The Cultural Addition - Part 2

The Cultural Addition

By Jocelyn Solo

Rating: G-13
Disclaimer: see Part 1

*********************

Part 2 (Chapters 14-24)

Chapter Fourteen - The lights are on, no one’s home

Malcolm Reed was not a happy security officer.

At the captain’s request, he had seen to Rajiin’s comfort in the four-star accommodations he liked to call the Brig.

Also, at Archer’s request, Malcolm had made certain to double the usual compliment of guards outside her cell with the hope that her psychic parlor tricks couldn’t work en masse.

Going one step further, Malcolm established a visual feed to his security station on the Bridge so that he could keep an eye on the alien woman himself while on duty.

After putting all these safety measures in place, imagine Malcolm’s surprise upon looking at the Brig footage to find Rajiin having a cozy chat with Captain Archer while they both sipped from those large mugs T’Pol favored for tea.

Why do I even both with protocols? Malcolm asked himself. He stared at the station monitor, wondering what exactly the captain was thinking. Malcolm had thought it foolish to allow Rajiin to wander the ship as she pleased the first time she was aboard. He’d refrained from shouting “I told you so” to his commanding officer when the woman revealed herself as a spy for the Xindi and hoped the captain had learned a lesson about caution.

But now, Archer was repeating his earlier mistake and allowing himself to be placed once again under the woman’s spell. Though he couldn’t determine what, exactly, the two were discussing, Archer and Rajiin seemed awfully chummy considering that she was supposed to be a prisoner.

Unfortunate that I didn’t think to patch audio up here.

As he moved back to the command seat, ignoring the questioning look Hoshi shot at him, Malcolm weighed his options. He didn’t feel it his place to question a superior’s actions, but the head of security couldn’t sit by while Rajiin used her wiles to once again place the ship in danger.

It wouldn’t be unusual for him to stroll into the Brig just to see how things were going, but he couldn’t very well leave in the middle of his Bridge shift to do so. Especially when he was essentially going to spy on the captain.

Pressing the comm button on the command chair, he opened a channel to Engineering, “Bridge to Commander Tucker.”

“Engineering,” answered a decidedly female voice.

“Where’s Commander Tucker?”

“The commander isn’t on duty until 1700, sir.”

Malcolm closed the channel, thanking the engineer -- he assumed it had been Hess but he couldn’t be sure -- and frowning at the viewscreen.

“Commander Tucker is in T’Pol’s quarters.”

“What?” Malcolm asked, drawing his eyes toward the communications station.

Hoshi had the decency to look a bit sheepish as she repeated, “Commander Tucker is in T’Pol’s quarters, sir. I took the liberty of finding him for you.”

Malcolm smiled at Hoshi’s “liberty” and opened a channel to the sub-commander’s cabin.

No response.

He tried again.

Still no answer.

One last time.

By now, every set of ears on the Bridge was listening intently for someone to respond to the comm call.

“Are you sure they’re in T’Pol’s quarters?”

“Yes, sir,” Hoshi said, checking her screen again. “All four of them.”

It took Malcolm a moment to realize Hoshi meant Trip, T’Pol and the twins. On the verge of a smile, he remembered the reason he’d attempted to reach Trip to begin with --

What if Rajiin had gotten to them?

He walked back to the security station and sighed with relief at the sight of the captain and Rajiin still chatting it up like old friends.

But what if she sneaked out after putting the captain in another of those weird mind trances? She could have knocked out Trip and T’Pol and went back to her cell before anyone noticed her absence.

His mind running at the threat of Rajiin systematically taking out the entire crew one by one -- with the captain none-the-wiser -- sent a trickle of cold sweat running down Malcolm’s back.

“Hoshi, you have the Bridge,” he said abruptly, moving to the turbolift even before he’d finished the command.

“What’s going on?” Travis asked, swiveling his chair in time to see Malcolm step into the ’lift.

Without answer, the turbolift doors closed over the grim set of the lieutenant’s face.

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

Even as he walked quickly along the corridor, Malcolm knew his first priority should have been to secure the Brig and ensure Rajiin was being a proper prisoner.

However, with the fate of his friends and unborn godchildren at stake, Malcolm found himself standing outside T’Pol’s quarters and entering a security override to open the cabin door.

Rushing in, Malcolm’s eyes immediately went to the huddled forms of Trip and T’Pol in the center of the cabin.

Malcolm knelt next to Trip and checked for a pulse. “Thank God,” he whispered, moving to check T’Pol -- and grateful he’d asked Phlox how to do so if he ever found himself with an unconscious Vulcan again.

Even as his hand found the pulse point -- two inches below her ribcage and four inches from her spine -- T’Pol’s eyes fluttered open.

“Malcolm, what are you doing?” Trip asked, pushing himself into a sitting position. He narrowed his eyes at the placement of Malcolm’s hand on T’Pol.

“What do you mean ‘what am I doing’? What are you doing?” Malcolm quickly pulled his hand away, not liking the way Trip was scowling at him. “I thought Rajiin had gotten to you.”

“Rajiin has escaped?” T’Pol asked, the nervous pitch of her voice throwing Malcolm off even more than the sight that had first greeted him upon entering the cabin.

“Rajiin’s in her cell,” Malcolm assured. “At least, I think she is.”

At Trip’s questioning look, Malcolm explained what he’d seen on the Brig monitor.

“Then why aren’t you down in the Brig?” Trip asked, giving a hand to T’Pol as she stood.

Malcolm watched the way T’Pol allowed her hand to linger in Trip’s a moment after he’d steadied her. “I came here because I thought you might be injured. We were worried when you didn’t answer the comm hails.”

“‘We’?” Trip shared a look with T’Pol.

“The entire Bridge crew,” Malcolm explained, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Trip. “Just what were the two of you up to?”

“First off, it’s none of your business.” Trip glared back, “And second, shouldn't we go check to make sure the Cap’n’s all right?”

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

The three officers stood in silence as the turbolift carried them toward the Brig, Trip’s gaze intent on T’Pol as she stared ahead.

Don’t be embarrassed, T’Pol.

Growing up in a naval family, Mal’s likely to have a dirty mind.

Malcolm stood unaware of the conversation going on in the ’lift. How could he know that Trip and T’Pol, as an aftereffect of the meld they’d shared earlier, had strengthened their bond to point of being able to read the other’s thoughts?

The mind meld had been unlike anything Trip had expected. When T’Pol had described it as a “sharing of minds,” she hadn’t been kidding -- not that he thought that she’d joke about a sacred Vulcan rite. It was hard to believe, even with the lingering connection, he’d actually been a part of T’Pol; their minds as one during the meld.

When they’d parted, Trip had been reluctant to return to himself and lose the touch of T’Pol’s thoughts. He wanted nothing more than to wrap himself in the beautiful layers of her mind for as long as he could. She may not be able to tell him in words how she felt -- to be able to say she loved him -- but her mind told him everything he needed to know.

He completed her. Just as she completed him.

Vulcans may not call that love, but he sure as heck did.

Intent on savoring the memory of the meld, of being so close to the woman he loved, it had taken Trip a minute to realize that though T’Pol’s hands were no longer touching the psi-points of his face, her mind was still touching his.

“This is unexpected,” T’Pol had said. Actually, she’d thought it, but Trip had heard it in his mind as clearly as if the words had been aloud.

Unexpected, but nice, he’d thought back. And exhausting.

Neither Human nor Vulcan had realized how draining the experience would be, both physically and mentally. Without speaking -- with no need to -- they laid down together on the mat, Trip’s arms wrapped around T’Pol, and both fell asleep instantly.

Which was how Malcolm found them -- minutes? hours? -- later. The look on the security officer’s face clearly conveyed what he thought the two of them had been up to. For T’Pol’s honor, Trip figured he should try to set his friend straight, but knew it wasn’t going to be any easier to explain than if they had been doing what Malcolm probably thought they’d been doing.

You are most likely correct, Commander.

We were not on duty then, T’Pol reminded, looking over at him briefly before turning her eyes forward once more.

Technically we’re not on duty now. We’re just going for a walk with Malcolm.

T’Pol didn’t bother to answer, but Trip could feel her amused frustration -- a combination of emotions only his “unfeeling” Vulcan could pull off.

When the turbolift finally stopped, Malcolm led them toward the Brig. The absence of the Starfleet and MACO personnel that should have been posted outside Rajiin’s cell raised immediate warning flags and Malcolm produced a phase pistol from -- as far as Trip could determine -- thin air.

I wonder if that’s the one he sleeps with?

Lieutenant Reed sleeps with his armaments?

Trip locked eyes with T’Pol, remembering that he needed to be more careful with his random thoughts until the connection faded.

T’Pol broke eye contact and focused her attention on the sight that awaited them in the first Brig cell. Trip followed her gaze and couldn’t believe his own eyes.

Though Malcolm told them what had been on the monitor at his station, neither Trip nor T’Pol was quite prepared to see the captain sitting in the Brig with a prisoner, sipping tea, and looking more relaxed than anyone had seen him since the start of the mission.

Before anyone could announce their presence, Rajiin placed her mug aside and stood. “Jonathan, we have company.”

Craning his neck, Archer nodded in acknowledgment. “Hello, Trip. Malcolm. T’Pol. Come on in and make yourselves comfortable. Rajiin and I have been catching up on the past seven months.”

Had the three officers been less professional, their collective jaws would have dropped to the floor at his invitation.

“Perhaps you should step outside of the cell, Captain,” T’Pol suggested, her eyes focused on the captain even as she attempted with her own limited telepathic ability to sense if Rajiin were projecting some sort of hold over Archer.

“That isn’t necessary, T’Pol. Rajiin has been enlightening me with the most fascinating story. I think you’ll all be interested to hear it.” The captain inclined his head for them to enter the cell.

Exchanging glances, Trip, T’Pol and Malcolm finally stepped into the Brig, though all three declined Rajiin’s invitation to sit.

“It turns out,” Archer continued, “that Rajiin felt guilty for betraying us to the Reptilians, so she enlisted a group of scientists to find a cure for the bio-weapon.”

Again, Trip, T’Pol and Malcolm looked at one another. With every day the Enterprise came closer to finding the Xindi, the threat of the bio-weapon the Reptilians were developing posed a more immediate threat. Having protective measures against such an attack would be a great benefit to the mission.

“You have an antidote?” T’Pol asked finally, her focus on Rajiin.

The captain cleared his throat. “Actually, T’Pol, you have it.”

Chapter Fifteen - Have you ever seen “Scanners”?

