The Thorn and the Rose - Part 7

THE THORN AND THE ROSE

By Dinah

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: see part 1

Part VII

CHAPTER 22: ARCHER

In spite of himself, Jonathan Archer had begun the day full of hope. His efforts to build the Coalition were finally paying dividends. The Vulcans had asked humans to sit down and meet with them as equals – not as ignorant lackeys, unruly students, or naive interlopers, but equals. This morning he had fervently wished that his Dad could have been here to see this historic moment. Now he wasn’t so sure.

Archer sighed and shook his head as he looked out of the side viewport of the Vulcan shuttle. Instead of feeling optimistic at the end of the first day, he had come away with a cold dose of reality. He realized that these strategic talks could go a long way toward redefining Earth’s relationship with Vulcan and effectively ending what had amounted to a regency period for Earth. Evidently the Vulcans understood this as well, and some of them were clearly not ready to relinquish control.

The primary opposition to this attempt to develop a joint security plan for the region came from Admiral Kiran, his protégé Captain V’Lin of the Vulcan ship Tar’hana, and Ministers T’Lan and Sulin – all hard-line Vulcan conservatives. Of the four, Kiran was by far the most dangerous. He had made it clear from his first look at Archer that he thought all humans were beneath his contempt. Every effort Jon had made to find some common ground with the Vulcans had been derailed by one of Kiran’s acerbic comments.

Archer knew that he had the support of T’Pau, Soval and Minister Kuvak. Ambassador V’Lar was a reasonable woman. When she arrived, she would probably speak in favor of the humans. Nevertheless, Jon wasn’t sure if the four of them were strong enough to sway the others. Admiral Kiran was the key. Without his support, these talks were doomed to failure, as was any unified effort to fight against the growing Romulan threat in the region. If he could find a way to sway Kiran, he knew the others would probably fall into line. Now all he had to do was figure out a way to reason with a mean-spirited Vulcan bigot.

“We will be arriving at Mount Seleya in one minute and twenty seconds,” the stony-faced Vulcan pilot informed Archer. “I have contacted the priests at the Sanctuary to inform them of your arrival.”

“Thank you,” Archer said as he shifted uneasily in his seat. He was more than happy that this little jaunt was about to come to an end. It was painfully obvious that Vulcan shuttles hadn’t been designed for personal comfort.

“Ambassador Soval is also visiting the Sanctuary,” the pilot continued. “He asks to speak with you immediately upon your arrival.”

“Good,” Archer said firmly. “Maybe he can tell me what happened to my officers.”

As the shuttle sped through the mountain passes on its final approach to Mount Seleya, Archer rose and looked out the front viewport. Within seconds, he caught his first glimpse of the Sanctuary, an imposing structure carved many centuries ago into one side of the sacred mountain. “Well,” he murmured under his breath as they drew closer, “at least I found my shuttlepod.” When the shuttle banked to the left and began to descend, Archer returned to his seat.

He still wasn’t sure why he’d felt it was important to make this journey, but somehow he knew that it was. Maybe it was the mysterious way Soval had spirited Trip and T’Pol away from the meeting that morning. Maybe it was T’Pol’s insistence that they were only doing some vague research project. Or maybe it was the nagging feeling that Trip was in trouble.

The Vulcan shuttle landed smoothly and came to a halt about twenty feet from Shuttlepod One. By the time Archer got to his feet, the pilot had the hatch open for him.

“Please pass along my thanks to Minister Kuvak for the use of the shuttle,” Archer said as he approached the exit.

“It is not necessary, but I will pass along your sentiments.” Archer stepped out of the shuttle, but came to a halt when the pilot added, “I will be here when you are ready to leave, Captain.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Archer assured the pilot. “I can use the shuttlepod from Enterprise.”

“Minister Kuvak told me to wait. I will follow his instructions.”

“Suit yourself,” Archer grumbled. Then he turned and headed up the flight of steps. He could see Soval and T’Pol standing at the top, waiting for him.

When Archer reached the head of the stairs, Soval said in a rather guarded tone of voice, “Your visit is unexpected, Captain. What brings you here?”

“I’m looking for my first officer and my chief engineer.”

“It is obvious that you have found them,” Soval replied.

