Author's Note: Look, I wrote more! Ok, this takes place about fifteenish years after the 'Torture Ship'. If you have not read the 'Torture Ship' first, this will make very, extremely little to no sense. But if you have, read on and I hope you like.
Summary: How can dreams show us reality if we don't understand what to expect from them?
Reality and Dreams
He was in a huge room. A beautiful room. The bed was king sized and had fancy material and pillows on it. The confiner was ruby red and the pillows where and variation of royal blues, purple, and reds. A canopy covered the top of it and white, silk curtains could be slid around it while you slept.
The room, though barely decorated, was filled well. A large desk with a monitor and all was set up in one corner. In the other, there appeared to be a dressing area of sorts. A dresser was filled with clothing. Next to it was a screen to dress behind. A full-length mirror was next to that, closing the circle it all formed. The mirror was on a gold stand and had the same gold framing. And the bed was in the other corner.
Interestingly enough, the room had only three corners. The room was in a triangular shape. There were no real lights in the room but on the ceiling there were, what looked like fireflies, flying around. They were not real insects, but gave the appearance of them.
As he looked around, there were no doors, windows, or any exits or entrances that could be detected. This scared him and, although the room was welcoming, that made it lose quality.
He walked over to the mirror and looked at his reflection. He wore leather boots that came up to his knees. The navy blue, leather material of his pants, was tucked neatly into them. He had a one pieced suit that came up to his neck. Even his hands were covered with black leather gloves.
When he reached his face, he saw that there were brown spots that traveled in almost a straight line across his chin and jaw line. Also, they ran across his forehead. His eyes had a coolness that frightened even him.
He sprung up in his bed as his blankets fell to his thighs. His face and chest was soaked in sweat and a cold chill ran through his body. His heart rate slowed from the erotic beat it had taken and was returning to normal.
He ran a hand throw his black hair before standing up and walking into the bathroom that connected with his room. The cold water, he had turned on, felt great against his flushed skin.
He looked at up at his reflection in the mirror. The spots in the dream where gone and he could see the points on his ears again. The bronzy color returned to his face and his control came back to him.
He had had the dream before, quite a few times. But lately he had been having it more often. That was the fifth time this week he had had that dream. Every time was the same; he was in the room and walked over to the mirror. The evil-look in his eyes and the spots on his face scared the heck out of him. The species and uniform were completely unknown to him.
**The Next Morning**
The next morning, he sat down to eat his breakfast when, "Hey, Kid. You feelin' alright?" The southern drawl pierced his ears. He would recognize it any where as his father's.
"Yes," he answered not quite truthfully. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason. I just heard ya in the bathroom in the middle of the night."
"Sorry if I disturbed you." He hadn't looked directly at him, still moping in self-pity and thinking of the dream.
"Na," he sat down and began to eat his own breakfast: scrambled eggs. He was going to have bacon, but after living with a Vulcan for fifteen years and a half-Vulcan for fourteen, he had stopped eating much of meat. "You stoppin' by the Academy after school?"
"Of course." After a pause he added, "Commander Lea has offered to let me sit in on her class again today. Would that be alright?"
"Yea, of course. Shiloh," the young Vulcan looked up at his father when he heard his name. "Jon told me that your request to be allowed to train and learn on the Academy grounds next year, to prepare for the examines... has been denied." Shiloh bowed his head in disappointment, but his father grinned wider. "They've decided to allow you to take them next year."
He looked up at his father; his eyes wide with excitement. "Really!"
"On strict bases." Shiloh became very serious, ready to do anything for this chance. "You have to keep your grades where they are for the rest of the quarter, anywhere below a 98 will not be acceptable. Your examines will be graded with the most scrutiny. And if your grades at the Academy drop below a 95, or your conduct is anything but the perfect gentleman, you will be put back to your normal school. Do you understand?"
Shiloh nodded. 'No problem, good grades for now, as good grades there, good conduct. I can handle this', Shiloh thought.
**Zefferan Cochran Middle School, San Francisco, California**
"Arug, seventy-four. I hate school, it's a good thing today's the last day before spring break. How did you do?" Tom Peterson asked his two friends, Shiloh Tucker and John Chapman, after being handed back their math tests.
