Fragile-Part 22

Fragile Universe
An "Enterprise" story

By Alison M. DOBELL

ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.
FEEDBACK: Welcomed
EMAIL: AlisonMDobell@aol.com
WEBSITE: http://carlajane.50megs.com/Ali00.html

SUMMARY: "Commander Tucker accepts his fate and decides to make the best of things. Nothing though, goes the way any of them expect."
DISCLAIMER: The usual disclaimers apply. The characters and 'Enterprise' are the property of Paramount. No infringement of copyright is intended.

Part 22

"OUTSIDE FORCES"

* * * * *

The voice was unequivocal in its anger and displeasure. "What do you mean you cannot find him?"

"Our sensors could not detect him. Perhaps he is not on this ship?"

"Where did you look?"

"All the quarters, working environments. We even checked their Sickbay."

A silence ensued. Dark thoughts materialising in the minds of all those waiting in the little craft. The cloaking so efficient and effective it did not need to be taken off line to conserve energy. A continual loop in the power phase regeneration system gave a seamless energy source that befitted their purpose like a second skin. The technology was incredibly advanced but the cloak was the least of it. "Extend sensors to cover *all* parts of their pathetic ship. They must be hiding him."

"It makes no sense..."

The words were cut off with a look that could kill. "Do not underestimate the Humans."

"They lack logic. Physical strength. Mental acuity..."

"But not ingenuity."

Silence. Thoughts deepened on every side. Dangerous waters. One slip and a soul could drown. "We will extend the sensors."

He nodded. Sure of his target. Unwilling to yield the possibility that Starfleet had somehow outflanked him. Unknowingly of course. "Be careful. Utterly cautious in the extreme. I do not want anyone to feel our presence. Extend the sensors in their sleep cycle and slow the attenuation. The less disturbance to their energy field the better."

"They cannot see us."

"Agreed but these puny beings have some kind of instinct. It is not a consistent thing and varies from being to being but here stealth is our watchword. Success is the only primary of this mission. We have the technology. The patience. The inordinate skill of a thousand worlds turning to dust. Your orders are clear. Do not return unsuccessful."

Silence. A yawning chasm now where the others had left. The dark. A deep seductive place in his soul where he nurtured feelings and impulses that spanned galaxies and conquered millions. He was not the instrument of their destruction nor the means for acquiring that which others sought so desperately. But it was his *abilities* that held empires together and reduced others to the simple sprawl of planetary debris. Rings around distant worlds. The chaos of asteroids that had once been firm and proud worlds that beat to a different drum. How unfortunate for them that it was the wrong beat. A step out of time. A pause between heartbeats.

* * * * *

Sar was shocked. Distressed. T'Pol took the news much more calmly than he would have expected. He dismissed her from his thoughts, his entire focus on the Armoury Officer's too pale face. A man he had grown to trust. "I do not understand. Why would the Captain do this? What was his crime?"

Lt. Reed did not want this conversation. Had indeed been dreading it. But there was no way around it. All of them deserved to know and the Commander had asked to be allowed to communicate with them through message PADDs. To his immense relief Captain Archer had readily agreed to the Commander's request with one stipulation. The messages had to be recorded, passed to the recipients, then messages sent back the same way. No real time communication was to pass between them. While the Lieutenant could not see why he would insist on that he was not about to argue either. It was a concession and they both knew it. One did not look a gift horse in the mouth. No matter the size or nature of the gift. Now he was standing awkwardly explaining what had happened when he took Trip to see the Captain that morning. They were in Sickbay. Sarsa sat with Kai, their two heads touching as they giggled and whispered together like little conspirators. Dr Phlox had allowed the adults to use his room. The children did not need to hear this conversation though Sar would tell them about the Commander afterwards. First he had to deal with the shock and the slow burning anger building within him. A relentless quest for justice firing in his veins with an almost volcanic heat.

"Lieutenant Reed," Said T'Pol in her clear carefully enunciated flat tone. "How was the Commander when you left him?"

"He seemed calm. Resigned to his punishment."

