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Vulcan for Intimate-epilogue

Author - John O.
Fan Fiction Main Page | Stories sorted by title, author, genre, and rating

Vulcan for ‘Intimate’

By John O.

Rating: R for violence and a bit of sexin’
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek characters/names/fans’ souls/etc. No copyright infringement is intended nor profit gained. Only literary immortality.
Genre: Adventure/AU/Romance


AN: Thanks to online Latin translators, Wikipedia’s endless wellspring of information, Samantha Quinn for her wonderful beta skills, Distracted for her kind and brutal honesty, and Y2kelly and JustTrip’n for inspiration and creative assistance. And of course to all of you for reading!

Oh and, of course, my ever-inspirational muse, the Luscious Lady of Logic herself, Miss T’Pol. And she who gave her tantalizing and brilliant life, The Goddess That is Jolene.


I didn’t do Archer’s little bio at the end because we already have one in IAMD and I basically tried to stick to that, and there’s no sense in writing it twice. Bio’s at the end will fit with the context of the last scene.




Epilogue

Day 509

Bridge

“Captain, we’re picking up a very faint distress call. It has a Starfleet signature, but…”

The Captain’s chair swiveled to meet the eyes of the chief engineering officer as he punched away at the console, entering several commands.

“Commander?” he inquired. It was unlike his chief engineer to have trouble evaluating a simple distress call.

“The security protocol doesn’t recognize the signal’s carrier wave,” he explained with detachment as he squinted in confusion at the readouts in front of him. The Captain mused to himself as he squinted in thought.

“Could it be an old code?”

The engineer shook his head uncertainly.

“It would have to be pretty old,” the engineer responded doubtfully as he continued to clean up the transmission.

“There’s some kind of chronometric interference, sensors are having trouble isolating it.”

“There,” he declared.

“It’s coming from the fourth planet of the Beta Tauri system. It’s audio only.”

The Captain nodded. “Put it through.”

“Shuttlepod two to ---rprise, this is Com----r Tucker! We’ve lost engines and ma--- power is failing –not en--- injuries. Need em--- beam --- now! Tucker to Enter------”

The Captain stood with alarm and his face turned white. The bridge sat rapt with silence as a few knowing faces made ghostly stares at one another in disbelief.

“That’s all there is, Captain. We can’t respond,” the engineer informed him.

“A Shuttlepod?” Ensign Tackett at Ops asked in disbelief.

“Time to arrival at maximum warp?” the Captain interrupted.

“Approximately forty hours, sir,” the helm officer responded.

“Sir, that system takes us almost back to Earth. The Shenandoah is just a few hours away at—”

“No.” The Captain responded firmly. “I think it’s only appropriate we find out what—or who, may be down there, ourselves,” he said as his mind wandered and contemplated the possibilities.

“Set a course,” he ordered, breaking his reverie.

“Aye, sir. Maximum warp.”

“Engage.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“I am as responsible as you,” she insisted. The breath of her skin tickled him as her cheek pressed against his chest. She rose and fell with the rhythm of his breathing as the afternoon air blew across the patches of naked skin that peaked from the corners of the blankets.

“The hell you are!” he countered angrily, though the loving stroke of his fingers through her hair didn’t miss a beat. There was a hint of consolation in his voice as his fingers stopped and rested at the base of her neck. The warmth of her breast beat against his cooler human skin as she tightened her grasp around his torso.

“I touched your mind and you acted impulsively because of me. It is the only logical explanation for your behavior and the blackout you suffered afterwards.”

“That’s ‘horsehit, T’Pol. I killed… I did what had to be done because he was out of his damn mind, I saw him raise the phase pistol so I moved.”

“You began to move before he raised the pistol, and humans are not capable of sensing such premonitions. The only logical—”

“Screw the goddamn logic, T’Pol, ok? It was me. I did it, not you! It was my choice,” he insisted as he turned down to her and softened his voice. He felt bad for shouting at her and kissed her forehead.

“I’m sorry. But I won’t let you beat yourself up over this.”

”You’re not a violent man,” she insisted, looking up into his eyes. “Without the influence of mind-altering psychotic agents or a telepathic influence, I don’t believe you’re capable of taking an innocent life,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“How can you be so sure?” he asked.

