Friends-Part 11

b>FRIENDS AND LOVERS
An "Enterprise" story

By Alison M. DOBELL

RATING: PG-13
ARCHIVE: Yes. Just let me know where.
FEEDBACK: Welcomed
EMAIL: AlisonMDobell@aol.com

WEBSITE: http://www.carlajane.50megs.com/Ali00.html

SUMMARY: "With the possibility of freedom looming Trip is not sure he wants to go back to Enterprise."
The usual disclaimers apply. The characters and 'Enterprise' belong to Paramount. No infringement of copyright is intended.

* * * * *
Part 11

”The Illusion of Truth”

He awoke in a kind of daze. It was not until T'Pol gently brushed a hand down the side of his face that memory returned in all its' bright and dazzling splendour. He took a deep steadying breath. *I love you, T'Pol*

*That comment is illogical. It does not get us out of here*

He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose making her frown. Annoyed that he could be so casual about it. They could die in here and he was calmly teasing her. *Relax*

*Relax? Much as I am drawn to you, I do not wish to spend the rest of my life permanently afixed to you in this fashion, Commander*

Uh oh. Commander. What had happened to Trip?

*She is angry with you* Said the Sanacrid.

*Yeah, well whose fault is that?*

*She wants to leave*

*So do I*

He sensed a great sadness in the Sanacrid and for a moment he felt torn. He did not want to hurt the creature despite everything that had happened. In a weird way he understood how the creature felt. *Would you really go, Trip? Leave me?*

*I don't belong here* He thought softly.

*I can sustain you*

*I am human, our life span is short*

*How short?*

*Barring accidents I could normally expect to live another fifty maybe 60 years*

*I could... extend that for you, Trip*

He felt like laughing but the effect was ruined by the tears in his eyes. He had never expected the Sanacrid to plead with him. For some reason it hurt to cause the creature pain. They were bonded after all. The Sub-Commander sensed his distress. Had not been privy to their mind link. She could hear his thoughts when they were aimed at her but not when he was communing with the Sanacrid. So were they on a different frequency or was the Sanacrid blocking her? And why did that thought disturb her so much? She sensed Trip's sorrow deepening and reached out with her mind. Her thoughts gentle this time. *Why are you getting upset?*

*It's okay, T'Pol*

*No, it is not okay. Tell me what is wrong*

He took another deep breath, calming himself while she dried his tears with her hands. *We have to get out of here, T'Pol, but I don't want to hurt him*

She was outraged. *Hurt him? The Sanacrid should be destroyed not pitied*

*You don't understand...*

*No,* She said softly, trailing her lips gently over his face, papering him with kisses. Her body cradling him close to her heart. Feelings swamping her and making her weak for love of him. *It is you who does not understand*

He lost himself in her kiss. The Sanacrid retreated. Was silent. Uncommunicative. Did not seek to deepen their connection this time. Commander Tucker knew he was upset and it was making him feel guilty. As if he had injured a child. Something incapable of fighting back. Why the hell should he think that? Feel that? Was he being manipulated again? No. He did not have that sense. This was more like a truth bared. Something at odds with what he had seen with his eyes. The huge mothership had dwarfed his imagination with something too sleek and too powerful to fight. What was it he was missing? Where was the piece of the jigsaw that would make sense of this conundrum? How could he free himself and T'Pol from chains he could not see? If he could not free himself perhaps he could free T'Pol? As much as the thought of losing her hurt him it would be a loss he would willingly bear for her freedom. He felt the Sanacrid stir in his mind.

*Do want to go that much?*

*I need to go* He thought gently. *Be with my people*

*I could make you stay*

There was a slight pause before the Commander answered him. *I know*

*I could kill you both*

*I know that too*

*Are you not afraid of me, Trip? Disturbed by my power?*

*No*

*Not even for your mate?*

A dagger of fear touched his heart. *Please don't hurt her*

*She wouldn't feel a thing*

New tears sprang from his eyes. Sub-Commander T'Pol tilted her head back with concern. She spoke aloud for the first time in days. "Trip? Commander? What is going on?"