T'Pol nodded. Relieved. "Would it be permitted for me to give you a meditation candle for him? I believe it would help him remain calm over the coming weeks."

"I don't see why not. I'll have to clear it with the Captain first."

The Vulcan Sub-Commander nodded. Sar's expression was darkening by the second. An-aga slipped her hand in his and applied a little pressure. He did not look down at her. Did not relax his demeanour. "I wish to speak to the Captain."

Lt. Reed shook his head. "I don't think that's a good idea right now, Sar."

The big man's golden eyes blazed. Flecks of molasses rising up through the flames of gold. "This is not right, Lieutenant. He has imprisoned my Senisa for nothing more than falling in love." He looked at T'Pol briefly. Not wishing to cause any offence. "Forgive me, Sub-Commander, I wish only to speak the truth." At her nod he looked again at the Lieutenant. "I wish to see him and see him now. Unless you wish to sedate me and place me in confinement you will realise this is the best course of action. Any anger on the Captain's part can be directed at me. I absolve you of any blame."

"It doesn't work like that, Sar. I would be held directly responsible for your actions if I let you disturb him now. Please. Wait just a few hours. As soon as things calm down a little I will see what I can do."

Sar looked deep into the Englishman's eyes. Saw honesty shining back at him. Knew that the Lieutenant was as unhappy about this as he was. It marginally dampened his anger. Enough at least for him to not wish to further upset Trip's friend. "Very well. I will do as you ask. But do not take too long, Lieutenant. I will not leave my Senisa to rot in a cell while his friends do nothing."

That made the Lieutenant flinch. Hit him like a physical blow though he made no comment. Knew that if the big man was not able to see and speak to the Commander directly it would be next to impossible for anyone else to talk him into accepting the conditions imposed on their friend. How could he possibly argue for something he did not agree with himself? True, the Commander and Sub-Commander had overstepped the mark. True, their wish to pursue a relationship flew in the face of accepted convention. But neither had such a thing been expressly forbidden by Starfleet or the Vulcan High Command. Perhaps because it was a situation of which neither could conceive? A likelihood so rare it had not been deemed necessary to actually openly forbid such a thing. No. It was the political nuances of the day that prevailed against them now. A fickle wind that presaged a political storm the likes of which could ruin more than the desperate seeking of two hearts wishing to beat as one. So much in this universe was fragile. Lt Reed did not want to be the one to break it. No. Better to walk softly and carry a bloody big stick. Or. In his case. A loaded phase pistol.

* * * * *

Crewman Marks was in the loading bay. Ensign Peter Wicks was checking the manifest. Supplies were catalogued and being moved around the bay ready for easy identification when Enterprise needed them. A place for everything and everything in its' place. That was how the Captain liked it. An accurate and efficient logging of stores was a necessary if mundane part of their duties. Crewman Marks was about halfway through the checklist. He was already bored out of his brain. "Hey Wish, think we can take a break yet?"

Ensign Wicks paused and looked up from his PADD. The crew had given him the nickname 'Wish' because whenever he was asked a question with a dubious or unknown answer he would always say what he 'wished' the answer could be. Somehow it had stuck. There were times when the good natured Ensign Wicks felt like an overgrown Care Bear. "No, not just yet Andy. Let's clear this next row of pallets then we'll see. I wish this was all automated."

"You and me both, Wish, but then what would they need us for?"

Wish laughed. "Ballast?"

Andy Marks laughed back. A light banter began between them. Silly little comments made about the different goods they were logging and moving into storage. Making puns and then trying to top each other with sillier and sillier examples to make it harder for the other to come up with a suitable response. Marks was laughing so much he had to pause to get his breath back. It was a damn stupid game he knew but what the hell, it passed the time. Just then he felt something cold slide through him. So momentary yet so icy he felt wet through. He shivered hard. A flicker of dread touching his heart like a body in a morgue. The colour drained from his face. Wish noticed his friend's expression switching from carefree laughter to anxiety in a heartbeat.

"What's up Andy?"

The Crewman tried to brush it off. He felt foolish now. The feeling had passed. Warmth returning to him but not quite able to feel its' heat in his bones. "Dunno, it was like someone walked over my grave."

