To Boldly Go Once Again-Ch 19 Epilogue

To Boldly Go Once Again

By Eratta

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Epilogue

Enterprise’s engines gave out an hour after she witnessed the destruction of Columbia. It had been all Trip could do to order a course for Earth before retreating to the ready room, where he promptly collapsed into the guest chair. His whole body shook, but no sound would come, no tears would spill from his eyes. He maintained his position, down to the placement of his hands and feet, when he felt the impulse engine abruptly stop.

“Captain.”

Tucker turned his whole head toward the sound of his name to see Malcolm standing in the doorway.

“Engineering reports the engines are dead.”

Fitting, Trip thought hazily. Jonathon Archer was dead, as was his father. T’Pol. Only right that the engine they both loved more than life itself should join them. Trip wondered if he wouldn’t mind joining them too, come to think of it. T’Pol.

“Trip?” Malcolm prompted. “Aren’t you going to do something?”

Now Trip fixed the armory officer, his friend, with a look of pure rage. Do something? No, he couldn’t do any goddamn thing.

“We’re lucky they lasted us this long. They’re shot t’ hell.”

“So what do we do?” Again, Reed prompted. You’re the Captain. What are you orders? It was no surprise to see Tucker like this, he reflected. He was fairly certain his own countenance resembled that of the exhausted engineer. Heroes, the both of them, he tried to convince himself. It left a bitter crease in his forehead. We failed them, he mourned.

“I don’t know, Malcolm.” Came the reply. “You have the bridge.”

Reed’s cheek ticked, but if Trip saw it he gave no indication. The Englishman wanted to kick the American soundly, and was about to bite off a sharp retort. But sympathy got the better of him, and he turned away, leaving his friend to grieve in peace.

Reed proceeded back to his tactical station, doing his best not to look at the Captain’s chair or science consol.

“What did he say?” Sato asked. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her skin shiny and her hair in disarray.

Malcolm answered her with his eyes. Hoshi sighed, then began her report.

“I’ve routed as much power to sensors and communications as possible, but we’ve barely got a signal. I’ve sent out a dozen distress calls in every language I know.”

“So now we wait.”

The hydraulics of the turbolift hissed, and Travis Mayweather stepped onto the bridge. Hoshi saw him, dropped her earpiece onto her consol and raced to him. No one said a word as the two friends reunited, embracing in equal joy and despair.

“It’s good to have you back.” She said, brusquely wiping water off her cheeks with the back of her hand. He managed a smile for her, but by now his eyes had confirmed that which he feared. The Captain—Commodore, he corrected himself, and T’Pol were no more.

Hoshi returned to her station, and Travis ached to do the same. Cautiously, he approached the dark-haired ensign at the helm. She’s so young. Was I that young, all those years ago?

“If you don’t mind, ensign,” he began, pausing as her eyes widened at him, “I’d like to take over for a while.”

Wordlessly, the ensign rose, and Travis reclaimed the spot he would always think of as his. His heart ached, being back on this bridge after so long, with the tragedy hanging over it. But he belonged here, with Enterprise’s crew. Together, the crews of Starfleet’s finest ships waited for one last miracle.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first thought that came to T’Pol as the shuttle fell out of its mothership and sped away was that Archer had only prolonged her life by a few minutes, perhaps hours at most. She saw dozens of Suliban and Tholian ships through the porthole, all speeding away with her. They’d either all die in the aftershocks from Columbia or—

Her frantic thinking stopped, replaced by blind, mute panic as the shuttle tumbled violently, sending her crashing around it. With her arms and legs pinned, she was unable to break her body’s falls against the shuttle surfaces, and when her head smashed into the pilot’s seat she fell into darkness.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Lt. Sato had been listening to hard for the smallest, most faint sounds of life in their corner of space that the sound of a hail caused her to jump back from her consol in fright. Her vision blurred—when was the last time I slept?--- and she was so tired she couldn’t be sure she hadn’t imagined it. But no! There it was again!

