The Cultural Addition

The Cultural Addition
a Star Trek: Enterprise – based fan fiction

by: Joycelyn Solo

Summary: An unexpected pregnancy has some interesting consequences for Trip, T'Pol, the Enterprise and the future of Humanity.
Author's note: This story takes place Season Three, so expect general episodic references, but with definite AU qualities.
Disclaimer: Star Trek: Enterprise and associated characters are property of Paramount Pictures. I mean no copyright infringement, this story is for entertainment purposes only.
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Trip/T'Pol Romance; Mystery

Chapter One - The most important meal of the day

“Oatmeal, again?”

Jonathan Archer, captain of the starship Enterprise, shared his chief engineer’s dismay as they both regarded the bowls set before them. “With Chef out of commission, I’m sure his staff is doing the best they can.”

Since entering the Delphic Expanse, Enterprise had encountered spatial anomalies which rewrote the laws of physics -- and wreaked havoc, in general, throughout the ship. The most recent devastation had been the anomaly one week ago that ripped through the ship’s kitchen, resulting in severe burns to Chef’s hands. Dr. Phlox was able to repair most of the damage, but there would be no lead cook in the kitchen for at least another week.

Frowning, Charles “Trip” Tucker stared at the lumpy, colorless, mound currently being passed off as his breakfast. “I might waste away from malnutrition if he’s not back in the kitchen soon.”

“The oatmeal contains sufficient nutritional value, Commander Tucker. You are in no danger of ‘wasting away’.”

The engineer turned his attention to the other occupant of the Captain’s Mess. Knowing it had no effect on her -- except irritation -- he stuck out his bottom lip and pouted. “It doesn’t taste all that nutritious.”

Though few would have noticed, Tucker delighted in the slight movement of Sub-Commander T’Pol’s eyebrow in response to his pout. It wasn’t even 0700, yet, and he’d already gotten a rise out of his favorite Vulcan.

He was further gratified when she chose to contradict his illogical statement. “I find, Commander, that the foods you find the most satisfying to your taste buds are the ones with the least amount of dietary value.”

“That’s what makes ‘em good for you.” He grinned widely and took a bite of his oatmeal, ignoring the bland taste as he waited for her to continue the game.

Unnoticed in the midst of the breakfast debate, Archer watched with quiet amusement as his first officer and chief engineer sparred. With everything the ship’s crew had experienced over the last several months, it was nice to see that some things were slowly returning to normal.

It had been too long since he, Trip and T’Pol had taken a meal together, something they had enjoyed regularly before the Xindi attack on Earth. Trip had withdrawn from Archer and their longtime friendship after his sister’s death in the attack. According to Dr. Phlox, T’Pol, it seemed, had been one of the few able to reach the commander through his grief and was slowly bringing him out of his protective shell.

As grateful as he was for having Trip back, Archer could not help a pang of jealousy as he watched their debate move from food to the latest Movie Night selection. He didn’t understand why Trip hadn’t come to him after his sister’s death, why he had chosen to shut him out. He couldn’t help but be hurt that T’Pol was able to comfort his friend when he could not.

And he could not help the brief flash of anger at the prominent role Trip seemed to have taken in T’Pol’s life. Granted, Archer had no claim to her -- apart from relying on her as first officer -- but there were times he felt as though there could be something more between them than their professional relationship. After all, he was the one she came to when she was concerned with something. Of course, it was usually ship’s business, but she could have taken care of it herself or gone to one of the other senior officers. Even Phlox had noticed their potential chemistry -- and he made a study of noticing things like that.

Despite his conflicted feelings, Archer took comfort in watching the debate. A month ago he had come close to losing Trip and T’Pol -- closer than anyone aboard knew -- when both had gone missing for three days on an away mission. Neither Trip or T’Pol could recall what happened during that lost time and Lieutenant Reed’s investigation failed to yield any answers. With no clues and a pressing timetable, Archer had come very close to leaving orbit. If he hadn’t agreed to allow Reed one last chance to look for them...

His guilt over almost abandoning his two officers overshadowed any jealousy he felt toward either of them. With their return to the ship, Archer made overtures to both Trip and T’Pol to renew their previous camaraderie. If their easy manner at the breakfast table was any indication, it seemed his efforts were paying off.

If anything, Archer could tell that Trip was enjoying himself. As he took another bite of his breakfast, he wondered if the stoic science officer got anything out of their debates.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

She was loathe to admit it, but T’Pol was enjoying the verbal sparring with Commander Tucker.

Though satisfied with the progress the Enterprise engineer was making as a result of their evening neuropressure sessions, it had been many months since the commander had openly challenged her with his illogical statements.

She had noted their absence with regret.

Despite seeing him daily, she missed the commander -- the real Charles Tucker. The subdued version of the engineer -- though sometimes preferable to the outrageously irrational one -- was a hollow shell of the man she knew before his sister’s death. Even in her quarters, when they made “small talk” during their evening sessions, she knew it was empty words to fill the silence. Their debate over the oatmeal was the first true hint of the man she’d befriended.

Of course, as most exchanges with the commander went, they did not stay on breakfast food for long. He was currently justifying the need for comedies during Movie Night.

“Laughter’s a great release of stress, T’Pol. You should try it.”

Tucker knew very well that Vulcans did not laugh, but T’Pol was sure he said it only to irritate her. Why he tried so hard to get a reaction out of her, she did not know, but she found she appreciated his efforts nonetheless.

“As you know, Commander, there are other activities for alleviating stress.”

Too late she realized what the engineer’s sometimes-juvenile mind was already focusing on. He moved his eyebrows up and down in quick repetition -- “waggle” was the word he used to describe the motion -- and asked, “Is that an invitation, Sub-Commander?”

Before she could respond, T'Pol saw Archer’s features harden at Tucker’s question. Obviously the captain’s mind was just as juvenile as the engineer’s. Though Tucker’s comment was far from appropriate, she thought it out-of-character for their commanding officer to frown so fiercely in response.

No matter how much time she spent on the Human vessel, she would never fully understand the Earth species.

Ignoring the captain’s scowl and the commander’s continued eyebrow-waggling, she clarified. “I was referring to the Vulcan neuropressure, Commander. Perhaps the treatments are not providing the relief you need. I believe Dr. Phlox still has --”

Tucker held his hands up to waylay the rest of her comment. “It’s all right, T’Pol. You win. The sessions are fine for me, but I just think the rest of the crew could use a good laugh now and then.”

“Maybe you should go streaking through the hallways, again, Trip,” Archer offered. To T’Pol, the jovial manner in which he made his comment belied the tension she sensed as he gripped his spoon tightly and proceeded to mash his oatmeal into a finer paste. “I seem to remember everyone having a good laugh at you.”

“Funny, Cap’n,” Tucker said in a voice that clearly did not find humor in the subject. It was not unusual for the two officers to trade barbs and reminisce over past adventures, but she found it odd that the captain would bring up a subject that obviously discomfited Tucker.

Apparently unaware of the story’s affect on his friend, Archer continued. “Not only did Trip accept the dare to run through the dorm in his birthday suit, but he didn’t expect to have his room locked when he was done. He had to knock, naked, door-to-door to find a pair of pants to borrow.”

The captain laughed, relishing his tale, even as Tucker shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Wishing to put an end to the commander’s suffering, T’Pol said, “I do not believe having a senior officer run nude through the corridors would prove an effective distraction for to alleviating crew stress.”

Instead of feeling satisfied with her logical answer for ending the discussion, T’Pol wondered why her cheeks felt suddenly warm. One moment they had been in innocent debate and the next she was imagining Commander Tucker naked in the corridor outside her quarters.

Neither Archer or Tucker seemed to notice her discomfort as both men had turned their undivided attention to finishing their breakfast.

Eying her own bowl of half-eaten oatmeal, she decided she was no longer hungry. Pushing her dish aside, she stood. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I have a report from Lieutenant Reed to review.”

Not giving either Human time to stand, as was their chivalrous custom, she quickly turned and left the room.

Chapter Two - Not all minds that wander are lost

It was not like Vulcans to dwell on things.

Then again, it was not like Vulcans to allow their minds to wander to inappropriate places over the breakfast table, either.

T’Pol had managed with some effort to relegate the incident to the back of her mind for consideration later. Fortunately for her, she did not have further contact with the focal point of her wandering mind for the remainder of the day.

The following morning, however, it was time to analyze the event, trace its root cause and file it away in the organized recess of her mind.

Seated on the floor of her quarters, T’Pol attempted once again to center herself, focusing on the flame that danced above her candle. As part of her daily ritual, she was accustomed to rising early in accordance with her internal clock and meditating before her duty shift.

This morning should have been no different.

T’Pol woke at her usual time, arranging the blanket and pillow neatly on her small bunk. She lit a candle and kneeled on the mat. She took a deep breath, inhaling through her nose and out again. As she continued the deep, meditative breathing, she closed her eyes...

And was assaulted once more with the mental image of Commander Tucker in his naked glory.

She had never actually seen the Commander “in the buff” -- a term she once heard him use. However, T’Pol had seen enough of him to paint a realistic picture for her mind’s eye.

Of course, the question was not where her mind contrived the image, but why?

She acknowledged that Commander Tucker was a fine specimen of physical fitness, but that was true of most the male crewmen. Good health and regular exercise were required of all Enterprise hands.

That did not mean that T’Pol imagined any of them naked.

Then, again, none of them had eyes as blue as Charles Tucker’s. Even she could not deny how their blue depths reminded her of Earth’s oceans. How those eyes sparkled when he teased her, how his mouth curved at the corners --

She shook her head in an illogical attempt to halt her mind’s downward spiral to its favorite conclusion.

Finding any attempt to concentrate a futile effort, T’Pol blew out the candle -- perhaps with more force than needed to extinguish the small flame -- and proceeded to ready herself for the day.

She dressed in one of the colorful suits she had adopted into her wardrobe since resigning her commission to the Vulcan High Command. It was a small act of rebellion on her part, one no other Vulcan would understand, but the sight of the soft-blue velour as she removed it from the closet was a reminder of her independence from a body that for too long controlled her actions, both personal and professional.

While fastening the suit, T’Pol could not help but notice that the material seemed to exhibit a tighter fit across her abdomen. To say she was surprised would -- well, insult her Vulcan sensibilities, but it would also -- be an understatement. Not only did she adhere to a strict physical routine to maintain her health and fitness, but she had actually experienced less of an appetite in the last week. She had contributed her apathy toward food as stress, but perhaps all her symptoms -- though seemingly unrelated -- could indeed be an indication of a larger problem.

With a sinking feeling, T’Pol accepted that the loss of mental control -- both the “mind wandering” and inability to manage her own metabolism -- could only mean one thing. It was obvious that Phlox’s treatments of the Pa'nar Syndrome had lost their effectiveness.

Though she knew this day would come, T’Pol could not say that she was ready for it. She had resigned herself to the fact that too little was known of the disease for a cure to be found in her lifetime. She had hoped -- illogically -- that the doctor’s treatments would ward off the effects for the time being, but it seemed that time was already gone.

Already unfocused from the lack of proper meditation, and faced with the harsh reality of her mortality, T’Pol managed with no small amount of effort to compose herself enough for the walk from her quarters to Sickbay.

No matter what the doctor’s prognosis, she was determined to be Vulcan to the last.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When T’Pol entered Sickbay, Phlox only needed one look at her drawn features to know what had brought her to the Enterprise medical facility so early in the morning.

Pa’nar Syndrome.

Though he had been successful in treating T’Pol’s symptoms, Phlox was far from developing a cure to the oft-debilitating Vulcan disease. As the sub-commander described her symptoms, Phlox could not help his growing apprehension. If the treatments were no longer helping, it could indicate that the disease had evolved past his ability to help.

But when he performed a scan to determine the extent of the disease’s damage, his anxiety turned to a different feeling.

Complete bafflement.

Examining the readouts, Phlox did not find any indication of advanced Pa’nar or any other unusual activity in the Vulcan’s brain. Broadening his search, he enjoyed a small amount of relief when he found another plausible cause...

That quickly brought on its own set of questions.

“What have you found, Doctor?” T’Pol asked, sitting up on the biobed as Phlox continued to digest the scan’s results.

Rather than answer straight, Phlox leaned against a nearby cupboard, his hands crossed in front of him, in as relaxed a posture as he could manage. “How are the neuropressure sessions with Commander Tucker progressing?”

If T’Pol thought the question odd, she hid it well as she replied, “Commander Tucker is returning to normal sleep patterns and seems to be resuming interaction with the rest of the crew.”

“And have you experienced any...ah...benefits?”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you and Commander Tucker been intimate?”

Had she been any other member of the crew, Phlox would have been less abrupt with his question, but he knew T’Pol would prefer a more straightforward approach. Vulcans did not dally over unnecessary details.

As much as she may have appreciated his getting to the point, T’Pol could not help the way her spine stiffened in response. “I fail to see where that issue has relevance with the advanced stages of Pa’nar Syndrome.”

“I do not believe your symptoms have anything to do with Pa’nar, Sub-Commander. However, even if you had been intimate, it does not explain my readings.”

“And what, exactly, are your readings?”

Breaking his usual protocol, Phlox handed a copy of the scan readout to T’Pol. “As you can see from the initial scan, there is no indication of additional Pa’nar-infected areas. However,” He touched the PADD to advance to the next scan, “Here you can see something very unusual.”

No amount of Vulcan training could have prevented the way T’Pol’s eyes widened as she viewed the display. “A fetus,” she said, near-choking on the word as she strove to retain some scientific detachment. “But there are no Vulcans aboard and, even if there were, I have not been physically intimate with anyone.”