Jon looked pointedly at T’Pol. “I could have used their help today, Commander,” he said a little more forcefully than he intended. He immediately turned his attention to Soval. “I could have used your help, too, Ambassador. By taking off, you both left me swinging in the wind.”

Soval’s eyebrow rose. “I take it things did not go well.”

“You could say that.”

“I would imagine that Admiral Kiran expressed his…reservations at working hand in hand with humans.” Soval led Archer across the landing…through the left doorway into the Sanctuary…and into a small nondescript chamber. T’Pol followed quietly several steps behind the two men.

When they entered the room, Soval motioned the captain to one of the stone benches that lined the walls. Great, Archer thought. Don’t Vulcans believe in cushions?

Jon sank down onto the bench and leaned back wearily against the wall. “If Kiran had his way, all humans would go back to being shepherds.”

“That is an accurate assessment,” Soval said with a trace of weariness in his voice. “The admiral can be a difficult, when he wants to be.” He and T’Pol seated themselves on the bench directly across from Archer.

“So…would somebody like to tell me about this research you’re conducting?” Archer looked from one Vulcan to the other. “What could be so important that it takes priority over a discussion of security in this region of space? And where’s Trip?”

“Commander Tucker is resting,” Soval said firmly. T’Pol shifted uneasily, but remained silent. “As for the research…”

“Resting?” Archer asked bewilderedly. “What’s the matter with him? Is he sick?”

“He has had a tiring day.”

“Doing what? And don’t tell me research.”

“He recalled some memories from his past,” Soval explained, “and he found them…distressing.”

“Memories from his past?” Archer was starting to lose his temper. He’d been getting the run-around from Vulcans all day, and his patience was wearing thin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I want to see Trip, and I want to see him right now.”

“I do not think that would be wise,” Soval said quietly.

Archer was on his feet in an instant. “I want to know what’s going on!” he barked angrily. “I let Trip walk out of that conference room with two Vulcans, and the next thing I know he’s being spirited away to some religious sanctuary!”

“Captain, please,” Soval said in a calm reassuring voice. “Surely you know that we would not harm Commander Tucker.”

Archer turned toward the wall as he struggled to compose himself. After a few moments he resumed his seat and muttered, “This has been one hell of a day.” Taking a deep breath, he scrubbed a hand over his face and then focused his attention once again on Soval. “I’m sorry” Jon said sincerely. “That was uncalled for. I know you would never hurt Trip. Please accept my apology… both of you.”

“Your apology is accepted, Captain,” Soval replied. “And you are correct. We do owe you an explanation.” He looked over at T’Pol. Nodding, she rose silently, crossed the room and sat down next to Archer.

“Commander Tucker and I were faced with a problem that could not be resolved on Enterprise,” she began. “Ambassador Soval suggested that one of the priests at the Sanctuary could be of help to us.”

“And Trip agreed to this?”

“Yes. When the commander realized that anything said here would be kept in confidence, he decided that this was an opportune time to discuss some of the personal matters that have been troubling him.” T’Pol hesitated. “Starfleet would never need to know.”

Archer took a moment to let T’Pol’s words sink in. Suddenly things were beginning to make sense. “Look, I think I understand what you’re saying. And I’m glad Trip is finally getting some help, but I still want to see him.”

Soval started to protest, but Archer cut him off. “I want to see him now.”

“As you wish.” T’Pol rose and started toward the doorway. “Please come with me, Captain.”

* * * * * *

Archer paused at the doorway to Trip’s room. Much of the chamber was in darkness. He could make out a bed placed against the wall to the left. There was a small table and two chairs at the center of the room and little else, except for a meditation mat on the floor at the right. Several tall, freestanding candelabra were placed strategically around the room, but only two of the candles were lit. “Trip?” he called anxiously, but there was no response. He took a few cautious steps into the room and looked around. “Trip, are you in here?” He was just about ready to head back out into the corridor to find T’Pol when he noticed a hunched figure seated on the floor at the back of the room.

Concerned, Jon walked over and knelt by his friend. He’d known Trip for over a decade, but he’d never seen him behave like this. Even when he was distressed, the young engineer had always found solace in work, not hiding alone in the dark. Archer hesitated, his hand suspended in mid air. Finally, he reached over and lightly grasped Tucker’s shoulder. “Trip, are you all right?”

