a pair of officers is doubtful. It could cause significant disruption in fleet operations, up to dire consequences in case of any sudden, unforeseen emergency. I estimate the chances of success in this attempt at five point three percent... unless random probabilities are in our favor and it so happens the Armstrong will be crossing our own position while en route to Vulcan already.''

"Ah hah hah, my husband," the voluptuous Federation vixen tapped up the report and handed over the PaDD in her hand. "A Vulcan science colony in the Trill system is studying a naturally occurring font of highly elevated levels of neutrinos. They hypothesize that it may be indicative of the formation of a stable wormhole, as such phenomenon were also commonly detected prior to the appearance of the Bajoran wormhole's event horizon. Also as such elevated levels were often observed prior to a vessel traversing said passage. This particular experiment is building a transceiver on this side of the potential wormhole to better study and perhaps clarify it."

"The USS Armstrong is already leapfrogging between here, Starbase 73, and Vulcan at high warp. They have been making this run back and forth for a few weeks now, running massive numbers of scientists and equipment, building a very impressive station out there they are calling 'Project Krani'. Which means... window?" She glanced up to note his acknowledgment of her translation, then pressed on.

"Since the Armstrong's mission aligned with our needs, was partly why I asked now. The stars, such as they are, have aligned in our favor. I am merely taking advantage of it, because we're 41 light years or so from Vulcan. So to look out for a protégé, to spend a few days on one of those big modern cities in space, I gave a request of give and take. The bracelets and their ability to access with precision through an act of will an extradimensional space are classified materials. But the Armstrong's science team has some amazing scientists as well, it would seem. So let's let them take a crack at it, because I suspect they'll welcome it."

"It's part of the vacation, my love," Rita wound down, draping her hands across the shoulders of her handsome hero. Peering into his eyes, a light smile adorned her lips. "The Hera is a marvel, and I love her dearly. And I've gotten to know her pretty well, I think. But I'd like to do some sightseeing on another ship of the line, hm? Since Starfleet's mission aligns with our own in this instance. I believe Captain Butterfield will see the wisdom of my proposal, respect my timing, and they will be..."



"Happy to have your party onboard, Commander. Fascinating stuff, really. We'll see you at the rendezvous point." Captain Butterfield, a handsome fellow in the Kirk mold who was a blonde who looked good in red, nodded and ended the transmission.

"So, ah, one more wrinkle, Sonak." The call had come quickly and enthusiastically, and they were nearly on their way when the buxom blonde introduced a new element to their pending sojurn. “I... would love for this to be a romantic getaway to your dry and sparse homeworld. But I think it's kind of important... Az'Prel. Nero destroyed her homeworld too, in the mirror of our own universe. And all she ever knew was a Vulcan that was subjugated by the Terrans. She's never seen a thriving civilization of Vulcan people who never lost their heritage, nor all the compounded wisdom and data of the centuries."

"The Prophets entrusted her to me. I think this is one of those moments in life why they made that choice. Because she is the orphan of a world that never was, and she has no idea what that world truly is... literally in this case. All she knows of Vulcan is what she's read since she's been here. I think if we're going, it's important," Rita set her forehead against that of Sonak. "It's the right thing to do. We have to take her home, to show her the real Vulcan, too. The dream of what her civilization could have been, achieved by her thriving and very much alive people."

''A logical approach, if we are sincere in our efforts to help her integrate into her new life in this new universe,'' he admitted. ''There is also a high probability that her presence will enhance the experience for the both of us.''

"Ever the pragmatist, my t'hy'la. I suppose, having concocted this plan somewhat on the fly, I should speak to her about it..." Rita admitted, tapping her badge to summon the cosmic refugee entrusted to her care.



"That’s the long and short of it, Miss Az'Prel. So... would you like to go?" Rita and Sonak had summarized the situation for the Vulcan woman, there in their quarters as they packed to depart.

The Vulcan freedom fighter turned extradimensional refugee had responded to the summons with all due haste and thought on the offer. On one hand, she had desire within her to see a Vulcan ruled by logic rather than passion. On the other, she had responsibilities onboard the Hera now, though the odds of a mission coming up in the next few weeks seemed slim at the moment. "I believe that if I do not take this chance, it may not come again for many years. With my desire to visit the Vulcan of this universe and see it with my own eyes, it would be logical to accept this pilgrimage that you have offered, would it not?"

'' The past is already fixed, and the future is always in question,'' Sonak admitted; ''we can only act in the present.''

"Indeed. To not act when one is able is the height of folly. One must seize the opportunities one is given." With a respectful nod, the Vulcan woman made her decision. "I will accept your offer. When do we depart?"

“Within the hour. Pack up what you’ll be needing and we’ll meet you on the flight deck at 20:00 hours,” Rita explained, offering a smile to the Vulcan refugee. “Let’s take you home, Miss Az’Prel.” Tapping her comm badge, the old-fashioned Starfleet delta of her own era rather than the modern insignia, Paris spoke with some authority.

“Miss Dox, Lieutenant Sonak Miss Az’Prel and I find ourselves in need of a fast ship to rendezvous with a faster one, and I know you would be upset if I didn’t bring a personal request for a shuttle ride to you personally…” While she was teasing slightly, there was still the fact that she was quite correct. Lieutenant Dox would indeed be upset if the first officer were leaving the ship, and she were not at the very least consulted, if not piloting the mission itself. Dox took the safety of the crew quite seriously, and particularly that of the senior staff. She’d be more than a bit offended if Rita needed a ride and didn’t ask her, so Paris made sure to take note and offer a nod to the flight chief’s sincere devotion to duty.

From her office on the Hera's main flight deck, Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox smiled as she received the call. "A wise assumption, Commander. Hold on one moment..."

Quickly, the young Flight Chief looked over the manifests and flight plans on the daily schedule to confirm what she already had committed to memory. A few seconds later, she tapped her badge and replied. "Commander Paris, the Runabout Thor is fueled and available at your discretion. And I can be available immediately."

“19:50 on the flight deck will be fine, Lieutenant, and thank you…”