"I got a eighty-five," John said with a shrug.
"One hundred and ten."
"Like always," Tom complained.
"Always is a inadequate term. I cannot always get a one hundred and ten for there is not usually extra credit. And when there is, it can be more or less," Shiloh retorted in a monotone, Vulcan kind of way.
"Vulcans," Tom and John said at the same time. They were both human and found that Shiloh, the half-human, half-Vulcan hybrid was quite interesting. They had no prejudice toward the Vulcan race in general, though there were plenty of Vulcans they didn't like.
Shiloh, himself, had a mixture of Vulcan and human friends. Around the Vulcan ones, he acted mostly Vulcan. But in the presents of his human counterparts, he found that acting like a human came more natural. But when he acted Vulcan, it annoyed them and that was fun.
When school was over, Shiloh got his stuff to go to the Academy. He put away his books, since he had no homework, and then grabbed the PADD with all the tactical information Commander Lea went over last week.
He was very interested in tactical and security stuff. But he was told that he was also very skilled in diplomacy and a great leader. He had always been good at a lot of things and his genius and great memory added to that.
He was also much stronger and more athletic than most Vulcans his age. He learned Vulcan and Human martial arts when he was younger and that added strength and flexibility helped a lot in that as well.
Those were some of the reasons he was being allowed to take the Starfleet Academy entrance examines at fourteen (he would be fifteen in a few months) instead of sixteen. The other reason was that his dad worked at the Academy, teaching engineering classes, and his mother was a respected Vulcan Starfleet Captain, which she switched over to after the Vulcans and Humans had created the Federation. Not to mention that his father, mother, and even him slightly, knew Admiral Archer who had a lot of power in Starfleet.
He often visited the Academy and sat in on classes. Sometimes the teacher, like Commander Lea, gave him PADDs on what they did, talked about, and so on. He also had competed with some of the cadets and beat them almost all the time.
As he reached the transporter pad, he told the technician where he was going and stood on it. The world faded away and was replaced with new lighting, faces, and location. He stepped off and looked around, getting his bearings.
He went to his right and headed for the giant building. Cadets swarmed everywhere; trying to get to class, back to their dorm, the transporter, or just enjoying the lovely view. Shiloh walked up the familiar and well-traveled path to Lea's classroom. He had become virtually a part of it. Next year, he knew this would be the main class, if he made it, which he knew he would.
"Shiloh, I just heard the news. Congratulations," Commander Lea's graceful voice reached his sensitive ears.
He nodded at her, "Thank-you."
"Well, once you make it in, I expect to find your name on my roster for real." He smiled at her joke and toke his seat at the back of the class. He didn't want to interrupt the class and his sharp eyes made it easy to see the front of the board.
Shiloh sat quietly in the back as he listened to the lecture. It was about what to do in the scenario that you have been captured, you're out numbered and gunned, and the only allies you have actually are working with the enemy. Though none of the cadets or Shiloh thought that this would ever be relevant, it was intriguing.
Just then, the door opened to reveal a young ensign. He walked over to Commander Lea and said something Shiloh couldn't hear from the back. Lea nodded to the ensign and pointed at Shiloh. The ensign walked up to him and told him in a kind but bored voice, "The California is in orbit. Your mother wishes to speak to you." His eyes lit up at that and Lea nodded at him. As he passed by Lea, she handed him the PADD with her lecture on it and headed out the door.
Shiloh had not seen his mother in person for almost a year. When she had accepted the command of the California, Trip thought it best to remain with his job at the Academy so Shiloh could stay on firm ground for once.
He had been born on the Enterprise and stayed there until the mission ended; when he was six. They stayed on Earth for five months before Trip got a position on the St. Lewis and brought the two of them along. When he was nine, they lived on Vulcan for about six months before T'Pol got the posting of Second In Command of the Arkansas. When he was thirteen, Trip was assigned to the teaching job at the Academy and soon after T'Pol got her first command.
So, how do you like the first chapter?
I know what you must be thinking, 'How can this explain anything in the Torture Ship?' Well, it can and will, I promise.
And another thing you must be thinking is, 'How does T/T having a kid, all the conspiracies and such have anything to do with a messiah?' You'll find out.