He could not speak. Was too distraught to voice what the Sanacrid was saying to him. T'Pol eased off him and cold air danced between them. Cold air? Where was all the cold air coming from? She felt tremors but her sense of direction was not functioning.

"Commander? Speak to me? You are starting to frighten me!"

He hushed her with his mind. *It's okay, T'Pol."

"No, it's not. It's getting cold. Why is the ship trembling?"

Commander Tucker did not answer her. He spoke instead to the Sanacrid. Cowering like a lost child in the corner of his mind. *What's going on?*

*We are under attack, Trip. You will get your wish*

His heart faltered. *My wish?*

*Yes. My utter destruction*

*What the hell are you talking about? Who is attacking us?*

The Sanacrid was trembling almost non-stop now. It sent waves of panic through Trip. *Ask your friend*

*T'Pol? Are you saying she knows?*

The Sanacrid fell silent. Had he left or was he in hiding? The Commander could not tell. He turned his thoughts to T'Pol.

*T'Pol, can you hear me?*

She wanted to weep in relief. "I thought something had happened to you"

*The Sanacrid says we are under attack*

The odd reverberations she was feeling began to make sense. She nodded. "I believe he is right."

*Why are you speaking out loud?*

"Am I?"

He nodded. *Yes"

She tilted her head. "What?"

A sudden suspicion tickled the base of his brain. *Can you hear me, T'Pol?*

No reply. She was looking anxiously at him, waiting for him to speak. Oh God. The Sanacrid had severed their connection. Or was it because they were no longer physically joined?

"T'Pol, I think we can move now. Try to extract yourself from the vessel."

The Sub-Commander nodded and pulled herself out of the semi-translucent goo that formed a connective gel thoughout the systems of the ship. She saw no sign of the Sanacrid. Once she could stand she looked down at herself and saw she was completely naked. Where were her clothes? Why hadn't that bothered her until now? She realised with a jolt that the Commander was speaking to her. Reaching out for help to get out, the gel sucking on his skin and resisting his efforts to break free of it. They could both feel it now. Heavy pounding. Around them the brilliant white walls were blurring or were they weeping? Trip could not tell. Tried to reach out mentally to the Sanacrid but was met with silence. It felt strange. An aching hollow that filled him with the strangest sense of loss. T'Pol's hand caught his own, slipping off in the gelatinous goo that covered them both. It seemed to be getting slimier as if the substance were breaking down. It took several goes before the Sub-Commander grabbed his wrist between her two hands and pulled as hard as she could. He exited with a squelchy pop and slid out onto the floor. She looked down at him as another more violent shudder alerted them to the very real danger that if the ship broke up they would die.

She helped him stand then looked at his naked body. The thick gelatinous substance clinging and running off them like some half melted ice cream. She was tempted to lick him clean but who knew what was really in the gel? And did she really want to distract him now of all times? No, she did not. The instinct to survive was the strongest imperative next to the need to reproduce. Carefully they wiped the gel off each other, not speaking for minutes at a time. Their troubled thoughts counting off the escalating tremors and the increasing instability they could sense in the ship. Would they be killed before they could be rescued? Trip paused, both of them still covered in goo. He looked deep into T'Pol's eyes and cradled the side of her cheek in one hand. "Just in case we don't make it or suffer some kind of memory loss later, there is one think I have to tell you Sub-Commander. I love you. Don't know how or why but I do. As illogical as it sounds."

Then he leaned in and slid his lips over hers for a kiss. Oblivious of everything disintegrating around them they wrapped their arms around each other and deepened the kiss. Words spoken or thought were no longer necessary. There was nowhere else Trip wanted to be right at that moment and for once T'Pol was in complete agreement with him.

* * * * *

Lt Malcolm Reed was the happiest Captain Archer had ever seen him. Even when he got to blow things up he was never quite *this* happy. But then this was not war. This was revenge. He knew the difference. This had a much sweeter taste. The only thing that would have made it any better would have been permission to be aboard the Vulcan ship when it fired the first volley. Unsurprisingly, his request had resulted in a cool but polite refusal. So he stood at his console on the bridge and had to restrain himself from cheering every time the St'ran struck the huge city ship. He saw it tremble. Remembered it was organic.