“And that is where the real mystery comes in.” He pointed to the readings taken during the scan. “This fetus is half-Human. And, if I am not mistaken, that half belongs to Commander Tucker.”

“The Commander and I have not...”

“Even if you had, there are still many questions to be answered. However, both you and Commander Tucker were in here just over a month ago for an extensive examination. His medical record is still keyed into the computer’s memory. He is a match for the Human genes.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

There were some mornings Trip Tucker was convinced he never should have gotten out of bed.

After being roused from a restful -- thanks to T'Pol and the neuropressure -- sleep by the incessant beeping of intership communications, he'd dressed hastily and joined the Vulcan sub-commander and Denobulan doctor in Sickbay.

Still sleep-addled, it hadn't occurred to him what could possibly be so urgent first thing in the morning. Nor did he think to ask if it could wait until he'd at least had breakfast.

His stomach growling and his hair still damp from a hasty shower, he should have known the sight of T'Pol and the Phlox -- both looking decidedly uncomfortable -- should have sent him running back to his quarters to hide.

Probably because he was still half-asleep, he took the news surprisingly well. At least, compared to the last time he found out he was going to be a father -- er, mother -- or, hell, he never did figure out which one he was.

Not that it mattered now. That was two years ago and an incident he tried very hard to forget.

At that moment, however, the surrealism of that situation was brought back to him again as he registered what Phlox was saying.

T'Pol was pregnant.

With his child.

He didn't remember doing anything that could have possibly ended in this result. Then again, he didn't remember doing anything with Ah'len, either, and he had gotten himself pregnant.

So, okay, he guessed it was possible to have impregnated T'Pol without being aware of it, but, as far as he knew, Vulcan and Humans did the deed in a pretty similar fashion. Except for that whole seven-year thing; Humans did it much more frequently if they could.

As the silence stretched on, Trip realized Phlox and T'Pol were waiting for him to say something. What, he didn't know, but they were both expectant.

And it hit him again that T'Pol was expecting.

"I don't understand.” Trip looked up at them -- realizing, for the first time, that he must have sat down on the stool Phlox provided. “I mean, we never...At least, I don't think we ever...How did this happen?"

"The matter of 'how' is still in question," Phlox answered, a slight shrug of his shoulders accentuating his confusion.

Trip shook his head, attempting to clear it and bring his thoughts to order. "Do Vulcans and Humans...I mean, is it even..."

"The mating process for Humans and Vulcan is quite similar," Phlox provided. "According to T'Pol, however, the two of you have not been intimate. And, frankly, if you had it would still not explain her current condition. Though Humans and Vulcans are alike in many ways, it is doubtful a successful pregnancy would result from traditional coupling."

Trip felt a small amount of his tension ease. At least he hadn't done something stupid to land himself in this position -- again. But if they didn't do it...who did?

T'Pol, who had been largely silent during the exchange, must have had the same thought. "I have agreed to further examination by Doctor Phlox. It may help his investigation if you were to do the same."

Trip turned his attention to her. Even though her Vulcan mask of logic was firmly in place, he couldn’t help but notice that she seemed smaller than usual, more fragile. T’Pol was the strongest woman he knew. She irritated the heck out of him, but he respected her. He’d never seen her look so unsure of herself.

Vulnerable.

Even if he wasn’t going to stick around for testing -- a task he didn’t look forward to -- there was no way he was going to leave her alone. And, if Phlox’s findings were true, the two of them were in it together.

“Yeah,” he finally said. “I’ll stay.”

Chapter Three - Archer, don’t preach

Sickbay was a popular place when Jonathan Archer arrived two hours later.

Phlox had stressed the urgency of seeing the captain as soon as possible. Archer assumed whatever the doctor wanted to talk to him about was important, but he hadn’t expected to find half of his command crew waiting for him.

Trip and T’Pol were seated on biobeds, though neither seemed ill or injured, and the captain gave Phlox a questioning frown. “I wasn’t expecting a full staff meeting when I came down here. What’s going on?”

“We have a bit of a mystery on our hands, Captain,” Phlox said, nodding his head toward the biobeds. "It appears we will have an addition to the crew in several months."

The captain remembered the last time he was called into a similar conference. Expecting that his officers were involved in some sort of joke, Archer allowed a teasing grin to settle on his features as he looked pointedly at Trip. “What did you do?”

"It isn't Commander Tucker, this time, Captain,” Phlox clarified with complete seriousness. “At least, he isn't the pregnant one."

"Then who?" Archer asked, turning his attention back to Phlox as his grin faded back to puzzlement.

The Denobulan tilted his head toward T'Pol. "It seems the sub-commander is expecting a bundle of Vulcan joy."

For the first time, Archer noticed the monitoring device strapped to T’Pol’s abdomen. Then he looked again at Trip -- and noted that his “best friend” was doing his best to avoid looking him in the eyes.

All sense of teasing or puzzlement were gone as Archer turned to his chief engineer. "Of all the irresponsible...I knew the two of you were spending a lot of time together, that the neuropressure sessions were just to help you sleep. Obviously sleep is the last thing you’ve --"

Trip’s head snapped up and he glared at Archer. "Now just wait a minute, Cap’n. This wasn't my idea any more than it was T'Pol's."

"Well of course it wasn't anyone's idea, but it's bound to happen when you start --"

Trip pushed himself up off the biobed, standing tall as he matched his commanding officer’s ire. "Maybe if you'd wait for the doc to explain before you started harping on the two of us you'd know what was going on."

"I don't need Phlox to explain the birds and the bees to me." He turned his attention to T'Pol. "How long has this been going on?"

T’Pol, her face even more unreadable than usual, replied quietly. "The fetus appears to be three weeks along, but the Commander and I have not --"

“Three weeks ago, huh?” Archer cut her off and turned, again, on Trip. "It was awfully convenient how you disappeared for a couple of days. I can't believe you would endanger the crew just so you two could enjoy a little holiday."

Trip took a step toward Archer, only to take it back as he felt T’Pol’s hand on his arm. He took a deep breath to calm himself, even as T’Pol’s innocent action stoked the fire quickly burning through Archer’s mind. "I can understand you’re thinking so little of me in this situation, but I can’t believe you’d accuse T’Pol of the same. If you’d just let Phlox explain..."

"He's right, Captain,” Phlox said, stepping to Archer's side, a PADD in hand. “Even if the Commander and Sub-Commander were intimate, it is unlikely a conception would occur."

Archer frowned at Phlox, some of the temper easing from his features as he regarded the Denobulan. "You said Vulcans and Humans were compatible."

"Oh, yes, they are. But a Vulcan-Human hybrid would require additional assistance to what Mother Nature can provide.” Phlox handed the PADD to Archer. “Take a look at this."

Archer glared at the display screen. “What am I looking at?” he asked, remembering why he had gone into command instead of science.

"When I examined Commander Tucker and T'Pol after their disappearance, I found high hormone levels. Not knowing what they had experienced on the planet, I attributed it as the body’s response to a high-stress ordeal.

“What I did not notice until recently, when the sub-commander began feeling unwell, was the presence of iron in her blood."

Archer, knowing little of Vulcan physiology, asked, "So?"

"Vulcan blood has a copper base, giving it a greenish tint while iron gives Human blood a red look. For T'Pol to have an iron mix in her blood is highly unusual."

By the furrow of Archer’s brow, it was plain he did not understand what the doctor was saying.

Phlox tried for further clarification. "If someone was hoping for Human genetic material to survive in a Vulcan host, the iron would have to be introduced to create a welcoming environment."

"So, what you're saying,” Archer asked incredulously, “Is someone abducted Trip and T'Pol for the soul purpose of breeding them?"

Phlox sighed. "Frankly...yes."

“Why?”

“That’s what we’d like to know,” Trip said, still standing next to T’Pol.

“The logical course of action would be returning to that planet and finding those responsible.”

Archer opened his mouth to agree, but then quickly closed it and shook his head. “We can’t do that. We’re three weeks away. If we turned around now it would take a month, at least, to get back here. That’s time we can’t afford.”

“But, Cap’n --”

“I’m sorry, Trip. You of all people know how important this mission is. We need to find the Xindi.”

“Captain --”

“No, Doctor. Even if we did go back, there’s no guarantee we’d find anything. Malcolm’s team searched every inch of that planet when Trip and T’Pol went missing. There was no sign of anyone -- not even them -- during the three-day investigation.”

Trip looked from Archer, to T’Pol, and back to Archer. “So what do we do?”

Archer shrugged his shoulders. “You tell me.”

With that, he turned on his heel and left Sickbay.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“That went about as well as I’d expected.”

T’Pol, still seated on the biobed, turned her attention from the closed Sickbay doors to Trip. “Indeed.”

More than a little surprised by the captain’s abrupt departure, Phlox nodded. “He is probably right. Even if we did go back, it is doubtful there would be anything to find. Wherever you were taken for those three days must have been very well-hidden.”

“And whatever whammie they did on us was pretty effective.” Trip shook his head. “I still can’t remember anything that happened between taking those soil samples and waking up in the shuttlepod.”

“Nor can I,” T’Pol added. “It seems their medical technology is fairly advanced to have been able to create the hybrid. It is likely they had a sophisticated ‘whammy’ to prevent us from remembering the ordeal, as well.”

Phlox was about to say something when there was a high-pitched screech from the back of Sickbay. “Oh my,” he said, looking at the chrono-display. “It is much later than I had thought. I forgot to feed the Aludan dune rat. If you will excuse me.”

Leaving the PADD on the counter, he quickly followed the sound of the screeching.

Trip watched the Denobulan go, then looked at T’Pol. “Speaking of the...hybrid...” He resumed his place on the biobed, feet hanging over the edge so he could look at T’Pol.

T’Pol, in turn, focused her gaze on the flat of her abdomen. Despite the scientific proof and messages from her own body, it was still difficult to believe there was a living being -- a half-Human being -- growing inside of her.

When she did not answer, Trip continued, “I still can’t believe it, really. I think when Phlox told me, I was still half-asleep. Then when he was doing all those tests and after with the captain...I guess I was just too stunned to really say or feel anything. But now...it is real, isn’t it?”

T’Pol nodded, a Human trait she’d begun to emulate. Trip wondered if she even noticed that she’d picked up that particular habit. It was amazing, really, how much she’d become a part of the crew, a part of their culture. When he looked at her he didn’t see Vulcan or alien...he saw T’Pol.

Now she was closer to Humanity than she ever wanted to be.

“I’m sorry, T’Pol.”

“For what, Commander?”

“For this...for everything. I’m sorry.”

“As we already explained to the captain, you had as much control over this as I did. Your apology is illogical.”

Trip smiled. No matter how much time she spent with Humans, it was good to know T’Pol could still whip out the logic. “I can’t help but feel a little responsible. It is my genetic material in there. We’re still foggy on how it got there, but...Have you thought about what we’re going to do?”

“I have reviewed several options, but any decision made will affect both of us.”

“You more than me, but I want you to know that I’m here for you.” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. “Uh...I don’t know if you’ve even considered this route, and I hate to tell you what to do with your body, but, personally, I don’t like the idea of just getting rid of it.”

One sculpted Vulcan eyebrow rose slightly. “The thought had not occurred to me, Commander. Nor would I consider it an option.”

“That’s good.” Trip felt a margin of tension in his shoulders ease. “I mean, if you had decided to...I’d stick by you...but it’s just not kosher with how I was raised.”

“I did not realize you were Jewish, Commander.”

“Jewish? Wha -- Oh, no. I’m not, I just meant the idea didn’t sit well with me.”

“Nor with me.” T’Pol seemed to think about something a moment. “As you most likely know, Vulcans have an aptitude for certain levels of telepathy. During pregnancy, a bond is formed between the child and the mother, which is why termination of pregnancy is not heard of in our culture.”

A looked crossed Trip’s face that T’Pol could not read. “Have you, uh, bonded with the baby?”

“Yes, though I had not realized it. I believe that is why I have had difficulty concentrating of late. My subconscious has been divided, causing my thoughts to become unfocused.”

“You’ve been daydreaming?”

With her eyes cast down toward the fetal monitor, T’Pol did not notice the strange look that again graced his features. “That is an apt-enough term,” she answered, grateful he did not ask what she had daydreamed about.

“So...” He leaned even more forward, placing himself in danger of toppling off the biobed. “We’re keeping the baby.”

T’Pol turned to look at him. “I already said you do not have to feel responsible, Commander.”

“When I say ‘we,’ T’Pol, I mean it. We may not have gotten here the old-fashioned way, but we’re both in the same boat.”

Before T’Pol could discourage him, Phlox returned. “I believe we can remove that monitor now, Sub-Commander. Though I would like to see you again tomorrow morning to discuss prenatal care. I don’t need to tell you that this will be a very special pregnancy.”

“How’d you know we were going to continue with the pregnancy?” Trip asked, suspicious that Phlox had left them alone only to spy on them.

Phlox smiled, a “normal”-sized smile by Human standards. “Knowing the two of you, I did not doubt the outcome of your discussion. Nor should I be surprised that you are going to play an active role, Commander. You’ve grown up very much since your first pregnancy. I believe the two of you will make fine parents.”

Chapter Four - Just how long is that bun in the oven?

No matter how impossible it was for a Vulcan and Human to conceive, Jonathan Archer could not fully believe T’Pol’s pregnancy was not the result of less-than-professional activities with the Enterprise chief engineer.

Nor could he shake the betrayal he felt, despite the evidence and testimony to his best friend’s and first officer’s innocence.

Seated behind his desk with the expectant parents before him, he found it difficult to hide his doubts.