“I am Vulcan,” she responded. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that one.

“To protect you, you’re damned right I am capable,” he insisted firmly. “Besides, he wasn’t about to be innocent.”

He took her chin and leaned up to her but she was out of reach. A few inches away from his lips, her eyes watched his with slight amusement as he strained to lift himself up but could not under her weight. When she was satisfied, she crossed the remaining gap with her lips.

“Anyway,” he murmured, a long moment later. The soft texture of her lips broke their hot seal against his mouth and moved down his chin. He chuckled as she ventured further south, until she came to his muscular lower abdomen and opened her mouth wide.

“Wait a second,” he begged in between gasps. She looked up with an innocently curious stare that was even harder for his anatomy to ignore than the soft breasts that were tickling his thighs right about now. She had a terrible way of getting to him just when he least expected she could, with passion she could only borrow from his human libido. He groaned through the disappointment of desisting and pulled her up to meet his eyes once more.

“What do you think happened to him?” he asked, derailing the steamroll of her advance. She blinked for a moment. Due to the bond, he heard her thoughts and the ordered intellect that came into focus as she re-Vulcanized provoked an attraction as powerful as her amazing curves.

“His face was covered with severe plasma burns, and his uniform was torn and burned,” she recounted as he nodded. “Therefore, it would be logical to assume he was present during a power surge in some kind of equipment.”

“There’s not a piece of ‘equipment’ in sight. So where in the hell…?” he wondered, shaking his head.

“Wait!” Trip exclaimed.

“Do you think he could have found the field generator?” Trip supposed.

T’Pol lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

“It is possible. It may be the only logical explanation for the readings I took, in fact,” she replied.

“What do you mean?”

“This morning my scanner picked up higher particle readings than normal from the field generator, while we were burying Ensign Mueller. They seemed to emanate from his body, but I believed the source to be from within the ground at the time.”

“And if he found the generator and was exposed to the tachyon radiation,” he continued. “He could’ve carried traces back with ‘em,” he smiled.

“Well that’s great, you can follow the stronger readings and we can find the outpost and hopefully send a distress call, right?” T’Pol’s less-than-enthused reaction sapped his spirits immediately after asking.

“The field readings seem to have disappeared completely. I thought perhaps my scanner was malfunctioning,” Trip nodded expectantly.

“However, its self-diagnostic appears to indicate it is functioning correctly. The only logical conclusion based on the ensign’s injuries and the other evidence, is that he indeed found the field generator and disabled it. By any means necessary, from the appearance of his condition,” she replied soberly.

Her eyes darted away from his as he scowled and an upwelling of anger prepared to burst. Instead of rebuke, she acted before he exploded in anger for Mueller and took his bearded cheek in her hands, kissing him.

He took her lips in more ferociously than before as his anger with Mueller bubbled out and he rolled T’Pol over, planting her arms above her head. He couldn’t believe the bastard Mueller.

His sick, deranged rampage could cost us any chance of escape! The bastard!

He kissed and sucked the bare skin between her breast and shoulder before moving back to her face. She nearly smiled as his eyes fell on hers, he paused, and the anger sizzled away, leaving only passion and love behind. He took her kiss, teased her tongue more slowly than before, but the languishing intensity made up in duration and intimacy.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungle

Day 510

“It is still possible that I may retrace his movements from the camp back to his previous location,” T’Pol informed her mate as they strode through the low grass in a valley rimmed by waist-height jungle foliage.

“I thought you said the field was gone?”

“I cannot track his movements based on the radiation he encountered as it has dissipated. However, I can track his movements manually,” she replied as she searched the grass under them.

“You mean like a tracker?” Trip asked in surprise. Somehow, knowledge of that talent hadn’t come through the bond or the meld sessions.

“Yes. I have not always worked with the Science Directorate,” T’Pol informed him casually as he quickened to return to her side. She knelt at a stump, moving her eyes through the dirt and grass expertly before standing.

”This way,” she insisted.

Damn. Dad’s old bird-dog’s got nothing on my woman… Trip thought with a smile.

T’Pol turned curiously.

