An Unexpected Party - Part I

Posted on Fri Feb 13th, 2026 @ 10:32am by Commander Zaiden Isaac & Commander T'Maas

2,478 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: The Last Space Station on the Left
Location: Washington State, Earth
Timeline: MD0

::ON::

Vulcan.

Vulcan never changed, T’Maas mused as she walked the high desert. Nothing but the hot midday wind stirred as she paced Vulcan’s red sands. Though she knew that she should shelter from Nevasa’s harsh power, the Vulcan also knew her goal was close to hand. Raising a hand to ward off the merciless star that both gave and took life from her people, she peered to the horizon.

Hazy heat lines wrinkled the air, blurring her destination, but the rock promontory ahead of her was unmistakable. Adjusting the head wrap that covered her hair and head to sit more comfortably, she started again across the sand. Pushing through she was glad for the traditional desert garb of her people. Though humans derisively referred to them as catsuits, they were in fact highly sophisticated heat and moisture exchangers. Paired with a sturdy pair of boots and a headwrap of the same smart material and a Vulcan had all they needed to brave the deserts of their home world.

Selven why have you abandoned me!? the thought a wail, an emotional explosion to the wilderness.

T’Maas traced the choices that had led her here today. Several years undercover work, posing as a Romulan slave trader. A harsh creature with harsh habits and appetites. The Vulcan had worried that such a prolonged period of time as such an emotional species would have harmed her self-control. So she had returned home.

Not home, she reminded herself harshly. Vulcan.

Back to the planet of her birth, where her family still resided. But not all of them, as she found out. It had been short work to make her way from Shi’Kahr (CHECK) to her family’s isolated homestead out in the Western Reaches. A small community based around an aquifier who stuck close to Vulcan traditions had made its home there decades ago and her father had seen fit to relocate the family there so they could learn and apply tradition while he worked for the Vulcan Science Fleet.

A sheltered, pitiful life she reflected. Only Selven had understood the logical need to turn to a different path and embrace the Vulcan that existed in the here and now, not some idealised Surakian past. Father would have none of it. Mother was … weak when it came to raising her children. The sands stretched before T’Maas now pebbled with small sandstones and debris.

Rocks stood up from the sands, forcing her to take a more winding route into the shade of the rocky outcrops. An isolated lump of rock far from any other settlement.
It had been a shock to find that Selven had walked out the door of the family home and had … disappeared. It grieved T’Maas. They had been most alike of her family when growing up in the stifling atmosphere of their home. T’ri, their youngest sibling had always hewed to the line Father had taken. Selven … he had understood the need to be free from their straitjacket. Though she could not fault him for walking through the door, it was a bitter pill to swallow that he had left no note or indication to her as to his intentions.

Isolation with her family had been too much. Particularly Father’s arched comments as to her appearance, understanding nothing of the need for her viper-green nails or non-Vulcan clothing. A fight that they would fight in perpetuity, an attempt to bend his willful daughter to her correct path. A path of his choosing.

She had chosen the quiet of the desert for solace and had walked through the door herself. For the last time, T’maas vowed. With Selven gone, potentially never to be seen again, there was little logical reason to return to the site of her emotional scab and pick at it over and over again. Subspace communications would do just fine.

Navigating to a cleft in the rocks, she followed a route she had worn into the sands countless times as an unhappy child. As the cleft turned into a ravine, the shadows lengthened and the sun relented. T’Mass drew the wrap from her head, bad practice, but it allowed her hair freedom. The stone walls around her grew darker in colour, before suddenly transforming into solid black basalt rock. An ancient formation.

Her steps slowed, fingers tracing the rough, grainy surface of the rock. The silence welled up around her, a profound sense of isolation and comfort enveloping her. T’Maas’s turmoil at Selven’s departure lessened somewhat as she approached her own sanctuary. Looming ahead of her were the walls of an ancient pre-Awakening temple, massive in scale, carved out of the dark rock. Delicate traceries of Ancient Vulcan script carved in gold lined the cyclopean pillars either side of the entrance.