“You’re keeping the baby.”

If he hadn’t been mired in his own thoughts, Archer would have laughed at the look of surprise on Trip’s face.

“Did Phlox already call up here? We just left Sickbay a minute ago.”

“No, I haven’t talked to Phlox,” he answered, eyeing both of them critically. “I just know the two of you -- or at least I thought I did.”

The Trip and T’Pol he knew were loyal to their captain and mindful of their responsibilities. Although Archer never expressed his own feelings for T’Pol, Trip should have known she was off-limits. She was his first officer. It was her duty to be there when he needed her. Trip should have respected that.

It was a visible effort for Trip to stay in his seat. “Are we going to get into that again? Phlox already told you neither of us had anything to do with this.”

Archer straightened his shoulders, his eyes narrowing in accusation. “Phlox said there was some help in creating the hybrid, but that doesn’t mean there hasn’t been more going on with you two. You have been spending an awful lot of time together.”

“The neuropressure sessions were begun at Dr. Phlox’s behest to aid the commander’s sleep. There has been no romantic involvement as a result,” T’Pol provided, her voice calm as ever. There were times when her Vulcan stoicism only succeeded in making Archer more upset.

This was no exception.

“Right. Some unknown entity abducted you, performed a pretty sophisticated procedure to create a Human-Vulcan hybrid, and returned you where they found you without so much as a note explaining who or why or anything.” Archer leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the desk. “Doesn’t that seem a little far-fetched to you?”

“Of course it’s far-fetched. It’s like out of some freaky’ science fiction plot.” Trip’s restraint vanished as he stood up and towered over the desk. “It scares the hell out of me to think that someone out there has the power to not only erase our memories, but to create another being without our consent. They’ve taken the most basic and beautiful of nature’s miracles and used us as guinea pigs.” He sat down again. “You think you’re having a hard time with this? Put yourself in my shoes. Or T’Pol’s.”

No matter how much Archer wanted to believe this entire mess was the fault of surging hormones and an appalling lack of duty, he couldn’t ignore the distress in Trip’s voice. Nor could he ignore his own responsibility. Placing blame on Trip and T’Pol was neither productive nor healthy to the current situation or the mission.

“I’m sorry, Trip. T’Pol.” He leaned back, voice tired. “I’m still not sure if I entirely believe this...but I want to trust both of you. There isn’t much we can do right now about how this happened. Our focus should be what we’re going to do in eight months...”

“Ten.”

“Ten? What do you mean ‘ten’?” Trip asked, looking at T’Pol. “Just how long is that bun in the oven?”

“The Vulcan gestation period is almost eleven months,” she explained.

“Eleven months?” Trip threw up his hands in exasperation, real or mocking Archer wasn’t sure. “You people can’t do anything the easy way, can you?”

“And ‘you people’ do not realize that not everything must be done in rash fashion,” T’Pol countered.

With debate in the air, for a moment -- brief as it was -- things were normal again.

But then, just as quickly, Archer was reminded what they were talking about.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Trip knew Archer was mad at him. Hell, if he were in the captain’s shoes, he’d be pretty mad, too. Even with Phlox’s medical data and his and T’Pol’s testimony to the contrary, he didn’t expect anyone to believe that her pregnancy was the result of anything other than their own reckless behavior.

But Archer was more willing to talk than Trip had thought he would be. The way the captain had stormed out of Sickbay, though not unexpected, hadn’t given him much hope for this conversation.

And after a rocky start, things seemed to be going pretty well.

“There’s no guarantee we’ll have completed this mission in ten months,” Archer said, his voice grave. “I don’t think the Enterprise is any place to raise a baby, let alone while we’re still in the Expanse.”

“Nor do I,” T’Pol agreed. “But there is little choice in the matter. We will simply have to ‘make the most’ of the situation, as Humans are fond of saying.”

While she spoke, Trip couldn’t help but notice the hand she’d placed on her abdomen. There wasn’t much to see there -- she still seemed flat as a board to him -- but that connection to the baby must be pulling out her maternal instincts.

And maybe he was developing some paternal ones of his own. When they’d first entered the captain’s office, he’d fought the urge to pull out T’Pol’s chair for her. He’d told her earlier that they were in the same boat, and he meant it, but Trip was pretty sure if he tried rowing for her she’d probably dump him overboard.

T’Pol paused in the middle of what she was saying and looked at him, causing Trip to wonder if he’d laughed out loud at his mental image of them in the “paternity boat.”

The captain didn’t seem to have noticed, though.

Arching an eyebrow at him, she continued. “We must not forget the party responsible. There are still several unknowns to consider, many of which only they can answer.”

“I already told you we can’t go back to investigate,” Archer reminded her. He seemed genuinely sorry for it, too.

T’Pol wasn’t hindered. “It is unlikely we would find anything if we did. However, I would like to review the scans taken during Mr. Reed’s search. Perhaps we can uncover something that will help us to identify our abductors or their intent.”

Trip looked at T’Pol with surprise. His attention had been focused almost solely on the baby; he hadn’t done a lot of thinking about who had done this and why. Obviously T’Pol, in that wonderful multitasking mind of hers, had. Not only that, but she even had an idea of how to track them down.

Even if it was kind of a long shot. “You really think we’ll find anything?”

“We will not know unless we look,” she answered. “There are several questions to this child’s origins. Why was this hybrid created? Who was responsible? How did they know enough about Human and Vulcan physiology for successful conception? Why were we the chosen contributors? What was their plan for the hybrid? Perhaps by reviewing the security logs I will be able to uncover some answers.”

Archer nodded in agreement. “I’ll ask Malcolm to pull together everything he has.”

“You going to tell him why?” Trip asked, wondering briefly what the Englishman’s reaction was going to be -- what anyone’s reaction was going to be -- when they found out about the baby.

“That’s up to the two of you,” Archer answered. “It’s going to come out eventually, but I’m sure you’d like some time to get used to the idea before you have to defend yourselves to the rest of the crew.

“Frankly,” he hesitated a moment, “They’re as likely to believe you as I was.”

Was. That meant he believed them now, right? Trip wasn’t in danger of the wrath of Archer in the near future? At least, not for this? He searched his friend’s face before turning to T’Pol.

Without her saying anything, Trip could tell the sub-commander wasn’t quite ready to share their secret with anyone, yet. How the engineer knew that, he wasn’t exactly sure, but he knew that he agreed with her.

“I think we’d better hold off, Cap’n. At least a little while.”

Chapter Five - If only I’d listened to the voices in my head

The middle of ship’s night found T’Pol seated at the console in the Command Center, running through the information Lieutenant Reed had provided of his investigation into her and Commander Tucker’s disappearance two months ago.

No matter the different search parameters she attempted, she had been unable to discover anything new in the two weeks she had analyzed the planetary scans. Though she held Reed’s skills as a security officer in high regard, T’Pol had felt confident she would be able to glean at least something useful from reviewing the data herself.

Unfortunately, even her scientific background failed to yield anything that would shed light on those missing three days.

T’Pol cleared the screen, getting ready to input the next set of search parameters. As she did so, she experienced the singularly unusual sensation of her growing frustration mirrored back along the bond she shared with the hybrid child.

The mother-to-be was not sure if it was simply being eight-weeks-pregnant -- or being eight-weeks-pregnant with a half-Human child -- but she had never been so aware of her emotions.

It was a common misconception among non-Vulcans that their penchant for logic was a substitute for a lack of emotion. On the contrary, Vulcans possessed some of the fiercest emotions -- which was why they strove to keep them in check. It was only the introduction of Surak and his teachings of mediation and control that allowed Vulcan to evolve past its bloody history.

Centuries later, T’Pol found herself in an almost daily struggle to keep her emotions under control. Being with child, she was assaulted with feelings that were not hers alone, making her need for daily mediation even more important. However, the life within her made meditation most difficult and she felt more exhausted after an exercise meant to rejuvenate.

Phlox seemed to believe her body was still adjusting to the presence of the child and T’Pol would be able to resume her normal routine shortly.

She found his optimism less than reassuring.

Clearing her mind and taking a deep breath, she attempted to send calming thoughts to the baby. Despite the mystery surrounding the child’s conception and the turmoil her mind and body had been thrown into, T’Pol could not help the deep connection she felt to the hybrid.

For a moment, she wondered if her own mother had felt the maternal bond this strongly. For the distance that had grown over the years, T’Pol could not recall feeling anything other than cherished to her parents as a child.

What would their reaction be if they knew about you? Not for the first time, she found herself speaking to the child as though she expected a response. She knew it was not logical, but she found logic played little part in what she felt for the being inside her. Though she continued to search for answers of how the hybrid came to be, a part of T’Pol did not really care. The child was a part of her -- was hers.

Her baser maternal instincts didn’t need any further scientific explanation.

But that did not mean she would halt her research. She and Commander Tucker had a right to know what had happened to them in those three days that resulted in the combination of their genetic material.

As her thoughts turned to the Enterprise chief engineer, a surge of feeling erupted from the child. Was it possible for the baby to recognize his or her father, or, at least, thoughts of him? Or perhaps, again, the baby was playing off her own confused feelings for the complicated Human.

In the two weeks following Dr. Phlox’s startling announcement, the commander had been more supportive than T’Pol would have expected. Though she had told him repeatedly that she did not require his assistance, Tucker maintained his insistence to take an active role in the pregnancy.

Being perfectly capable of remembering to take the prenatal supplements and seeing Dr. Phlox on a regular basis to monitor the baby’s progress, T’Pol could have found the engineer’s reminders wholly unnecessary and irritating.

But she didn’t.

In truth, she was grateful. She would never say it aloud -- and barely admitted it to herself -- but his presence was a reassuring constant amidst the torrent of uncertainty wrought by the pregnancy.

In a weak moment, she had confided in him about her inability to properly meditate. It had been in the middle of one of their regular neuropressure sessions. He was laid out on the floor while she administered to the nodes along his spine, using the ancient Vulcan techniques to help the engineer find much-needed release from the nightmares that plagued him.

The commander had been so quiet, T’Pol figured he’d fallen asleep -- not for the first time. When he asked her what was bothering her, she’d been startled enough to tell him. He surprised her even further by offering to perform the same technique on her, an offer he had not made before.

Remembering the feel of the engineer’s hands as they applied pressure to her neck and shoulders, T’Pol felt herself relax in her chair, the computer screen in front of her forgotten.

She was not sure how long she sat that way, but it wasn’t until she heard the sound of the door closing behind her that she realized someone else had entered the Command Center.

As lost in her thoughts as T’Pol had been, she did not need to turn around to know who her visitor was. “Good evening, Commander.”

“I had a feeling I’d find you down here,” Trip admonished, coming to stand beside the console. He looked down at her, a slight frown on his lips. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I could ask the same of you.” T’Pol tilted her head to look up at him, noticing the shadows beginning to form under his eyes. “I had not realized you were having difficulty sleeping again. Should we add another night of neuropressure?”

“Lack of neuropressure has nothing to do with why I can’t sleep.” He sighed heavily, taking a seat in the vacant chair next to her. “You’ve been over these records a dozen times. What are you hoping to find?”

T’Pol thought it quite obvious. “I am looking for answers to our disappearance.”

“You’re not going to get any answers here, T’Pol. No matter how many times you run the data through.“

“It is true my previous analyses have failed to yield any results --”

“You’ve been in here every night for the past two weeks,” he cut her off. “That’s not healthy -- for you or for the baby.”

“I fail to see how research is detrimental to our health.”

Trip picked up a PADD and waved it about, as though hoping it’s blank screen would help prove his point. “’Because every time one of your searches comes back negative, you get frustrated and it’s upsetting the baby.”

“Vulcans do not get frustrated,” she protested.

“The hell they don’t. Why do you think I can’t sleep when you’re down here?”

“Excuse me?”

“I know when and what you’re feeling, T’Pol. Ever since the baby --” He dropped the PADD back onto the console. “You said yourself that Vulcan parents develop a bond with their children.”

“You are not Vulcan.”

“Tell that to the baby, ’cause he or she let’s me know when mommy’s not taking care of herself.”

T’Pol was silent for many moments, sorting the implications of this new development in her mind. “I had not realized...I did not know it was possible.”

“Me neither,” he confessed. “Kind of freaked me out when I realized the baby was talking to me.”

“The baby talks to you?”

“No, not really ‘talks.’ More like impressions and feelings that aren’t really mine.”

“That may actually explain why I have not been able to meditate.” She took a deep breath, allowing him to see some of the strain she was feeling. “The baby has connected us. I have been unable to focus my thoughts because they are not all my own.”

“Plus you’ve got to filter through all my pesky Human emotions.” Trip grinned. “That’s gotta be a headache.”

“Indeed,” T’Pol answered, a ghost of amusement lighting her eyes. “This may also explain why...”

“Why we feel better in each other’s company?” Trip rubbed a hand through his hair, causing several pieces to stick up at odd angles. “Yeah, I think the baby’s happiest when both parents are near.”

“That could be quite difficult if we hope to keep this secret much longer.”

“Maybe it shouldn’t be a secret anymore.” The engineer’s shoulders fell, as though the weight of carrying the secret the last two weeks were catching up to him. “I think we’ve both had enough time to get used to the idea and it’s not like waiting is going to make it any easier to deal with everyone’s reactions.”

T’Pol raised an eyebrow. “You expect adverse reactions?”

“Don’t you? I’d be real surprised if anyone took our story at face value. But we both know the truth, and that’s all that really matters. That and the baby.”

The nod of T’Pol’s head was almost imperceptible, but Trip didn’t need to see it to know she agreed with him. He could feel the affect of their decision, as though layers of stress had been peeled away from both their souls.