“Bird dog?” Trip laughed as he looked skyward for a way to explain.

“Well back in the old days, humans used to hunt with dogs called blood hounds. They’d sniff out a scent and take a hunter right to the prey.”

“Canines on your planet have a more acute sense of smell than humans?”

Trip nodded. “That’s how Porthos always knows you’re comin’ a mile away,” he laughed. Her eyebrows insisted she was not amused.

“Hey I think ya’ smell good!” he pleaded.

“To return to the subject of your inquiry,” she countered. “I was trained as a security officer by the Security Ministry before my posting on Enterprise.”

“Huh. How come I never saw anything about that in our,” he moved his hands near his head.

“Melds,” he used the word unsurely.

“It is not a period of my life I am fond of recalling,” she admitted. Sensing his misstep, she stopped and turned back to him.

“One day, I will show them to you. I promise, t'hyl'a.” His lips turned up slightly and he regained his jovial saunter up to return to her side.

“Regardless,” she replied. “You always expressed more subconscious interest in my childhood; I thought it more favorable to the bonding experience to show you those memories first.”

“And you did have a lot of ‘em.”

“I am, after all, thirty-two years older than you.” She informed him coolly.

“That would make you…” Trip did the math.

“Sixty-six years old on my next birthday,” she replied.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

“I can’t believe you told me that,” he gaped.

“What do you mean?” she asked nonchalantly.

“I’ve been tryin’ to get you to tell me your age since we left space-dock. Why now?”

“To Vulcans, some information is considered ‘intimate’.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Intimate,” he repeated. He baited her with a cocky smile but she merely turned and resumed her way down the trail as he tailed her.

“Who’d a thought?” he mused.

“Indeed.”

“Hey, look!” Trip pointed to a metal surface a hundred meters away as it caught the sun and glinted for a split second.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day 511


A crash followed by a loud metal clang echoed through the small chamber. T’Pol winced and touched her ear in pain.

“Sorry, hun.”

Trip kicked the component and cursed at it, hands on his hips in defeat, as he looked over the gaping, black hole in the console at the center of the room. It towered up from the center and connected with the ceiling five meters up, while the rest of the small control room was empty. A single door opened to the room and was stuck halfway open where Mueller had apparently left it. The console was completely dead and the only illumination in the room came from the rays of sun that poured in through the doorway.

“The thing’s hopeless. Even if I had a clue how this stuff works, I doubt I’d be able to fix it. He really did a number on it,” he mumbled tersely.

“The technology is indeed, perplexing,” she acceded. He shook his head again, wiping a bare arm across his forehead in a futile attempt to relieve himself of the perspiration beading across his brow. The season was warming up once again and the need for sleeves had disappeared months ago when the first heat wave came. His beard, while easier to manage with the rudimentary survival tools they had, made the excessive heat in the tiny control room unbearably irritating to his skin.

“It’s like a damn oven in this tin can, I’m gonna’ get some air,” he sighed, exiting the control room. T’Pol followed him out. The sun came down on them like a spotlight, but even the lukewarm breeze felt like an arctic blast after an hour in the cramped, unventilated control room that had been abandoned for millennia beyond count.

“What in the hell do you think they were doin’ here, anyhow? Think there was some sorta’ civilization, or some kind of outpost?” he wondered aloud.

“It is an intriguing curiosity,” T’Pol agreed, squinting into the sun-swept horizon. There was a long pause before either spoke.

“I wanted to take you home,” Tucker said, quietly. T’Pol turned to look into his eyes but he continued to stare out over the landscape. She stood rigidly at his side, hands clasped at her back as if still on duty, observing ‘the Commander’ as if still on the bridge of the Enterprise.

“I mean my home,” he clarified. T’Pol sighed almost imperceptibly and moved closer to his side.

“I, too, was eager to show you my home on Vulcan.”

Tucker turned round to face her, startled from his thoughts when she touched his arm. He reached out, allowing his fingers to delve into her chestnut brown hair as it fell down to her back, cupping the nape of her neck and pulling her closer.

