The Ring of Truth - Part 4

Fix the Finale Fic

The Ring of Truth

By Evalyn A.

Disclaimer: All Paramount’s, not mine, though they don’t deserve it.

A/N: It is assumed that although the overall historical events of TATV did happen, the moment-by-moment details of the events, as well as the personal interactions, would not have been part of the historical record. Therefore, the Enterprise-D holodeck recreation was a dramatization, fabricated as needed to make a better story. And hopefully, I have made a better story than the one they came up with.

********

Chapter 4.

Captain Archer strode out from behind his desk, beaming widely.

“T’Pol, you don’t know how glad I am to see you. It’s just not the same around here – no one to bounce things off of, and not much of anything to bounce, either.”

She pointedly glanced at the water polo ball sitting on the window ledge behind his desk.

He chuckled. “All right, I still bounce that a bit. Anyway, I’m really looking forward to getting out from behind this desk to have lunch with you and Phlox. I’ve found the perfect restaurant. Phlox should be here any minute, why don’t you have a seat while we wait?”

“I’m fine, Captain; the five days I spent in transit aboard the freighter have left me with a disinclination to sit more than necessary,” T’Pol replied, walking over to the window to once again admire the view of the bay. “I take it you are not quite ready yet for a desk job.”

Archer chuckled. “You can say that again. They’d better not be planning to leave me here long, or I’ll quit and set up a freighter business with Travis.”

At that moment, Phlox bustled into the room.

“T’Pol, Captain, so good to see you both!” he expostulated, beaming in that elastic manner he used when he emulated human good nature. “How was your journey, T’Pol? You’re back early, are you not? Surely you still have some leave remaining.”

“My journey was uneventful and contemplative, Doctor,” T’Pol replied. “I did return early, I had concluded all of my business on Vulcan, and there was much I needed to do here.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean you plan to go back to work,” Phlox chastised, “You need the vacation. As do you,” he pointed out, wagging one finger at Archer.

Archer shrugged, “They can’t run Starfleet without me,” he said, winking at T’Pol. “But you’re right about T’Pol. Do you have some plans?” he asked her, motioning them both out the door.
“No firm plans as of yet, but there are some items of unfinished business I will likely pursue,” she replied, vaguely. They walked down the sweeping spiral staircase and exited the main doors of Starfleet Command, Phlox taking the opportunity to regale them with tales of his family.

*******

“So,” Archer said, waving his half-eaten breadstick at T’Pol. “What have you been doing with yourself?” Phlox had finally run down, having exhausted the topic of all twenty-seven of his immediate family.

“I spent some time on Vulcan renewing old acquaintances,” she replied, “and seeing to my property and finances. It was a pleasant visit,” she concluded, which it had been, in truth, she told herself, until the dramatic conclusion.

“Just a visit?” Archer commented thoughtfully. “Not a trip home?”

She was somewhat taken aback by the question. After a moment, she inclined her head. “My former home,” she conceded. “Until I take up my new posting, I suppose I do not have a place I would call home.” She recalled how close she had been to tying herself to Vulcan again, and felt a pang of regret at the loss of the simple certainty of belonging there that she had been forced to forego.

“You could stay on Earth, you know. There’s lots of opportunity for you here, if you didn’t want to ship out,” Archer pointed out.

T’Pol delicately speared a leaf of lettuce and placed it in her mouth. After chewing precisely 15 times and swallowing, she replied, “It would be hard for me to feel at home anywhere but Enterprise, regardless.”

Phlox nodded, sagely. “It is the people that make it home,” he agreed. “Not the place. You do not have much family left on Vulcan.”

“No,” T’Pol agreed, briefly. There was an awkward pause as they all remembered the incidents of the Vulcan Civil War that had led to the death of her mother, and her divorce from Koss. T’Pol decided that this was a suitable opening.

“I visited with Trip’s parents yesterday.”

There was a moment of absolute stillness from her two dining companions. Phlox actually stopped eating with his fork halfway to his mouth. They exchanged the briefest of glances, and then Archer said, “That was considerate, I should have seen them more often since I’ve been here. How are they?”

“They are well,” T’Pol replied, keeping one eye on the captain and doctor while apparently concentrating on twirling her linguine. “In fact, their mood is quite positive, considering they lost their son only a few months ago.”

After another awkward pause, during which the laughter from the table next to them at the small bistro became quite raucous, Phlox said, somewhat hurriedly, “They’ve begun their healing process, quite a healthy response I assure you..”

He tries a bit too hard to explain their reactions, T’Pol thought to herself. I believe he is rattled. “Perhaps,” she continued. “But it did seem unusual. The grieving period for a parent on Vulcan would last many months more.”

Archer picked up from where Phlox had left off, his discomfort with the topic showing, “They probably had a good cry after you left,” he suggested. “Breadstick?” he offered, shoving the basket in her face.