Cooler air hit her face as she stepped through the threshold. A relic of Vulcan’s past, few Vulcans set foot in the temple now having no need of the pre-Surakian emotional worship called for by the long-forgotten sect that had called this place home. Sand had drifted into every nook and cranny, piling into drifts and sinuous dunelets. A central altar stood towards the rear of the room, and entrances long-blocked up with rockfall led off deeper into the complex. T’Maas had never explored them, needing only this central chamber for solitude. She glanced up, looked at the series of mirrors that collected and diffused the harsh sunlight of Vulcan into something more bearable and hospitable, and walked across the temple floor, glancing now and again at the murals that were unveiled where the sand was thinnest.
Revelling in the stillness, T’Maas approached the altar, and ran a finger over the granite surface. She marveled that thousands of years ago, Vulcans would have packed into this space to share emotional ecstasy with one another. Now it was as silent as the grave, forgotten.
A tumbling of rocks caught her attention.

Snapping her attention to the sound, she was alarmed to see a wild sehlat regarding her silently. A vai-sehlat, native to the desert. Though it shared the six-inch fangs of the remainder of the species, they were not much larger than their domesticated kin. A low growl emanated from the animal.

Maintaining eye contact and her composure despite her raising heart rate, T’Maas began backing away, from the shaggy-furred bear-like animal. A further rattle of stones and yips and yaps revealed two cubs sheltering in the rocks of one of the corridors beyond the doorways. The mother vai-sehlat kept herself between T’Maas and her cubs shielding them with her body as the Vulcan continued shuffling backwards towards the entrance of the temple.

Breathing heavily, T’Maas stared down at the axe she had used to split the log in front of her. Slowly she dug herself out of the memory of her last visit to Vulcan. Releasing the haft of the axe, she wiped her sweaty forehead with the front of her tank top. The air was cooler here on Earth, but the pile of wood she had created this morning testified to her hard work. She picked up the newly-split log, enjoying the resinous scent of the wood and carried it to the pile that sat against the wall of her home.

The sounds of the birdlife of the Pacific Northwest filled her ears, calming her. This was not her first flashback since returning from her undercover work, but it had been her most vivid. I was sensible to request a leave of absence she thought to herself as she turned and looked at the tall trees that surrounded her home.

A brief whine of the transporter, and a snap of twigs as someone began moving around her property caught her ears, and she turned to look for the unexpected guest.

At the same time T’Maas was having her flashback sequence, Zaiden Isaac was going over the padd in front of him that contained the dossier of who would hopefully be his new Executive Officer as he tried to put off using the transporter to go and meet her. There was a kind of tension that had begun coiling in his stomach as soon as the shuttle had taken off, and had changed into anticipation the moment he’d arrived.

Zaiden had personally never been to the Pacific North West, having spent the majority of his formidable years in the Rigel system before coming to Earth with his family after his mother remarried, and found it quite a pleasant place to be in. Definitely not at all like San Francisco where he and his family lived presently. The air wasn’t thick with heat like the South, nor was it cold like up near the Canadian border, and he couldn’t feel any aches in his hand, so that was definitely a good sign.

To make sure he made the right impression, Zaiden had been practicing his introduction to T’Maas on the way over, hoping that they would start off on the right foot. It still felt surreal to say that he was now commanding his own ship, and had to get his wife Helena to reassure him more than once that it was indeed real and the most amazing opportunity he’ll ever be given.

Materializing out of the transporter beam, Zaiden took a deep breath in and out and looked at the property he had just arrived at. It was gorgeous, nice and quiet with nothing but the birdsong and the sound of wood being split. There didn’t look to be any security or guard animals around so Zaiden walked onto the property and followed the sounds.

“Commander T’Maas?” Zaiden called out tentatively as he moved around the property with careful, measured steps. If it was indeed an axe being used to split wood, he didn’t want to be the one to startle T’Maas if she was holding it. A moment later, he found her and smiled his best charismatic smile as he stopped short.