With interest, Rajiin watched the reaction of the Enterprise officers as Jonathan explained the timing of her request to the Ceidé. How could she have known that her attempt to help the crew of the Human vessel would have yielded such a bizarre twist? Rajiin’s only desire had been to atone for her mistake in assisting the Reptilians, but what new betrayal had she set upon the Humans?

“And you think because she asked these Cedar scientists to lend us a hand, they decided to kidnap me and T’Pol?” Commander Tucker glared at Rajiin. “You’re the reason we lost three days?”

“It seems rather preposterous, sir,” Lieutenant Reed added, his accent -- so different from the rest of the Humans she’d met -- clipping his sentences into accusation. “If the Seedy wanted to assist us, why not simply contact Enterprise instead of laying in wait for the survey team?”

“It’s Ceidé,” Rajiin offered, earning a scowl from both Reed and Tucker. “And I don’t know why they acted the way they did.”

“If you don’t know why, then how can you be sure the twins’ creation are their doing? What makes you think they carry the cure to the bio-weapon?” Reed looked pointedly at Archer. “Has she provided any proof?”

“When I contacted the Ceidé,” Rajiin explained, “I provided them the same biological information I had the Xindi. That included scans of Vulcan and Human biology and a sample of the original batch of the bio-weapon.”

“That would explain how they knew enough about Trip and T’Pol’s genetics to create the hybrids,” Archer offered.

Tucker, moving for the first time from his protective stance near T’Pol, stepped toward Rajiin. “Why did you suddenly want to help after you’d just betrayed us?”

Rajiin stood, meeting the Human’s gaze. “After spending time on your ship, with your crew, I knew you couldn’t be capable of what the Xindi had been lead to believe. ”

“Yet you still provided them with the information necessary to create a weapon to destroy us.” Malcolm snorted. “If you were so convinced that we weren’t going to harm the Xindi, why not simply refuse to turn over the information?”

Rajiin shuddered, remembering one of her earlier dealings with the Reptilians. She had been a slave once and sold to the Xindi for use of her bio-scanning skill. When she had refused to use her gift for their purposes --

The shudder intensified and she felt Jonathan lay a hand on her shoulder. As horrible as her experiences with the Xindi had been, her knowledge of their “methods” had been enough to get Jonathan to listen to what she had to say in defense of her actions. She hadn’t expected his forgiveness so easily, but he only proved how kind Humans were.

“It is not easy to refuse the Reptilians anything.” Rajiin swallowed hard, regaining her composure. “After I was released from my ‘contract’ with them, I contacted the Ceidé.”

“Rajiin believes an examination of the hybrids and analysis of the bio-weapon will provide some of our missing answers,” Jonathan supplied. “I’ve already told Phlox to be ready for us.”

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

As they waited for Phlox to complete his analysis, Rajiin watched the Enterprise engineer and science officer with great interest. Though Tucker had spoken against her presence in Sickbay, Archer had overridden his protest. Rajiin had noticed the way the commander hovered protectively near T’Pol since she first came aboard.

From what she knew of Human psychology -- which was still very little -- they were similar to Xindi primates in their paternal nature. The safety of their children outweighed all consequences. It was understandable that the engineer would feel a connection to the hybrids, even if he didn’t remember playing a part in their conception or knew what his involvement had actually been.

What was surprising, however, was the connection -- a true, psychic connection -- to T’Pol. I didn’t realize Humans could form telepathic bonds, she thought, even as she sensed the mental exchange between the two officers.

Though she could have easily “listened” to the conversation, Rajiin refrained from intruding. Jonathan had been willing to give her a second chance; the rest of his crew was not so quick to forgive her.

Having been betrayed herself on more than one occasion -- by fellow slaves looking for their own chance at freedom -- she could understand their hesitance. What the Humans did not seem to realize now was that she wasn’t far removed from their status in the eyes of the Xindi; she was a threat that needed to be extinguished. If she had not been under the protection of the Aquatics, it was likely she would not have left Xindi Prime alive. The Reptilians were not known for treating their allies much better than their enemies.

“I’ve completed my analysis,” the Denobulan doctor announced, causing Rajiin, T’Pol and the three Human males to all look at him expectantly.

Phlox smiled uneasily, as though not sure if he was delivering entirely good news. “It seems that Rajiin was correct about the hybrids’ purpose.”

“The twins are a cure for the bio-weapon?” Tucker asked, his hand resting over T’Pol’s as the two sat on a nearby biobed.

“From initial study, it appears the unique combination of Human and Vulcan genetic material has resulted in a mutated antigen that halts the progression of the bio-weapon. I would like to perform further study, of course, but at this point I can guarantee that the hybrids are immune to the effects of the bio-weapon.”

“Can you make an antidote for the rest of us from your findings?” Jonathan asked, his tone tense.

“Without further analysis I cannot say for sure, but it is likely.” The doctor laid his eyes on Rajiin. “If our guest would be willing to help me, I believe my analysis may go a little faster.”

Though Tucker, Reed and T’Pol bristled at the doctor’s request, Jonathan nodded his head and turned to her. “If you’re willing to lend the doctor a hand...”

“Of course,” Rajiin answered, happy at the chance to prove her commitment to helping the Humans. “When would you like to begin, Doctor?”

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

Back in T’Pol’s quarters, reluctant to leave for his duty shift, Trip paced the length of her cabin.

“Our children are going to save Humanity,” he said, trying to convince himself of the recent revelation.

“It would appear so.” T’Pol, seated on her bunk, stared unseeing at the unlit meditation candles.

“Kind of trumps anything they’ll do in school.”

At his absurd comment, T’Pol focused her attention on the man who, only that morning, had allowed her to share his mind.

Trip stopped his pacing and looked back at T’Pol. “Does this make you feel any better or have we just added another level of weird to the mix?”

“We still have a great many questions, Comman -- Trip.” T’Pol watched him smile at her correction and noted how much she enjoyed seeing that particular expression on his face. If it weren’t for their particular situation, would she have ever admitted that to herself? What effect would discovering the origin of their children have on their developing relationship? “I do not know how to react.”

Sensing that T’Pol wasn’t just talking about Phlox’s support of the captain and Rajiin’s theory, Trip took a seat on the floor before her. After studying her features for several moments, he finally asked, “Y’think this means we can trust Rajiin?”

With the straightest face he’d ever seen -- even for a Vulcan -- T’Pol replied, “I believe the Human expression is ‘not as far as I can throw her.’”

Trip laughed out loud, remembering how well T’Pol had been able to throw one of the MACOs during a sparring match under Major Hayes’ and Malcolm’s watchful eyes. “A good ten...fifteen feet, then.”

Though T’Pol did not react as loudly in her appreciation of his joke as he had hers, Trip felt her amusement through the bond.

“Did you just laugh?” he asked.

“I do not know what you mean.”

“Right now, in my head.” He tapped a finger to his temple. “I think I made you laugh.”

“Vulcans do not laugh.”

“Maybe not on the outside, but you just did. It’s kind of nice knowing you appreciate my humor. I’ll have to tell a couple more jokes while this connection lasts.”

The sense of amusement disappeared quickly from T’Pol’s mind. “That may be longer than you think.”

“What do you mean?”

T’Pol resumed her vigil of watching the unlit candles, the intensity of her stare nearly strong enough to light the fragile wicks. “I believe the meld we shared has done more than simply solidify the paternal bond.”

“Like what?” Trip asked, pushing himself to his knees and moving forward so that he was eye-level with T’Pol. Whatever she was on the verge of revealing, it seemed difficult for her to divulge. “C’mon, T’Pol. Tell me. We’ve got nothing to hide from each other, right? My thoughts to your thoughts and all.”

T’Pol’s eyes locked back onto his, their brown depths darkened by the heavy thoughts she carried. “On Vulcan -- between Vulcans -- this is the bond of mates,” she confessed.

“Mates? You mean like couples?”

“Not in the sense you are referring. Vulcan relationships have a stronger sense of permanence than Human ones. Most Vulcans share only one bond in their lifetime. The connection can only be severed by death or ritual performed by a High Priest.”

“Sort of a ’til-death-do-we-part type of thing?”

T’Pol nodded, studying his face as he processed the information. Though she could have easily removed the light barrier he had over his thoughts, she refrained out of respect for the man who had come to mean a great deal to her.

But what did she mean to him?

“This throws a bit of a wrench in my plans,” he finally said, rising to his feet and resuming the pacing of before.

“I am sorry I had not realized the meld would link us like this. I should not have attempted it in the first place.” Though his words hurt her, T’Pol hid her reaction using the mental disciplines she’d mastered long before the hormones of a half-Human pregnancy began to wreak havoc on her system. “When this mission is over, we can petition the priests to sever the link.”

Trip whirled quickly from mid-pace to face her. “Whoa, T’Pol. I didn’t say anything about severing the link.”

“But your plans --”

“I was planning to ask you to marry me, but I think you’ve beaten me to it.”

Chapter Sixteen - A kiss is a wish your lips make

After several moments of wide-eyed silence on T’Pol’s part, Trip grabbed the desk chair and took a seat. “This wasn’t quite the reaction I was hoping for, T’Pol.”

“What reaction had you expected, Commander?”

“An enthusiastic ‘yes’ would have been nice,” he said, trying not to cringe at her use of his rank rather than his name. “I didn’t expect to render you speechless.”

“I am still fully capable of speech,” T’Pol protested. “I am simply...unprepared.”

“Unprepared? T’Pol, you know my feelings for you. Heck, you’ve seen my feelings for you, how could you not know that this would be my next step?”

T’Pol was silent for a moment. “I fail to see the logic in your request.”

“Huh? What do you mean you don’t see the logic?” Trip frowned deeply. “I love you. You’re carrying my children. What’s not logical about wanting to spend the rest of my life with you?”

“I meant that, according to Vulcan standards, we are already husband and wife. My agreeing to marry you now would be illogically redundant.”

“We may be married as far as Vulcans think, but I’m an old-fashioned guy, T’Pol. I want to prove my love to you with all the illogical traditions we Humans have. That includes your saying ‘yes’ to my proposal and then asking the Cap’n to marry us.”

“You want to marry the captain?”

“No. I want him to perform --” Trip voice trailed off, sensing her amusement. “Your sense of humor improves daily, Darlin’.”

“If I am going to take a Human as my husband, it would be logical for me to explore his favorite pastime.”

“Jokes are nice, but that’s not necessarily my favorite pastime.” Using his legs, he pulled himself and the chair toward the bunk so that he was only inches from the woman he hoped would soon be his wife. “If we’re going to be married -- or are married -- I think there are some things you need to be aware of.”

“Such as?”

“Humans like to touch.” To prove his point, he reached a hand out and took hers. “Our emotions are messy, but it’s nothing compared to the physical ways we can express ourselves.”

“Vulcan couples touch.”