Wish smiled. "Yeah well if we don't finish this manifest someone'll be walking over ours for real and it won't be no damn ghost."

Marks laughed but it was more than a little forced. Without another word he got back to work. Not so much bored now as unsettled. That next coffee break could not come quickly enough for him.

* * * * *

Trip lay on his back with the PADD in his hands. Carefully composing messages for T'Pol, Kai and his friends. It was odd how calm he felt once he had accepted his fate. It was not so bad. He was on Enterprise. The Captain might be a little mad at him, disappointed even, but he was still his friend. That fact alone made him more accepting of the punishment imposed on him. No. The bad guys were Starfleet and the Vulcan High Command. So petty in their concerns about any political fallout that they did not take the time to see if what they were doing was right or wrong. Had things been left alone he probably would have got a stiff reprimand and that would have been it. Now, he was being punished to appease the angry voices back home and on the Vulcan home world. It never ceased to amaze him. They could create a Warp 5 engine. Take a ship to the stars. Meet new and alien cultures. Go where no Human had ever gone before. But they could not rise above the petty politics of the morally challenged. At the end of the day it was still all about profit and loss. What made Starfleet look good mattered more than Starfleet *being* good. It should have been no surprise to find that maxim applied equally to the Vulcans. Somehow he had expected them to be more *enlightened*. He laughed to himself and almost dropped the PADD. Now *there* was a scary thought. Enlightened Vulcans.

He yawned and scrolled through the messages already entered on to the PADD, a smile on his face. He had recorded himself talking into the unit as he put the messages on, wanting his friends to know that he was alright with this. That he would cope and not fall apart. It meant a lot to him that he could keep in touch though his heart ached not to be able to hold T'Pol in his arms. Not to be able to speak to his son, to reassure and comfort him. But Sar, An-aga and Sarsa would help him. He asked T'Pol to keep an eye on Kai. Explained the whole story about how he had come to meet the boy then later adopt him. He had wanted to have that conversation with her face to face but all things considered this was the next best thing. He yawned again. Only making a couple of minor corrections before saving the messages and hitting the shut off button to conserve power. He leaned over and placed the PADD on the floor then lay back down. He put his hands on his chest and closed his eyes as he began to drift off to sleep. His body sluggish now, so tired. His earlier exertions with T'Pol came at a price. Sleep deepened quickly, his breathing slowing.

The ripple was slow. It moved with a languid grace that would not have been detected by the naked eye. A subtle flow of energy. It reached out and seeped effortlessly through the physical confines of his cell. He did not stir. The wave engulfed him very slowly, a tentative absorption setting off no alarms. It inveigled its' way into his senses, explored the neural pathways, hummed in a muted descant through his nervous system. An echo to the pulse of blood carrying the oxygen through his body. They had found him. All other explorations of the vessel ceased. The ripple gathered and carefully regulated its' own pulse in time with his heartbeat. The ripple effected subtle waves through the sleeping body. Timing everything. Slowly. Gently. With great stealth the waves took over his autonomic functions, a subtle shift of command that went unnoticed. Back on the cloaked vessel satisfaction gave way to a smug feeling of accomplishment. At times, this was just too easy.

"Bring him."

There was no response beyond a respectful bow.

Trip was dreaming. At least he thought he was. Funny how you could dream you were dreaming but no matter how hard you tried you could not wake. Gradually he became aware that something was happening to his body. His dream was no longer the cozy retreat of a tired mind. Something was stirring and he could not wake. The warmth that had cradled him seemed to leech away as his body cooled. He felt as if someone had inserted tiny miniscule threads in his veins and was slowly pumping ice cold water through them. He shivered. Shuddered. Felt the slow rumour of fear turn into reality. At last he managed to open his eyes. Now he wished only that he could close them again. The scream shot through his entire system and tore the lining of his throat. Only belatedly did his numb brain register the bright iridescent arc of mounting pain.