This bond they shared was going to take some getting used to. He wondered what other surprises were in store...

Chapter Six - A laughing matter

For as complicated as warp travel was from an engineering perspective, working the bridge shift during high-warp was surprisingly quiet.

Seated at his console, Travis Mayweather found that, for once, he didn’t mind the fact that he didn’t have a whole lot to do as the ship pretty much flew itself toward the coordinates he’d inputted hours ago.

During lulls like this, Travis would usually busy himself with navigational calculations or simulations he could run while still staying aware of the ship’s course.

That morning, however, Travis was using the time to mull over the news Captain Archer had shared with the crew.

Sub-Commander T’Pol was pregnant...and Commander Tucker was the father.

As if that wasn’t enough of a shock, the captain went on to inform them that the baby had nothing to do with inappropriate relations between the two senior officers, but was the result of some alien experimentation.

Before making his general announcement, the captain briefed the command crew with the full story; or at least as much as Phlox, Commander Tucker, T’Pol and the captain could figure out. Even with Phlox’s medical assurances, it was hard to believe -- no matter how much Travis wanted to trust the sub-commander and commander.

Alien abductions and sexual experimentation -- it sounded like some cheesy plot Commander Tucker would have picked for Movie Night.

Then again, Travis had spent three days searching for the science officer and engineer when they’d gone missing -- the same three days Phlox estimated the baby had been conceived. Hoshi and Lieutenant Reed had scanned every inch of the planet, not to mention having several teams investigating on foot. He found it unlikely the two of them could -- or would -- have stayed hidden without some outside interference.

Travis also found it highly doubtful that Commander Tucker or T’Pol would cling to such an insane story if they were just covering for inappropriate romantic involvement. Though the idea of an abduction was far-fetched, it just was crazy enough to be true.

Resisting the urge to glance over his shoulder, Travis could imagine T’Pol seated as she ever was; calm and poised as she reviewed status reports. Unlike Captain Archer, the sub-commander spent her time in the center seat actually sitting in the center seat. The captain was always pacing, looking over shoulders, sitting and then pacing again. Travis admired the Enterprise CO, but sometimes his pent-up energy made it difficult for the rest of the bridge crew to concentrate.

In fact, the captain had been full of an extraordinary amount of energy during the early morning briefing. In addition to the usual pacing, it seemed to Travis as though the older man was trying to avoid any type of contact with his second- and third-in-commands.

Travis and Hoshi had discussed once before how familiar the captain and T’Pol seemed, as though they had shared intimacies. Was it possible Captain Archer was jealous that the sub-commander was carrying Commander Tucker’s baby?

The absurdity of that thought caused a small chuckle to escape Travis’ lips -- which he then tried to cover with a cough.

“Are you well, Ensign?” T’Pol asked, one eyebrow arching as she regarded the pilot.

“I’m fine, sir,” Travis answered, turning in his seat to meet T’Pol’s steady gaze. “The air’s just a little dry up here, is all.”

T’Pol tilted her head slightly in consideration. “I will make it a point to ask Commander Tucker to run a diagnostic on the environmental controls.”

“Thank you, sir.” Travis turned back to his console, ignoring the pointed look Hoshi shot him as he pulled up his latest nav calculations and put his mind back to piloting the ship.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

‘The air’s dry’, my foot, thought Hoshi Sato as she regarded her fellow ensign seated at Navigation. She was certain she’d heard Travis laughing under those feigned coughs and, considering the morning’s briefing, she couldn’t imagine what about.

Did he think it was funny that Sub-Commander T’Pol was pregnant? Hoshi wasn’t quite sure what her feelings were in regard to the news, but she was pretty sure humor was not one of them.

Surprise basically covered it.

Unlike a lot of the Humans aboard, Hoshi had studied the Vulcan language -- and culture -- to the deepest extent an outsider was allowed. She’d read ancient texts and become acquaintances -- Vulcans did not make friends easily -- during her time on the desert planet. From all her studies, she knew Vulcan stoicism had nothing to do with a lack of emotions, but an overriding need to control their emotions in the pursuit of logic.

But just because a Vulcan had feelings didn’t make it any easier to accept that one would develop them for a Human. Vulcan culture was steeped in centuries of tradition and few went against it. For T’Pol -- or any Vulcan -- to turn her back on her upbringing for the sake of a Human was highly unlikely.

Of course, T’Pol had already demonstrated on several occasions that she did not always go along with Vulcan tradition. Her presence on Enterprise was a prime example -- she chose loyalty over duty to remain on the ship; resigning her commission to the High Command.

Or maybe it wasn’t just the ship’s mission she stayed for...maybe T’Pol had stayed for another reason. She and the commander spent a lot of time together outside of regular duties and the neuropressure sessions had the rumor mill running overtime.

Maybe...

no...

could they be...

As her mind wrestled with the thought, Hoshi began to believe it was possible that there was more to T’Pol and Tucker’s relationship.

For one thing, there was the neuropressure. From what Hoshi knew of the discipline -- which wasn’t much -- it was a very private and intimate act, usually only performed between Vulcan couples or for medicinal purposes. According to Lieutenant Reed, who had foolishly tried to stop the rumors, T’Pol’s ministrations were meant to help Commander Tucker sleep.

One can only imagine where gutter-prone thoughts quickly turned with that defense.

Secondly, none of the Vulcans Hoshi met would have put up with the commander’s constant verbal challenges. Any of her acquaintances at the Vulcan Science Academy would have iced him down with a cool stare before turning away.

As far as Hoshi could recall, Sub-Commander T’Pol never turned away when Commander Tucker wanted to mix words. In fact, several crewmen were known to stop what they were doing and watch the two go at it -- usually without either senior officer noticing their audience.

And, lastly, Hoshi saw the way Commander Tucker had seemed almost protective of T’Pol during the briefing. To the casual observer, there was nothing unusual about the science officer and engineer sitting next to each other in the Command Center. But to Hoshi, who studied body language as well as written and verbal, there was much more going on.

The way the commander leaned almost imperceptibly into T’Pol’s space and the way she allowed him to...the tilt of the sub-commander’s head as she watched Tucker interrupt the captain’s explanation on more than one point...the way he looked to her before speaking....

Oh my god. Now that she looked closely enough, Hoshi could see Sub-Commander T’Pol and Commander Tucker were broadcasting signals with more power than those buoys Enterprise was using to stay in contact with Starfleet.

Alien abduction and medical science aside, there was definitely something going on between those two. How could she not have seen it before?

Hoshi couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled from her lips and -- following the example set by Travis -- tried lamely to cover the outburst with a cough.

“Is the air too dry for you as well, Ensign Sato?” T’Pol asked, arching her eyebrow as she regarded the communications officer.

“I think Ensign Mayweather was right, Sub-Commander. The air is dry in here.”

T’Pol nodded her head and resumed reading the PADD in her hand as Hoshi ignored the look Travis shot her.

When their shift was over, they could both trade what they had found so amusing.

Chapter Seven - What was so funny?

As T’Pol stepped into the turbolift at the end of her shift, she wondered about the coughing-fits that seemed to seize several members of the bridge crew. Though she had not noticed anything unusual about the environmental conditions, she would make mention of it to Commander Tucker.

Humans, she found, were quite sensitive.

Pressing the control panel for Engineering, the sub-commander made a final glance back to the bridge and was not surprised to find several pairs of eyes watching her departure. As the turbolift began its descent, she leaned against the wall and allowed herself a moment to relax. Despite not showing any outward signs of her pregnancy, the internal signals were enough to tax every method of control she had. Sitting in the command seat for hours had been torture as the muscles in her back worked to compensate the burden she would eventually carry. Unlike Human pregnancies, Vulcan physiology prepared itself early so that the body’s energy could be focused on the maturing fetus in later months. In addition to the physical changes, T’Pol was still becoming accustomed to wading through the different thoughts and emotions in her mind.

The baby she had become used to. Commander Tucker she had not.

At his own request, T’Pol was teaching the engineer to meditate and temper his thoughts so that he wasn’t broadcasting them to her. She’d been surprised at how quickly he took to the lessons, but did concede that neuropressure and the mental disciplines shared some basic fundamentals.

Still, as far as she knew, no Human had ever been introduced to either aspect of Vulcan culture. Perhaps her people gave the Humans too little credit.

Then again, she amended as the turbolift slowed to a stop and she again straightened her spine, one could not judge an entire species by one individual.

It was possible that Commander Tucker was simply an extraordinary Human.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Whistling a nameless tune, the extraordinary Human strolled into the Armory and was surprised to see at least a dozen officers tending to various tasks.

Spotting the head of Enterprise security, Trip made his way over to him.

“Hey, Malcolm,” the engineer greeted, sidestepping a young ensign as she hurried to do her supervisor’s bidding. “What’s going on here?”

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed looked up from the inventory list. “I figured since I can’t really use any of the weapons systems right now, we’d redecorate the Armory.”

Trip stared for a moment, not sure whether the younger man was joking or not. He shook his head, ignoring the image of tapestries hanging from the scaffolding that popped into his head. “I heard you wanted to see me. What can I do for you?”

“You didn’t need to come up here to answer my question, Commander. I merely wanted to know when I can expect to have the phase cannons back online.”

“Rodriguez and Hess should have them done in a couple more hours.” Trip eyed two security officers as they walked by carrying a case of phase rifles. “You had a chance to try out the grappler modifications, yet?”

“I can’t very well grapple something while the ship’s moving at warp speed, can I?” Malcolm shrugged. “I’m sure your improvements are adequate.”

“Adequate? Malcolm, they’re the specs you wanted,” Trip protested. “What’s eating you this morning?”

“Afternoon,” Malcolm corrected, turning away to address a question from a junior-grade lieutenant.

“What?” Trip asked, following the retreating security officer as he walked to the other end of the Armory.

Malcolm didn’t bother turning as he answered, “It’s afternoon, Commander. Not morning.”

“Oh. Okay. Then what’s eating you this afternoon?” Trip drawled, more than a little annoyed to be chasing the conversation.

“Nothing’s ‘eating’ me, Commander, I --”

“That’s the third time you’ve called me ‘commander’ since I got here two minutes ago. You wanna tell me what the problem is?” Trip stopped short. “Wait a minute -- does this have to do with me and T’Pol?”

Malcolm turned abruptly and regarded the engineer. “I thought there was no ‘you and T’Pol.’”

“So that is what this is about.” Trip crossed his arms over his chest defensively, anticipating a lecture from his friend. In hopes of getting it started and over with as quickly as possible, Trip asked, “What’s the matter, Malcolm? You still got a crush on T’Pol?”

Malcolm’s face reddened a bit. “First of all, I never had a crush on the sub-commander. I merely stated that she had a nice bum. And secondly,” he turned and began walking away again, “nothing is the matter.”

Trip continued the pursuit. “You’re acting like there’s something the matter.”

“And you’re acting like nothing’s changed.”

“What?” Trip stopped short again, noticing the curious stares from Malcolm’s crew. “Y’think we should go someplace else to talk about this?”

“Why would you want to do that, Trip? It’s not like we just discussed the intimate details of the past month during a staff meeting? Why would you have a problem discussing anything in front of my crew?”

Trip stared hard at the security officer. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about, Malcolm. What did I do to tick you off?”

“It’s what you didn’t do.” Malcolm handed the PADD he was holding to a nearby crewman and walked toward an unoccupied wall.

Trip joined him and waited expectantly for Malcolm to begin, but then gave up and prompted, “Well?”

“If you must know...I didn’t appreciate finding out about your pending parenthood from Captain Archer during a ship’s briefing. You’ve known for a month that T’Pol was pregnant and you kept the information to yourself. First of all, as head of security, I should have been informed of such a grievance breach. Not to mention that my closest friend aboard Enterprise is going to be a father.”

“Malcolm, I --”

“The safety of this crew is my responsibility, Trip. When you and T’Pol were missing, I felt I had failed the ship and my friend. When we found you, it was almost enough that nothing had bad happened to either of you. It turns out you were abducted -- violated -- and no one saw fit to inform the ship’s security officer?”

Trip’s gaze fell to the tips of his boots, studying them intently. “I never really thought about that, Malcolm. I’m sorry. T’Pol and I weren’t ready to tell anyone at first.”

Malcolm nodded his head slowly in understanding.

Thinking they’d spent enough time talking about their feelings in the middle of the Armory, Trip asked in a joking tone, “So you’re not really jealous of me and T’Pol?”

The lieutenant tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. “Is there something to be jealous of?”

“No, not really. I mean, sure, we’re having a baby together and -- ” Trip trailed off and his mouth hung open in surprise at the conclusion he’d just come to.

Malcolm smirked at his friend, seeing that he’d finally come to the conclusion many members of the crew were already drawing. Turning to rejoin his workers, he said over his shoulder, “You will, of course, name me godfather when the little bundle of joy arrives, won’t you?”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

In a bit of a daze, Trip walked back toward Engineering with his thoughts intent on the epiphany he’d had in the Armory.

Despite his declaration and efforts to be there for T’Pol in the past weeks, he hadn’t given any true thought to his motivation behind it and what that meant for the future; how things would really be after the baby arrived.

For now, things were fine while they were aboard Enterprise -- despite the danger of their current mission -- but the starship was no place for a family. What were they going to do when the mission was over -- if they lived through it, at any rate. There was no guarantee that any of them was going to leave the Expanse.

Don’t go thinking those kinds of thoughts there, Trip, he chastised himself. It’s things like that that upset the baby. Redirecting his thoughts, Trip tried imagining that the mission was over and Earth was safe.