“I suppose if I had to find a person to spend the rest of my—”

“Trip!” T’Pol called out as her eyes spotted something over his shoulder. She pulled away, pointing down the valley several meters. A trio of silvery transporter halos fizzled in and out of phase, leaving three men standing in the brush looking up at Trip and T’Pol. The three men paused for a moment, pulling out handheld scanners and inspecting the readouts before proceeding. As they approached, T’Pol instinctively tensed and her posture became slightly defensive.

“Commander Tucker?” the man in the front asked.
“Yes,” he answered quizzically.

Trip and T’Pol shared a curious look.

They look human, T’Pol sent him. Tucker nodded and turned to whisper back before he opted for the silent mode that, for him, required more concentration.

Except his eyes… Trip added, referring to the leading officer, whose strange blue eyes drew their attention.

I don’t recognize their uniforms, either, Trip thought, as they neared. He appears to be he senior officer, T’Pol mentioned, noting the three round pips on the dark-skinned, blue-eyed man’s collar.

They almost look like ours… Trip thought. The away team stopped a few paces away

“Not that I’m not glad to see you all but do ya’ mind if I ask… who you are?” Trip asked with a congenial smile, slapping his hands together.

The lead officer hesitated, then tapped a device on his chest.

“Captain, we’ve found the survivors of the shuttlepod. I think you better come down here yourself.”

<< "Very well, Commander. I’m on my way.” >>

A few moments later, another transporter halo appeared and fizzled away, leaving a distinguished looking, older man standing in its place. He moved forward with an anxious smile and extended his hand towards Tucker. What Tucker heard next came out with an English accent not all that dissimilar from Malcolm’s, but lighter.

“Commander Tucker, I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the…” he paused, sparing a look at T’Pol who watched curiously.

“…Of the starship Enterprise.” Trip took his handshake unsurely, gaping in confusion while T’Pol arched an eyebrow.

“Has Captain Archer been relieved of command of the Enterprise?” T’Pol asked, doubtfully. Picard paused a moment.

“Not exactly,” he answered cryptically. T’Pol discarded the question as a more pertinent one piqued her interest.

“How did you detect our presence?”

“We heard your distress call,” an ensign spoke up from the away team.

“But we sent that transmission when we crashed, almost… two years ago,” Tucker replied. The away team shared a look that fell back on the captain.

“Commander, there is much to discuss, but perhaps we should return to the Enterprise first for any medical attention, a change of clothes?” Picard offered. Tucker shared a look with T’Pol before nodding to the captain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


“I can’t believe it,” Trip muttered, staring into the star field as points of light blew by.

“Twenty-three-eighty-one,” he repeated once again.

“I wouldn’t believe it!” he snorted. “But here we are,” he gestured at the 24th century guest quarters around them as he turned to face T’Pol.

“On a Starfleet ship, two hundred years after I was even born!” T’Pol came to his side to comfort him as he turned to gaze out the port hole again. After beaming up to the Enterprise-E, they had been given civilian clothes and basic medical care, although the chief medical officer was impressed with their state of health.

“Commander LaForge believes that the chronometric generator trapped our distress call into a temporal loop. When Ensign Mueller destroyed it, the signal propagated in the present.”

“I should be down in engineering, marveling at these engines,” Tucker sighed as he turned to T’Pol.

“But, I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” he said, helplessly.

“Indeed, we could hardly resume our commissions,” T’Pol replied with a hint of humor in her voice. It brought a smile to his lips as he paced the room.

“Everyone we ever knew is dead and—“ suddenly the door chimed.

“Come in,” Trip replied. Captain Picard forced a courteous smile as he entered with a pad in one hand.

“Commander,” he addressed Tucker. He opened his mouth to correct himself but paused. “T’Pol,” he greeted her. T’Pol was taken aback before the captain stepped forward.

“You see, I’m just not sure what to call you,” he confessed to T’Pol. She lifted an eyebrow and Tucker perked up curiously.

“I was wonderin’ about our ‘previous lives’,” he joked half-heartedly.

“Yes, well, I thought you might, so I took the liberty of doing a little research,” he inhaled awkwardly as he prepared a practiced explanation. He handed them the pad.

”I realize this must be all very overwhelming,” Tucker nodded. Picard continued.

“Commander LaForge has a theory on how you may have moved through time,” he began. Tucker nodded, cutting in.