* * * * *

Captain Archer was restless. He had gone over and over in his mind every word the Admiral had said to him. Replaying his own responses. Knowing he could have done nothing different. To buck too hard against Admiral Forest might have resulted in him losing his Chief Engineer altogether. He could not remember the last time he had seen the Admiral so enraged. All because two people had fallen in love. It was like a bad parody of "Romeo and Juliet". He was hoping against hope that the ending would be much more favourable.

The day was passing so slowly. Each minute a drawn out progression of seconds as if time itself was being played in slow motion. Bleeding slowly through his consciousness. He took a walk down to the brig and unobtrusively watched Trip working on the message PADD. That at least had made him feel better. His friend was taking this much more calmly than he had expected but it did not stop the guilt that was wracking him. More often than not his southern friend was the voice of his own conscience. That delightfully honeyed drawl so gentle and wise but also so damn naive at times that he wanted to shake the man. He smiled sadly and quietly withdrew without being seen. Not wanting to disturb Trip or make a point of how bad he felt. Let the man cope in his own way. He would leave it a day or so then come down and have a long talk with his friend. By then he should know the layout of the plans Starfleet had for handling the situation. Then there was T'Pol. The Captain rubbed his forehead and made his way back to his quarters. He could feel a headache coming on. Porthos greeted him enthusiastically and the Captain found a smile of affection forming on his lips. He fussed the dog. Unconditional love. That was what Porthos gave him. A true and loyal friend. No matter what mood he came back in, the little dog was as constant as the stars ships used to steer by. Right now his own personal star was shut off from the sky. Lying in the brig while the great and the good argued over whether his incarceration would be enough to appease both sides.

He hated it. The vacuous words. The posturing. The political complexities that marred any chance of a man being able to simply speak his mind. He had envied that freedom in Trip. As the Captain of the first earth star ship he did not have that luxury. He had to be a diplomat. Wear half a dozen hats and have the fit just right. Trip would often pinpoint something the moment he looked at it, his straight forward honest reaction a barometer that had kept the Captain on track more times that he could count. Now it was his turn to somehow guide Trip out of this mess. Find a way that would ensure his Chief Engineer and Sub-Commander could stay together. On Enterprise. Not for a moment would he entertain the idea of them having to leave and go into exile just so they could be together. It would be massively unfair on both of them and from a personal point of view would break his heart. Trip was his friend. Even when he had to tamp down the man's natural ability to get into trouble the plusses far outweighed the minuses. Anything that hurt Trip, hurt him. This latest incident tied the Captain in so many knots. The resulting anger had been thrown back at the Commander, a frustrated release that had only been half meant. Sometimes it sucked to be Captain. He would apologise to Trip later. First he had to calm down and find the words he needed to convey. A way to make things right. So he would wait, as anxiously as any man had ever waited for anything, to find that glimmer of hope to give his friend.

* * * * *

Darkness. It warped in and out of his consciousness like a living thing. He felt the cold against his back. He was lying down. On metal he imagined. But if he could feel metal against his skin did that mean he had no clothes on? Was he naked? He could not be sure. Could not feel his hands or feet let alone move them. Was he constrained? Or was he just having a good old fashioned heart attack? No. There was no pain now but something sluggish in his memory said it had not always been so. It seemed the only part of him that was active was his brain. Well, that was something at least. He tried to turn his head. Nothing. Okay. So no motor functions. What did that mean? Was he paralysed or immobilised? Restrained or drugged? No. If he were drugged his thought processes would be affected. Nothing would be this clear. Or was it? Hell, he didn't know anything any more.

A shape coalesced out of the darkness bringing a kind of clinging light to its' surreal form. Trip blinked and wondered if he were having a nightmare. The shape sharpened slowly into focus as if forming before his very eyes. An illusion? Or maybe this was the alien equivalent of LSD? A bad trip. He wanted to laugh. Very funny, a *bad* Trip. Yet it made him want to cry not laugh. His heart ached. Damn, he was getting maudlin and he could not afford the distraction. Something telling him he needed to pay attention. To stay sharp. That was a joke. He could not even move, hardly make sense of a single thought in his head, yet his gut instinct was telling him to be on his mettle. Yes sir. Three bags full, sir. Even when he was at his most reckless. Flying in the face of every ounce of common sense he had ever owned. He always followed his gut. That thought calmed him. Was oddly reassuring. As the shape finished solidifying his breath caught and his brain froze. Whatever was sustaining him seemed to falter. Maybe he was having a heart attack after all. Or maybe. Just maybe. He was finally looking into the face of pure unadulterated Evil.