What then?

Trip had worked his entire adult life to be part of the Warp 5 Project. Could he really throw all that away? Of course, he didn’t have to be on a starship to design an engine for one. He was sure the boys back home could use some real-world experience to help them iron out some of the bugs in the lab simulations. But would T’Pol be up for settling on Earth? She’d spent a couple months, at most, in San Francisco before coming aboard Enterprise. He never thought to ask her what she thought of it; if she ever thought of calling Earth ‘home.’

And could he really ask her that? She’d already sacrificed so much of who she was. As much as he liked to see her softening up toward the crew, he knew she lost a bit of what made her Vulcan with every concession she made. Should T’Pol be the one to sacrifice everything? Could he really ask her to give up everything for him and their child? Was he willing to do the same?

Mired by even deeper thoughts than he was ready for, Trip was surprised to find he’d already arrived outside his office in Engineering. T’Pol was teaching him how to center his thoughts and block out the rest of the world for meditation, he didn’t expect he’d ever start walking around while stuck in his own head.

Pressing the release on the door, Trip was a bit surprised by the sight of a shapely back clad in purple velour seated in his chair as she rearranged a stack of PADDs he’d been meaning to look over.

“Those your nesting instincts kicking in?” he asked, stepping into the office and moving to the other seat.

At T’Pol’s raised eyebrow, Trip clarified, “Some Human mothers go on cleaning sprees when they’re expecting. I thought maybe you were having a nesting fit.”

“No, I am not having a ‘nesting fit.’ I came to report a possible problem with the environmental controls on the bridge.”

“Really? You having hot flashes, now, too?”

Again she didn’t seem to understand what he was talking about, so he cut her some slack and asked why she was cleaning his office. “Lieutenant Hess was able to handle the diagnostic and informed me you would be back momentarily. I wondered if you would care to join me for lunch after my appointment in Sickbay.”

Thinking that the two of them had a lot to talk about -- when didn’t they? -- Trip smiled, “That sounds like a great idea, actually. Why don’t I come with you to see Phlox?”

T’Pol looked at him a moment, as though trying to read his expression, before agreeing.

“Great. Just let me --” Trip grabbed the topmost PADD from the pile T’Pol had so neatly arranged and quickly scanned the screen. “You made a report of all my reports.”

“I thought they would be more easily accessible if your logs were better organized,” T’Pol offered, stepping to the door and waiting for him to join her.

“I don’t know what Vulcans call it, but you’re definitely doing some nesting.”

Chapter Eight - Spunky, the hairless rat

When the commander offered to accompany her to Sickbay, T’Pol had the distinct impression there was something he wanted to talk about. She knew there was something on his mind, having sensed the weight of his thoughts even before he’d entered his office in Engineering.

T’Pol had remained quiet as they walked to Sickbay, giving Commander Tucker opportunity to broach the discussion she was sure he wanted to have, but he remained uncharacteristically quiet.

When she entered Sickbay with the commander in tow, Dr. Phlox had seemed quite pleased. Despite the fact that T’Pol was the one carrying the child, the two men talked as though she hadn’t been in the room. Even when she emerged from behind the privacy screen, clad in garb more suited for a thorough examination, Phlox had continued speaking to the engineer and barely paid any attention to T’Pol as he attached the fetal monitor to her exposed abdomen.

If she’d thought about it logically, it was understandable that Phlox would take the time to discuss the pregnancy with the child’s father. Commander Tucker had not been to Sickbay since the discovery of the child and it was natural for the doctor to apprise him of the hybrid’s progress.

However, T’Pol was not feeling wholly logical or understanding and, in fact, found herself irritated that both males acted as though she wasn’t there. For as non-communicative as the commander had been moments before, he seemed at no loss for conversation as he questioned Phlox about everything from the supplements she was taking to other species’ gestation periods.

Despite her irritation at being ignored -- and her irritation at being irritated -- T’Pol found the engineer’s curiosity and concern gratifying. No matter how many times she told him she did not need or expect his involvement with the pregnancy, Commander Tucker reassured her that he had every intention of being a part of it.

But what about after?

T’Pol did not expect that the commander would want to leave Starfleet to raise a child, misplaced sense of responsibility or no. He was at the prime of his profession -- chief engineer of the first warp five engine. Even she was impressed by his knowledge of warp theory and knack for working around the laws of physics. Commander Tucker was a truly gifted man with a promising career. He could not -- she would not allow him to -- give that up.

With that decision made, T’Pol focused on what she was going to do after the child was born. Despite Captain Archer’s assurance that Enterprise needed her, the sub-commander’s time aboard the Human vessel could not last forever. With the completion of the Xindi mission, she would have to leave.

Where she would go was another matter.

By herself, T’Pol was a blemish to Vulcan society. With a half-Human child, she would most likely be promoted to outcast. It was difficult to determine if she would even be welcome on her home planet; by her own family. Breaking her engagement to Koss...resigning her commission...having a Human’s baby...Pa'nar...Even if she tried, T’Pol doubted there was more she could do to bring shame to her family.

Not that shaming them had been her intention. Maybe Soval had been correct about the Humans. They were a bad influence on her.

T’Pol was pulled from her thoughts as the comm sounded for Dr. Phlox.

Stepping to the wall unit, Phlox answered, “This is Sickbay.”

“Doctor? It’s Isley in Botany. We’re having trouble with that Orcanian ivy you donated. Can you come up here?”

Phlox frowned. “I’m with a patient. What seems to be the problem, Crewman?”

“Well, sir, the ivy keeps...uh...well, it bit me, sir, and now it’s intimidating the rest of the plants.”

The Denobulan gave the expectant parents a helpless look.

“Commander Tucker and I can wait, Doctor. It sounds as though Crewman Isley’s problem is more...urgent.”

Phlox pressed the comm once more. “I’ll be right there, Crewman. Please do not make any sudden movements.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After Phlox left, Trip became fascinated by the creatures that lined one wall of Sickbay and decided to study them intently.

Though his intention for joining T’Pol for her appointment had been to discuss their -- his, hers and the baby’s -- future, he hadn’t quite figured out how best to bring it up.

As he frowned at the hairless rat-looking thing in one of the larger cages, Trip sensed T’Pol’s impatience -- an improvement over the irritation she’d sent his way while he’d been talking to Phlox.

When the doctor had started explaining T’Pol’s progress and the baby’s health in such detail, Trip had welcomed the distraction from discussing more pressing matters. He hadn’t intended to exclude the sub-commander from the discussion, it just sort of happened.

Now, with the doctor gone, silence descended upon Sickbay like a heavy blanket. Trip sure as hell didn’t want to be the one to break --

“Is there something on your mind, Commander?” T’Pol asked.

Figures she wouldn’t leave it, Trip thought, looking to regard her before turning back to the rodent -- whom he’d named ‘Spunky’ in Phlox’s absence. “What makes you say that?”

“You seemed intent on joining me for this examination. I doubt it was simply because you enjoy tormenting the doctor’s menagerie.”

“I’m not tormenting them,” Trip denied, leaving Spunky with a sigh and moving to take a seat on the stool next to the biobed. “I just find them fascinating.”

“I was under the impression you found them disturbing.”

“Fascinating. Disturbing.” Trip shrugged. “They’re just interesting.”

“And easier focal points than whatever it is that is occupying your thoughts.”

“Yeah,” he agreed reluctantly. “There’s that, too.”

The engineer shifted uncomfortably on the stool, stood abruptly and began pacing in front of T’Pol. After a few laps, Trip stopped and ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, T’Pol, I guess you could say I had a bit of a revelation today. I’ve been saying from the beginning that I plan on being there for you and the baby, but we haven’t really said where there is going to be.”

“I do not understand.” T’Pol answered, though she had a feeling she did understand.

Trip resumed his seat on the stool. “Have you given any thought to what we’re going to do after the mission? If we survive this mission?”

“As a matter of fact, I have recently.”

Trip didn’t like how that sounded. “And did you figure anything out?”

“If this mission is successful, I will most likely return to Vulcan.”

“You can’t go to Vulcan,” Trip protested, standing so quickly the stool was pushed back several feet.

“It is true I do not have the most favorable of reputations for Vulcan society, but my family would not turn me away. I doubt I could resume my post with the High Command, but perhaps I can apply for a position at the Science Academy.”

Trip stared, openmouthed, at her. “Just like that? You’re gonna run home to your family and become a teacher?”

“It seems the most logical of plans. There is little else I am qualified to do, especially with a child to support.”

“And where do I fit into all this?”

“I have already told you, Commander, that I do not require or expect your assistance. I am grateful for all you’ve done so far, but you --”

“I’m not letting you or this baby get away that easily, T’Pol. I said I’m in this for the long-haul and I mean it.”

“That is noble, but foolish, of you, Commander. You have a promising Starfleet career ahead of you, possibly a command of your own someday. You should not obligate yourself when there is no need.”

“This isn’t about obligation, T’Pol. This is about me, you and our baby.”

“Commander --”

T’Pol stopped abruptly and both turned as Phlox returned to Sickbay. “I’m terribly sorry about that. I’ve warned Ensign Isley that Orcanian ivy can be territorial.”

Noting that neither the sub-commander or commander seemed to be paying attention to his explanation, Phlox switched back to OB-mode, picked up his scanner and moved to the biobed. “Now, where were we? Oh, yes, I believe I was about to tell you the hybrid’s gender.”

“You were?” Trip asked, his attention drawn from frowning at T’Pol’s stubborn Vulcan-self to the Denobulan. “You can tell already?”

“I believe so. You must remember that there is no exact obstetric science where hybrids are concerned, but I am relatively certain the child is female.”

“Female?” Trip repeated, locking eyes with T’Pol and feeling the tension of their debate slipping away. “We’re having a girl.”

“Yes, Commander. That is what the doctor said.” Though her face remained impassive, Trip could sense the same wonder he felt welling up inside the Vulcan.

Phlox smiled widely at the parents-to-be. “To keep this little girl as healthy as possible, I want you to continue with the supplements I provided, Sub-Commander, and I would suggest that you endeavor to find more time to rest. I can speak with the captain if you would like --”

“That’s okay, Doc,” Trip interrupted, his gaze still locked on T’Pol’s face. “I’m taking T’Pol to lunch and then her quarters as soon as we’re done here.”

“Then by all means,” Phlox said, removing the fetal monitor and placing it on the table behind him. “I expect to see you in two days, Sub-Commander.”

Chapter Nine - Beware phase cannons

It had been four months since Trip and T’Pol found out they were going to be parents; a month since they learned the hybrid was female.

In that time, both senior officers could be found in each other’s company -- on duty and off -- as their respective commitments to the ship allowed.

Trip couldn’t explain it, really, but he just knew that he felt more at ease when he was in T’Pol’s presence. He didn’t know if it was simply the pull of the paternal bond or other feelings he wasn’t ready to study, but he did know that he hadn’t felt this content -- this whole -- since the Xindi attack on Earth and the death of his sister.

Thinking of Lizzie was still enough to form a lump in his throat, but he was no longer plagued with nightmares or the need to escape all human contact. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten Lizzie -- never that -- but he’d learned in the last four months that life really did go on as long as those living chose to continue living.

And, right now, he was living for his daughter.

It was still weird on a lot of levels to think that he was going to be a father. Even weirder to think that T’Pol was the mother of his child, but Trip could think of worse fates than a life with the Vulcan science officer. Granted, they’d yet to determine where that life was going to be or what it would entail, but, as T’Pol pointed out, they did have another seven months to figure it out.

In the meantime, Trip was proving his resolve to be a part of the child’s life by accompanying T’Pol to see Phlox at least once a week and making sure the first officer was taking care of herself by eating right, getting enough rest and not standing in front of phase cannons.

“I will not be in front of any cannons, Commander,” T’Pol corrected, her fork poised over the plate Trip had readied for her. “I will simply be helping Mr. Reed compile a list of supplies he would like to procure at the next availability.”

“I don’t want you standing in a room full of weapons with Malcolm,” Trip said, repeating the protest he began shortly after T’Pol informed him over breakfast that she was headed for the Armory.

T’Pol raised an eyebrow at him, though he didn’t need the physical action to know she was irritated with him. He noticed in recent months of being connected through the bond that her emotions were becoming more pronounced, at least to him. He wondered if it had to do with the pregnancy or being connected to an emotional and irrational Human.

He hoped it was hormones from the pregnancy. He hated to think that their link was having a negative affect on her.

T’Pol watched as Trip paced the length of his quarters. She’d noticed in recent months that he’d taken to pacing as an outlet for his emotions, rather than blurting out whatever he happened to be thinking or feeling. “Do you not trust the lieutenant? I was under the impression he was your friend.”

“He is my friend,” Trip admitted, slowing his steps but continuing to walk back and forth before her. “That’s why I know he can get a little excited when there’s the potential to blow something up.”

“I highly doubt that happening, Commander. Lieutenant Reed would not wish to diminish his supplies any further.”

Trip gave her a look, seeing the futility of arguing. She’d already accused him of hovering and he’d promised not to interfere with her duties.

Well, he promised to try not to interfere with her duties.

And, as first officer, she’d been appointed to create an inventory from all departments so that when Enterprise encountered a less-than-hostile planet they would know what to barter for and what they could barter with. They’d already been in the Expanse with no sign of the Xindi for six months. There was no telling how much longer they could survive on the supplies Starfleet stocked them with back on Earth.

“Eat the rest of your fruit,” Trip finally acquiesced, “and I’ll promise not to cut power to the Armory.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

An hour later, Malcolm waited expectantly as T’Pol looked over the PADD he’d prepared. In addition to the supplies the Armory required, he’d added a list of suggestions for weapons upgrades based on what they knew of Xindi defenses -- which wasn’t much -- and was interested to know what she thought of them.