“Somethin’ about a chronometric particle field and temporal displacement,” he looked to T’Pol for a clue.

“I guess some ancient race left the iron on and we got stuck in a time displacement field?”

“Essentially,” Picard nodded through a slight grin.

“Fascinating,” T’Pol replied with a candid eyebrow.

“As for your lives, I’m afraid there’s a lot missing from our history books. Starfleet lost a great deal of information about your era when the Romulans attacked San Francisco in 2157. It was a,” he paused. “It was quite a tragic loss of life. Immediately after the war ended, the Federation came into being and many historians worked to preserve what they could from the past but, from what I understand, much of Starfleet’s database was irretrievable and only what was on hard copy could be recovered. We still have bits and pieces, but many personal details were lost. We found that, at one time,” he paused.

“There was a holographic record of your lives up through the signing of the Federation charter but it was…” he shook his head. Tucker looked on quizzically.

“Well it was total fiction, none of the facts matched actual events, it seems some holo-novel author composed a facsimile of the NX-Enterprise for historical review but the characters were simply made up,” he recounted.

“Somebody wrote a book about us?” Tucker asked incredulously.

“I don’t think you want to see it,” Picard warned him affably.

“However, it seems that many things pertaining directly to the Federation were recovered through historical interview and research. But personal records, detailed mission logs, much of this information was never recovered and consequently…” he broke off. “We don’t know for sure much about what happened to either of you after about 2154. The last official log from the Enterprise recovered was one of Captain Archer’s.”

“What did it say?” Trip asked. “I mean about us,” he corrected. The captain steeled himself as he recalled the log.

“It is a record of your commission as a Starfleet Commander,” he gestured at T’Pol. She met Trip’s gleeful gaze as his lips played into a smile as he goaded her telepathically.

Looks like we finally got to you, huh?

Apparently.

I guess I do really grow on you, don’t I?

Outwardly, T’Pol ignored Trip’s tele-proddings and reminded him that the captain stood in front of them, still reciting what history of their era was still known.

“What happened to the Enterprise, weren’t her databanks safe if they weren’t on Earth during the attack?” Picard grew more sullen.

“Unfortunately, the Enterprise did not survive the war. It was destroyed under the command of Captain Reed at the Battle of Cheron. At that time the war was going very badly for us, until then, of course,” Picard replied. Tucker and T’Pol looked back quizzically and Picard realized they knew nothing of the outcome of Cheron.

“Well, Captain Reed was posthumously awarded the Starfleet Cross for gallantry in combat when he—“Picard paused.

“There is a great deal for you to catch up on and…” he trailed off. “I should leave you to it,” he replied quietly, turning to leave. Tucker began to thumb through the data pad.

“Thank you, Captain,” T’Pol turned. Picard stopped to face them.

“For finding us.” The captain nodded.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he added, bringing an uncharacteristic smile to his stoic face.

“We were able to track down a living relative,” he informed them.

“Your granddaughter’s name is Celes Tucker. She’s a linguist teaching Vulcan at Starfleet Academy,” Picard told them with a slight grin. Tucker balked and furrowed his brow.

“Did you say granddaughter? Aren’t there a few generations missing there?”

”No, not exactly,” he replied cryptically. “She is Vulcan,” Picard continued. They nodded and he turned to exit.

When he was gone, T’Pol turned to Trip as he was already anxiously paging through the scant pages of history left for them to piece together their old existences, friends, and family. He stopped on something, and his mouth began to drop and slowly turned into a smile as his eyes drew down the page.

“Perhaps you wish to share with your mate what information you have found, t'hyl'a?” T’Pol asked as he hogged the pad. He laughed, handing the pad over to her as he rested his chin on his fist and watched her scan the page.

“This is from Captain Archer’s personal log,” she noted.

President Archer’s log, you mean,” he laughed, shaking his head. “It’s just a little something Jon mentions being late for. Something of ours,” he baited her.

“Indeed.” She continued down the page until she reached the operative line and read it to herself once again. Still perplexed, she looked up to Trip and found a sparkling pair of blue eyes just waiting for her to ask. She waited, hoping he would volunteer the information as she clearly read the words aloud through the bond.