“Commander!” She beckoned Reed over. He came to her, stood over her shoulder tensely as she listened.

“Who is it?” he demanded, ready to spring into action of some kind despite their utterly vulnerable condition at a second’s notice.

Hoshi’s face crumpled as she began to sob, and Malcolm’s blood ran cold.

“Who is it Hoshi? Suliban? Klingons? Xindi?!”

The comm. officer shook her head, breathing deeply to slow her sobs. The whole bridge was turned to her now, waiting to know their fate. Hoshi’s sobs turned to hysterical laughs before she caught herself, and managed to say,

“Vulcans.”

Malcolm was frozen for exactly one second. And in the next second he had taken Hoshi in his arms and kissed her soundly on the forehead.

“It’s the Vulcans,” Hoshi babbled breathlessly, “it’s a big ship, maybe a few hours away. What should I say?”

“Relay our coordinates, tell them to get here with all speed, and relay the message to Starfleet. Let them know.”

Sato blanched at the very idea of having to tell Starfleet Command their most famous member was dead.

“Just tell them Columbia and Enterprise’s crews are safe.” Malcolm clarified. He was already striding away when Hoshi frowned at the last part of the message she was hearing.

“Malcolm,” She exclaimed, “they say they’re reading a shuttle.”

Again Malcolm froze in his tracks, but this time the blood was pounding in his head.

“Not too far from us,” the petite woman continued, “human, they say.”

“One of Columbia’s.” Trip said.

Reed whipped around to look at the Captain. He hadn’t heard him emerge from the ready room.

“Tell them to bring it to us.” Trip commanded.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

T’Pol woke slowly, gaining one sense at a time as her eyes shifted beneath their lids. Warm. She was warmer than she’d been in so long. Pain, artificially dull, in her head. More pain flaring all over her body. At last, her eyes unsealed themselves. At first she thought she was dreaming. Having a nightmare about her final experience aboard the Seleya. It was an identical medical bay, like the Seleya’s had been when she was stationed aboard it. Strange. This didn’t feel like a dream.

A doctor appeared from behind a curtain, his eyes going to the status monitor above her head before they would meet her eyes.

“Where am I?” she asked him, her throat so dry it cracked. He produced a glass of water, and watched her struggle to sit up before placing it in her hand.

“The Navales.” was his answer.

“How long have I been here?”

“Less than one hour, but you were most likely unconscious for more than six. You sustained minor injuries in the human shuttle, but you will recover fully in a few days. What is your name?”

She glanced at him. “T’Pol.”

“How did you come to be in the shuttle?”

The Vulcan was about to answer him when she suddenly remembered in full. The Commodore. Enterprise.

“Where are we going?” she demanded.

“We are scheduled to rendezvous with the Earth ship Enterprise in a few minutes. I was told to rouse you before we made contact.”

T’Pol pulled the sheet off her torso and swung her legs to one side of the table, fighting to breathe through the nausea the sudden change in equilibrium created. She was clothed, she realized. A simple tunic and leggings that were too long. The doctor, to his credit, did not try to stop her from leaving sickbay.

“I will inform the Captain that you are awake.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

T’Pol had not known what to expect, but seeing Enterprise floating lifelessly on the port side of the Navales caused her stomach to clench painfully. She had nearly doubled over from the pain. Heat had seared the backs of her eyes and her mouth had trembled. The display, appropriate as her humans would have considered it, shamed her deeply aboard a Vulcan vessel. She did not like to remember how difficult it had been to regain the barest semblance of control ten years ago upon her re-entry to Vulcan society. But she did remember, and was becoming reacquainted with the feeling now. Shame. Of all the emotions she had experienced and identified, this was her least favorite.

For three days now, she had been caught between the two worlds she knew, adrift as the human ships had been. She had not believed it when Captain Tovek related Starfleet’s orders to destroy Enterprise, and insisted on speaking to a representative herself. She had been angry when it turned out to be true, and cut off the communication rudely before she betrayed her condition to the human so very far away. She had not watched the destruction of the ship she called home, the ship that had witness the changes that had taken place within her.