“If you’re talking about the finger-holding you let me do earlier, it’s not nearly enough.” Taking one finger, he traced random patterns across the back of her hand, enjoying the shiver that passed over T’Pol at his ministrations. “I’m not knocking it, but I’ve got some other things in mind.”

A bit more breathlessly than she would have liked, T’Pol asked, “Such as?”

Trip looked up from their joined hands and waggled his eyebrows at her. “There’s a whole world of touching I want to share with you, T’Pol. But for now, let’s start with the basics.”

T’Pol looked at him, not entirely sure what he intended.

“You’ve seen Human’s kiss before, right?” he asked.

“Yes, I have.” T’Pol tilted her head in thought. “It seemed invasive and wholly unsanitary.”

“That’s half the fun.” Trip leaned forward in his chair, gently tugging T’Pol toward him. “You trust me, right?”

“Against my better judgment. Yes.”

“Good,” Trip smiled. “Now just follow my lead.”

Though he told her what he was going to do, saw his intent in her mind’s eye, T’Pol was unprepared when his lips touched hers. Nothing she had experienced in her years among Humans could have readied her for the torrent of sensation his lips provoked.

She had once stood on a San Francisco beach and watched the waves crash into the shore as the tide came in. Part of her had wanted to stand in the water, to feel the waves brush against her legs, to let the ocean consume her.

Unlike the melding, which she had initiated, Trip’s emotions were in control -- or out of it -- and it reminded her of that same longing, to allow herself to be swept away by the power of nature’s passion.

As Trip deepened the kiss, cupping her face in his hands, T’Pol heard a soft moan and realized -- with much surprise -- it was her own.

Through their bond, which only heightened the experience, she felt Trip’s ripple of amusement at her reaction.

When finally, slowly, Trip pulled away, it was to his great satisfaction to see the green flush to T’Pol’s cheeks. “I knew you’d like it.”

The blush faded much more slowly than T’Pol would have liked as she countered, “I believe it is premature to make that assumption.”

Trip gave her an incredulous look, fully aware that T’Pol had enjoyed every minute of his kissing her.

Taking the lead and leaning toward him, T’Pol said softly, “I believe further study is required to make an accurate determination.”

“Darlin,’” Trip drawled, “I’m all about furthering the cause of science.”

Chapter Seventeen - You’ve got questions. We’ve got answers

Hoshi had a strange sense of deja vu as she and Travis approached the Command Center for another early morning briefing. It wasn't that staff briefings were that unusual, but when the captain announced them with no indication of what was to be covered --

Travis, voicing Hoshi's thoughts, asked, "Remember the last time we had a meeting like this?"

"You don't think someone else is pregnant, do you?" Hoshi shuddered at the thought.

"I hope not. It's going to be weird enough when Commander Tucker and the sub-commander's kids arrive. This ship wasn't really built with a nursery in mind." Travis shrugged. "Besides, what are the chances that we'd have two mysterious pregnancies aboard?"

"Not all pregnancies are that mysterious, Travis." Hoshi gave a soft laugh, then sobered in seriousness. "I wonder if the captain is going to tell us what's going on with Rajiin? I heard from Corporal Hawkins that none of the MACOs have been assigned to the Brig."

"Maybe Lieutenant Reed is handling the security," Travis offered. "He's been more than a little territorial where the MACOs are concerned. I don't think he cares much for Major Hayes' team."

"I noticed," Hoshi agreed, turning the corner as they drew closer to the Command Center . "But it's still peculiar that the MACOs wouldn't share shifts covering the Brig while we've actually got a prisoner. Plus, I heard from Pam Isley that Rajiin was in Sickbay with Phlox."

"What's peculiar about that? Other than the fact that Pam spends more time in Sickbay than Botany recovering from aggressive plants?"

"Rajiin wasn't being treated by Phlox, she was helping him."

"With what?"

"Pam wasn't paying a lot of attention to details while Phlox was pulling thorns out of her arm." Hoshi stopped outside the Command Center and pressed the door release. "Maybe the captain can shed some light on --"

"Hoshi?" Travis followed her gaze as the doors parted and understood the look of surprise on his fellow ensign's face.

The sight of Rajiin, seated beside Dr. Phlox at the table, was enough to rattle anyone.

Recovering, Hoshi and Travis entered the Command Center and took their respective seats. As the linguist sat, she gave Malcolm a questioning look, inclining her head in Rajiin's direction. From the way the security officer's face tightened, Hoshi guessed he was just as surprised -- and disturbed -- as she was at the Xindi sympathizer's presence.

Looking at the other assembled faces, Hoshi noted that no one seemed overly pleased with Rajiin's presence -- save maybe Phlox who was quietly discussing something with the alien woman.

Commander Tucker, Hoshi noted, was dividing his attention between glaring at Rajiin and playing "keep away" with the PADD T'Pol was attempting to read. The sub-commander, for her part, was ignoring him. Fascinated, Hoshi watched as the halfhearted tug-of-war ended with the PADD between them, the commander's hand resting over T'Pol's.

That's interesting, Hoshi thought. She knew from experience the commander was protective of both T'Pol and the twins, but did the open display of affection mean --

Her speculation was interrupted as Captain Archer entered the Command Center and stepped to the bank of monitors at the front of the room.

"We've suffered a lot of setbacks since entering the Expanse eight months ago," the captain began, accessing the Xindi database and allowing what little information the crew had to appear on the various screens. "I know, at times, the potential success of our mission was questionable. I know we've all shared the same fear: that we may not be able to find the Xindi in time to stop their second attack on Earth."

Though she'd never said it out loud, Hoshi had to admit that she'd certainly felt that way on several occasions. Whenever Enterprise had seemed on the right track, a new threat would emerge that put them farther away from their goals.

"With the arrival of an unexpected ally," Archer continued, gesturing to Rajiin, "I think our luck's about to change."

Ally? Hoshi wondered, her expression of surprise matching the one on Travis' face.

"As you are aware, Rajiin has returned to Enterprise. I know you all remember the first time she was aboard, how she had been gathering information to help the Xindi against us. Now, however, Rajiin is here to help us. She has been in Sickbay with Phlox, working to create an antidote against the bio-weapon the Xindi have developed."

Based on the lack of response from T'Pol, Malcolm and Commander Tucker, Hoshi figured the three already knew this information. Nice to know at least someone knew what was going on.

Archer pulled up a star chart, indicating he wasn't quite finished. "A defense against the bio-weapon isn't the only thing Rajiin has brought us."

T'Pol, Malcolm and Commander Tucker straightened at that. Hoshi figured the three did not already know this information. Nice to know I'm not the only one in the dark.

"Rajiin has provided the coordinates of Xindi Prime -- the new Xindi homeworld." As the captain spoke, two dots appeared on the starchart. "Once Phlox and Rajiin have finished with the antidote to the bio-weapon, we're going to pay them a visit."

Though Hoshi, as a student of language, didn't care much for clichés, there was no better description for the silence that followed the captain's announcement: it was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.

Technically, the pulse of the warp core made it nearly impossible to catch such an insignificant sound, but even that steady background noise seemed to fade in reverence to this paramount news.

Hoshi stared at the star chart; at the red dot that marked Xindi Prime.

The Xindi homeworld.

For eight months Enterprise had searched for a lead on the Xindi, to find the ones responsible for killing seven million people on Earth. Could this fortunate turn of events be true?

Sharing Hoshi's doubt, Commander Tucker eyed Rajiin with suspicion. "Why didn't you tell us this yesterday?"

"Rajiin did tell me yesterday," Archer answered, drawing the engineer's ire. "I thought you and T'Pol would want to know about the hybrids first."

"What about the hybrids?" Travis asked.

"Rajiin is under the impression," Malcolm explained, "that a race called the Ceidé created the hybrids as a cure to the bio-weapon."

"What?" Though Hoshi knew it to be less-than-professional behavior of a senior officer, she couldn't help but shout her question.

"According to Rajiin," Phlox said, "she contacted the Ceidé shortly after completing her mission for the Xindi -- at great personal risk to herself, I might add. The Ceidé were supposed to contact us but, for reasons unknown, left us a clue to the antidote in the form of Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T'Pol's children."

Hoshi found this new information difficult to grasp. "How can the twins be a cure to a Xindi-created bio-weapon? Why not just give us a vial? Why did they --"

"We don't know why the Ceidé acted as they did," Archer interrupted, drawing everyone's attention back to him. "But we're going to find out."

"How are we gonna do that?" Tucker asked, the hand that had been laying playfully over T'Pol's now gripping hers tightly. "Or is this something else you and Rajiin are holding back from us?"

The captain's brow furrowed at the engineer's accusation, but he let it slide as he turned back to the starchart and indicated the second dot on the screen. "This is the Ceidé space station where Rajiin made her contact. It's a two-week detour from our present position to Xindi Prime. That gives Rajiin and Phlox time to create the antidote before we make contact with the Xindi."

Chapter Eighteen - The captain’s mess

From the look on his chief engineer’s face that evening, Jonathan Archer had a feeling dinner was going to be less pleasant than he’d been hoping.

In an effort to mend the fences damaged with the briefing’s revelations, Archer had invited Trip to join him in the Captain’s Mess. As both Rajiin and T’Pol were busy elsewhere -- Rajiin in Sickbay and T’Pol on the Bridge -- the captain had seen this as an opportunity for the two men to clear the air.

‘Mending fences’ and ‘clearing the air,’ Archer thought. Has our friendship resorted to a mix of bad clichés?

As the two men waited for Crewman Pennyworth to deliver their meal, they shared an awkward silence. Archer remembered how he and Trip used to watch water polo for hours together with very little conversation between them. Now, however, the silence was nearly painful in its intensity.

Anxious to remove the vacuum that seemed to encompass his dining room, Archer cleared his throat. “Phlox says you’ve been looking for opinions on names for the twins.”

Trip pulled his attention from the bulkhead behind Archer’s head and regarded the captain. “It was just small talk while I was waiting for T’Pol to get dressed,” he answered, shrugging. “We haven’t had any serious discussion about it.”

“Oh,” Archer sighed, looking down at the empty place setting before him. If only their food would arrive, it would be a distraction from staring dumbly at each other -- or actively avoiding staring at each other.

“Can I ask you something, Cap’n?” Trip asked.

Archer nodded, grateful Trip was willing to try to talk.

“What the hell is going on?”

At Archer’s blank stare, Trip clarified. “You’ve been distant from the entire crew for months. The only life I’ve seen from you was when Rajiin -- a woman who betrayed us -- came back aboard and you turn around and give her free reign of the ship. You’re being less than forthcoming when it comes to sharing information with your crew. You’ve --”

“Trip,” Archer interrupted. This wasn’t how he’d envisioned their dinner conversation going. He’d hoped that if he showed some interest in Trip’s life, his friend would do the same and they’d get back on track. He hadn’t expected to have a laundry list of his faults read off to him. “This isn’t why I invited you to join me.”