“Your acquisition requests seem reasonable, Lieutenant.” She advanced the PADD to the next screen, “And your theory about the Reptilian weapons is --”

“Sub-Commander, are you all right?” Malcolm asked, concerned as a grimace passed over her face.

With visible effort, T’Pol composed her features. “I do not believe the large breakfast Commander Tucker insisted I consume is agreeing with the hybrid.”

Having shared morning meals with Trip, Malcolm could understand how anyone would have an upset stomach afterward. “Would you like to continue this some other time, perhaps?”

T’Pol took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she attempted to take control of her body. “No. The discomfort is subsiding.”

“Very well,” Malcolm agreed, though knowing she must be in tremendous pain to even admit it. If she insisted they continue, he could at least attempt to finish quickly. He turned back toward the weapons locker, hand poised to key in the security code --

There was a low groan and Malcolm turned in time to see T’Pol sink to the Armory floor.

“Sub-Commander!”

Moving quickly to the fallen Vulcan’s side, he reached for a pulse -- and realized he hadn’t the faintest idea where to even gauge it properly. He knew nothing of Vulcan physiology and was of little use to her.

He ran to the comm, signaling Dr. Phlox. “Sub-Commander T’Pol has collapsed. I’m bringing her to Sickbay.”

Not waiting for a response, he pushed the door release, gathered the sub-commander into his arms and ran toward the turbolift.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Engineering. Minutes before.

Ever since breakfast, Trip couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong -- or about to go wrong. Unable to pin down whatever was causing the feeling, he had his team running diagnostics on every system he could think of.

He was somewhat disappointed when all reports came back within acceptable parameters.

But something still felt off.

Which was unfortunate for Ensign Montgomery. Unable to appease his anxiety, Trip’s patience had grown thin. And poor, unsuspecting Adam Montgomery, had no warning when he handed the chief engineer his diagnostic report.

“There’s a reason Starfleet developed protocols for warp diagnostics,” Trip growled, glaring at the perfectly adequate report Montgomery handed to him. “Do you think just because you didn’t have the time to thoroughly document --”

Montgomery chanced speaking when Trip trailed off in mid-rant. “Sir?”

Trip ignored the crewman, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. What the he --

And then it hit him, an explosion of clarity as he finally realized what was wrong. It hadn’t been the engines. It had nothing to do with Enterprise.

It was the baby. The baby was in trouble.

T’Pol was in trouble.

His family needed him.

Montgomery watched as a white-faced Commander Tucker ran out of Engineering.

“What was that about?” Lieutenant Ana Hess asked, coming up beside Montgomery as Trip ran off.

Montgomery shrugged as the comm sounded: “Phlox to Commander Tucker.”

Hess and Montgomery looked at each other before Hess moved to the wall unit. “This is Lieutenant Hess, Doctor. Can I help you with something?”

“Where is Commander Tucker?” Phlox asked, stress obvious in the Denobulan’s voice.

“He just ran out of here, sir,” Hess answered.

There was a moment’s pause. “Please tell him to report to Sickbay when you see him.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered and turned to Montgomery. “I have a feeling Commander Tucker is already on his way to Sickbay.”

Montgomery nodded, picking up the PADD Trip had dropped in his haste.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Though the sub-commander was lighter than she looked, Malcolm wasn’t sure how he was going to activate the turbolift without unsettling her or the hybrid.

If only they were equipped with motion sensors and voice-activation.

He nearly yelled with relief as he neared the end of the corridor and the turbolift door opened to reveal Trip Tucker.

Wordlessly, Trip held out his arms and took T’Pol into his embrace, barely looking at the security officer as he searched her face.

They were silent as the ’lift slowed and they continued toward Sickbay, seeing Phlox standing outside the medical facility waiting for them.

“What happened?” the Denobulan asked, leading Trip to the biobed he’d prepared.

Malcolm recounted the events in the Armory as Phlox ran the scanner down the length of T’Pol’s body. “She thought she had eaten something that didn’t agree with her. Then she collapsed.”

“What is it, Doc?” Trip asked as the doctor held the scanner over her abdomen.

“The womb has become unstable. I’m afraid her body is rejecting the hybrid.”

“Can you stop it?” Trip asked.

His face grim, the doctor replied, “There are a number of things we can try...but are you sure, Commander?”

“You’re talking about my kid in there!”

“I realize that, Commander. But as you also know, this baby is not a natural product. Perhaps this is the best for all concerned.”

Trip’s face contorted with pain, just as T’Pol’s eyes opened. With great effort, she pushed herself up on the biobed. “You must save our child.” Then, her energy spent, she collapsed onto the bed.

The engineer looked at Phlox, his face pleading. “That’s all the answer you need, Doc. We don’t care how the baby got in there, but we don’t want her coming out until she’s ready.”

“Understood, Commander.”

And Phlox got to work.

Chapter Ten - Recovery room hijinx

As many times as T’Pol had been rendered unconscious during her time on Enterprise, she still wasn’t accustomed to the disorientation that came from waking without any true recollection of what put her under in the first place.

Slowly, she opened her eyes and found the concerned face of Enterprise 's chief engineer above her. Noting his drawn features, her first instinct was to touch the reassuring presence of the child within her...

That is unusual, she thought. The bond was intact, but there was something different, almost fragmented, about the presence within her. Not bothering to hide the confusion or concern from her voice, she asked, “The child?”

The commander’s features relaxed almost immediately at her question, putting some of her fear to rest. “Everything’s fine,” he assured, “Phlox’ll give you the details when he gets back.”

T’Pol looked around the recovery area, finding the doctor’s absence unusual. “Where is Dr. Phlox?”

The father of her child attempted a small smile as he said, “I pushed Malcolm down a turbolift to buy us a couple of minutes alone.”

She was relatively sure he was only joking, but T’Pol admitted to herself that she still did not always understand the Human sense of humor.

Sensing that his joke fell flat, the commander admitted, “I need to talk to you about something, T’Pol.”

“Is there something wrong with our daughter?” she asked, using the child’s gender for the first time aloud. Despite the maternal connection she felt, T’Pol had tried to maintain an outward appearance of scientific detachment. At that moment, laying on a biobed after nearly losing the small life within her, she found scientific detachment to be a waste of energy.

“I already told you everything’s fine,” the engineer reassured, running a hand through his hair. “This is different. I -- You gave me quite the scare, darlin’.”

“It was not my intention,” T’Pol answered, almost in apology. She attempted to sit up and, finding she lacked the strength, was grateful when he assisted her.

“This has become more than someone’s experiment, hasn’t it? We could have easily allowed the miscarriage and both gotten on with our lives.”

That was true, but T’Pol had a feeling her life wouldn’t have been worth getting on with if she’d allowed the child to die. She laid a hand over her middle, protecting the mound that was -- for all that mattered -- their child.

Their child, she thought, looking over at the commander as he struggled with whatever it was he wanted to say to her. Their child.

“We still don’t know who did this or why...” he continued, “But I don’t think I really care. I’ve never been more scared in my life than when I thought we were going to lose her.”

“Neither have I,” she admitted quietly .

“The only thing that scared me more,” the engineer gingerly touched T’Pol’s chin, drawing her face to meet his. “Was when I thought I might lose you.”

Her eyes widened. Of all the things he could have said...that was certainly not expected. “Commander --”

“Don’t say anything, T’Pol, please. I’ve had some realizations over the last couple of hours and I...I really just need to talk right now.”

“Very well, Commander,” T’Pol said, settling into the pillow and trying to hide some of the confusion she felt. “Talk.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Trip took a deep breath.

He ran a hand through his hair.

He took another deep breath.

‘Talk,’ she says. That’s easy for her to say, she doesn’t know the hell I’ve been through.

Though the captain and doctor had urged him to get some rest, Trip had refused to leave T’Pol’s side since she was transferred to Recovery. Despite his faith in Phlox, Trip couldn’t really believe the Vulcan science officer was going to be okay until she told him herself.

Sitting there, staring at her peaceful form, he had a lot of time to think about how much she’d come to mean to him over the last two years, in particular over the last four months. As much fun as it was to play “dad-to-be,” he didn’t think he’d be enjoying it nearly as much if it wasn’t for T’Pol.

“I know you think my wanting to be a part of this pregnancy is because of some obligation or misplaced sense of duty, but it’s so much more than that. I realized today, sitting here, waiting for you to wake up that...sometime, somehow, I fell in love with you. It could have been this morning over breakfast, or it could have been the first time you wrinkled your nose at me...I don't really know, but now that I recognize what it is...it feels like forever.”

Trip leaned back in his chair, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

He’d said it.

He’d really said it.

And he meant every word of it.

He searched T’Pol’s eyes, trying to gauge her response to his confession. At her silence, he admitted, “I don’t expect you to feel the same -- I’m not even sure if you can -- but I just wanted you to know how I feel. I think it’s important that you know that, no matter what, I’m here for the long-haul.”

T’Pol tilted her head to the side, as though studying him. At length, she said, “That sounds quite permanent, Commander.”

“I mean it to sound permanent, T’Pol. Will you --”

“Ah, Sub-Commander, I’m glad to see you’re awake.” Phlox announced, coming into the recovery area. He picked up the scanner and proceeded to run it down the length of T’Pol’s body -- a motion Trip had watched him perform several times over the past hours. “How do you feel?”

No, T’Pol, Trip thought. What do you feel?

An inscrutable expression on her face, T’Pol focused her attention on the doctor. “There do not seem to be any lingering effects. Commander Tucker assures me the child is well.”

“Yes, Sub-Commander, your daughter is just fine,” Phlox answered, smiling widely at Trip as he prepared to drop the bombshell he’d informed the engineer of shortly after surgery. “As is your son.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Son?” T’Pol asked, reeling with her second shock since waking. First Commander Tucker’s profession of love and now --

“Yes,” Phlox replied, somewhat sheepishly. “I warned you it was difficult to properly gauge the progress of a hybrid. It wasn’t until I was repairing the damage to the uterus that I discovered your daughter had company.”

“We’re having twins, T’Pol.” The father of her child -- children -- didn’t seem at all surprised by the doctor’s announcement.

“Twins,” T’Pol repeated. That would explain why the bond to her child had felt so different to her now. In the beginning, they were likely of such similar minds that it had been difficult to determine one’s thoughts from the other’s. It would seem, however, that her children were beginning to form their own minds now.

Her children.

T’Pol laid her hands over her abdomen, imagining she could feel the physical presence of the two lives within her. “Multiple births are an extremely rare occurrence on Vulcan.”

“It is likely that whoever created the hybrids wanted to increase the chance of a viable embryo by implanting more than one,” Phlox explained. “Now that I know there are two -- and only two -- in there, I’ve readjusted your supplements. I believe it was an iron deficiency that triggered the uterine instability.”

The Denobulan turned to regard the Enterprise engineer. “I expect you’ll see that she gets plenty of rest, Commander?”

“I am sitting right here, Doctor,” T’Pol reminded both men, wondering briefly why the two insisted on talking about her like she wasn’t in the same room as them.

“Don’t you worry, Doc,” the commander assured, moving closer to the biobed. “I plan on keeping a close eye on her. In fact, I think it’s about time we talked about sharing quarters. Wouldn’t it be more logical considering all the time we’ve been spending -- and are going to spend -- together?”

The audacity of his suggestion was enough to render T’Pol speechless as the two males shared a look she didn’t even want to contemplate the meaning of.

Perhaps later, when she was better rested, she could talk some sense into the stubborn Human.

Chapter Eleven - I got a noisy neighbor

The threat of nearly losing the child she carried had affected T’Pol to her very core. In addition to the pain she’d felt physically, she had experienced fear and pain as it gripped the life within her. T’Pol’s relief upon waking -- feeling the reassuring presence of the maternal bond -- was almost as overwhelming as the terror she’d experienced before slipping into unconsciousness.

Feeling that bond now, the expectant mother marveled at the two lives within her. Even with two days in Sickbay to become accustomed to the fact she was having twins, T’Pol found it difficult to believe that she’d carried both children for twenty weeks without realizing there were two of them.

Though, as she’d explained to Phlox and the commander, multiple births were unheard of on Vulcan. There was no reason for her to think there could be two lives within her. If she’d been able to properly meditate, she may have been able to focus more clearly and discovered the individual essences.

Her fragmented thoughts had been the source of many surprises she would -- or should -- have otherwise seen. Perhaps if she had been more in control of her own emotions, she would have noticed the increased attachment the Enterprise chief engineer apparently held for her.

Not simply an ‘attachment,’ T’Pol reminded herself. He said he loved me.

The Human concept of love was one that often eluded her, even after watching several films of the genre during Movie Night. Vulcan coupling revolved around arranged marriages and the need to procreate -- not flowery ideals of passion and romance.

T’Pol cast a glance at the commander as he escorted her from Sickbay to her quarters. She’d insisted she did not need his help in finding her quarters after only two days under Phlox’s care, but the stubborn Human had been insistent. T’Pol had also informed him that she did not require his company during her time in Sickbay, but the commander had refused to leave except for his duty shifts on the Bridge and in Engineering.

Despite the amount of time he’d spent with her, the engineer had not made any further overtures of affection to her nor had he made reference to his earlier confession. Perhaps the stress of the situation had compelled him to share his feelings; or perhaps he did not truly experience those feelings.

The commander had not made further mention of his idea that they share quarters, either, for which T’Pol was grateful. She knew his intentions were noble, but T’Pol doubted she could handle living with --

“Welcome home, T’Pol.”