T’Pol walked through the corridors without seeing them, the layout remembered in her body from a lifetime before. She had kept to sickbay and the area set aside for the humans, these last three days. Walking amongst them, talking quietly to those courageous enough to speak to her.

They were halfway back to Earth.

She was relieved that casualties were few, and most would recover well from their injuries. Captain Ruiz himself was likely to make a good recovery, Dr. Phlox had informed her. The Vulcan medical team had been able to prevent an aneurism.

“Everything all right?”

Lt. Sato had fallen in step behind her. T’Pol ignored the fact that she hadn’t heard her footsteps.

“Yes. And you?”

“As well as can be expected, I guess.” The younger woman paused, and T’Pol wished she would keep her thoughts to herself. She knew what Hoshi wanted to ask her next. But she held her tongue.

“Have you seen Trip?”

The Vulcan’s heart squeezed, but her face remained smooth.

“No.”

They had reached the junction. They part beyond was respectfully closed off to the humans, being the living quarters of the junior Vulcan officers. T’Pol had been given a room there, and though she wasn’t sure whether she preferred to stay with the humans, she had accepted it without issue.

She continued on, while Hoshi stopped and watched her round the corner. Long after the Vulcan had disappeared from sight, the linguist stayed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Three days. And he hasn’t seen me. He hates me.

T’Pol knelt on the floor of her room, trying to meditate.

What was it he said to me once? Do, or do not. There is no try, she remembered wryly. The wisdom had taken her aback, and were it not for his ridiculous grin she would have doubted her assessment of the exasperating man. Of course, the words had come from a movie. Naturally.

T’Pol wished he would see her. He wasn’t even present for the debriefing. She had told their story—hers and Archer’s—to Commander Reed, who looked back with kind but professional eyes. She wanted someone whose feelings mirrored her own. She wanted Trip.

It’s for the best.

No matter what she told herself, she couldn’t help her imagination running away from the reign she tried to impose on it. Her quarters, with her candles and clothes, and the soft chime… She could almost hear it now, almost…

The announcement that sounded to her right was definitely not the one in her mind. It belonged to the time before, the time she couldn’t return to and yet couldn’t outrun. Irritation flared as she straightened.

“Enter.”

The hesitation gave him away. No Vulcan would hesitate like that. It a wonder someone didn’t chase him back to the human section. She was half standing when the door opened.

He looked terrible, like he’d aged several years in the days since she’d seen him last. More frail than she’d ever seen him. But he’s here.

“Hello.” She offered, moving back into the room, away from the light spilled across the threshold.

Trip entered, his movements stiff and jerky. So, he too was irritated, scowling at his boots. T’Pol steeled herself for the altercation that was to come. What issued from him was not what she expected.

“I just can’t win.”

The Vulcan blinked.

“I was all steamed up. Been working on building it for the last three days. Wanted to give you a real lashing. But you, you damn…woman… just drain the fight right out of me!”

So surprised was she that T’Pol spoke without thinking.

“We used to argue all the time.”

Blue eyes burned at her.

“That was before I loved you.”

T’Pol pursed her lips, schooled in this new lesson of pain. The word “love” could elicit feelings as negative as they could positive, apparently.

“It’s only natural you’re angry.” She told him coolly.

Trip’s eyes narrowed and he stepped closer, one index finger pointed at her throat.

“Don’t you dare go all icy on me. All cool and emotionless, or so help me I will do something we’ll both regret.”

T’Pol was suddenly tired, and wanted to be alone. She turned away from Trip, taking a seat at the little desk.

“Why did you come here?”

“To yell at you.”

“Which you clearly cannot do.”

“Not for lack of tryin’.”

His shifting, the way he bit his lip, all of his body language was so obviously pointing to his real underlying motivator. The scientist told herself that it was her fatigue that prevented her from seeing it sooner.

“You’re feeling guilty.” She said. “You shouldn’t. I was the one who couldn’t save him.”