“Go away and leave me alone,” Tucker growled.

“You don’t mean that,” Archer said quietly. He threw a quick glance around the chamber. He couldn’t assess his friend’s condition under these conditions. After giving Trip’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze, he stood up and walked across the room. “I think we could use a little more light.” He quickly lit the additional candles from the flames of their two brethren and then returned to his friend.

Tucker, dressed only in his blue Starfleet underwear, looked as if he was trying to curl himself into a tight little ball: head bowed, arms wrapped around legs drawn up close to his chest. Without raising his head, he murmured, “Captain, I’m askin’ ya to leave. I need to be alone right now.”

This was not what Archer had expected to hear. More concerned than ever for his friend’s safety, he sat on the floor facing Tucker. When Trip decided to raise his head, Jon wanted to be able to see his face. “If you won’t tell me what’s wrong, would you at least let me get Phlox down here to make sure you’re okay?”

“I don’t need to see Phlox.”

‘Well, you need to see someone. This isn’t like you.”

“Get out an’ leave me in peace.”

“Trip, I’m worried about you. I just want…”

“I said, no!” Trip exploded. In one quick, lithe movement, he got to his feet and moved away from Archer. “Just leave me alone!”

Startled by the vehemence of his friend’s outburst, Archer snapped, “What in the hell is the matter with you?”

Tucker stood silently glaring down at him, fists clenched and jaw muscles working furiously. Scrambling to his feet, Archer was completely at a loss. This was not the same man who’d left Enterprise this morning. What in the hell had these people done to him?

“Did the Vulcans hurt you? Because if that’s what happened, I…”

“You never listen!” Trip shouted furiously. “Get out! I don’t need you and I don’t need Phlox!”

Sensing that the situation was getting out of control, Archer took a couple of steps toward Trip. He held out his hands appeasingly. “You need to calm down now. Just let me…” Tucker’s fist lashed out, slamming into Archer’s jaw. Stunned by the blow, the captain staggered, but managed to stay on his feet. Before he could raise his hands to protect himself, Trip sent a violent blow to his mid-section. Jon doubled over and another fist crashed relentlessly into the side of his face. Archer was just conscious enough to realize that he was falling. There was a moment of pain as his body struck the floor, and then nothing.

* * * * * *

Jon groaned and rolled over onto his side. For a moment he didn’t remember where he was or why he was on the floor, but then the image of Trip’s fist heading toward his face flashed into his mind and everything came back to him. Slowly pushing himself into a sitting position, he shook his head, trying to clear away the fog, but the pain only made him wince. Squinting slightly, he looked around the room.

Trip was sitting in the same place Archer had first seen him. His back was once again up against the wall with his legs drawn up to his chest, only this time he was staring straight at the captain. He appeared to be less agitated, but the misery he felt was clearly written across his tear-stained face.

“You pack quite a punch,” Archer said quietly as he felt his jaw. His tongue briefly explored the inside of his mouth, checking for damage. “I think you chipped a tooth,” he mumbled as his tongue moved back and forth over a rough place on one of his incisors. He shifted slightly to find a more comfortable position. “Do you want to tell me what that was all about?”

“Go ahead and court martial me,” Trip said shakily. “I don’t care.” Sniffing, he turned his head away from Archer.

Cautiously Jon scooted a little closer to his friend. “I don’t want to court martial you, Trip,” he said sadly. “I just want to help you. Why won’t you let me?”

“I told you I wanted to be left alone.”

“You warned me, and I didn’t pay attention. I’m sorry about that. But you have to know that there’s no way I’m leaving you in this condition. You need help, Trip.”

“I’m gettin’ help.”

“From the Vulcans?”

“Yeah, from the Vulcans,” Trip’s head snapped around and anger blazed again in his eyes.

Jon raised one hand, palm forward, in an attempt to pacify his friend. “Okay. I’m glad they’re helping you, but it’s pretty clear that something’s bothering you. Do you want to talk about it? I’m always ready to listen.”

“You don’t want to hear what I’ve got to say,” Trip answered tightly, “so why don’t you just go back to Enterprise?”

“I don’t think so.” Archer looked closely at the commander. He didn’t want to misjudge the situation again. “You’re obviously mad at me, but I don’t know why.”

