The Final Mission

The Final Mission

Author: Aquila

Rating: PG-13

Summary: An answer to ShouldKnowBetter’s question: what was Trip doing for those missing six months? Sequel to An Excerpt from Starfleet Engineering, a House of Tucker Contest Entry.

==

He had never expected to out live her, so when the news was delivered he felt as if his titanium knee replacements were molten metal. He reached for the kitchen counter to steady himself, thankful that he was alone and that it was his day off. He did not want to share his grief with anyone. He could not share his grief. No one knew.

He had been making coffee, listening to the Universal News Network with half an ear, when the announcement was made. “This just in. The Vulcan High Command has announced the passing of T’Pol, Ambassador to Ligon II. To Humans she is best known as the original First Officer of Enterprise, NX-01. Tune in at 20:00 this evening for a UNN biographical retrospective of her career. Our condolences are extended to the people of Vulcan.”

“Damn, the Vulcans.”

He shouted at the receiver as he switched it off. His computer terminal beeped to announce an incoming message.

“The wolves have begun to circle,” he muttered to himself as he made his way to the workstation. “I’m comin’, I’m comin’.”

==

Jon’s call came just as the UNN biography ended. Trip had dithered. Turning it on, then turning it off, then turning it on again.

“Hey, Professor Tucker.” His temples were gray and his crowsfeet were deeper than the Grand Canyon, but his smile hadn’t changed.

“Admiral. Ya heard the news then?” Trip returned his friend’s smile. “When did ya see her last?”

“Just last month.” Archer ran a hand through his hair. “She wasn’t well, Trip. I gave her your best.”

“Thank ya, Admiral.” Trip sighed. “Did ya watch the UNN thing?”

“Yes I did. I liked the quote you gave them.” Archer grimaced. “There was nothing of the woman we knew in it, was there?”

“No, there wasn’t.” Trip spoke through a tight throat. “The Vulcan’s wouldn’t have allowed the real T’Pol to be shown.”

==

Trip took the accumulated leave to which he was entitled. The Starfleet Academy Commandant protested, asking for a few weeks to find a replacement for him. Trip did not oblige him. So it was, alone in his apartment, one week after T’Pol’s funeral, which he did not attend, he heard a knock at his door.

The man who greeted the courier was unrecognizable. He was sporting a week’s growth of beard. His hair was every which way. It was noon, but he was still in his pajamas. The courier could see unwashed dishes piled around the sink. This was Professor Charles Tucker, III – Surak’s gift to astro-engineering? He looked like hell.

“Package for you, sir.” The Vulcan straightened slightly, out of respect for the man that was, not the man who stood in front of him.

Trip was amused. Most humans would not have been able to tell the difference in the Vulcan’s posture. But he wasn’t “most humans” was he. T’Pol had seen to that.

“Thank ya, son.” Trip signed the data pad, took the package and closed the door on the courier’s face, his Southern Gentleman’s manners forgotten in the midst of his all-encompassing grief.

Trip turned the package around in his hands. His heart lurched. The label was in T’Pol’s hand writing. She’s alive! He hugged the package to his chest. Tears of relief streaming from his eyes.

“You wait right there, Hon. I’ll be right back.” Trip placed the parcel gently on the counter.

Ten minutes later, he returned, showered and shaved. His hair was damp, but in place. He sported a fresh shirt and casual trousers. His feet were bare, but T’Pol wouldn’t mind. She thought he had sexy feet.

His smile faded as he looked around the apartment. He couldn’t welcome her home to this mess. He set about tidying up. He loaded the dishwasher, then turned it on. He wiped down the kitchen counters and vacuumed the living area rug. He straightened the books in the case. T’Pol hated to see books out of line. He dusted everything, then sprayed an odor diminisher. An hour later his living quarters were immaculate.

Keeping the parcel within his peripheral vision, he made a pot of chamomile tea, enough for two. He never enjoyed the taste, but she liked to share a cup with him. Pleasing her was one of his favourite, if most secret, occupations.

“Well, darlin’, what’s new with ya?” Every tryst had begun with the question.

Trip recalled how she would take his hand, look him in the eye and reply, “I am renewed in your presence.”

There wouldn’t be much talking after that. At least not with words, he remembered with a smile.

He set his cup of tea aside to pull the parcel to him. From the pocket of his trousers, he pulled a folding utility knife, with which he slit the tape that held the parcel together. The box flaps popped open, releasing a spray of packing material, which clung to his clothes.

“Jeez, Babe – ya did that on purpose, didn’t ya?” T’Pol had a wicked sense of humour. They didn’t mention that on UNN he thought.

His heart stopped for the second time in a week. Surrounded by packing material was the intricately carved top of what he knew was a box. He removed it slowly, ignoring the cascades of packing material. His hands shook slightly once they were free again. He had placed the box on the countertop.

As soon as his heart began to beat again, he searched inside his shirt, withdrawing through the neck a gold chain. His fingers clasped a small key, which dropped to dangle against his chest, just where T’Pol had rested her head in the afterglow of lovemaking. He knew that it was true, because she had told him so, when she presented him with the key and chain.

“When you feel this move against your skin, Charles, you will think of me and how I long to be in your arms again.”

In his mind he heard her voice as clearly as if she were present. A mental gift that she had given him. Another secret they had kept for thirty years.

He turned the box so that the keyhole faced toward him. He inserted the key, but he did not turn it. Delaying the inevitable, he sipped her tea. She had hated his habit of sipping from her teacup. He couldn’t help himself. He wanted his lips to rest where hers had clung to the china. The ritual would end with a swat on his arm, which was her invitation to tumble into bed for another bout of passion.

T’Pol’s passionate nature was another secret they kept from the world. During the first fragile months of their pairing, he had felt inadequate in the presence of her need. He recalled her patient coaxing and the triumph he had felt when at last they learned to sate each other.

He turned the key in the lock, then raised the lid gently. He gasped, snapping the lid shut.

“No, no, no…” He paced the living area, pounding his right fist into his left palm. His shoulders shook. He gulped great lung fulls of air. He crumpled to the floor, where he rested his forehead and pounded the floor with his fists.

When he thought he had cried his last tear, he opened the box once more. There was a brass plate attached to the underside of the lid. He read the words engraved on its surface: I have returned to you, Husband.

A single tear fell to make a dark stain on the ashes inside the box. T’Pol’s ashes.

End of Part One

Continue to Part 2

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Eight hardy souls have made comments

Oh my God, what a terribly sad tale. Poor Trip and how sad that they had to keep their love for each other secret for THIRTY YEARS! I could not have lasted thirty seconds. Gulp. Now you've gone and made me cry... Well written by so sad. Ali D

A lovely story and terribly painful. Please continue.

Poor Trip - how very sad. You must continue this - I'm interested in knowing how long had it been since Trip and T'pol had seen each other; how could they have kept this relationship so secret; was it secret from Archer; why didn't Trip see T'pol more recently than Archer, etc etc. There's so much to work with here. Please continue.

Good grief, that hurt. Fantastic!

I've come to expect wonderful, beautiful, powerful fics from you, Aquila. You never, ever disappoint. Thank you so much for writing for us!

yah know i have to admit i was havin a fantastic day till i read this! but oh well...

oh goodness that was sad! I'm immensely interested to see how they managed to develop a relationship. Please write part 2 soon!

oh god, that was so sad!!! i am anxious to read the next part...