Pulled from her thoughts, T’Pol found they had arrived at her quarters. She was surprised he’d managed to remain quiet for the entire walk and, even more so, that she’d been so lost in her own thoughts that she had not been aware of her surroundings.

“Thank you for the escort, Commander.” Attempting to cover her lapse in attention, T’Pol keyed the door open and stepped inside. When the door did not close behind her, she turned to see him still standing in the corridor. She raised an eyebrow at his break in routine. She couldn’t remember the last time he had not simply followed her into the cabin.

Not moving, the engineer said, “I’ve got some schematics to look over and you should get some rest.”

“I have rested enough, Commander,” T’Pol protested. “There are several reports that need my attention. I have been under the doctor’s care enough times to know that paperwork stops for no one.”

“Just don’t do too much, okay? I don’t want you to push yourself too hard after only two days.”

“I sincerely doubt crew reports will be overly taxing, Commander.”

“Just take it easy, all right? I’m right next door if you need me.”

“Your cabin is two decks and three sections away,” T’Pol reminded him.

“Not anymore.” He smiled. “After your little episode, I thought it might be a good idea if I was closer. So I switched.”

“What about Crewman Helenski?” T’Pol asked, referring to the anthropologist who resided next door.

“He’s fine. He’s living in a senior officer’s quarters now. He’s got almost twice the space.”

“Meaning that you have half the space.”

“I never spent that much time in my cabin, anyway.” The engineer shrugged. “Besides, it was worth the trade to be closer to you and the twins. The three of you are more important than having room to play floor hockey in the privacy of my quarters.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Two hours after Commander Tucker left T’Pol in her quarters, Ensign Hoshi Sato pressed the door announcer and waited for the sub-commander to answer.

As she stood in the corridor, Hoshi debated with herself once again if it was such a good idea to bother T’Pol so soon after her release from Sickbay. She knew Phlox wouldn’t have cleared the first officer if he thought she wasn’t up for fulfilling her duties, but she had undergone a pretty terrible ordeal only forty-eight hours ago. That wasn’t a lot of time to fully recover from nearly losing a child.

Of course, maybe T’Pol would appreciate the distraction. In theory, Vulcans didn’t dwell on things and healed much faster than Humans -- but Hoshi had noticed the maternal glow that surrounded the science officer. Vulcan or not, no mother could be expected to deal with a fright like that in such a short time. Plus, if Hoshi used her last extended stay in Sickbay as an example, she’d been crazy for a distraction by the time Phlox released her.

T’Pol could probably deal well with a distraction right about now.

When the door slid aside to reveal the Vulcan mother-to-be, Hoshi smiled brightly.

Though T’Pol did not return the smile, she did not show signs of disapproval for it either. “Can I help you, Ensign?”

“If you’re feeling up to it, I thought you might be able to help me with something.”

T’Pol stepped aside, allowing Hoshi room to enter the cabin. She’d only seen the first officer’s quarters once before and they were as immaculately maintained as she remembered. Looking around, she frowned at the stack of PADDs on the sub-commander’s desk.

“If you’re busy catching up, I can come back later,” Hoshi said, indicating the desk.

“That is not necessary. I have reviewed each of the reports and found that Commander Tucker has already dealt with them.”

Hoshi wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard a trace of disappointment in T’Pol’s voice. Knowing the Vulcan work ethic, T’Pol had probably been looking forward to reviewing the crew reports and getting back to ship’s business.

“That was certainly thoughtful of the commander,” Hoshi offered. “Because now you can help me with the communications relay.”

One eyebrow rose in curiosity.

“As you know, we’ve been pretty lucky that we’ve been able to communicate with Starfleet for as long as we have, but it’s been a week since we sent our last transmission with no response from Earth.”

“Are the buoys we’ve deployed intact?”

“I think so. I’m getting a strong signal from the closest two with only a marginal decay toward the edge of the Expanse. But even allowing for the delays in relaying through so many beacons, we should have heard something two days ago. If we’ve lost contact with Starfleet, we’re really on our own.”

T’Pol was quiet for a moment as she seemed to think about the problem. “Though I believe we are perfectly capable of carrying out this mission ‘on our own,’” she began, “I believe there is one option we can attempt before making that determination.”

“Really?” Hoshi asked, surprised that the science officer -- no matter how brilliant she was -- had found an answer so quickly.

“I was working on a theory for strengthening our sensor range by linking long-range sensors to the communications array. However, we may be able to boost the communications signal by linking it into the ship’s sensors.”

“Because they both work on the same algorithm,” Hoshi said, seeing where T’Pol was going, “integrating the two would intensify the strength of both.”

“In theory,” T’Pol added.

“Right,” Hoshi agreed. “In theory.”

“If you will accompany me to the Command Center, we can collect my calculations and apply them to the communications array in Engineering.”

“Sounds like fun,” Hoshi said, then remembered who she was talking to. “I mean, sounds like it might solve our communications problem.”

“I also believe solving our communications problem would be gratifying, Ensign.”

Did T’Pol just agree with me that this was going to be fun? Hoshi wondered, following the first officer to the door. Sometimes, even after working with someone for a while, she still had the ability to surprise you.

Chapter Twelve - Accentuate the negative

Being chief engineer of Earth’s first warp five vessel was an honor Trip Tucker wouldn’t give up for the world.

However, being department head of the largest work crew on Enterprise was a headache he’d willingly trade to anyone who wanted it.

Looking over the Engineering work schedule, Trip sighed in frustration as he continued to juggle individual crewmen and shifts. In most any other part of the ship, scheduling was a simple task. Save for the Bridge and Security, most departments were on a nine-to-five schedule. However, with so much riding on the warp core, it was necessary to rotate the schedules so that no crewman could become “burned out” by routine.

As such, Trip was stuck with a scheduling nightmare on a monthly basis.

Leaning against the wall in a relatively quiet corner of Engineering, schedule in hand, he looked up suddenly at a small tingle in the back of his mind. Seconds later, the Engineering doors parted to admit Hoshi and T’Pol.

The two women seemed deep in conversation and showed no notice of his approach. It was only when he was a few feet behind T’Pol as she stood at the communications array that the first officer turned to regard him.

"What the hell are you doing down here?"

Cool as ever -- as far as he could tell, at least -- T’Pol answered, “I am assisting Ensign Sato in an effort to maintain our communications with Starfleet.”

"You’re supposed to be in your quarters,” Trip reminded her.

“I already told you I do not need to rest, Commander. Doctor Phlox has cleared me for duty.”

“Light duty,” Trip corrected, glaring briefly at Hoshi for bringing T’Pol work to do. “You shouldn’t be working in your condition.”

T’Pol raised an eyebrow. "Indeed, Commander. Need I remind you that you chose to continue working during your preg --"

"That was different and you know it,” he bit out, not wanting the few crewmembers who didn’t know about his own maternal experience to hear her. He lowered his voice, “I wasn't nearly as far along as you are. And I hadn't almost miscarried.”

Sensing that this conversation really shouldn’t include her, Hoshi backed away and said, “I’m going to start re-calibrating the communications array.”

Trip watched the linguist leave and noticed that the rest of his crew had stopped their work and were attempting -- without much success -- to look busy while they listened to the exchange. Not wanting to air all his personal affairs to the whole of Engineering, Trip placed his hand at T’Pol’s elbow and led her toward his office.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After a very loud ten minutes -- though the commander’s voice was the only one heard through the closed doors -- the two senior officers emerged from the chief engineer’s office.

Commander Tucker, Ana Hess noted, looked less-than-pleased with whatever agreement the two had finally reached. The sub-commander, not surprisingly, gave very little away in her facial expression as she joined Sato at the communications array.

Though she didn’t necessarily like to see her commanding officer upset, Ana had to admit it was nice to see the Chief behave in a manner similar to his pre-Xindi self. Ana understood the pain of losing a loved one -- her own sister had died in a training accident two years earlier -- but Commander Tucker’s grief had transformed him from an easy-going, if somewhat irritable, genius to a shell of automated responses.

His relationship with Sub-Commander T’Pol, though Ana still didn’t completely understand it, seemed to be a catalyst for bringing life back to him. And, though Ana had no qualms about stepping into his shoes every once in a while to run Engineering, she was glad to have the Chief back.

Even if, at the moment, his attention was divided between the repair list she was showing him and the communications console where Sub-Commander T’Pol worked with Ensign Sato.

“Commander?” Ana asked, trying to draw his focus back to the PADD she was currently holding out to him.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he bellowed and it took Ana a moment to realize that his ire was directed at T’Pol and not her. The lieutenant watched as Tucker stalked toward the service ladder -- which the sub-commander was about to climb.

Ensign Sato, she noted, made a quick back step to get out of the commander’s path.

Oh boy, Ana thought. This isn’t going to be good at all.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“What did I just say?” Trip yelled. “Didn’t I just tell you no crawling and climbing in your condition?"

“I could quote your exact words, Commander, but I believe the whole of Engineering has heard enough profanity for today,” T’Pol replied, her even tones a contrast to his escalating volume.

“Cute. Real cute.” Trip crossed his arms over his chest. “What exactly do you need on the upper level?”

“I am attempting to interface the communications array with main sensors for a stronger signal base. The sensor array is more easily accessed from the upper level.”

“And you couldn't have taken the ’lift? Or Hoshi couldn’t have done it for you?”

“I suppose...”

“T'Pol, I'm serious. I don't want you doing anything that's going to endanger you or the twins."

“I do not believe I have placed the twins in any danger with my activities.” She placed her foot on the lowest rung of the ladder. “Now, if you will excuse me.”

Trip place his hand on her arm. “Don't even think about it."

“Please unhand me, Commander."

"No, Sub-Commander, I don't think I will. I forbid you to climb this ladder -- or any ladder -- or place yourself in any strenuous situation for the next six months."

"You are being wholly irrational."

"Yeah, well, you worked me up pretty badly. I'm not feeling wholly rational."

T’Pol tilted her head slightly. "Do you realize your accent becomes more pronounced when you are agitated?"

"Considering how much you agitate me, I'm not surprised you've noticed." He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, T’Pol, just promise me you’ll be careful.”

“Commander --”

“Tactical alert. Senior officers to the bridge.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Rushing to their tactical stations, Hess and Martinez spared a few minutes. "What the hell was that about?"

"I don’t know. I think it would have been hilarious if it hadn’t been so scary."

"Scary?" Hess asked.

"Yeah,” Martinez replied. “The sub-commander and Tucker fighting like that...it reminded me of my parents.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Captain Archer turned as T’Pol and Hoshi stepped onto the Bridge.

“I thought you were on light duty?” he asked T’Pol.

Rather than answer, T’Pol took her seat at the science console and proceeded to run a scan of the surrounding space. In an effort to draw the captain’s attention from the already frustrated Vulcan -- though T’Pol would never admit it and Hoshi would never point it out, the Vulcan woman was probably only one more stubborn Human male away from snapping a certain engineer’s neck -- Hoshi moved to her own station. “What’s going on?”

“An unidentified ship has dropped out of warp. One life sign,” Malcolm informed her from his position at Tactical. “And its brought a gaggle of Xindi ships with it.”

"The Xindi vessels do not seem to have detected Enterprise. Electromagnetic interference from the planet seems to be masking our presence," T'Pol reported.

"Let's keep it that way," Archer said, focusing his attention back to the viewscreen.

"Sir," reported Malcolm, "the unidentified ship is in trouble. Life support is failing and structural integrity is almost nil."

"Can we get a transporter lock?" the captain asked, moving toward the tactical console as though his presence would make the procedure possible.

"Not from here, sir. We'll need to move from our position," Malcolm informed him, refusing to allow Archer's hovering to distract him from his duty.

Archer looked back at the viewscreen, watching as the pursuing Xindi vessels fired a volley of plasma bursts at the much smaller and, apparently, outgunned ship. "Travis, hold our position," he finally commanded as an idea came to him. Moving to the center seat, he hit the comm button. "Bridge to Engineering."

"Engineering," came the pleasant tone of Commander Tucker's voice.

"Trip, I need you to get a transporter lock on the pilot of the unidentified ship. When he moves into range, pull him out of there."

"Aye-aye, Cap'n. I'll be in the Transporter Room."

Once the connection was closed, Malcolm asked, "Would it be wise to have a security detail waiting? We don't know who -- or what -- we're bringing aboard."

Archer nodded and reached again for the communicator on the center seat. "Major Hayes, have a team of MACOs in the Transporter Room to receive our guest."

When Hayes acknowledged, Archer cut the connection and, to himself or the Bridge, said "Let's hope that an enemy of the Xindi is a friend of ours."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Down in the Transporter Room, Trip was busy securing the lock on their soon-to-be-guest when Major Hayes and two of his MACOs arrived. "Lieutenant Reed thought you might need us."

"Good timing," Trip said, initiating the transport sequence. "We're bringing our guest -- for better or worse -- aboard now."

The MACOs watched intently as the transporter affect began, their weapons trained on the shimmer of space as it began to take shape and dissipated to reveal the pilot.

"You!" Trip yelled, the alarm in his voice causing the MACOs to release the safety on their sidearms and move menacingly forward.

The woman on the platform ignored the armed Humans and focused a warm smile on the engineer. "Hello, Commander Tucker."

Trip stared hard at the woman, an appropriate insult or threat forming on his lips just as Archer's voice came over the comm, "Trip? Did you get him?"

"It's not a him, Cap'n. It's Rajiin."

Chapter Thirteen - Fear leads to...

Curiosity overrode logic as T’Pol -- despite the captain’s protest -- followed Archer and Reed into the Transporter Room.