Tucker sniffed and rubbed one hand angrily across his face, wiping away the tears.

“Whatever it is, we might as well have it out right now.” Jon pressed his lips together. He didn’t know what was going through his friend’s mind, but he was under no illusions that the next few minutes were going to be anything but unpleasant.

Trip’s eyes were riveted on Jon’s face. His right hand clenched and unclenched as he apparently fought to control himself. Just when Archer was ready to give up on getting his stubborn friend to talk, Trip whispered, “Do you know what it’s like to see yourself lyin’ dead in a coffin?”

Archer caught his breath and sat perfectly still. He’d lived in fear of this moment for almost two years. He knew he should have discussed Sim’s life and death with Trip while they were in the Expanse, but he could never bring himself to do it. From the moment the casket was shot out into space, he’d never even uttered Sim’s name. The guilt was still too overpowering. He should have realized that the event would be even more traumatic for Trip.

“I just stood there, lookin’ down at him,” Trip continued in an anguished voice. “I knew I was still breathin’, but how could I deny that that was me in that casket?”

“Trip, please…”

“After the funeral, nobody would talk about him. It was like he never existed. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore, and I broke into Phlox’s medical logs. That told me everything I needed to know.” Tucker stuck out his chin defiantly. “You took a part of me, made a copy, and then you threw him away!”

“That’s not the way it happened,” Archer shot back.

“The hell it wasn’t!” Trip shouted. “After the funeral, people came up to me and told me they were glad that I was feelin’ better, but I could tell that things had changed. They all knew Sim – watched him grow up. And then just like that, he’s gone and I’m all that’s left. I’m surprised they didn’t start callin’ me Lazarus. After all, it’s not every day ya get to see someone rise from the dead. It’s just too damn bad that Sim had to face the executioner to make it happen!”

“That’s enough!” Archer roared as he jumped to his feet. “I’m still your commanding officer, mister. I expect you to show me the proper respect.”

“Fine!” For a few tense moments, Tucker glared at Archer. Finally, he looked away. “Whatever you say. You’re the boss.”

“Damn it,” Archer muttered under his breath. Bringing his right hand up to his temple, he took several deep breaths. He knew better than to lose his temper. Trip had every right to be angry. Jon knew that if he was going to make things right with his friend, he was going to have to get himself under control, and fast, because he probably wasn’t going to get a second chance. “I’m sorry, Trip,” he said sincerely. “I know I let you down. Please let me explain.”

Tucker kept his face averted. He appeared to be calmer, but Archer could tell that the anger that had raged through him a moment ago was waiting just below the surface, ready to explode again. “Why did you do it?” Tucker finally asked plaintively. “I never wanted anyone to die for me. Why couldn’t you just let me go?”

Archer walked over to Trip. Cautiously, he sat down beside his friend and put an arm around his shoulders. “Trip,” he said in a soft, but firm voice, “I want you to listen to me.” Tucker tried to pull away, but Jon held on tightly. “When you were injured in that explosion and Doctor Phlox told me that you might not live, I felt as though a ten-story building had come crashing down on me. We had to stop the Xindi weapon, and in order to do that, I needed you alive. Phlox told me about the mimetic symbiot, and I jumped at the chance.”

“You had no right,” Trip choked out.

“I had no choice,” Archer shot back. “When Sim devised a way to move Enterprise out of that polaric field, I knew I’d made the right decision – the only decision. Your memories enabled him to do that. Without you, Enterprise would have been destroyed. Earth would have been destroyed. Don’t you understand how important you were to the mission?” Archer squeezed Trip’s shoulder. “Don’t you understand how important you are to me…to your family and friends…to Starfleet? So many people depend on you.”

“No!” Trip shouted. When he couldn’t break out of Archer’s grasp, Tucker threw an elbow into Jon’s ribcage. Surprised, Archer loosened his grip and Tucker scrambled to his feet. “Nothing can justify what you did! Sim wanted to live! He’d fight for his life just like I would!”

“You’re right,” Archer said as he rubbed his side. “Sim did want to live, but he knew he only had a lifespan of fifteen days. There was no proven treatment that could have prolonged his life. Sim finally accepted that if the operation was delayed, you would both die. He gave his life so that what happened to Lizzie wouldn’t happen to anybody else.”