“I know why you invited me to dinner, Cap’n. I miss our friendship, too, but I’m not just talking about the crew when I say you’ve been distant. Even T’Pol noticed that we don’t hang out like we used to. We made excuses for you -- we know this mission is taking it’s toll -- but your attitude is affecting morale on the ship.”

“You think I’ve been distant the last couple months? What about you? When you’re not on duty, you’ve spent all of your free time with T’Pol.”

“Of course I’m spending time with T’Pol. She’s carrying my children.”

“You think I’ve forgotten that? Do you think, for one second, I can forget that my first officer is pregnant by my best friend?”

Trip’s shoulders straightened. “I thought we were finally past this? How can you still think T’Pol and I --”

“I know you didn’t plan this, Trip. I accepted that even before we knew about Rajiin’s involvement. But do you know what it’s like to have my first officer and best friend so occupied with each other? You’re right, this mission is taking it’s toll on me -- and the two people I rely on most haven’t been around when I’ve needed them.”

Trip was silent, staring in shock at his friend. “Cap’n, I didn’t realize...”

“I know you didn’t realize it, Trip. You and T’Pol have had a lot to deal with in the past six months. I can appreciate that. But this hasn’t been a walk in the park for me, either. Maybe that’s why I’ve welcomed Rajiin back so freely -- she’s the first person who’s listened to me in a long time. And I am sorry for not telling you about Xindi Prime,” Archer’s voice dropped, his tone softening. “I really thought you and T’Pol would want to know about the hybrids -- why they’d been created. It might not have been the best decision to keep the knowledge of the Xindi homeworld to myself, but I had thought I was doing the right thing for my friends.”

“Is that why we’re going to the Ceidé station instead of straight to Xindi Prime?” Trip asked. “Are you trying to make amends with me and T’Pol?”

“Partly,” the captain admitted. “We need answers, but we also need allies. Rajiin says the Ceidé have been neutral in the past. Even while the Xindi were tearing each other apart, the Ceidé have aided both sides. If we can convince them that the Xindi are being manipulated, maybe they’d be willing to help us stop the weapon and avert all-out war.”

“Are you sure this entire thing isn’t a ploy to lure us closer to the Xindi homeworld? Are you sure we can trust Rajiin?”

“I trust Rajiin, Trip. She made her mistake in the past, but she deserves a second chance.” The captain sighed heavily. “Besides, if she was working with the Xindi, why would they want to lure us to their homeworld? We’ve spent almost a year searching for it.”

Trip leaned back, ignoring the growl of his stomach as it demanded their still-absent dinner. “We’re one ship. Against an entire planet, we don’t stand much of a chance. If the Xindi wanted to remove us as a threat, that might be one way to do it. If these coordinates are for the homeworld at all.”

“You’re starting to sound like Malcolm,” Archer said accusingly, then allowed his features to soften once more. “I’ve considered all of that, Trip. We’re not going into this blind. Our goal was to find the Xindi homeworld and that’s what we’re going to do. We’ll be on our guard, trap or no trap.”

The captain could tell Trip wasn’t completely satisfied with that, but he knew his friend well enough that he didn’t expect any further arguments from him.

Confirming this, Trip said, “I admit I have no reason to trust Rajiin, not after what she did to T’Pol, but I do trust you. I may not invite her to the wedding, but I’ll try not to object if you want to bring Rajiin with you.”

“That’s all I ask.” Archer smiled at his friend, turning his attention to the door at the back of the dining area. “I wonder what’s keeping Chef --” The captain spun back around and locked eyes with Trip. “What wedding?”

“Mine and T’Pol’s. We want to get married.”

Archer stared. He was pretty sure there was an intelligent and appropriate response to his friend’s announcement, but he was damned if he knew what that was.

In fact, in his shock-addled brain, he wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to be responding intelligibly to.

Oh, that was right.

What!?

“You want to get married? Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

“Considering that we’re going to be parents in five months, being married doesn’t seem like a bad idea.”

Archer frowned. “Is the pregnancy the only reason you want to --”

“No!” Trip denied quickly. “No, of course not. I want to get married because I want to spend the rest of my life with the woman I love.”

“Even if the woman you love will probably outlive you by another century?”

Trip paused at that, then countered, “There’s a good chance none of us will live to see the end of this mission. If losing Lizzie taught me anything, it’s not to waste the time we have.”

Archer sighed heavily, wishing for his dinner and this conversation to be over. “I can appreciate that, Trip, I really can. But have you thought about this? What type of reaction you’re going to get? Interspecies couples aren’t likely to be widely accepted.”

“I’ve never really cared much what others have thought of me and T’Pol’s too important for me to start now.”

Seeing that his friend was not going to be easily swayed, Archer asked, “I’m assuming T’Pol already agreed?”

An unreadable expression crossed Trip’s face. “Not exactly.”

“What do you mean ‘not exactly’?”

“According to T’Pol,” Trip leaned across the table, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. “We’re already married.”

Chapter Nineteen - Tomato stains on my heart

Hoshi didn't know when she became the unofficial Enterprise party planner, but when they got back to Earth she was going to send Captain Archer an invoice for all the impromptu crew gatherings he’d placed her in charge of.

News of the pending nuptials of Command Tucker and Sub-Commander T’Pol had traveled the decks of Enterprise almost as quickly as the announcement of the pair’s pending parenthood months before -- and it wasn’t long before the linguist found herself coordinating the ceremony and reception.

In addition to the event being a celebration of the pair’s union, the captain hoped it would be a nice diversion for the crew before encountering the Xindi. Though morale had been elevated with the goal of making contact with the Xindi in sight, the wedding would be a chance for everyone aboard to relax in a festive atmosphere before readying themselves for their coming task.

And -- the captain had stressed this repeatedly -- Hoshi had to accomplish all this with a limited use of ship’s resources. Considering they were in the middle of oft-hostile territory and preparing for a potential war, those resources were indeed scarce.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this,” Hoshi complained, taking a seat across from Malcolm in the midst of the Mess Hall lunch crowd.

Malcolm looked up from the PADD he was studying, graced Hoshi with a brief glance, then returned to his reading. “What don’t you know how to do?”

“How am I supposed to plan a wedding for T’Pol and Commander Tucker when neither the bride nor groom is being very helpful?”

Malcolm, not bothering to look up from his PADD, shrugged. “Maybe you should let them plan the wedding themselves. It was their idea, after all.”

“Actually, I get the impression T’Pol doesn’t really care about the ceremony. She seems to just be going along with it for Commander Tucker’s sake.” Hoshi took a stab at her salad, the frustrated force of her fork launching a tomato at Malcolm.

Malcolm looked up as the tomato hit him in the chest, leaving a red splotch on his otherwise pristine uniform. The lieutenant looked down at the mess, sighed, and reached for his napkin. “Maybe you’re putting too much thought into this. If we were on Earth, I wouldn’t be surprised if the commander wanted a backyard barbecue to celebrate his marriage.”

“I don’t think T’Pol would really go for a barbecue,” Hoshi said, dismissing the idea. “Besides, Chef probably wouldn’t agree to grilling in the middle of the Mess Hall. I need something we can easily do right here on the ship.”

Malcolm continued rubbing tomato remnants from his uniform, his intention focused on blotting and not rubbing the stain into permanence. The pattern of the tomato stain caught Hoshi’s eye, reminding her of one of those Hawaiin-style shirts the commander wore.

“Malcolm!” Hoshi exclaimed, startling Malcolm into dropping the cup of water he’d been using to clean himself onto his lap.

Hoshi ignored the security officer as he jumped from his seat, ice cubes falling to the floor and revealing a large wet spot from his abdomen to his knees. The linguist also jumped from her seat -- her enthusiasm a result of the brilliant idea she’d had and not the instant sensation of cold water on her sensitive areas. “Malcolm Reed, you’re a genius!”

Malcolm didn’t feel much like a genius, but he didn’t say anything as Hoshi stole his PADD and began making notes on it. “I’ve got to talk to Chef,” she said, half to herself and half to the sputtering lieutenant. “I wonder what type of plants Pam Isley can get me? Geology probably has sand I can use. Oh, this is going to be great!”

Malcolm’s PADD clutched in her hand, Hoshi practically skipped out of the Mess Hall in her excitement. The security officer could do very little but stare as she ran off with his crew schedule and left him with his soggy uniform.

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

“Hey, Malcolm,” Trip called, jogging along the corridor to catch up to his friend. Falling into step beside him, the engineer did a double-take at the large red stain on the security officer’s usually immaculate uniform. “What the hell happened to you?”

“I believe you did,” Malcolm grumbled, quickening his pace in the direction of his quarters.

“I did?” Trip asked. “What did I do? I’ve been in Engineering all morning.”

“All this talk of your wedding is making everyone crazy,” Malcolm explained. “Hoshi is a walking disaster because she’s trying to plan the festivities.”

Trip nodded in sympathy, though he wasn’t quite sure what Malcolm was saying. “Hoshi did this to you? You should make her do your laundry.”

Malcolm grumbled, “I’m still waiting on the t-shirt I lent her during the Suliban fiasco a year ago.” It wasn’t truly the engineer’s fault that his uniform was dirty, but he was a convenient target.

The two men walked in silence until they reached the security officer’s door.

“If you don’t mind, I have to change before I go on duty.”

“Actually,” Trip said, following Malcolm into the cabin. “I wanted to ask you a favor.”

Malcolm looked suspicious. “What kind of favor?”

“I was wondering if you’d stand with me at the wedding?”

“You want me to be your best man?” The lieutenant’s irritability was quickly replaced with surprise. “What about the captain?”

“The cap’n’s performing the ceremony,” Trip answered, then realized it was possibly not the best response. “Not that you’re second choice or anything.”

“That thought hadn’t occurred to me.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?”

“I’m not going to have to plan anything and go crazy like Hoshi, am I?”

Trip smiled widely. “Don’t worry. Hoshi can be crazy all by herself.”

Malcolm snorted at that.

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

While some members of the crew were preoccupied with plans for the pending nuptials, Travis was hard at work in the Command Center.

Seated at the console where he’d taken residence hours earlier, the young pilot glanced up from his display screen to address the Vulcan science officer across the room. “How reliable do you think this information is, Sub-Commander?”