Though she did not doubt the commander’s identification of their unexpected visitor, she found it difficult to believe that Rajiin, the alien slave Archer “rescued” from a trade planet six months ago, would willingly return to Enterprise after assaulting several crewmembers to gather information for the Reptilian Xindi.

The fact that T’Pol had been one of those assaulted crewmembers fueled her need to confront the woman once more. Rajiin had left her unconscious as a result of the method she used to gain entry into the science officer’s mind. The sight of Rajiin standing serenely on the transporter platform, however, forced T’Pol to stop short as she remembered the way the woman had smiled moments before forcing her way into her mind. The very sight of Rajiin made T’Pol feel as vulnerable and open as she had months ago in her quarters.

There was little T’Pol could do to stop the icy tendrils of fear that snaked up her spine, her thoughts moving quickly from her own safety to that of her children. If Rajiin was able to overpower her again -- T’Pol would be helpless to protect her son and daughter.

Taking an involuntary step back, T’Pol was surprised to find that Trip had moved from his place behind the control console to stand beside her. Though his focus was on their unexpected guest, T’Pol was aware of his awareness of her. Since discovering their connection through the paternal bond, both she and the engineer had worked very hard to keep their thoughts to themselves.

This was the first instance in quite some time that T’Pol could sense what Trip was feeling. At the moment, he was feeling a lot of anger -- all of it directed at Rajiin -- and something more, something...

“Are you not happy to see me, Jonathan?”

Both Trip and T’Pol were surprised by the familiar way Rajiin addressed the captain, especially considering the compliment of Starfleet and MACO officers surrounding her.

“Why would I be happy to see you?” Archer practically growled, taking a step toward the platform and causing Hayes to move with him in an effort to protect Enterprise’s commanding officer. “The last time I saw you, you betrayed my ship and attacked my crew.”

The smile Rajiin had worn since materializing minutes before faltered some. “I told you I had no choice,” she explained, taking her own step forward and ignoring the phase rifles trained on her every movement. “I thought you would have understood that now.”

“I don’t understand it anymore now than I did then,” the captain answered. His eyes narrowed. “Lucky for me, I have my own choices to make.” He turned to Hayes and Lieutenant Reed. “Throw her in the Brig.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Stop telling me that you’re fine because I’m not going to believe you.”

From her position on the meditation mat, T’Pol regarded the Enterprise chief engineer as he lounged in a chair of negligible spinal support he had procured from his cabin. The stubborn Human had refused to leave her side since Rajiin was taken to the Brig and didn’t seem to think being “right next door” was close enough for keeping a watchful eye over her.

Though she had no intention of placing herself in the same vulnerable position with Rajiin as she had last time, T’Pol appreciated his efforts in regard to her well-being.

That appreciation, however, only went so far.

“If you would leave me alone long enough to meditate, I can assure you that I will be fine, Commander.” In addition to calming her thoughts after the encounter with Rajiin, T’Pol wanted to focus her attention on the apparent strengthening of the connection between herself and the commander. At first, she had thought it a result of her shock at seeing her attacker again, but even as the two senior officers had walked back to their quarters the bond had lingered.

Trip shifted in his seat, adjusting the pillow he had taken from T’Pol’s bunk in an effort to make himself more comfortable. “I’m not leaving you alone for one minute while that woman’s on board. I don’t trust her, even if she is in the Brig with two MACOs watching over her.”

“That is understandable,” T’Pol agreed, suppressing a shudder as, again, the memory of Rajiin’s assault came unbidden to her mind. It had been the second time T’Pol had been violated, had the barriers of her mind stripped away to expose her core. The mental defenses taught to every young Vulcan had been ripped away like tissue against the other woman’s persistent probe. T’Pol had been helpless to stop her, just as she’d been helpless to stop --

No, she would not think of Tolaris. There was no need to relive those memories any more than it was necessary to recall the weakness Rajiin had forced her to face.

“T’Pol?”

She opened her eyes -- when had she closed them? -- to see a concerned Trip kneeling before her.

“For someone who’s supposed to be relaxing, you don’t look it,” he observed, studying her face. “Not to mention your broadcasting a lot of negativity.”

T’Pol took a deep breath, focusing her gaze on Trip’s face, locking her eyes with his. “You have noticed as well? The connection?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “The minute you stepped into the Transporter Room, I...” he shook his head, anger welling within him again, “I felt your fear, T’Pol. You’ve never been afraid of anything and you shouldn’t be afraid of her. I won’t let her get near you again -- you or our children.”

After a moment, T’Pol said softly, “You are mistaken, Commander.”

His anger found a new, inward, direction and she sensed the guilt he’d carried since that night he found her unconscious in her quarters. “I know I wasn’t there for you before, but I swear I will be this time.”

“I was not doubting you. I was merely informing you that I have been afraid before.”

Trip looked incredulous. “Of what? You’re the most fearless woman I know.”

It was her turn to look incredulous. “I have my share of fears, Commander.”

“Like what?”

“You.”

“Me? How can you be afraid of me? If you had half a mind to, you could break me in half with that superior Vulcan strength you’re always bragging about.”

“I do not brag.”

“Fine, you don’t brag. But you still have no reason to be afraid of me.”

“I am not afraid of you, Commander, but a lot has happened these past months that have been beyond anything I have ever encountered. The pregnancy. The bond. Your feelings for me.”

“You’re afraid because I love you?”

“I do not understand your love, Commander. I do not know why you feel this way nor do I know if --” she broke off, closing her eyes and fighting for control as it slowly slipped away again. “I do not know if I can return your feelings.”

“I told you I don’t expect you to feel the same way, T’Pol,” Trip reminded, joining her on the mat, his knees bumping hers as he took a similar meditative position. “I can’t say that I don’t want to be loved by you, or at least the Vulcan equivalent, but for now I’m content to just bask in the glow of your company at every opportunity.”

T’Pol studied him for a moment. “Considering the amount of time we are in each other's presence, Commander, I believe you already do a lot of basking.”

“And I enjoy every minute of it, T’Pol.” He grinned. “We could have just spent an hour discussing who-knows-what over lunch and I’ll be down in Engineering purging the intake manifolds and think, ‘This’d be more fun if T’Pol were here.’”

“My presence would make such a mundane task more enjoyable for you?” she asked, openly curious at the illogical correlation.

“You bet it would.”

“Why?”

“‘Why’ what?”

“Why do you believe yourself to be in love with me?”

Trip stared blankly for a moment, not sure what to say. He’d never been asked to explain why he loved someone before. Granted, his previous relationships hadn’t been stellar examples of deep-felt emotional meaning, but his previous girlfriends had simply taken “I love you” at face value.

But loving T’Pol, he didn’t know if he could explain it. Not just because she was Vulcan and wasn’t familiar with the concept, but because what he felt was so big he didn’t know if he fully understood it.

“It’s hard to put into words,” he finally confessed.

T’Pol was quiet for several moments, the look on her face as intent as the thoughts in her head.

“Perhaps you don’t need to put your feelings into words.”

He tilted his head, confusion on his face.

“Have you heard of a mind-meld?”

“The Vulcans without logic were all about it, right? Melding?”

At the mention of the V'tosh ka'tur, T’Pol’s shoulders stiffened. Before Trip could ask what was wrong, she continued, “That is correct. Traditionally, a meld is performed only among family, trained Healers and bond mates. It is, essentially, a sharing of one’s mind with another’s. A sharing of thoughts. If you would be so willing, I would attempt to meld with you.”

His brow furrowed. “If this is only for couples and families, I’m not sure I follow.”

“When the V'tosh ka'tur were aboard, Tolaris introduced me to the concept of bonding outside the normal parameters. Though I did not appreciate his attempts, I believe the bond we already share would allow us to successfully meld.”

“That wasn’t exactly what I was asking, T’Pol. Why would you want to meld with me?”

“I do not know if I can successfully describe it anymore than you can describe your feelings for me. I just know that it is something I desire to attempt.”

“Can I think about it?” At her expression, he rushed to assure her, “This isn’t a rejection, T’Pol. It’s just...I’ve never shared my mind with anyone. Well, excluding the bond with you and the kids. I just need to think about it, first.”

T’Pol nodded and stood. “Very well. Perhaps you should return to your quarters --”

“Hold on a minute,” Trip interrupted. “I didn’t say I was going to need much time to think about it.”

He reached for her hand and, gently, pulled her back down to a sitting position.

“This isn’t going to hurt, right?”

She thought a moment. “I do not think so.”

“Well all right, then.” He took a deep breath, using the first phase of proper Vulcan meditation to calm his jumbled nerves. “Meld me.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Elsewhere, the captain of the Enterprise was preparing himself for an encounter of his own.

By his own admission, Jonathan Archer wasn’t a very forgiving man. His problem, as he’d been told by his mother once, was that he trusted too fully -- only to be disappointed by those who didn’t deserve his faith in them.

For reasons he still couldn’t be sure of, he’d trusted Rajiin. He’d given her free reign of his ship. He’d shared stories with her he hadn’t shared with some of his closest friends. He’d felt a connection to the woman; had thought that connection had been reciprocated.

The guilt he felt for allowing her the opportunity to take advantage of his ship -- for placing T’Pol in Sickbay...how he could have been so easily taken in by her...

And he had been taken in by Rajiin. After her “rescue,” she’d treated Archer like a hero and he ate it up. It was nice to have someone finally appreciate his efforts, to see the strain this mission put on him. Rajiin had played him from the very beginning, stoking his ego, taking advantage of his vanity.

He had been stupid.

Gaining admittance into the Brig, Archer saw her seated on the bunk, serene despite her surroundings. She was as beautiful as he she’d been the first time he saw her in Zjod’s showcase -- and he cursed himself for noticing.

At his entrance into her cell, Rajiin stood and smiled. “I must admit, Jonathan, this isn’t the welcome I had expected.”

His tone cold, Archer crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall opposite Rajiin. “What kind of welcome did you expect? That I would have shot you on site rather than throw you in the Brig?”

Confusion passed briefly across Rajiin’s features. “I do not understand --”

“What’s not to understand? I rescued -- or at least, thought I was rescuing -- you, only to have you assault my crew and leave my ship open for attack. I’m still tempted to shoot you, or, at the very least, wring your neck.”

Unsure of how seriously to take his threat, Rajiin backed away and resumed her seat on the cell bunk. “I explained that I had no choice then, Jonathan. I thought that by helping you I would have proved that --”

“What do you mean ‘helping’ us? T’Pol was in Sickbay for two days because of what you did to her. Not to mention the security officers your Xindi friends killed or the bio-weapon you helped them design.”

“But the Ceidé gave you the cure to the bio-weapon,” Rajiin protested, her eyes widening at the violent nature of Archer’s outburst.

“The Ceidé?” It was Archer’s turn to look confused.

“The scientists who gave you the antidote to the Xindi bio-weapon. Didn’t they tell you I sent them?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We haven’t encountered anyone calling themselves ‘Ceidé’ and we certainly haven’t encountered anyone with a cure for the bio-weapon.”

“But they told me they provided the antidote. I told them to find your ship and help --”

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Rajiin,” Archer said, cutting off her explanation and taking a step forward. “But I can tell you it’s not going to work this time.”

“I’m not playing any game, Jonathan.” She took a deep breath, looking up at the captain. “After I left your ship and completed my mission for the Xindi, I wanted to help you and your crew. I contacted the Ceidé. They are a race of healers and scientists. I knew that if anyone could find a defense against the bio-weapon it would be them. Five months ago, they contacted me and said they’d provided a cure to you.”

The lost look in her eyes and the near-plea in her voice forced a small tug in the pit of Archer’s stomach. For all the havoc this woman had wreaked on his ship, he couldn’t deny the feelings he still harbored for her; feelings he hadn’t felt for anyone in a long time. Perhaps she truly hadn’t had a choice. He’d done things in the past several months he wasn’t proud. Maybe Rajiin deserved a second chance --

No. He couldn’t allow compassion to blind him and leave his ship vulnerable. Not again.

No matter his feelings for her, Archer couldn’t believe her story to be anything but a lie. No one had contacted them in the seven months since Rajiin first encountered Enterprise. They hadn’t encountered any species...

“Did you say five months ago?”

Rajiin nodded slowly, curious how the anger she’d sensed earlier from the Human had been so quickly replaced with disbelief. “Yes,” she answered.

The captain ran a hand over his face, not able to believe where his own thoughts were taking him. “These Ceidé? They wouldn’t happen to be advanced geneticists, would they?”

“I suppose that is one of their fields. Their expertise in the medical sciences is far more advanced than anyone’s in this region of space. That is why I provided them with a sample of the bio-weapon and asked for their help. They are a neutral species and take no part in the various conflicts that surround them.” Rajiin studied him. “If they never contacted you, why are you so curious?”

“Five months ago, Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T’Pol went missing for three days. When they returned, T’Pol was pregnant with half-Human hybrids.”

“But that’s --” Rajiin’s eyes widened. “I noticed T’Pol’s condition, but I never thought...Why would they do that?”

“How should I know? You’re the one who told them to make contact with us.”

“I had asked them to help you, not kidnap your crew and perform strange experiments. You have to believe that was not my intention.”

“I don’t really have to believe anything you tell me, Rajiin. It’s pretty safe to say everything you’ve ever told me was a lie. Why should I trust you now?”

“You shouldn’t trust me. You’ve no reason to. But I swear the Ceidé were supposed to approach you as allies, not kidnap Commander Tucker or Sub-Commander T'Pol. I am not certain how this happened.”

“Let’s start at the beginning. Tell me everything you know.”

Continue to Part 2

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