She shook her head. “My pasta and salad are quite adequate, thank you. They did speak of him at great length,” she continued, not about to be driven off topic. “Perhaps you should visit them,” she indicated to Archer. “I’m sure they would appreciate the opportunity to speak further of him with you.”

Archer replied a bit awkwardly, “I’ll have to try to arrange something. How’s your meal, Doctor?”

“The squid is quite excellent,” Phlox replied in his ever-genial voice. “And so is the wine … a bit more would be appreciated,” he said jovially, indicating his wine glass, which Archer hurried to fill.

“His parents asked if I would visit the memorial while I was here,” T’Pol continued truthfully. “Would either of you care to join me after lunch? I believe you recommended some time away from a desk,” she noted to Phlox, as Archer looked about to protest.

Archer replied dryly. “I think he was suggesting some form of relaxation, not visiting a memorial.” He held up his hand as T’Pol was about to speak. “No, never mind, you’re right. I haven’t been there since ...” he paused, leaving his sentence unfinished. “I should go. Phlox?”

Phlox looked vaguely regretful. “Unfortunately, I did make an appointment to meet with Dr. Lucas after lunch. Otherwise I should have been happy to join you.” The remainder of the lunch passed in discussion of a variety of harmless subjects, T’Pol willing to wait to continue her campaign.

*********

The memorial was high atop Telegraph Hill, next to Coit Tower. T’Pol and Archer climbed the hill in companionable silence, and walked across the grass to where the Starfleet memorial waited.

It was an impressive chunk of granite, an abstract form several metres high that gave the suggestion of a launch into space, with shades of pink at the base turning to grey at the tip.

About the base were carved the names of each individual that had died in the line of duty while serving Starfleet. There were too many names – many that had served under Captain Archer, having died in the Xindi and Romulan conflicts. Archer stood on the far side of the monument, contemplating the first names that had been added seven years ago. The subsequent names had been added sequentially in such a manner that they wrapped around the monument. The last name added lay directly in front of T’Pol. She ran her fingers over the carving, gently tracing out each letter: CHARLES “TRIP” TUCKER III.

Thy’la, she thought. She closed her eyes momentarily, her need overwhelming her.

She heard a quiet movement next to her, and opened her eyes to see Archer looking at her sympathetically.

She said nothing for a moment, gathering herself. She turned to face him, back straight, arms clasped behind her. She pinned him with her gaze, and after a few seconds, when he began to look uncomfortable, she launched her attack.

“Where is he?”

Archer looked visibly shaken, and his eyes darted away for a moment.

“I – don’t know what you mean, T’Pol,” he replied after a moment, looking back at her, trying to look suitably perplexed but rather looking decidedly anxious.

“Please Captain, do not prevaricate. You have always been a terrible liar,” T’Pol castigated him dryly. “It is one of the reasons you have been such a successful negotiator. You can keep up a pretence for a short period, but in the end, you always tell the truth, no matter how unpopular it might be. A surprisingly rare attribute in a diplomat,” she noted.

He looked even more uncomfortable as she crossed her arms and shook her head, continuing. “As such, it is remarkable that you were able to pull off such a fabrication without my suspecting it until recently. You have my congratulations. However, now I know, and it would be better if you do not attempt to continue …” she forestalled his attempted interruption with a look that might be interpreted as slightly threatening. “Have you ever seen an angry Vulcan, Captain?”

Archer closed his mouth with a snap, and stood motionless for a moment like a deer in headlights. Then he turned to contemplate the memorial again for perhaps a minute. Finally he sighed and gestured vaguely. “You’re right. His name shouldn’t be there.”

T’Pol felt a thrill of exquisite relief at having her suspicions at last confirmed, although no sign of it crossed her features. It was important for Archer not to know how weak her hand truly was. “Go on,” she prompted severely.

“How did you find out?” Archer asked. She was unsure whether he was genuinely curious or was simply stalling, and she determined not to allow him time to develop an alternate story.

“I am here to hear your version of events,” she castigated him, tersely, and gestured to one of the benches. “Perhaps if you sat down, you would be more comfortable. I would expect this could take some time.”

He rolled his eyes, but acquiesced, and seated himself on the bench. “Aren’t you going to sit?” he indicated the seat beside him.

“As I told you Captain, I am happy to stand today,” she replied, unwilling to give up the psychological dominance she had taken by standing over him. “I suggest you start at the beginning,” she prodded.

“The beginning,” he murmured. “I suppose it was the day before.” He paused. “Malcolm got the call.”

Her mind raced, noting that Reed’s participation in the scheme was now confirmed, and then she made the connection. “His former employers.”

Archer nodded. Reed, like T’Pol, had been involved in covert operations before his time on Enterprise. “Trip was needed for a mission of vital security. And the existence of the crisis couldn’t even be suspected. So Trip had to disappear in a way that would leave no lingering questions about his absence.”

T’Pol contemplated this information briefly and sceptically. “I find it difficult to believe a plausible story could not be developed that did not involve his death.”

“There wasn’t time to make it foolproof,” Archer replied. “They felt this was the only solution.”