“Phlox should have tried. There should have been something...”

“There was nothing anybody could have done. Phlox loved Sim like his own son. Believe me, he would have saved him if there had been a way. Phlox performed the operation because he realized that it had to be done.”

“How could you just stand by and watched him die?” Trip asked in an anguished voice.

Archer rubbed a trembling hand across his brow. Put into words, it sounded so cold. Did Trip really believe that he was some kind of monster? He was just an ordinary man who had been placed, by circumstances, in an impossible position. Yes, he’d stood by while another sentient being died, but it had to be done. He had to find a way to explain that to Trip? He had to make him understand or Sim’s death would always stand between them. He valued Trip’s friendship too much for that.

“Trip, do you have any idea how hard it was for me to watch Phlox press that hypospray to Sim’s neck, knowing that he’d never wake up again?” Archer asked in a strained voice. “I watched him grow up, too. Every day he looked and sounded more like you. There were times when I had to slip into sickbay just to remind myself that you and Sim were two completely different men.”

Jon swallowed hard as he fought to push from his mind the image of Sim lying down on the biobed for the last time. It was a memory that still haunted him late at night, when he was most defenseless. “A part of me wanted to rip the scalpel out of the doctor’s hand, but I knew I couldn’t do it. I stayed through the entire operation. I owed Sim that much, and a great deal more. Phlox did everything he could to keep him alive, but the surgery was just too much for him. When he took his last breath, it was like watching you die.” Archer paused momentarily, pressing an unsteady hand against his mouth. “Sim was dead, but you were alive, Trip. Don’t you see? We had to do it. It was the only way we could save you.”

Distraught, Trip turned away. “How am I supposed to live with this? He died because of me.”

Archer got to his feet and walked over to stand in front of his friend. Gently grabbing both of Trip’s arms, he said, “None of this was your fault. Blame me. Heaven knows, I blame myself. You did nothing wrong.”

“I wish I could believe you.”

“You can, but you have to try.”

“If I hadn’t gotten hurt…”

“You got hurt because you were doing your job. If you hadn’t shut down the warp reactor, Enterprise could have been destroyed.” Trip only shook his head. When he tried to pull away, Archer tightened his grip. “Remember, Sim didn’t die just for you. He died to keep everyone on Earth safe. But then that didn’t exactly come as a big surprise to me. I’ve known only two truly brave and selfless men in my life. One of them was Sim. The other is you, Trip.”

“Don’t say that.” Tucker spoke in an anguished voice, barely above a whisper. “Sim was brave, not me.”

“You ought to know by now, Commander, that it’s not a good idea to argue with your captain,” Archer countered as he gave his friend a gentle shake. He searched Trip’s face, desperately trying to gauge if his words were hitting home. Never in his life had Jon felt so helpless. Trip was coming unraveled right before his eyes, and he was partly to blame. What if he couldn’t make things right again?

Tucker covered his face with his hands, and then slowly pulled his fingers back through his hair. “It’s all too much. I can’t…”

“You’re exhausted,” Archer said gently. “I know it’s still early, but why don’t you try and get a little sleep? Maybe things will make more sense in the morning.” Slowly, Archer turned his chief engineer around and headed him toward the bed. The bounce in Trip’s step was gone; he moved sluggishly, like a beaten, broken man. A deep blue suit lay discarded on the bed. A portion of Archer’s mind registered surprise that the only garment in the room wasn’t Trip’s uniform, but that thought was quickly pushed aside as he scooped up the jacket and pants and deposited them on the table in the center of the room. Moving back to the bed, he raised the covers and Trip crawled in.

When he was settled, Tucker cast a guilty look at Jon. “I’m sorry I hit you.”

“I know you are, buddy,” Archer said, cautiously sitting down on the bed next to Trip. He tried to smile, but his heart wasn’t in it.

“You didn’t deserve that.”

“I’m not so sure. Maybe I did. Trip, I want you to promise me that the next time something is bothering you, you’ll come and see me so that we can talk it out.”

Trip scrubbed a hand wearily over his face. “Okay.”