* * * * *

Lt. Reed could feel his nerves jumping, his emotions in turmoil. He needed to see the Commander. Speak to him. But first he needed to calm down. He went to the mess hall and for once selected a strong black coffee. He was not very keen on coffee and when he did drink it he liked it with milk but today was not a milk day. He wanted something as black and pungent as his mood. He sat down with a heavy sigh and put the mug to his lips, the hot burning liquid scalding the back of his throat. Its' aroma and almost bitter aftertaste dragging his mind back into the present tense. Ah. That was better. Not comforting. Just better. A scrape of a chair made him raise his head. Ensign Hoshi Sato paused, balancing her tray on one arm. "Mind if I join you?"

He nodded. Could never say no to Hoshi. She was a friend. One of a small circle he allowed to get close to him. She put her tray on the table and noticed what he was drinking. She wrinkled her nose and frowned. "I didn't know you liked black coffee."

"I don't."

"Oh."

He looked up again, storm grey eyes catching hers like a fly caught in a web. She could not even wriggle to free herself, afraid he would climb back into his gloomy thoughts and shut her out. Was he really that transparent? "I needed something that matched my mood."

She nodded. Understood. "They say misery likes company."

He gave a soft brittle laugh and took another sip of his coffee. His grimace almost drawing a smile to her lips. "I'm not miserable, Hoshi."

He watched her sample her tagliatelli. It was too small an amount to be called a mouthful. Obviously Hoshi was intent on talking. He gave an inward sigh but was secretly glad she cared enough. And truth be told he needed to talk to someone. Who could he talk to if not a friend? Normally he would seek out Commander Tucker but that was hardly an option now.

"How's the Commander?"

"Astonishingly calm." He paused, took another sip of the acrid coffee. He made a face. God, that was truly awful. Was he really drinking this crap? "In fact, he's doing better than I am."

Hoshi did not laugh. Knew that Malcolm was closer to Trip than he was to anyone else. Even her. He would not be Malcolm if the Commander's incarceration was not crucifying him as well. "What happened?" She asked softly.

He took a deep breath. Looking deep into his coffee mug. His thoughts dark and heavy. Dragging on his soul like the sinking feeling in his heart. "I don't understand it, Hoshi." He looked up and gazed questioningly into her eyes. She saw the confusion but also the hurt. "How could he do that to Trip? I know it was not perhaps the best thing to do, fall in love with a Vulcan, but this is the 22nd Century for Christ's sake and they're making it feel like the Middle Ages!"

"I don't think the Captain had much choice." Said Hoshi tentatively.

Lt. Reed snorted. "Choice? I seem to remember a certain Commander who made a very impulsive choice a year ago. A choice that saved the Captain's life while condemning himself to five years hard labour on an alien planet."

"He didn't serve five years, Malcolm." Said Hoshi gently.

"No, he didn't, but not because we intervened." He paused and pushed the mug of coffee away from him. "I know the Commander is impulsive, often rash, thinks with his heart not his head. God, the times I've chewed him out over that! But he's loyal and a damn fine friend. I just can't believe the Captain didn't fight harder for him. Just let those bastards at Starfleet do this to him. Have you any idea what must be running through Trip's mind? We no sooner get him back, get the Sub-Commander back, and this happens. I just can't believe it Hoshi. It isn't fair. When the chips are down that's when you count on your friends."

"I'm sure Captain Archer is doing all he can. If I know him he's already beating himself up over this. Don't assume this is easy for him, Malcolm." Her hand closed over his. "Trip has a way of choosing only the best people for his friends. He chose Jon a long time ago." She squeezed his hand firmly. "He also chose you."