“And you went along with this?” she questioned, her tone sharp.
“Their methods may be questionable, T’Pol, but their intelligence has never been wrong yet,” Archer pointed out. Enterprise had dealt more than once with the covert ops group and each time, a serious crisis had been averted. “It was a major security issue that required immediate action, and they needed Trip. None of us was happy about it. But you know Trip, he couldn’t have lived with himself if something had happened that he could have helped to prevent,” Archer concluded, quietly.

“Why was I not told?” T’Pol asked, her tone now tending to glacial.

Archer squirmed. “T’Pol, we had to keep the number of people who knew to a bare minimum – Malcolm, Phlox and I were the only ones who knew. And we were expressly told in no uncertain terms not to tell you.”

“Why? What was this crisis?” she asked, accusingly.

Archer’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t know, T’Pol. And that’s the truth!” he insisted, at her steely expression. “I wasn’t told. And I don’t know where he is,” he added. “So there’s no point in asking me again.”

She looked at him, her composure clearly slipping to reveal her anger. “You assisted in arranging for his apparent death, with no idea why, or where he was going, to help a covert organization whose methods have been suspect every time we have dealt with them. Captain, I find that difficult to believe.”

He shook his head. “What can I say? It all happened so fast, we had to complete the scenario they’d devised so that it could be done while we were still far enough away from Earth for it to be plausible.”

She asked, in clipped tones, “So what really happened?”

“The ship that apparently boarded us was actually a ship sent to meet us. They beamed over the charred “alien” bodies, and beamed Trip off the ship. Malcolm made sure the corridors were clear so that no one saw anything of the incident, and fabricated the sensor logs. Phlox doctored the medical logs and took care of dealing with the bodies appropriately and generating some ashes for Trip’s family.”

“His family,” T’Pol interjected. “His parents did not know at the memorial service.” Their grief had been far too realistic.

“No, they didn’t,” Archer agreed. “But Trip had only agreed to co-operate on the condition that they be told as soon as possible. It was felt that they shouldn’t be told before the service, so that their reactions would be genuine. I told them right afterward. They weren’t too happy with me, or him,” he noted wryly. “I got a real earful that night.”

“I don’t doubt it, Captain,” T’Pol said frigidly. “If it were not important to me to remain a member in good standing of Starfleet, I would do more than that.”

Archer looked decidedly nervous, and asserted, “Honestly T’Pol, I’ve told you everything I know.”

She contemplated him for a long moment. “I believe you,” she finally replied, sitting down beside him on the bench. “As I said, you are not a good liar.”

He looked vaguely affronted, but decided that discretion was probably appropriate at this point and said nothing, waiting for her to speak.

“This crisis, it must not yet be over, nor can it have culminated in anything negative yet,” she mused.

“In all likelihood,” Archer agreed, looking slightly worried. “Although I’ve started to worry about how they’re planning to bring him back from the dead. What if they haven’t been able to figure that out yet? I suspect the whole removal plan was dreamed up pretty quickly, and they may not have even had an exit strategy.”

T’Pol stood abruptly. This was all the more reason to pursue this down another path as quickly as possible. “Thank you for your honesty Captain, even if it was somewhat belated,” she added acerbically.

“You can’t go around asking questions,” Archer warned her, knowing his former first officer too well. “He’s alive, and doing essential work for the security of Earth, maybe even the Federation. You need to leave it alone, T’Pol, or you could endanger him, and yourself.”

“I appreciate your concern, Captain. I do not intend to do anything rash,” she replied, quite honestly. Whatever she did, would be carefully considered and executed with the razor-sharp efficiency her years of covert ops training had taught her.

Archer looked dubious, but decided to let it drop. “Have we finished here?” He made the trip to the memorial each time out of duty, but he was clearly anxious to be gone.

“Yes, Captain. It is getting late, I expect the Admiralty is beginning to wonder about your whereabouts,” she said, firmly cutting short their visit. Another time, she would have taken the opportunity to spend more time with the Captain at his office, but her patience was stretched very thin. She needed time alone to plan further. They parted at the bottom of the hill, Archer hailing a taxi to take him back to Headquarters. Although the residences were nearby, T’Pol preferred to walk back, to give herself time to synthesize the new information and start to plan her next move.

*****

She had spent the next few hours in careful contemplation, and had made her decision on how to proceed. She was impatient to move on, but was forced by the realities of a heavily booked tourist season to wait till the next day to continue her travel to Kuala Lumpur.

She had already completed her plan, and unless she intended to sit at the airport for 14 hours, it made sense to use her time in the relative quiet of the Starfleet residence to focus her thoughts. However the sense of being on the cusp of a change that could once again throw her into a maelstrom of uncertainty was impossible to ignore. She decided to attempt meditation. But the white space that usually seemed clean, uncluttered, and peacefully inviting, today seemed sterile, cold, and isolated.

Her soul, alone for so long, once again yearned for its mate, and she cast out, reaching to feel the bond she had not sensed in years.

Part 5

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