T’Pol looked up from her own console and tilted her head slightly. Not that he’d minded the severe protocol of the pre-pregnancy T’Pol, but this maternal T’Pol just seemed...softer, somehow. Whether the change in demeanor was from the pregnancy or her increased intimacy with Commander Tucker, Travis knew that more and more crew members -- even those who’d never really taken a liking to the Vulcan -- had noticed.

After a moment of hesitation, as though measuring her response, T’Pol answered, “Though I am not certain how far we should be trusting Rajiin, her information does seem correct when compared to the data we have already collected on the Xindi.”

Travis nodded. He felt the same way. He’d never gotten close enough for Rajiin to work her mojo on him and, from an outside perspective, he saw her actions as pure betrayal of a trust that was bought with lies. Travis was surprised the captain had so quickly welcomed the alien woman back aboard the ship. Rajiin had been more than helpful since her return, but the ensign couldn’t help but wonder if she was being too helpful.

“There is a chance that Rajiin would know we would attempt to validate her information,” T’Pol continued, voicing Travis’ own doubts. “We cannot be assured of her loyalty, no matter how accommodating she seems to be.”

“You don’t trust her, either.”

“Though she has been helpful since coming aboard, Rajiin has given us little reason to trust her.”

Travis turned his chair so he faced the first officer. “Do you think maybe she’s being too helpful?” Travis asked, leaning forward. “Like she’s setting us up again?”

“The thought had occurred to me,” T’Pol admitted. She placed a hand over the increasing swell of her abdomen. “I think it is important that Rajiin believe we do trust her. It is more likely that any secrets she may be hiding would be more quickly exposed if she were at ease with members of the crew.”

Travis nodded in understanding. “You want to lull her into a false sense of security.”

“Humans have a saying, I believe. ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’” T’Pol stood. “If you will excuse me, Dr. Phlox is expecting me in Sickbay.”

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

“Hey there, Darlin’.” Trip smiled widely at his favorite Vulcan as the turbolift doors parted to reveal a waiting T’Pol.

“Good morning, Commander,” T’Pol returned, stepping into the turbolift with him.

“I thought you were going to drop the ‘commander’ and call me Trip,” he teased. “We’re not even on duty.”

“Nicknames should be reserved for the privacy of our quarters, Commander.”

Trip frowned at her. “It’s a good thing you’re cute, otherwise I might be upset.”

“I do not find you aesthetically displeasing, either.”

Trip grinned widely. “I bet you were a cute kid, too.”

T'Pol arched an eyebrow at him. “Vulcan parents do not label their children as 'cute.'"

"Aw, c'mon, T'Pol. Even if your parents didn't say it out loud, I bet they thought you were adorable. All kids are cute." He thought a moment. "Well, most kids, anyway."

T’Pol arched an eyebrow at him. "Need I remind you the importance of not applying your Human ideal of aesthetics to alien cultures?"

"Alien nothing. I was just thinking about my cousin Byron's kid. Man, he grew up all right, but I've never seen such an ugly baby." To emphasize his point, Trip shuddered.

"I trust you refrained from sharing this observation with your cousin?"

"Well of course I did. It wasn't Byron's fault his wife carried an ugly gene."

“How do you know it was not your cousin who carried the ‘ugly gene’?”

“There’s never been an ugly baby in the history of the Tucker family.” He smiled widely. “We were all beautiful babies, myself included.”

T'Pol declined to comment as the lift continued its journey toward Sickbay.

“So who do you think the kids will look like? I mean, Phlox said there’s that chance they might not even look like a Human or a Vulcan.”

“Will it matter?”

“No,” Trip answered quickly, his hand touching hers. “Whoever -- or whatever -- they look like, they’re still our kids and I’m gonna love ’em.”

Chapter Twenty - Pre-wedding jitters

I’m getting married tomorrow.

Seated at his desk, going over data collected during the last warp coil test, Trip still found it hard to believe that, in only a matter of hours, T’Pol would be his wife.

Granted, according to her, they were already wed. It just wouldn’t seem real to Trip until the captain made it official and T’Pol was wearing his ring on her finger.

Setting the data aside, Trip looked at the two small bands sitting on his desk. Malcolm had helped him find scrap to melt down and form into matching rings that would physically symbolize the bond between Trip and T’Pol. With all the damage Enterprise had sustained in the Expanse, it had been easy enough to find spare elements.

With the rings he forged, Trip and T’Pol would literally have a piece of Enterprise with them long after they resigned their commissions to the ship.

And, though it pained him, Trip had every intention of making this mission his last. As soon as they found the Xindi and averted their attack -- of which he couldn’t help but be confident -- he planned to request a planetside posting so that he could be with his family.

Picking up the smaller of the two rings, Trip rolled it between his fingers and allowed his mind to wander. There were so many things he looked forward to experiencing with T’Pol and their children. He’d take them camping at Yosemite. They’d spend holidays with the Tucker clan in Florida. He’d teach the kids how to fly, maybe even show them how to build their own engine. He could imagine T’Pol seated on the front porch -- they’d have a front porch -- and watching as Trip and the twins played baseball in the front yard. After sending the kids to bed, Trip would lead T’Pol to their room where--

Okay, Trip, he admonished. Time to calm down.

Though T’Pol was progressing by leaps and bounds in the physical displays of affection, they hadn’t really talked about that aspect of marital life. Trip had no doubt making love to his Vulcan bride would be spectacular, but he didn’t want to rush T’Pol into anything she wasn’t ready for.

As soon as she was ready, however, Trip had no problem imagining the different scenarios married life to T’Pol could bring...and each of them would no doubt bring a green flush to the science officer’s cheeks if she happened to be reading his thoughts at the time.

Setting T’Pol’s ring back down next to his, Trip picked up the warp data and attempted once again to get his mind off the physical and back to physics. After only a few minutes of reading the PADD, unfortunately, Trip’s mind began to wander once again to the Vulcan residing next door.

He briefly toyed with the idea of walking over and seeing if T’Pol was up for another kissing lesson. Aware that she was probably meditating, he didn’t want to risk intruding on her thoughts. In fact, if T’Pol was meditating, he should probably try a little harder to make sure his own thoughts weren’t straying out of his head. His Vulcan had a difficult enough time concentrating with the twins’ causing a distraction that he didn’t need to complicate things even more for her.

Taking a deep breath, Trip attempted to clear his mind and focused his attention once again on the warp data.

Trip got through a full page before the door announcer chimed.

Probably Malcolm or the Cap’n wanting to wish me luck. “Come in.”

Half-expecting to see one of his male friends with a bottle of alcohol in hand, Trip was more than a little surprised when a robe-clad T’Pol entered his quarters.

His mind already half in the gutter, Trip found it hard not to think about how a robe-clad T’Pol had been at the beginning of most of his fantasies. Clearing his throat and keeping his attention away from the considerable amount of leg T’Pol’s clothing revealed, Trip said, “I thought Hoshi told you it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride the night before the wedding?”

“Since you are already my husband, I doubt that rule applies.” It could have been his hormone-addled brain, but Trip could have sworn T’Pol’s voice sounded lower than usual -- husky, even. Clutching the PADD tightly in his hand, he forced his eyes down to the numbers that, at the moment, made very little sense to him.

“What are you working on, Commander?” T’Pol asked, her breath caressing his ear. In his effort to concentrate on the PADD, he hadn’t noticed T’Pol moving to stand behind him at the desk.

He swallowed, audibly. “I’m just reviewing some warp data...” He trailed off, turning to see the look in T’Pol’s eyes. “T’Pol? Are you all right?”

In answer, T’Pol bent her head close to his and examined the data in his hand. “I see your coil modifications had the desired increase on warp efficiency.”

“What?” Trip asked, his eyes mesmerized by the expanse of smooth flesh the opening of T’Pol’s robe afforded him as she leaned forward.

“The warp coil modifications,” T’Pol reminded him. “You had discussed them yesterday during lunch.”

“Right. Warp efficiency.” Trip pulled his eyes away from ogling the sub-commander’s cleavage to the PADD. “These numbers are pretty good, but I actually had another idea...Uh, T’Pol...what are you doing?” His voice trailed off as he felt the light pressure of T’Pol’s tongue tracing the outside of his ear.

“Does this not please you?” she asked, moving from his ear to trace his jawline with her lips.

“I...I’m...well, I find it very pleasing but I’m not sure...what are you...oh, that’s nice.” He sighed as she focused her attention back on his ear, sucking gently on the lobe.

“You are familiar with the Vulcan sex drive?” T’Pol asked, the soft sound of her voice wreaking as much havoc on his senses as her tongue had done moments before.

“Yeah,” Trip answered, nearly breathless in the surge of feeling coursing through his body. “They mate every seven years or die.”

T’Pol pulled his chair away from the desk, turning it so that he faced her. “That is mostly correct. In theory, an unbonded female can live her entire life without mating. It is the trigger of the male’s pon farr every seven years that creates her need for copulation.”

Trip looked at her, seeing the smoldering fire of lust in her eyes. The thoughts he’d entertained earlier...Was she saying that her sex drive had been triggered? “But...but I’m not Vulcan.”

T’Pol ran her hands along his chest before finally clasping the zipper of his uniform and tugging it down to expose the black shirt he wore underneath. “We are still bonded. Your arousal is enough to stimulate my own.”

“So if we don’t...y’know...you’ll die?” he asked, concern for her well-being shaking some of the lust from his mind.

“I doubt it. But neither of us is likely to get much rest tonight, either.” She stood, stepping back as she moved her hands to the sash of her robe. “Do you object, Commander?”

“If you’d stop calling me ‘commander’ it might help.” He grinned, an amazing feat considering the tumult of thoughts and emotions coursing through him. On one hand, a beautiful woman was standing before him with every intention of seducing him -- practically living out one of his earlier fantasies. It was that very fact which gave him pause.

“Is it just because of the bond that you’re here, T’Pol? If I wasn’t sending out horny signals would you still want to do this?”

Her answer was to untie her robe and let it pool to the floor.

Trip’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly, his brain trying in vain to send signals to it.

“I do not believe I have ever seen you speechless, Commander.”

“Well...uh...I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you naked, Sub-Commander.” Since this was his first opportunity to truly study “alien anatomy,” he allowed his gaze to move slowly from her chin -- which was where he’d focused in preservation of modesty -- and down the length of her body, taking in the swell of her stomach where their children resided. When he reached her toes, he quickly brought his eyes back up and glued them to her face. “And...now I have.”

“Are you not going to return the courtesy?”

“What?” he asked, unable to think as he couldn’t decide which part of his anatomy was in control.

“The polite thing would be for you to remove your clothing, Commander, and return the gesture.”

“You’re serious?”

“I am.”