Trip’s figure sagged heavily into the bed, his torso folding forward until his elbows rested on his knees, his face in his hands.

“There was nothing you could have done.” She reiterated. T’Pol longed to touch him, smooth her hand through his hair, coax him out of his depression. But she stayed in her seat, not sure how he would react to her advances. He still confuses me, she mused. Odd, how that knowledge provided the most comfort she could remember for some time.

“You couldn’t do anything either.”

“Mr. Reed told you?”

“Hoshi. Said you were tied up when the Cap’n hustled you over to the shuttlepod and launched it.”

“Yes.”

T’Pol peered at him, confused. This much guilt over not being able to save the Commodore was…disproportionate. Something else was at the root. She couldn’t divine what it was.

“You did everything you could,” she began, “you completed the mission, kept both crews safe.’

Tucker nodded.

T’Pol didn’t know what to do. Too much and she’d risk him closing off. The irony of the reversal of their usual roles was not lost her on. But unlike Tucker, she could wait. And so she did. They sat in silence across from one another, T’Pol silently counting the minutes. It wasn’t long before his nature won, and Trip whispered,

“I miss ‘im.”

He was close to emotional collapse. She could feel it.

“I miss him too. I—I’m sorry I couldn’t save him. For Earth. And you.”

Trip wept bitterly.

“Oh God,” he said thickly, “Oh God, I’m such a bad man.”

T’Pol, alarmed at this behavior and the words that accompanied it, started to rise. But Trip kept talking, so she stayed tense, ready to support him at a moment’s notice.

“When they said they found a shuttle, I was sure it was both of you. Another ridiculously lucky, skin of the teeth save. But then they told us it was you. Only you.”

T’Pol felt ill.

“And I—“ Trip hiccupped, “it was like I was being pulled apart. One half of me thanked God it was you, and the other…”

“Stop, Trip.” T’Pol whispered. She couldn’t bear to hear anymore.

Trip gulped and stared at her, worry etched across his red face. And instantly, he knew what she was thinking. She was already starting to rise, to move as far away from him as possible.

Not this time.

“T’Pol,”

“Please,”

“Uh uh.”

He caught her up in his arms and brought his nose to hers.

“Trip,”

“I wouldn’t have been able to choose.” He breathed, “if I could only have saved one of you, I couldn’t have done it. But he chose. Jon chose, T’Pol.”

Blue eyes bore into brown.

Trip’s mouth caught T’Pol’s, the salt from his tears mingling as lips melted together. T’Pol was lightheaded as his arms encircled her, crushing her protesting ribs to him. His mouth was everywhere; her mouth, nose, ears, forehead, cheeks. She heaved deep breaths, and Trip’s heart felt like it beat for the first time in days when her breasts rose against his chest.

“I love you.” He said. “For so long, T’Pol, I’ve loved you. I’ll never get over it, so don’t tell me that I can forget you. I didn’t, and I won’t. You’re all I have left.”

“Trip,”

“We can make it work. We have to make it work. Otherwise Jon’s—Jon’s death…”

She silenced him a finger, and slowly nuzzled the pulse point at his neck.

Safe, she thought. Right. The alarm rose within her, as always, but this time she did not try to hide it. This time, she told him.

“I’m dangerous.” T’Pol said, eyes serious. Trip regarded her, knowing she meant it. “I could hurt you.”

He took his time before replying, making sure she could see how clear his eyes were, how gravely he meant his answer.

“I know. And I don’t care.”

“For Jon.”

“For Jon.” Trip affirmed.

The flicker in her eyes ignited their passion, and in a frenzy neither knew they had the stamina for, they coupled. Time stopped for them as they rejoiced in each other, celebrating life, second chances. One or twice tears appeared, though who they came from the two would never know. Some time later, as she lay tucked into the curve of his sweaty body, T’Pol lay her hand possessively on Trip’s sternum.

“Mine.” She whispered.

In the dark, Trip smiled.

The End

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