The Final...- Pt. 2

The Final Mission

Part Two

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.

==

“Professor Tucker,” the Denobulan offered his hand in greeting, then ushered his guest into his private office, “Please, take a seat.”

When the lawyer was satisfied that the door was securely closed, he smiled turned to a frown, “May I extend my condolences, Professor. T’Pol was a remarkable woman.”

Trip felt the man pat him on the shoulder comfortingly, reminding him of Phlox. The similar manner was not surprising, as he was Phlox’s? Trip could not recall the proper term for the third husband of your second wife. The lawyer was married to Feezal, Phlox’s second wife.

“Thank you, Councilor.” Trip walked to the window, which overlooked Union Square. He and T’Pol had often met for lunch at a restaurant across the square, when she was in town that is, which wasn’t very often. They would combine lunch with a visit to the lawyer, even if there were no reason to consult him. The visits maintained the appearance that they were merely business partners.

Councilor Pheobus was the only man on earth – a fleeting smile crossed Trip’s face as he realized the truth of the cliché – who was aware of the true nature of their partnership. He was their trusted confidante and financial advisor. During their periods of separation, communication had been through him. Lawyer – client privilege was still respected by authorities.

“How is Phlox? And your wife, of course?” Trip was genuinely interested, the pair had been instrumental in bringing T’Pol and he together.

“Phlox is on Logon II and Feezal is spending time with her second husband on Denobula,” the councilor explained. “She has been gone only a year, but I miss her as if it were ten.”

“Has it been more than a year, since T’Pol and I last visited you?” Trip’s voice was laced with regret.

==

“Doc, tell me the truth. T’Pol won’t tell me a thing.”

Phlox had dropped into his office at the Academy. It had the appearance of a casual visit between former shipmates, but Trip knew there was more to it and pressed him.

“You know I can’t divulge anything that has transpired between us.” Phlox stated for the record.

“I’m your patient too, Doc. Doesn’t that make a difference?” Trip whispered passionately. He did not want anyone to overhear their conversation.

“Professor Tucker, as your physician, I suggest for the good of your health that you should take some leave as soon as possible. It is time that you relieved some of the stress that your business interests impose. You aren’t getting any younger, you know.” Phlox left the room, without a good-bye.

Trip died the first of many deaths in that moment. Phlox’s message was clear. T’Pol’s illness had taken its course, there was nothing more that the doctor could do for her.

==
“Professor?” Councilor Pheobus coughed discreetly.

He had grown fond of his unusual clients. When Phlox had suggested that he offer his services to one or the other, he had declined. Too much work and not enough money, I wager, he remembered saying. Phlox had grinned his widest and winked.

“Just meet with one or the other, Pheobus. If you don’t like what you hear, don’t offer your services.”

Feezal had been with them, one of the rare instances when two of her husbands were on the same planet at the same time as she. “The Vulcan is erratic, but the Commander has a future ahead of him, Husband.”

Feezal was an excellent judge of men. Her comment pushed him into action. “I’ll call the Commander tomorrow.”

==

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Trip shouted into the recording device. “You said good-bye this morning as if you planned to return. As if I were going to hold you in my arms again soon.” He switched off the machine. He would record another less volatile message later, when the anger had subsided.

His apartment that never seemed large enough when T’Pol was occupying it, now it seemed immense, too much for confirmed bachelor. He snorted. Whenever his name was mentioned in the news, it was always accompanied by the modifier ‘confirmed bachelor.’ How many confirmed bachelors had been married for nearly thirty years, he wondered? But then, how many married men had to keep their marriage a secret, if they wanted to stay married? The price of happiness, he supposed. Had he had it to do over, he would. She was exasperating, maddeningly stubborn, swift to condemn and slow to praise, his wife. She was loyal and steadfast. A long distance relationship with a Vulcan had one advantage, you knew she would be faithful no matter how long the separation. She was monogamous to a fault. The absences made for interesting reunions.

“I never let ya down, T’Pol.” He told the walls. “I was tempted, but I never succumbed. Do ya know that, Darlin’?”