He still wasn’t sure if he was ready for this. Sure, they were getting married in a matter of hours...but he’d had every intention of taking things slowly and allowing T’Pol to get used to his physical presence before actually getting physical.

Trip was halfway through his thought when T’Pol, in single-minded Vulcan fashion, made the decision for him. Before he knew it, he had been pulled from his chair and pushed onto the bunk.

Chapter Twenty-One - You may now kiss the Vulcan

Not counting the sale of slaves to their new masters, Rajiin had never been privy to the type of ceremony that bound one being to another. From what little information Rajiin was able to derive from Dr. Phlox -- whose own knowledge of Human mating rituals was lacking -- there would be the ceremony performed in the Mess Hall and a party afterward.

Though he did not say anything, Rajiin could tell Jonathan was not entirely pleased with this turn of events. She could have easily pried into his mind to determine his thoughts on the matter, but after lengthy discussions with Phlox she had learned that Humans -- as well as most other species -- did not appreciate having their private thoughts read without their permission.

The Denobulan physician was a fount of knowledge for the socially challenged Rajiin. As a slave, she had learned through experience to anticipate her master’s immediate needs and satisfy them in as efficient a manner as possible. Interacting with those who did not view her as being beneath them was more challenging than she would have ever thought.

Attending the wedding of Commander Tucker and Sub-Commander T’Pol was an opportunity to socialize with the crew; to “be herself” as Phlox and Jonathan encouraged.

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

Despite a rocky start, Hoshi had to admit that the wedding preparations had turned out surprisingly well. When this was all over, she was going to treat herself to the largest ice cream sundae Chef would let her get away with.

Of course, she still had one final task to complete: dressing the bride.

“Are you sure all of these are necessary, Ensign?” the Vulcan bride asked, surveying the items Hoshi had spent the morning collecting.

Hoshi, finally satisfied with the placement of the floral wreath she had fashioned for T’Pol to wear in her hair, took a step back and admired her handiwork. “You don’t want to start your married life out on the wrong foot, T’Pol.”

“Vulcans do not believe in superstitions. They are illogical.” T’Pol stepped to the mirror and eyed her appearance, her attention drawn to the strain of floral material over her abdomen.

“But you believe in tradition, and this is more of a tradition than a superstition,” Hoshi explained. “I don’t think anyone really believes in this stuff anymore, but it can’t hurt.”

“You are not the one who will be wearing a Denobulan coin in your shoe.”

“Well, if Malcolm had been a proper Englishman I would have been able to borrow a sixpence from him. Phlox’s coin was the best I could do -- even if it is kind of big. You only have to wear it during the ceremony.” Though the science officer didn’t necessarily like it, Hoshi had a feeling T’Pol knew her effort would be appreciated by Commander Tucker and pleasing the engineer seemed high on the Vulcan’s list of priorities.

“It is only for a short time,” T’Pol agreed, turning from the mirror and focusing on the remaining items. “Please explain the significance of the rest of the poem.”

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

From his seat in the front row, Phlox marveled at the tropical paradise that had taken over the Mess Hall in a matter of hours. It was hard to believe only that morning he’d enjoyed breakfast with Crewman Isley at a now-absent table by the window.

The doctor had known from his conversation with the young botanist that her lab was pulling overtime to get as many large, flowering plants as they had available ready for the matrimonial festivities, but he hadn’t expected anything like this. He made a note to congratulate Isley and her team on a job well done. If the Denobulan hadn’t known better, he could have believed that he had stepped onto another world.

In addition to the flowers that adorned the alter -- a cargo crate Ensign Sato had covered with colorful wrapping -- and lined the center aisle, Phlox noted that several crewmen were sporting colorful leis around their necks. He, too, was wearing an authentic lei he’d received and preserved from his trip to the isles of Hawaii.

To further the tropical theme, the geology department provided sand to form the center aisle and marked the boundaries of the altar.

Rajiin, seated next to him with flowers braided through her long hair, leaned toward Phlox. “What is this music, Doctor? It is unlike anything I have ever heard.”

The doctor, who had not noticed the music until she asked, paused in uncertainty.

“It’s Elvis,” Ensign Mayweather provided, leaning forward from his position in the second row. “Commander Tucker’s favorite.”

“Oh, I remember!” Phlox proclaimed. “This is the man Humans called ‘The King of Rock and Roll.’”

“The king of rocks and rolls?” Rajiin asked, clearly puzzled.

Before Phlox or Mayweather could explain, the music in question was replaced with the more subdued tones of flutes and bird calls -- a mix provided by Ensign Sato to retain the tropical mood.

At the subtle cue, every head in the Mess Hall turned as the doors behind them opened.

Captain Archer and Lieutenant Reed, both dressed in colorful shirts obviously borrowed from Commander Tucker’s extensive collection, stood in the entranceway. If either man was uncomfortable in the outrageous patterns they wore, they hid it well -- even when a low whistle sounded as the lieutenant marched up the flower-strewn aisle behind his commanding officer.

Sparing the security officer further scrutiny as his face flushed red, Phlox turned his attention once again to the back in time to watch Commander Tucker’s entrance. Though the engineer had gradually shown more signs of life with each passing month since his sister’s death, Phlox scarce believed the pure joy that radiated from the expectant groom. It was difficult, but the doctor refrained from congratulating himself too heartily for insisting that T’Pol instruct the engineer in the art of neuropressure to deal with his grief.

As the commander continued up the aisle, Phlox wondered if perhaps Rajiin should share his matchmaking kudos -- she had done more than provide an antidote with her request of the Ceidé. With the introduction of his children -- and Phlox was pleased that the Human so readily accepted the hybrids as such -- the doctor had no doubt Commander Tucker had been given a new reason to hope for a future of happiness beyond the Xindi mission.

In his reverie, Phlox missed the entrance of Ensign Sato, dressed in a floral dress several decibels lower than the shirts her male counterparts wore. Catching her attention, the doctor shared a wide smile with the linguist before craning his neck toward the back so as not to miss the arrival of the bride.

His gaze locked on the doorway just in time as T’Pol came into view. His mild surprise at her lack of dress in one of the more formal robes of her people was quickly replaced by delight. If there had ever been a doubt that the Vulcan sub-commander and Human commander were right for each other, it was erased by her choice of clothing. Where the engineer had embraced T’Pol’s culture by accepting the mind meld and telepathic connection to the children, the science officer was returning the favor by taking part in the commander’s less-than-logical sense of tradition.

Wearing a floor-length wrap in a similar pattern to the floral design of Ensign Sato’s, T’Pol strode up the aisle. Despite the generous folds of the garment, the Denobulan could not help but notice that the dress draped over the increasing swell of the expectant mother’s abdomen.

Taking the engineer’s offered hand, T’Pol and Commander Tucker both turned to face Captain Archer as he began the ceremony.

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

“By the power vested in me as captain of the Enterprise, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Beaming with happiness, Hoshi watched as Commander Tucker didn’t even wait for the captain to say “You may now kiss the bride” before the engineer dipped T’Pol dramatically in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. The Vulcan, for her part, didn’t resist her husband’s very Human display of affection.

Chapter Twenty-Two - It looked nicer in the brochure

“Captain, we’re approaching the Ceidé space station.”

Archer nodded his head at Travis’ announcement and turned to Hoshi at the Communications station. “Try hailing them, Ensign.”

“Aye, sir.” Not looking up from her console, Hoshi broadcast the ship’s standard greeting in all the languages and frequencies she had at her disposal. Though Rajiin had assured the Enterprise crew that the Ceidé possessed translators that would make communication with them easy, Hoshi didn’t want to run the risk of presuming -- and unintentionally insulting -- the scientists.

Plus, the linguist didn’t trust Rajiin any more than the rest of the crew did.

After several moments, Hoshi frowned. “There’s no response, sir.”

“Are we in visual range yet?”

At the captain’s implied command, Travis put the station -- still some distance away -- on the main viewscreen. As Enterprise continued her approach, members of the Bridge crew found it difficult to hide their dismay at the image before them.

From Rajiin’s information, the Ceidé station was a giant, floating laboratory composed of five separate spheres. Four of these spheres were used to simulate different criteria of environmental conditions suitable for conducting scientific experiments. Corridors ran from the center sphere to its four smaller -- though each easily twice the size of Enterprise -- companions.

The image in her mind, compared to the sea of destruction on the viewscreen, was enough to turn Hoshi’s stomach.

From what the linguist could see, only three spheres remained -- and only one of those was intact. The other two were both missing large sections; their debris mingling with the remains of their counterparts.

“Life signs?” Archer demanded, spinning on his heel and focusing on T’Pol already working her console.

“I am detecting no life signs.” Though the Vulcan’s expression was as calm as ever, Hoshi could only imagine what she was going through. In addition to the loss of life this type of destruction no doubt resulted in, finding the Ceidé had been their one hope of finding out the truth about the twins T’Pol carried.

With the scientists’ potential destruction...

“It’s possible the debris is interfering with our sensors, Captain,” Malcolm offered, drawing the captain’s attention toward the security officer. “The closest sphere has suffered the least amount of structural damage. I suggest sending a team aboard in case there are survivors.”

“Is there any indication that who did this is still in the area?”

Malcolm shook his head. “Sensors aren’t detecting any vessels, sir.”

The captain considered this before nodding. “Take Trip and a couple of MACOs. See if you can find anything salvageable to tell us exactly what happened.”

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

During the past several months, Trip had spent a lot of time learning how to control his thoughts and feelings in an effort not to overwhelm his Vulcan mate with his very human emotions. It had been a gradual process, with the first weeks after the paternal -- and then the marital -- bond forcing T’Pol to keep the barriers of her mind at “full power” while he learned to shield his own.

The effort had been successful, with the newly wedded couple able to share an awareness of one another while still able to function in their own individual capacity.

Going about his shift that morning, Trip had enjoyed the presence of his wife in the back of his mind. It was a feeling he’d never thought possible -- and one he never wanted to be without. It was as T’Pol had told him of the Vulcan bonding: never and always touching and touched.

Even amidst the chaos of whatever crisis the warp engine threw his way -- with his crew scrambling to make repairs or demanding his attention -- there was a calm in the back of his mind that was T’Pol.

So when, in the middle of fixing light panels on C-deck, Trip felt that calm fracture into a storm of emotion, he wasn’t surprised to receive a harried call from Malcolm to meet the lieutenant on the docking bay.

For a moment, Trip was tempted to ignore Malcolm and instead head to the Bridge to check on his wife. To have something have rattled her badly enough for him to feel the shockwave in his mind, he knew something had to be wrong.

Even as he thought that, however, he felt an assurance from T’Pol that he was needed elsewhere.

As he piloted the shuttlepod through the debris field, assessing the damage done to the sphere that was their current destination, Trip knew that his wife -- logical as always -- was right.

