[Bridge]
As personnel began returning from the briefing room, Solluk got up from his station and stood at attention. His first experience on the Tempest's bridge had been an odd one. The ship was becalmed by circumstance, so there had been almost literally nothing to do. Yet despite this, there had been a certain honor in holding the station. And the 'shadow cabinet' discussions between junior officers and crewmembers had been diverting.
But more than anything, the experience had given him valuable time to think. Sitting on the bridge with nothing to do seemed to put his life in context. Troubled thoughts had been brewing in the back of his brain for some time. They'd started as seeds.
Seeds planted during martial arts classes in the holodeck. Seeds watered when he'd been swapping components on the Tigris merely to keep himself sharp. Seeds that had grown when engineering personnel suggested he might be capable of something more.
The occasional bright moments fed the photosynthesis of thought. The highlight of his month, beyond moments shared with Jada, had been the crisis in the shuttlebay. Quick maneuvers and quick thinking to avert potential disaster. Before that, there had been the intensity of battle against enemies of the Federation. Bonding with a friend over lives taken and lives saved.
These things should not be a Vulcan's favorite memories. It was wholly illogical to find value in them, or to be inspired by them. Such things were more suitable to a Klingon. In a Vulcan, it was borderline psychopathy.
But then, what was a Vulcan when stripped of his detachment? Every Vulcan child learned early on that the practice of logic and emotional negation was essential. It was essential precisely because his people had been passionate, warlike beings. Beneath every calm veneer was a caged beast.
As Solluk stood impassively by his station, waiting to be relieved, it was perhaps somewhat comical that he should think of himself as passionate or warlike to the slightest degree. Perhaps that was too simplistic a self-appraisal. Perhaps it was a synergy of elements.
Vulcans were not supposed to experience thrills, but they did find satisfaction in being useful. Even the most emotionless of creatures at least desired the sensation of finding purpose. A purpose that could be expressed more often than in brief fits and starts over the course of a career.
Was he feeling a kind of ambition?
When had that happened?
Not so long ago, he'd been content to live his life as a civilian cargo ship pilot, performing routine pickups and deliveries. Had so much changed in a few short years?
Or had nothing really changed at all?
There was a secret truth that sometimes whispered to him in his dreams. The truth that there might have been more than logic at work in his skull when he'd launched his ship into that fateful collision course.
Had he, even then, dreamed of something more?
Was his brain damage a curse? Or was it a secret joy?
Was it the secret wish of a caged prisoner, finally fulfilled?
It was a lot to think about. Self-examination was a rollercoaster that tended to climax at the oddest of times. Now his contemplation reached its peak while he was becalmed in a sea of stars, staring uselessly at a console that didn't need him to be there.
Solluk knew that he hadn't found himself, yet. And he knew he wouldn't find himself if he stood still and waited for something to happen.
He turned his head, looking toward the Lieutenant's imminent return.
Looking towards the horizon of self-discovery.
The universes of discovery weren't just out there, beyond the viewscreen. They weren't only to be found in discrete blobs, clinging to a ship's nacelle.
There were universes inside of him, too.
The time had come to explore them all.
The time had come to Boldly Go.
(tag)