“What is a ‘baby shower’?” she demanded.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lt.Cmdr Gary Mueller (RET): (2120-2188) – Decorated officer of Starfleet, served aboard the Enterprise until 2153 when he transferred to the NX-02 immediately prior to the Delphic Missions. Awarded the silver star for bravery following the Siege of Romulus. Retired from Starfleet after the War. Treated for schizophrenic psychosis. Died of neural hemorrhaging during a post-traumatic stress episode brought on by capture and torture during tour of the Romulan War.

Lt. Hoshi Sato (RET): (2128-2227) – Decorated officer of Starfleet, accomplished linguist, awarded Starfleet Legion of Merit for revolutionizing linguistic systems. Served Earthside during the Romulan War as chair of the Linguistics Department at the newly formed Starfleet Academy, teaching Romulan. Retired in 2161 to raise a family with her husband, Admiral Jonathan Archer. Passed at the age of 99 of a heart attack while teaching in native Kyoto, Japan.

Elizabeth Ann Tucker (DEC): (2127-2152) – Daughter, sister. Architect, killed during the Xindi attack on the Florida-Caribbean Region in 2152. Her name is one of 7,135,255 on the Tower of Tears Monument on the grounds of the Kennedy Space Museum, built in memory of the lives lost. Built April 5th, 2163 with the motto inscribed, “subsisto devoveo conitor ad astra – Facing sacrifice to reach the stars.”

The END.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The road goes ever on and on… but we’re rounding the last bend of this particular excursion. I hope you’ve enjoyed it as I have.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Return to Chapter 10

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Have a comment to make about this story? Do so in the Trip Fan Fiction forum at the HoTBBS!


A whole mess of folks have made comments

Good story. I'd like to see a continuation. To see how they react to the changes in Earth and Vulcan.

A very nice but great ending! I really enjoyed this story and all the twists and emotions you put into it, and this was a fitting end! Thanks for sharing this with us.

YES!!!, At this point I didn't care if you fixed TATV but it was nice that you fit it in.

So T/T'P in the time of TNG/DS9/Voyager. There is an episode of DS9 where O'Brian is punished by some other race by being placed for 30 or so years subjective in prison, turns out to be only a few days objective. Place Trip & t'pol in such a place with tech updates and in a matter of days they'd be ready to resume duty.

Wunderbar! I liked it very much, thank you! :)

Wow! Read that ending with a BIG SMILE on my face. I didn't see it coming: (the crossover that is--just realized I better not give anything away to the people sneaking a peak) Adventure, romance, (a rocket), grandchildren, a baby shower, a finale fix, a monument to Elizabet Tucker and the rest! The last chpater had it all! Thanks you SO MUCH! I thoroughly enjoyed the whole excursion. I hope you DO find literary immortality and all the other good things!

Nice Ending!

“What is a ‘baby shower’?” Very logical question for a Vulcan. My son recently found out what a bridal shower was: I went to one, and he was wondering what is was after I told him that only ladies were allowed. First he thought that we were going to borrow a baby from somewhere and the bride-to-be was to give the baby a bath while all other ladies watch. Then he thought maybe all girls are going to take a shower with the bride, and that is why boys were not allowed to go.

This story is really great, enjoyed it a lot. Maybe a sequel sometime in the future? ^^

Like the idea of this Trip and T'pol living out another life in the future. Perhaps they can become Star Fleet Historians and fix some badly written holonovels?

I love it, John. Wonderful ending. I'm glad you gave Hoshi and Archer a happy ending, too. I don't understand why everyone always wants to kill off Malcolm, but I suppose somebody had to die in the war. Great explanation for the Abomination, BTW.

Ummm... am I really "brutally" honest? I don't mean to be brutal. It's just a birth defect... a congenital tactfulness deficiency. Sorry.

This story is great! You're an amazing writer!! I was absolutely captivated from chapter 1!! Thanks so much for this!!