“I don’t like this,” Malcolm muttered from his seat behind the pilot’s chair.

“Which part?” Trip asked, glancing back at the tactical officer as he fidgeted with the equipment on his EV suit.

Malcolm leaned forward, probably in an effort to keep their conversation from the three MACOs riding in the rear of the craft, as he answered, “How do we know that this isn’t one big setup on the part of Rajiin and the Xindi? They could have destroyed the Ceidé and are just waiting for us to arrive to finish the job. If the Ceidé even exist. This entire episode seems a might suspicious.”

“I don’t like Rajiin any more than you do, Malcolm. Less, probably. But she’s somehow convinced the cap’n that she’s worth trusting. We may not have seen eye to eye in the last couple of months, but I can’t believe that he’d allow himself to be fooled twice.”

Malcolm snorted and Trip couldn’t help but smile. The lieutenant was as loyal and duty-abiding as they came -- which made any sign of disagreement with his superior officer’s orders that much more interesting to see.

“If Rajiin is up to something, I think the cap’n’s about to find out. He went to question her shortly after we left.”

“How do you know?”

Trip grimaced, unsure how to explain that T’Pol had told him -- without use of a communicator. Malcolm was a good friend, but the bond with T’Pol was such a personal thing for Vulcans -- and for him -- that Trip didn’t know if he could really explain it without feeling as though he was betraying something sacred.

Rather than answer, Trip examined the ’pod’s console. “I don’t see any type of docking port, but there’s a large enough breach that I think I can maneuver us into the sphere. It’s not as big as a bay, but we’ll fit.”

Malcolm nodded, turning his attention to the MACOs and briefing them. The tactical officer may have his qualms about the military group’s presence on his ship -- and their commander in general -- but Trip had to admit that they knew how to follow orders. And, not that he didn’t have every faith in Malcolm’s people, Trip did feel a lot better entering the sphere with the three commandos in tow.

Chapter Twenty-Three - Some assembly required

Seated in the command seat of the Enterprise, Jonathan Archer frowned as he listened with the rest of the Bridge crew to Malcolm and Trip’s report of their findings -- or lack thereof -- aboard the Ceidé station.

“What do you mean you haven’t found anything, Trip? You’ve been over there for an hour.”

“What I’m trying to say, Cap’n, is there isn’t anything over here to find. We’ve been through the entire station. Either the Ceidé cleared out of here before the attack, or whoever opened fire on them did a hell of a job cleaning up after themselves.”

Archer looked over his shoulder at T’Pol, noting the tilt of her head as she listened to her husband’s description.

Her husband. Despite the situation, Archer had to take a moment to reflect on that. Three years ago, he never would have guessed that his first officer and the man originally slated for the position be married. It had been a pleasant enough surprise when the two commanders hadn’t killed each other.

“Are you able to access the Ceidé computer, Commander?” the science officer asked. Archer wasn’t surprised that, while on duty, T’Pol was all-business.

Her spouse, on the other hand...

There was a heavy sigh before the engineer answered, “We’ve come across a few terminals, Darlin’, but the core is gone. It’s impossible to investigate when there’s nothing here to investigate.”

The frustration in his friend’s voice was similar to the disappointment Archer felt at not being able to find answers -- or potential allies -- aboard the Ceidé station. In addition to not getting what they’d come looking for, Enterprise had delayed plotting a course for Xindi Prime. With their current position, they were at least a month away from the coordinates Rajiin had provided. Granted, this side trip was providing the time necessary for Rajiin and Phlox to develop a cure to the Xindi bio-weapon, but to have come all this way for nothing --

As a last resort, Archer asked, “Trip, is there anything we can salvage? Equipment we can use aboard Enterprise?”

“I’m telling you, Cap’n, there’s nothing over here. Not anything useful, anyway. Malcolm and Hawkins are checking out the upper levels, but I doubt they’ll find any more than Chang and I have.”

“Actually, Commander,” Malcolm broke in. “I believe we may have stumbled across something at least marginally useful.”

Considering the security officer’s knack for understatement, Archer couldn’t help but feel hopeful. “What have you got, Malcolm?”

“I can’t be sure until Commander Tucker takes a look, but it just may be the answer to our long-range communications problem.”

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

Despite hopes that, once successfully installed, the Ceidé communications relay would enable Enterprise to contact Starfleet for the first time in two months, Trip couldn’t help his less-than-optimistic feelings on the matter.

When they’d come into the Expanse nine months ago, he’d wanted nothing more than to find the Xindi -- any Xindi -- and make them pay for the death of his sister and seven million other people.

Then, slowly, that rage had lessened to be replaced by the wonder of pending fatherhood -- a state neither he nor T’Pol could explain. The knowledge that two new lives were going to depend on him -- already relied on him -- gave him reason to live.

And love.

If circumstances had been different; if the Ceidé hadn’t interfered, there was a good chance Trip and T’Pol would have never discovered how deeply they cared for each other.

Having found that connection to the beautiful Vulcan, Trip couldn’t believe he’d lived so long without it.

It was that connection -- that bond -- that pulled him toward Engineering. He’d yet to see his wife since returning from the Ceidé station and Trip was anxious to check on her. Through the bond, he could feel that the earlier storm of finding the Ceidé wreckage had dissipated, but he wanted to see with his own eyes that she was okay.

Stepping into Engineering, Trip’s eyes were drawn to the upper level where he spotted the aqua velour of his wife’s newly refitted uniform. Almost overnight, it seemed, her battle with the tight-fitting clothing of the previous months had been lost and she was resigned to wearing the new wardrobe several of the Enterprise women had created for her.

Trip smiled at the memory of T’Pol’s brief -- and illogically vain -- thought of her own appearance as she had looked in the mirror that morning. He’d quickly reassured her that she was still the prettiest Vulcan he’d ever seen -- and been reassured, himself, that the growing protrusion of her front limited T’Pol to using the ’lift and not the service ladders.

Climbing quickly up the greatly contested ladder, Trip joined his wife on the upper level. “How’s this for a honeymoon?”

Seated at the Enterprise communications array, T’Pol looked up at her husband’s entrance. “Based on Ensign Sato’s description, I don’t think our attempting to graft alien technology to the ship’s systems is in the true spirit of a honeymoon.”

“Well, in a perfect world, we’d be holed up in some nice island resort right about now. But, since we don’t really have that option, we can at least enjoy the opportunity to spend time together.” To emphasize his statement, he extended two fingers and touched them to T’Pol’s. The physical connection allowed an instant strengthening of the mental bond.

Her fingers still touching his, T’Pol allowed a hint of a smile to grace her lips. “I still find it intriguing that you think the amount of time we currently spend together to be inadequate.”

“Every moment with you is a pleasure, Darlin,’” Trip said, grinning widely as they pulled their hands apart. “How could I not want more of it?”

Though T’Pol declined to comment, the engineer felt her ripple of pleasure at his statement. He would have teased her about that, would have tried to draw that hint of a smile into a full blown admission, but he sensed that his wife -- ever the workaholic -- was ready to focus on the business at hand.

“So, how are you doing?” he asked, indicating the alien device that sat at her feet. “Any progress?”

“I believe I have created an adequate interface for the Ceidé relay to be integrated with our own.” T’Pol handed him a PADD with a series of calculations on it. “However, I am having difficulty maintaining a proper power flow to the new device. Three power couplings have already met an unfortunate end.”

Trip looked over the PADD, his head nodding. “I think I see the problem. The interface is overriding the Ceidé device’s basic power algorithm. The device starts up, thinks it isn’t getting enough power, and tries drawing in more than it can handle.”

“Can you fix it?”

“I think so. We’ll just have to add a power regulator to the interface you created. It’ll play tug-of-war with the Ceidé device and keep it from overloading.” Trip shrugged. “It’s not a perfect fix, but it’ll be a lot faster than trying to rewrite alien programming.”

T’Pol nodded, watching as Trip made adjustments to the calculations on her PADD. “That should be sufficient for our purposes. When we have completed the interface, Ensign Sato will make the necessary adjustments so that we may contact Starfleet. She would also like to install an encryption protocol. While we are this close to Xindi space, it would be best not to broadcast our position or intentions.”

“Let’s get to work then. Sooner we’re done here, the sooner we can go spend some true honeymoon time together.”

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

Three hours and two more power couplings later, Trip and T’Pol left the new and improved communications array in the hands of the capable Ensign Sato.

Standing outside his door, Trip indicated the charred sleeve of his uniform. “Just give me a minute to change and I’ll be right over. Maybe we’ll run to the Mess and see if Chef kept anything warm for us.”

T’Pol refrained from reminding her husband that most anything Chef prepared could be easily warmed up for late dinner arrivals as she pressed the door release. At the same time, both husband and wife stepped into their respective quarters.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Trip unzipped his uniform and shrugged his arm free. Turning to release the other arm, he paused at the movement he saw out of the corner of his eye.

“T’Pol?”

Turning slowly, he stared in disbelief at the lack of wall separating his cabin from his wife’s. He took a step forward, matching T’Pol’s movement.

“This isn’t the way we left it.”

T’Pol joined him in examining the beam that used to support the wall that once separated their quarters. Turning as one, the couple looked into Trip’s cabin and then T’Pol’s.

“There was a wall when we left this morning, right?” he asked.

“Indeed.”

The Tuckers stared at one another for a moment when their disbelief was interrupted by the sound of the wall communicator.

Since it was the coming from T’Pol’s side, Trip stood still as his wife moved to answer it.

“This is T’Pol.”

“How are you enjoying the honeymoon suite?”

“Captain?” T’Pol asked, surprised by the jovial tone in her commanding officer’s voice -- especially considering the numerous setbacks of the day.

“While the two of you were working on the communications relay, Rostov and his team did some redecorating,” the captain explained. “Sorry they didn’t get a chance to install the larger bunk yet.”

A larger bunk? Trip joined his wife as she stared at the communicator -- an illogical action to be sure since Archer couldn’t see the look of confusion on their faces.

Was this your idea, Husband?

“What makes you think this was my idea?” Trip asked, wincing when he realized he’d asked aloud.

“I didn’t ask if this was your idea, Trip,” the captain said, confusion in his voice. “It was actually Rostov and Hess. Your crew went through a lot of trouble to keep this a surprise. Not to mention the effort it took to convince me to let them.”

“You authorized this, Cap’n?”

“I doubt Starfleet envisioned a need for family quarters aboard, but, considering the circumstances, I agreed with your engineers. The two of you have already made several steps toward bridging cultural differences. You don’t need another wall between you.”