Archer took a moment to gather his courage before continuing. “I’m hoping that you can find it in your heart to forgive me for giving the order to create Sim. I didn’t know what else to do. God help me, if I had it to do all over again, I’d do the same thing. You had to live, Trip. I couldn’t lose you.”

There was surprisingly little emotion in the blue eyes that stared back at him. It was as if all of Trip’s anger and guilt had finally consumed him from the inside out, leaving nothing but an empty shell. “I understand why you did what you did. In your shoes, I might have done the same thing. But don’t ask me to forgive you. Not now. I can’t do it.”

Archer felt his heart constrict. “That’s fair enough,” he said quietly. “Are you going to need some help sleeping?” Jon looked over toward the doorway. “They probably have a doctor somewhere around here.”

“Yeah, it probably wouldn’t hurt.”

Jon stood up and looked down at his friend. “If I can’t find a doctor, I’ll have Phlox send something down,” he said, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. “Get some rest.”

Without responding, Tucker rolled over and buried his face in the pillow.

Dejectedly, Archer retraced his steps, extinguishing all but two of the candles. Then he turned and left the room. He looked down the corridor and saw T’Pol waiting for him. When he reached her, she fell into step beside him and the two officers walked down the hall side by side.

“You are injured,” T’Pol said quietly.

Archer gingerly touched his swollen lip. “It’s nothing.”

“Your eye is beginning to discolor.”

“Damn,” Archer mumbled, carefully fingering the slightly swollen flesh below his left eye. “Maybe Phlox can do something about this before the meeting tomorrow. It’s going to be hard enough to convince the Vulcans to take us seriously. I can’t afford to show up looking like I’ve been in a bar fight.”

“I take it that your meeting with Mr. Tucker did not go well.”

“I‘d say that that was a major understatement.” Archer dropped his hand wearily to his side. Whatever small reserve of energy he’d had after the meetings with the Vulcans was now completely spent. “Trip took exception to a decision I made in the Expanse.”

“I see.” T’Pol pressed her lips together. It was obvious that she was as upset about Trip’s condition as he was. “Are you referring to Sim?”

“Yeah.” The captain pulled up. Reaching out, he lightly grasped T’Pol’s arm, bringing her to a halt as well. “I know I should have talked to Trip about Sim a long time ago,” Archer said ruefully. “Trip does such a thorough job of masking his feelings that it’s easy to overlook just how upset he really is about some things.”

“It would have been wise to discuss the matter with Commander Tucker,” T’Pol answered, “but you did have a great many other things on your mind. Perhaps now that the subject has been broached, both of you can finally put aside the guilt you feel and honor Sim’s memory.”

“I guess you’re right. Besides, a black eye is a small price to pay if this will help ease Trip’s mind.” Once again, Jon lightly touched the tender area just below his eye. “Actually, Trip surprised me. I didn’t think he could hit that hard. He must be spending some extra time in the gym.”

“I’m sure the commander regrets striking you,” T’Pol said softly. “He has had a difficult day.”

“I know Trip didn’t mean to hurt me,” Jon said wearily. “The pressure’s been building between us for a long time. I’m glad we finally got things out in the open.” His eyes wandered back to the room where his chief engineer lay. “What’s being done to help him, T’Pol?”

T’Pol followed his gaze, and then quickly looked away. “Commander Tucker spent some time today speaking with Torok, the High Priest. Torok has counseled many people over the years.”

“All Vulcan?”

“Yes,” T’Pol conceded.

Archer frowned. “Do you really think that he’s the best person to talk to Trip? Does this priest have even a basic understanding of how humans think, how we feel? Trip needs someone who can empathize with him – get him to open up. He doesn’t need to be told that he has to control his emotions. He’s kept things bottled up far too long as it is.”

“I believe that you are underestimating Torok, Captain. He may be a Vulcan, but he is very wise. I have spoken with him myself.” Archer squinted slightly as he concentrated on what T’Pol was saying. “My marriage to Koss was…sudden. It left me uncertain about the direction my life was taking, so, immediately after the wedding, I made the decision to journey to Mount Seleya to meditate. While I was here, I asked for an audience with the High Priest, and it was granted. It was most unexpected.”

“Unexpected? I thought you said that this priest counseled many people. Doesn’t he see everybody?”

“Torok is very selective about whom he sees.”