The Captain had a shuttlepod ready to go and retrieve the Commander and Sub-Commander as soon as the Sanacrid and his buddies had taken enough punishment. But though he kept a com channel open to the enemy ship there was no call, no response. Not even an apology let alone a surrender. He began to feel anxious. The door behind him opened and Dr Phlox stepped on to the bridge. The Armoury Officer beamed at him but the doctor did not smile back. If anything he looked upset. Worried. Captain Archer frowned. He should be happy. This, after all, was the moment of deliverance. "What's the matter, Dr?"

The Denobulan swallowed carefully, one disapproving eye on the screen as yet another volley hit the now shuddering ship. "When I agreed to synthesise the substance in the lieutenant's handkerchief I in no way intended it to be used in this way, Captain. I feel I must protest in the strongest possible terms."

The bridge crew looked at him in shocked surprise. Captain Archer's mouth fell open. He could hardly believe his ears. "How can you say that after what they did to you and Lt Reed? After what they did to Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T'Pol?"

"Captain," Said the Denobulan quietly and calmly. "The ship is organic. It is a living, sentient life form not a pile of inert metal in space. Every blow hurts the organism, sending waves and waves of residual damage throughout the ship. Need I remind you that both the Commander and Sub-Commander are now part of that vessel."

Realisation slowly dawned on the Captain's face. "Oh my God, we're killing our own people?"

The doctor nodded carefully. "That is what I believe."

The Captain spun around and looked at Hoshi Sato. "Ensign, open a channel to the Vulcan ship, St'ran."

"Yes, sir." As soon as she had them on line an image of the Vulcan Captain filled the screen.

"Captain Rokar, this is Captain Archer. Firstly, I would like to thank you for coming to our aid. Secondly, I need to ask you to stop firing immediately."

The impassive face of stone simply looked at him for a moment. They watched him raise a hand and the barrage of weapons fire stopped. Then Captain Rokar's haughty voice carried his disapproval loud and clear to every corner of the bridge. "They have not yet responded to hand over the hostages. Until they do we will continue to fire."

A look of panic flitted across Captain Archer's face. Captain Rokar was raising his hand to tell his weapons officer to resume fire. "No, wait! Please! The ship is organic. We have reason to believe both Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T'Pol may have been integrated into the ship itself. Every time you fire you could be hurting them. Continue and you may kill them."

"We do not negotiate with terrorists."

The screen went blank. Captain Archer swore and looked at Hoshi. She shook her head. "He's cut communications, Captain."

Lt Reed looked down at his console, his earlier euphoria completely gone. His worried face looked up quickly. "Captain, the Vulcans are opening fire again."

"Damn!"

"Sir, the way the ship is acting it cannot hold the Commander and Sub-Commander for long. As soon as they can free themselves they can get away."

Captain Archer's lips compressed into a thin line of pain. "In what, lieutenant? You and the doctor came back in the shuttlepod. You do the math."

He was immediately sorry for his poor choice of words. They had been spoken in anger and pain without any malice aforethought. Lt Reed went pale, a sick look came on his face as he realised exactly what the Captain meant. Knew the fault was his. He had taken the only means of escape with him when he and the doctor had been jettisoned from the mothership. "Bloody hell, this is my fault."

"It's not your fault, lieutenant. You were under a great deal of stress..."

Lt Reed was not listening to him. He was thinking of his friends Trip and T'Pol. Now trapped on a dying ship with no way off and the implaccable bombardment of the stiff necked Vulcan vessel ensuring any chance of survival was minimal. He wanted to cry but he did not dare. That would only blur his vision and he needed to be able to see the readings on his console. His mind racing through possiblities and discarding each one immediately as unworkable. If only they had more time to think of something.