Chapter Twenty-Four - Hitchin’ a Ride

“I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing, Ambassador, but I already told your staff that we have heard nothing new from Enterprise.” Seated behind his desk, Maxwell Forrest was thankful for the expanse of oak that separated him from the severe features of the Vulcan diplomat.

“I find it hard to believe that Archer and his crew would not report regularly to you on their progress, Admiral,” Soval said. “Are you withholding information simply because the Vulcan High Command refused to assist you in Earth’s plight?”

Forrest stood, his fist pounding the desk at the Vulcan’s accusation. “Humans may be petty creatures in your eyes, Soval, but I can’t believe you could think I would withhold information about Enterprise. If I had any information to share about the ship or Sub-Commander T’Pol, you have to know that I would.”

Soval bowed his head slightly, the only hint of an apology Forrest would receive. “I do not mean to imply that you would deny a father knowledge of his daughter’s safety, Admiral Forrest. I only meant -- ”

“You only meant that I was keeping information from you because I didn’t want you telling the High Command anything,” Forrest interrupted. “That isn’t the case here, but, if it was, I don’t think you have any right to complain after all the secrets the Vulcans have kept from us.”

The ambassador’s spine, if at all possible, stiffened at Forrest’s statement.

“The truth, Ambassador, is that we’re all a little on edge after two months without word from Enterprise. We knew we probably wouldn’t be able to maintain communications the further they ventured into the Expanse.” Forrest sighed, sitting down again. “We can only hope it’s interference from the anomalies Archer told us about and not some other, less pleasant cause.”

Before Soval could comment, a noise sounded from the computer on the admiral’s desk. The admiral’s first instinct was to ignore it but the computer beeped again, this time in rapid succession.

Forrest scowled at the machine before answering it with every intention of reprimanding his secretarial officer. “I’m with the Vulcan Ambassador, Ensign Grayson. You know better than to interrupt --”

“But, sir,” Grayson cut in. “We’re receiving a message from Enterprise.”

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

“Jonathan!” Forrest greeted as the Enterprise Bridge filled the viewscreen. “It’s about time you made contact. We were beginning to worry.”

Jonathan smiled at the admiral. “I’m sorry about that, Admiral, but we’ve had some difficulty getting a signal through the Expanse.”

Forrest nodded, glancing briefly at Soval. For reasons the admiral didn’t press, the Vulcan wished to remain out of sight during the conversation with the Earth vessel. Forrest imagined it was enough for Soval to see that his daughter was alive and well without having to dredge up the disagreement they had before Enterprise left spacedock.

Of course, Soval had no way of knowing that Forrest was aware of the very calm and Vulcan-like argument that took place between the ambassador and T’Pol. But there was very little that went on at Starfleet Command that Forrest wasn’t aware of.

“A difficulty getting your signal through was our guess -- and our hope, Jon. Two months without word was enough to make us assume the worst.”

“You’ll be pleased to know that the last two months have been productive, Admiral. We are currently en route to the Xindi homeworld.”

At Archer’s announcement, Forrest looked -- really looked -- at the Bridge crew. To an experienced commander’s eye, he could see the exhaustion -- both physical and emotional -- etched on each officers’ face. Even T’Pol, seated at the science station, looked as though the mission had taken its toll on her. But beneath all that, each member of the crew wore a look of resolved determination.

“We’re not entirely sure what to expect when we arrive,” the Enterprise captain continued, “But we’re about a month’s travel away. Xindi Prime is deep within the Expanse and the anomalies will only get worse as we proceed. T’Pol and Ensign Sato have put together all the information we have on the Xindi, including the coordinates if you want to join us.”

Forrest smiled faintly. “You know I’d love to, Jon, but even if Columbia was able to launch -- which she’s not -- we’d never make it in time.”

“If you can convince the Vulcans to send one of their ships, Ensign Mayweather figures a warp seven vessel can catch up to us within three weeks.”

Forrest glanced at Soval again, his expression thoughtful. “What about the anomalies? I thought you couldn’t travel at warp through them.”

“My engineer and my science officer have been doing some calculations there, too.” Archer looked over at the science station where the sub-commander and commander sat. “Trip?”

“Our biggest problem, Admiral,” the engineer began, “is that the hull plating just doesn't cut it against the spatial distortions.”

“Doesn’t ‘cut it’, Commander?”

“By the time an anomaly encounters the ’plating, it’s already on the hull of the ship. What you need -- what the Vulcans already have -- is to extend their shields about eight meters beyond the hull. That should dissipate most of the effect and allow you to maintain warp.”

As Forrest consider this revelation, Tucker turned toward the science officer. “Did I forget something?” he asked.

T’Pol gave him a look, one which the admiral couldn’t really translate, and the engineer turned back toward the viewscreen. “You may want to make that ten meters, Admiral. Just to be on the safe side.”

“I’ll pass that along, Commander,” Forrest acknowledged, not quite sure what to make of the exchange between the two officers. Jonathan, for his part, didn’t seem concerned. Soval, on the other hand...

“T'Pol.”

Forrest and everyone else watched the sub-commander’s eyes grow wide with surprise at the sound of her father’s voice as the Vulcan ambassador stepped into view.

“Ambassador,” T’Pol said, standing to attention behind her station. When she did so, it was Forrest’s turn to look surprised.

T’Pol was --

“It is not enough that you chose these Humans over your own people, but to actually take one as your mate...”

Reeling from the site of T’Pol’s swollen and obviously pregnant state, the admiral watched in amazement as Commander Tucker touched his hand lightly to T’Pol’s in a gesture Forrest had seen during functions at the Vulcan consulate between married couples.

After the brief contact, T’Pol’s posture immediately relaxed as she confronted her father. “My choice of mate is none of your concern, as you have forfeited your right to intrude on my life decisions.”

“Look, Soval, this isn't what you think --”

“Do not presume to know what I think, Captain Archer.”

Not liking the restrained tone in Soval’s voice -- and considering that he’d never before heard Soval have to restrain -- Forrest decided to draw the Vulcans’ attention. “Ambassador, Sub-Commander, this isn’t the time or place for this conversation. Wouldn’t you agree that we have more important matters to discuss at the moment?”

"You are correct, Admiral,” Soval said. “Forgive my lapse.”

T’Pol nodded, resuming her seat and staring pointedly at her commanding officer.

“Right,” Jonathan agreed, “More important matters. If Soval wants to take this information to the Vulcan High Command, we could sure use the help. If not, we’ve made it this far on our own.”

“I will do what I can, Captain,” the ambassador answered, bowing his head.

“That’s all I ask.” Jonathan smiled at Forrest before ending the transmission, “Admiral, we’ll keep in touch.”

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

A Vulcan vessel hailing an Andorian Imperial cruiser was a pretty unusual occurrence. But when the visage of the Vulcan ambassador to Earth filled the screen, Shran couldn’t help the surprised twitch of his antennae.

“Ambassador, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

In typical Vulcan fashion, Soval dispensed with pleasantries. “You are aware of the Xindi attack on Earth?”

“News of the attack has reached Andoria.” Shran leaned back in his seat, his posture bored to hide his interest. “I also know that the Enterprise has been dispatched to find the Xindi.”

“From Captain Archer’s previous mission logs, I understand you feel an obligation to him for saving your life.”

Shran shifted in his seat, not liking where this conversation was going. “It is not like you Vulcans to beat around the bush -- a phrase I learned from Captain Archer. What exactly can I do for you, Soval?”

“Archer and his crew have located the Xindi homeworld,” Soval informed him. “I have commissioned one Vulcan vessel to follow Archer’s coordinates and aid the Humans. However, two ships would be greatly aided by an Imperial cruiser.”

“Why the change of...well, I was going to say ‘heart,’ but then I remembered who I was talking to.”

“The Humans are in need of assistance. I am merely offering it.”

“The Humans were in need of assistance a year ago and Vulcan abandoned them,” Shran reminded him. “Why do you want to help now?”

“Sub-Commander T'Pol is aboard Enterprise.”

“The sub-commander's presence is against the High Command's wishes. What difference does that make now?”

“Because her decision no longer affects her alone.”

Shran waited patiently for Soval to elaborate.

The ambassador, resigned to the fact that he would have to share details, finally admitted, “The life of my unborn grandchild is also at stake.”

“T'Pol is...how..?” Shran’s antennae danced with delight at this startling revelation. “I didn’t think she was Archer’s type.”

“It is not Captain Archer’s child,” Soval ground out. “I am unaware of the details, but they matter little. My daughter made her choice, but I cannot allow her child to suffer the consequences. Will you offer your assistance?”

“I will have to discuss this with my superiors, of course.” Shran looked thoughtful. “If they agree, I want you to know that I am not doing this for you, Soval. I owe Archer and his crew. When this is done, I expect you'll feel the same obligation toward me.”

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

“I don’t know why everyone thinks we need a bigger bed,” Trip mused, his arms wrapped around T’Pol. “This isn’t so bad.”

T’Pol, her attention focused on the book Hoshi had loaned her, declined comment.

“I sure hope Soval’s a lousy shot.”

T’Pol looked up from her book. “As far as I know, the ambassador has never discharged a firearm.”

“‘The ambassador’ -- T’Pol, are you going to request our kids call you Sub-Commander?”

“That would be illogical, Trip.”

“That’s a relief.”

“I doubt I will be at the rank of sub-commander when our children are able to speak.”

Trip opened his mouth in surprise, before he realized that T’Pol was joking.

He hoped.

“Indeed, Husband. I meant that in jest.” T’Pol shifted, setting her book aside as she turned to face her mate. “The ambassador -- my father -- was distant even by Vulcan standards. I do not intend to be that way with our children.”

“Don’t worry about that, T’Pol.” Trip pressed a kiss to his wife’s cheek. “You’re going to be a great mom.”

“I appreciate your confidence.” T’Pol reached for the book, propped it on her swollen abdomen, and resumed reading.

After a moment, Trip asked, “Aren’t you going to tell me what a good father I’m going to be?”

“I’m sure you will make an adequate parental figure.”

“Well, gee, T’Pol,” he said, sarcasm dripping in his southern tone. “That sounded really sweet. You getting soft on me?”

“The only place I am ‘getting soft’ is about my middle where your children currently reside.”

“Our children, T'Pol. They’re just as much your troublemakers as they are mine.”

“With the trouble-making tendencies already so prevalent, I have determined both children favor their paternal heritage.”

Trip grinned widely at her, pleased with the twins already taking on some of his more endearing traits. “You couldn't ask for more than that in Tucker offspring.”

T'Pol’s answer was one raised eyebrow before returning to her book.

Part 3 (Chapters 25-32)

Return to Part 1 (Chapters 1-13)

Back to Fan Fiction Main Menu

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