John O., you are amazing! I agree with the above: didn't see all of it coming and that in itself, plus the very enjoyable ride you took us on, make it one of the most memorable fics ever. Loved the crossover, the happy ending (yay!), the spot-on lines from the other 'verse (the age thing, the rolling eyes at the "I am Vulcan" and so much more. Almost hate to see the end because whatever next from you is a sure thing. Speaking of what's next...where's that alt. universe non-Enterprise TnT you've got going??? Thanks for this and the V Spot. Special treat! Cannot wait for your next work. Don't make us wait too long!

Whoops, addled a bit by the summer heat...meant that almost hate to see the end because it's all been so good, but I also know whatever you do next will satisfy as well.

No question -- Picard was a surprise. I really hope you take this story further. It would be very interesting to see how Trip and T'Pol adapt to a new time and new technology, where everything and everyone they know are several centuries in the past.

I'm sure they both have more questions about Reed, Archer, and the others. Medical knowledge will have advanced as well making it easier to bring little Tuckers into the world.

Great story! I look forward to reading more.

This was a nice little (well, not so little) story, John O. Sorry for not commenting on it earlier but I am terrible at commenting fan fic stories :blushes: And it usually takes me a while to catch up. But seeing as this is now finished I felt it appropriate to do now.

I really liked all the TnT scenes when they were alone and gradually getting into a bonded relationship.

I wondered how you were going to get out of the problem with them being duplicates and I didn't see the twist at the end coming! Good work there.

And I really liked how you fixed that... thing, the Abomination! :thumbsup:

But what I enjoyed the most was seeing a Lt Riley (and an Ens Kent) on the NX-01 bridge! LOL! ;-)

I was watching "The 9" on Yahoo for August 28th, (http://9.yahoo.com/ - under Archives) and #4 of "The 9" discussed a site for the best and worst sci-fi TV intros.

Well, I went to the BEST list and found that #7, #6, and #5 were all Star Treks! Yay! TNG, DS9, and Voy.

Then I started the WORST list, and as I crept downward toward #1, I thought *please don't be enterprise, please don't be...*

Enterprise.

Thanks. Simply because of that *song*, too! (The author loved the montage and esp. the mirror universe intro). I don't know what's wrong with MY ears, but I don't think the song was bad enough to destroy the whole show. Whatever. I'm in the minority.

A lot of people responded, agreeing with the fact that the song was an odd (ok, crappy) choice. And many responders recalled the early, early golden days on 2001 when Paramount was actually TRYING TO GET PEOPLE TO WATCH THE SHOW (hard to picture, 'eh?). And the commercials used "Wherever You Will Go" by The Calling, interspersed with Enterprise clips.

So I found and put that song on.

And watch out guys, 'cause if you haven't heard it much yourself since those early commercials, you will find yourself literally gutpunched with childlike nostalgia for those sweet hopeful days of yore. When we actually had *new episodes*. We were so blessed. I felt like crying and laughing. The faces and noises I made were weird and involuntary.

So I had to write to all of you here and share my touching and confusing experience, since anyone else on the planet would have committed me. But you guys understand. Now, get that song and listen to it.

My final note:
Someone please, PLEASE! If you make music videos for this site, I BESEECH you!

Create for us lesser mortals a gossamer thing of visual beauty; set Trip and T'Pol against this song (which I used to hate hearing on the radio, and I never could remember why).

Actually, the song itself is simply adequate as songs go, but the thing that makes it so very poignant for me is that part of my subconscious which firmly and inextricably married the melody to images of my favourite show. I feel like a POW or something looking at pictures of his old barracks. Well, maybe. You can tell I have had a rather sheltered, peacetime existence.

Look up the lyrics, anyone, they are perfect. So many bits of footage would work for each line. I would do it myself, but my video-editing software is in the mail. (It really is... Amazon is so slow!)

Each of your subconsciousnesses my have done the same thing mine did! I believe, in watching it, each of us would die a little, each would shed a private tear, yet each would be rejuvenated for the DVD fight. This will end up being your favourite music video.

Write your letters. Stain them with your tears. Leslie is hoping we'll quietly give up, but he doesn't know us very well at all, does he?

Download the song/lyrics. You'll see what I mean.

PS - Posted this in a couple of spots to catch potential video-creators. I want to see this song in video form so bad!

Great job on this entire series John! Once again, you wrote an excellent TnT fic. Now I'm off to start reading your new alternative series.