“But he’s willing to see Trip – a human?”

“Yes. Perhaps he is able to see the same positive attributes in Commander Tucker that you and I see. Whatever his reasoning, I believe that Torok only wants what is best for Mr. Tucker.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said confidently. “I drew comfort from Torok’s words. He helped me put things in perspective. But you must understand, Captain, that this will not be easy for the commander. As you say, he has kept his feelings bottled up for far too long. Today, he was forced to confront some painful memories he’d hidden away – hence his anger with you over Sim.”

The captain nodded his understanding. “Okay, T’Pol. I hope you’re right.”

As his anxiety level began to mount, Archer felt the need to move. He turned abruptly and headed down the corridor again with his first officer by his side. “Trip’s slipping away from us, T’Pol, and I don’t know how to stop it. If he can’t pull himself together, and fast, I’m going to have to transfer him back to Earth. He’s the best there is, but I need a chief engineer I can rely on. I’m not sure Trip’s that man anymore.”

“Do not give up on Commander Tucker just yet,” T’Pol said.

“Why did this have to happen now? There’s so much at stake. I need you and Trip at your best if we’re going to make these meetings with the Vulcans work. I was counting on…” Archer suddenly clamped his mouth shut and shook his head. This was getting him nowhere. He balled his hands into fists as he fought against a growing sense of hopelessness.

“I have to get back, T’Pol. Admiral Gardner wasn’t too happy that I left when I did. I’ll swing by Enterprise and see if Phlox can do something about my eye.” Archer made his way out to the landing. When he reached the head of the stairs leading down to the shuttle, he paused and looked over at his first officer. “I managed to get Trip to lie down, but I doubt that he’ll get much sleep without some help. Is there a doctor here or should I get Phlox to send down a sedative?”

“There is a physician here. I will see that he visits the commander.”

“Thank you, T’Pol. Whatever happens – good or bad – keep me informed.”

“Yes, sir. Rest assured that I will join you when Ambassador V’Lar reaches Vulcan in three days. I will bring Mr. Tucker along with me if he is well enough to participate in the talks. Try not to worry.”

Archer tried to smile, but it was a weak effort at best. He knew T’Pol was only trying to be optimistic for his benefit. As much as he’d like to believe otherwise, Jon knew that it would take Trip more than three days to pull himself together. He’d just have to manage without him.

“Take good care of him, T’Pol.”

With a tired wave of his hand, Archer started down the staircase, but as he descended, his pace slowed. Finally, he halted. He knew that his decision to create Sim would haunt him for the rest of his life. But his peace of mind was a small price to pay for saving Trip’s life. Without turning around, he confessed, “I’ve never regretted saving him, T’Pol. Not for a single minute.” With that said, he continued down the stairs and into the waiting shuttle. Without uttering a word of greeting, the pilot closed the hatch and proceeded to get underway.

“I’d like to make a brief stop at Enterprise before returning to the conference,” Archer said, making an effort to keep the fatigue out of his voice.

“As you wish,” the pilot replied neutrally.

Archer leaned back, resigned to the fact that he would never be able to get comfortable on the shuttle’s rigid seats. He had to hope that tomorrow would be better, because he couldn’t take too many more days like today. Sighing deeply, he turned his head and gazed disinterestedly out of the viewport.

If the talks with the Vulcans fell apart, he would feel a sense of personal failure, but he’d get over it. He knew he wouldn’t recover so quickly from being forced to relieve Trip of his duties. How could he, in good conscience, send his best friend back to Earth to be picked apart by a battery of Starfleet psychiatrists? It would mean the end of Trip’s career. And without Commander Tucker in uniform, Starfleet would be denied access to one of the greatest engineering minds of his generation.

And what about Jonathan Archer? What did he stand to lose? Only the companionship of a man he loved like a brother. He’d fought so hard for Trip, protected him on so many occasions, but without a little luck, that was all about to come to an end. He was the captain. This time he had to do what was best for Starfleet and for Enterprise. All he had to cling to was the wafer-thin hope that a Vulcan priest could pull off some kind of miracle. If that didn’t happen, if there was no miracle, then his hands were tied. This time, instead of saving Trip, he could, in fact, become the instrument of his destruction.

Part VIII

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