She turned on her heel, axe, head pointing to the ground, in one hand, her free hand replacing a stray lock of hair that had worked loose during her exertions. The Vulcan regarded the green-eyed man for a few beats of her heart. He was shorter than her by an inch. To be expected, Vulcans were on average taller than humans. Younger unsurprisingly, though perhaps in his early forties. It was difficult to judge with such a quick-aging species.

Noting his uniform, T'Maas relaxed fractionally, the only hint of disconcertion a twitch of a cheek muscle. 'Commander, you have me at a double disadvantage,' she said in a steady, neutral tone. 'Firstly, you know my name. Secondly,' she indicated her tank top and knee-length running shorts, both scruffy and stained from yard use, 'you are more appropriately attired than I.'

"Ah," Zaiden looked over his uniform and flicked off the bit of branch debri that had fallen onto his shoulder, "I can assure you that it's only a formality that I wear this right now. Makes for a better first impression if I'm not wearing a sleeveless shirt, shorts and open toed shoes when on official business."

He huffed out a laugh at his own joke, looking briefly to the sky for a moment before clapping his hands together and looked at her, "I apologize, let me introduce myself. I'm Commander Zaiden Isaac and I've just gained command of the USS Equitas. I've been tasked with being able to select my own crew, and you've come highly recommended." He stopped talking for a moment, allowing time for T'Maas to register what he'd said. "I hope I haven't caught you at a bad time?"

T'Maas raised an eyebrow. 'Indeed,' she said, whirling around and slamming the axe into the tree stump behind her. Advancing on the human, she brushed past him, close enough that the scent of him overwhelmed her olfactory senses as all humans did. 'I am unfamiliar with the Equitas,' she said casually as she approached the back door to her home. 'I assume it's newly commissioned?'

"Indeed, it is," Zaiden nodded once before turning to face where T'Maas had walked to, "The Equitas launches in a weeks' time, and I'm hoping that you'll be joining me when it does." He stood there with his arms clasped in front of him as he waited for a response. If T'Maas chose to join him as his Executive Officer once he explained the offer, then it would be on her own terms and not because she had no choice. If she didn't join him, then it would be back to the drawing board for recommendations.

She opened the back door to her home. T'Maas considered his question and found the necessary data lacking. She wondered who had recommended her, and why. Her time with Starfleet Intelligence had come to an end, she had hoped. 'I need food,' she said, avoiding answering his question. 'Are you hungry?'

Taking the sign to follow her, Zaiden took a few steps forward and realised that was why his stomach hadn't been feeling right, it wasn't just the anticipation of this meeting. Even his wife had given him plenty of reminders, but he'd gotten sidetracked and forgotten to eat. His stomach growled at him as a sign to say yes, "I knew there was something I had forgotten to do this morning, thank you for the reminder, so that would be a yes, I am."

Glancing back at him, and behind him to her vegetable patch then back T'Maas nodded. 'Good. I hope you like steak.' She walked through the door leaving it open for the other officer to enter her home. Stepping through to the large kitchen you could see that the front wall of the house was a series of large glass windows that ran floor to ceiling, affording expansive views of the old growth trees that crowded around T'Maas's little hollow.

Washing her hands at the belfast sink, she scrubbed the dirt and tree sap that had caked her long, calloused fingers in the hours since she had set about her daily chores. With an economy of motion typical of Vulcans, she moved to retrieve two steaks from the refrigerator and set about oiling them and setting down salt and pepper on both sides. She pushed them to the side to warm slightly.

'Would you prefer a salad or fried potatoes and cooked vegetables as sides?' T'Maas asked curtly as Zaiden stepped through the door.

[To be Continued ...]

::OFF::

Commander T'Maas
Executive Officer
USS Equitas

Commander Zaiden Isaac
Commanding Officer
USS Equitas

 

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