Linda was smart and ambitious. She was pretty in a superficial way. He figured she would start to lose her looks around forty. When he met her, she was thirty and a rising star in Starfleet Engineering. She had come to the Academy to talk to the female cadets who were considering a career in Engineering. The Commandant thought her flash and fire would be an inspiration. He had been right.

Trip had been assigned to be her escort. He smiled as he recalled Forrest’s exact word, “You’re single, Professor. Linda is just the sort of woman to make a wife jealous. So I want you to look after the woman while she is here. It will save all the married men from months of cold showers and sleeping on the couch.”

Linda had made a move during the first dinner that they had shared. “I was thrilled when Admiral Forrest told me that you were to be my liaison during my visit to the Academy. I’ve read all your papers, Professor.”

“Call me, Trip.” He had insisted. “You are goin’ to make quite an impression on the cadets.”

“Trip,” she had leaned across the table, her voice half an octave lower. “I’m not keeping you from a previous engagement, am I?”

Idly Trip had wondered if Feezal had given her lessons in flirting. Just like Feezal, Linda made him feel like a trinket to be played with then discarded.

“No, my research limits my social life.” He had replied.

The next day, over lunch, she had suggested a picnic on the campus, to clear their heads. They had found a bench with a view of the Bay. Coyly she had fed him a piece of her pecan pie, letting her fingers linger a moment too long on his lips.

“Aren’t I a little too old for you, Linda?” He smiled with the grin that T’Pol called his “I’m a bad boy, but aren’t I cute grimace.”

“Not for what I have in mind?” She grinned back, with eyes that flashed with promise.

“And what might that be?” Trip enjoyed flirting as long as that was all it was.

“I want you to father my child.”

He choked on the pie.

Of all the lines she could have used that was the one that he found the most difficult to resist. T’Pol had encouraged him to father children with human females. It was the only logical choice given that they could not risk having a child of their own.

Linda’s offer was premeditated. He was flattered. She had considered custody rights, financial support, even when and how to announce her pregnancy to the professional community. She presented her offer as if she were making a pitch to a funding committee.

He had heard within months of his rejection that Linda had found a father for her baby. The birth announcement had appeared in the social section of the Journal for Space Engineering. He had read it with a twinge of regret.

==

“Professor Tucker?”

“I’m sorry, Councillor, I was somewhere else.” Trip sat up and directed his attention to the lawyer. “You said that T’Pol had rewritten her will?”

“I T’Pol Tucker, being of sound mind, but not sound body, bequeath all my wordly goods, not covered by existing partnership agreements, to my husband, Professor Charles Tucker III for the sole purpose of fulfilling my last request. Should Professor Tucker not accept this condition, the remainder of my estate must be used to fund Pa’Nar syndrome research, under the leadership of Dr. Phlox, formerly Chief Medical Officer of Enterprise, NX-01.” Pheobus read the short document in a monotone.

“That’s it?” Trip threw his hands up in disgust. “No description of the last request?”

The Councilor explained, “There is a second envelope, which will be opened only if you agree to accept the request as stated.”

“Darlin’, what game are ya playin’ now?” Trip looked at the lawyer. “You only have two wives? Right?”

Pheobus confirmed it with a nod.

“When you finally settle on a third, make sure she isn’t a Vulcan.”

End of Part Two

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Eight hardy souls have made comments

wow. this is such an intriguing story... i need more... it has grown on me.

This is good though I am still in denial over the death of T'Pol. It just doesn't seem right parting those two and dealing with their relationship in the aftermath stage but what is written is very good and getting more and more intriguing. I can't wait to see what happens next! Loved Trip's comment that when he marries his third wife to make sure she isn't a Vulcan! Ali D :~)

Like Ali, I too am in denial. That bit at the end of the first chapter was DAMN good...

Denial is the first stage of grief, ladies. There are four more stages to depict.

I loved chapter 1 made me cry!! Now chapter 2, wow, can't wait for the rest.

**snifflyness** sad story, but I want more...

Ah,,, I can't believe you're going to leave me hanging.... Can't wait for more!

Didn't think such an obviously sad story would get me hooked, but it has. Looking forward to more. I'm anxious to find out how Deezal and Phlox helped to get T'pol and Trip together. Please explain.