"And look what good I've done him? I locked my best friend up without a word of protest."

"You did your duty. Trip would have expected that. Respected you for it."

Lt. Reed had to gulp in air. Knowing every word she said was true. Suddenly there just was not enough oxygen in the mess hall to go round. "Then how come I can't respect myself?"

She patted his hand. At times her reaction to him was almost motherly. "Because he's your friend. There's nothing wrong with what you're feeling, in fact it's perfectly normal. But beating yourself up over what's happened won't help you and it won't help Trip. There has to be a way to do something without destroying the Vulcan alliance with Earth."

He looked at her with sad thoughtful eyes. "What if we can't find it?"

"Then we wait. Even thirty days can't last forever and the Commander will feel much better knowing we're all thinking of him."

"I somehow think that will be a poor substitute for freedom."

"Travis came up with a great idea."

He looked surprised. Travis? Great idea? Spot the deliberate mistake. Only he did not voice the thought. He did not really mean it anyway but sarcasm could be a great sop for the soul.

"He wants us to encourage the crew to get to know Kai. Make him feel at home. Give him a sense of family."

"Won't the Volarans do that better that we can?"

Hoshi smiled. The sight lifted the Lieutenant's gloom better than her words. "The Commander is Human. Having his Human friends accept Kai will be a good way to make him feel at home. As if he not only belongs here but is accepted among us."

Malcolm thought of a verse from an old poem: *They drew a circle that shut him out. Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout. But love and I had the wit to win. We drew a circle and took him in*. Who wrote that? Ah, Sir Philip Sidney. Wise man. A slow wide smile softened the angular features of his pinched and pale face. "That's a wonderful idea, Hoshi."

"Travis is a boomer, Malcolm. He grew up on ships. Understands how quickly a crew can become a family. Kai is a child, he will adapt. We can make that happen faster."

Lt. Reed's heart felt a lot lighter. He got up quickly then paused. "I think I'll have a cup of tea. I'll take it with me. It's time I went and checked on the Commander anyway."

Hoshi pushed a PADD across the table towards him. "Good idea. When you do can you give him this PADD? I've recorded a message for him and so has Travis and half of Engineering."

He chuckled and picked it up, his eyes locking on Hoshi's. Gratitude shone in his eyes. "Thank you, Hoshi."

She watched him walk over to the resequencer to get his tea and knew he was not thanking her for the PADD. Her smile was soft. Her look thoughtful. They would take care of Kai. All of them. The entire ship's crew would devour the project and take him to their heart. It was one of the things Humans did best. Now she needed to find a way to do the same for the Sub-Commander. Thirty days could seem like Eternity. Hoshi looked at her watch and her smile grew. Lt. Reed had left the mess hall now. The smile echoed in her eyes. Twenty nine days now.

* * * * *

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Three people have made comments

ARGH!!! Poor Trip. Can't he catch a break? Really liked this chapter, especially the interaction between Sar and Malcolm; each knows the other for the friend they are. Anxiously awaiting chapter 23.

I leave for a few days and by the time I come back you've written three beautiful, exciting, passionate chapters that have swept me off my feet. Half the time you've got me laughing, crying, and laughing some more. Meeting T'Pol's parents was an experience but I'm glad to see that parents love her and that her mother somewhat approves. I was cursing Starfleet and the Vulcan Science Directorate with every bad word I knew for trying to seperate T/T. I understand that Archer had no choice in following orders but I also felt that he should have defended Trip more. Cute T'Pol/Kai scene. I've been waiting for them to meet. I can't wait to read this chapter and the next chapter.

Two great chapters back to back.

I loved the scene with T'Pol, Kai and the Volarans. Very well written, so moving.

And Malcolm's a true friend in this story, feeling every ounce of Trip's pain, fighting for him in his corner.

Hoshi's another good friend, but to Jon, too. He's not the bad guy here, just the captain, and as you eloquently put it, sometimes being the captain, sucks!

So now poor Trip's in trouble again (oh goody). Keep the chapters coming, and thank you for a wonderful story thus far.