Time was not on their side. In stunned horror they watched as the huge mothership disintegrated. The last volley had set off a concatanation of explosions which ripped the whole vessel into trails of semi-liquid matter and bits and pieces of non-organic technology used to augment some of its' systems. Some of the gelatinous debris splattered across the hull of Enterprise. Every member of the bridge crew recoiled in horror. Ensign Hoshi Sato was in distress, crying and unable to concentrate on anything but the totality of the destruction. Stunned, Ensign Mayweather just looked with a fixed stare at the carnage on the screen. "Perhaps they got off in time..." He murmured softly. But even to his own ears it sounded more like a prayer than a posibility.

Captain Archer put his face in his hands. No one spoke. The grief was palpable. A tangible legacy of those they had lost. When the Vulcan ship St'ran began to hail them no one wanted to answer. Hoshi looked down at her control panel and just stared at it. Captain Archer slowly raised his head and wiped his face with his hands. No need for the crew to witness him falling apart. "Hoshi, answer the hail."

She looked for a moment as if she was going to refuse but the Captain had given her an order so she did as she was told. The stern visage of Captain Rokar filled the screen. It would be wrong to say he looked smug or satisfied but he certainly did not look sorry. "Captain Archer. Please have your medical officer standing by. We have your officer and Sub-Commander T'Pol on our vessel. We will be bringing them over in the next few minutes."

The Captain did not know what to say. At last he found his tongue. "Alive?"

The Vulcan Captain actually looked irritated. "Of course. Why would you need a medical officer for the dead?"

He had no answer to that. The Vulcans cut the link and the Captain slumped back in his chair then laughed weakly. His crew looked at him. Lt Reed said what they were all thinking, "I didn't see them launch a transport pod of any kind, sir."

Captain Archer stood up and smiled at Dr Phlox. He glanced across at Lt Reed. "It seems the Vulcans have more faith in their transporter than we do in ours." He could see that the lieutenant was itching to see if his friends were alright. He gave the armoury officer a smile. "Come on lieutenant, let's go and see how Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T'Pol are faring. Travis, you have the bridge."

* * * * *

What they found when they met the Vulcan transport startled the Captain. Both Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T'Pol had blankets wrapped around them. Their hair plastered to their heads with some kind of semi-translucent gel. They looked terrible but then what had he expected? At least they were both on their feet and presumably able to walk without the aid of stretchers. He could hardly contain his relief. If anything had happened to Trip.... He swallowed and buried the thought. His friend was alive and that was what mattered. Losing that particular slice of home would simply have been unacceptable.

"Thank you, Captain Rokar. I feel I owe you an apology for my earlier comments."

The Vulcan Captain simply gave a curt nod. "Good day, Captain. Sub-Commander."

Sub-Commander T'Pol managed to nod back though her eyes did not seem to focus on anything. The Vulcan Captain had not acknowledged Commander Tucker at all. It made Captain Archer's blood boil but seeing the little Vulcan delegation return to their vessel and leave was more than generous recompense for his anger. He looked at the Sub-Commander, "How are you feeling?"

Her pause was so slight he almost missed it. "I have felt better, Captain."

Dr Phlox began to scan her, not at all surprised at her condition or what she was covered in. The Captain looked at Commander Tucker. His best friend. Loyal confidant and generally stalwart ally. In every sense of the word. He crooked a wry smile at him, watching as the thick gel dripped off his head and rolled down his face. Curiously it had no smell. He could only be thankful for small mercies. Looking at his feet he realised he would have to get a clean up crew to sort out the mess. "How about you, Trip?"

"Just give me a hot shower, somethin' t'eat and a week to sleep an' I'll be good as new, Cap'n."

He grinned at his friend and walked beside him as they all made their way to the infirmary. The Commander knew what he wanted. Understood that he had a burning need to know everything that had happened but he was still upset and some things even the Captain would never know. It was too personal and way too private. Also. There was another issue that was causing him mounting distress. The Captain realised something was on his mind but waited until they got to the infirmary. Lt Reed leant in close to the Commander and said something. The Captain did not hear what it was but it seemed to be some sort of reassurance. Trip nodded without making any reply then the armoury officer said something to T'Pol and left.

Although it seemed stupid to put them in the decontamination chamber, the doctor knew of no other way to remove all the gel and ensure none of it remained on their persons. Captain Archer watched. Surprised when they handed the doctor their blankets and meekly stepped inside the chamber. Apart from being covered from head to foot in the gel both of his senior officers were completely naked. The Captain stared then looked at the doctor.

"What happened to their clothes?"

"They were interfaced directly with the organism, Captain. Clothes would have inhibited that connection."

"Connection?" He asked weakly. His mouth going dry.

Dr Phlox nodded as he set the cycle control and switched the chamber on. Sliding the metal shutter across to give the occupants some privacy. "Yes, Captain. The substance they are covered in is a connective gel, it allows the organism to communicate with them."

"What?"

"As I said, Captain, it is a living organism with higher brain functions just like you and I but with a totally differently way of expressing and identifying its' needs."

"Intelligent goo?" Murmured the Captain, almost to himself.

"Precisely," Said the doctor. It was the first time the Captain could recall the Denobulan being so subdued. No humour now. No bright sparkle in his startling blue eyes. "Now if you'll excuse me, Captain?"

Captain Archer stared at him for a moment, not comprehending. Then realised the doctor was waiting for him to leave. That in itself was disturbing. Was there something the doctor was not telling him? Or was he simply being paranoid because he was so worried about his friends? Dr Phlox gave him a solemn nod to encourage him to go. "I will let you know as soon as the Commander and Sub-Commander are able to talk to you, Captain."

"How long will the cycle take?"

"Four hours. The chamber will wash them first then dry them, then the decontamination will start."

"Are they going to be alright?"

"Physically they should recover in a few days at most."

The Captain nodded and left the infirmary.

* * * * *

Inside the chamber Trip and T'Pol looked at each other. Jets were spraying warm water and cleaning solution at them from every angle but they paid it no heed. They only had eyes for each other. T'Pol noticed the gel was being washed off quickly. She stepped up to him and slid her body up against his, wanting to use the last of the gel to connect with him. To form a tenative link to the human word she would not say: goodbye. He knew. Had sensed it was the only logical outcome but his loss was deeper than that. T'Pol raised a hand and cradled the side of his face but did not trigger a mind meld. In their fragile emotional state it would have been unwise in the extreme. Trip was blinking back tears, the water washing the salt from his face.

"We cannot do this again." Said T'Pol. "It must end now."

He nodded. Not trusting himself to speak. She raised her head then slid her arms up around his neck and drew him to her. Their lips meeting in a gentle kiss, their hearts beating the erratic rythym that told them time was precious and running out for them. There was so much he wanted to say but she kept him silent. Their kiss deepening until they made love slowly. A beautiful painful gift. He was so gentle with her, his look tender and full of a myriad of emotions that she was beginning to cradle in her heart along with a love so poignant it affected every cell in her body. This last celebration was not just for him. Not just for her. It was for what they had shared, what they had created between their two souls, and for all the tomorrows they would never have together. When they had finished the drying cycle was already beginning. They sat side by side on the bench and did not speak for almost an hour. A companionable silence. He held her hand in his and it was enough and more.

At last Trip turned his head to look her in the eye. "I'm not sorry for any of it, darlin'."

She nodded. She felt the same. Trip watched her face intently.

"You gonna be alright?"

"Yes. You?"

He looked away and swallowed. Would not meet her eyes. "Dunno."

T'Pol leaned against him, shoulder to shoulder. Human and Vulcan seeking and giving comfort the only way they knew how. "It wasn't your fault." She whispered softly.

He hung his head and fought the urge to cry. T'Pol placed an hand on his back and made slow circling motions to ease and calm him. By the time the decontamination cycle had finished they were both a lot calmer. His anguish in check. Her radiant fire subdued behind an impenetrable mask. *Stoic* thought Trip. *That's what they are* Taking a deep breath to steel himself for the inquisition that would surely follow, he decided that perhaps Humans could learn something from Vulcans after all.

* * * * *

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