Heresy - Ch 2

Heresy

By justTrip’n

Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: see chapter 1

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Chapter 2

“Lorian, we need your help. Could you put that away?” Jon asked gently. All the senior officers were standing around a table of monitors. Immediately following Trip’s fatal accident, they faced a second crisis. Destiny was missing, abducted by the Triannons. It was two hundred hours, and everyone was emotionally and physically exhausted. Fourteen-year-old Lorian appeared to be substituting for his absent father—and doing a poor job of it. Lorian, who’d been pushing buttons on his gamepadd, now dropped the toy to his side. Jon was puzzled. He’s playing at a time like this? He gave T’Pol a questioning look.

“He thinks it might provide some clues,” T’Pol explained, her voice low and flat.

“So you think your twin went willingly?” Jon asked the boy.

Lorian looked up at the captain with reddened eyes and a serious, yet open expression. “Yes. The Triannon asked if anyone wanted to see his ship, and Destiny was the only one who said yes.”

He looks like a 3-day old Sim, the captain reflected, and shook his head to clear the distracting thought.

Malcolm gave a sigh of exasperation. “Sir, we should have had an armed guard on any visitors roaming the ship.”

“That would seem a little excessive,” Jon told him.

“Until yesterday,” Malcolm declared.

“Look,” Jon said, “We scanned them for weapons and bioexplosives. They were clean. She’s fourteen. We didn’t expect her to just leave with a stranger. We’ll review our protocol, but for now, let’s focus on getting the girl back.”

“We scanned the area,” Travis reported, pointing at map, “and these are the only ships within 10 light years.” His pitch slid higher. “The Triannon ship seems to have just disappeared into thin air.”

“Jon,” T’Pol said slowly. “I’m not sure we should try to follow the ship. They warned us . . . .” She glanced towards Lorian and let the sentence hang.

Lorian looked from his mother to the captain. “Besides, they may have moved Destiny to a different ship,” the boy contributed.

“Why do you say that?” Jon asked, surprised.

“On the game, when your ship collects new believers you take them to a bigger ship for processing.”

“Well if their interest is evangelism, they probably won’t harm her,” Travis said, grasping at this crumb of hope. “Triannon principles may be screwy, but they obviously have some. Lorian, does that game have anything about the return of prisoners?”

Lorian shook his head. “Here, they aren’t like prisoners,” he said, waving at the toy. “On the game, people just join up and wait for Paradise.”

Jon gave the orders: “Malcolm, Hoshi, call around to our contacts in the Expanse. Find out if this situation has a precedent and, if so, how we can negotiate for the girl’s release.”

“Right,” Malcolm answered. “T’Pol, let us know if Lorian remembers anything else.”

“I’ll review this game,” T’Pol answered, staring absently through him. “It may provide some . . . insight.”

“If you feel up to it,” Malcolm returned. “We can certainly assign the job to someone else.”

T’Pol didn’t answer, but looked around, evading their eyes. “I’ve got to update Phlox and Amanda,” she said at last.

“No, I’ll do that,” Jon offered. “You and Lorian get some rest.”

“There’s nothing more any of you can do here,” Hoshi confirmed. “So go on. We’ll let you all know immediately if we find anything.”

@@@@

Malcolm sat through Trip’s memorial service, listening to the parade of testimonials, amazed that his friend of twenty years was gone. He could only vaguely recall the early days, when Trip would ignore him entirely, except to give an order… when Malcolm had frowned on the man’s cocky informality, even as he wished to be included in the fun. Later, he and Trip had been abandoned in a shuttlepod, and had bickered, drank, faced death, and saved each other’s lives. Over the following years, the two officers had shared enough misadventures that no defection from the friendship was possible. If one had started telling stories on the other, there would have been mutually assured destruction.

One day, several years into their temporal detour, Trip had offered up particularly sensitive intelligence. Using a variety of non-European euphemisms, Trip had confessed that there were certain limitations on Vulcan/Human sex. What would possess a man to VOLUNTEER such information? The reticent Brit had been astonished. . . and merciless in his teasing.

“Well it sure beats, an Orion ‘companion’,” Trip had responded.

“How would you know?” Malcolm had asked. “You can’t even THINK about an Orion female without T’Pol ordering you to desist.”

“I think about whatever I want to think about,” Trip had said, looking worried.

Now, Malcolm cracked a smile through the gloom, remembering that face.

Malcolm had lost a buddy, a confidant, a best friend.

Jon was entertaining them with that scuba diving story. Those two went WAY back. Malcolm was only now learning how many other people had considered Trip to be their best friend. Some people are just like that, he considered, listening to the eulogies and feeling lonelier by the minute.

Who will spar with me every Tuesday? Who will wax poetic about engineering efficiency? Who will argue the merits of comic books over classic literature? The Tucker quarters, decorated with candles, mediation pillows, and not much else, was a place where Malcolm had spent many comfortable hours. Now, the only sociable member of that family was missing. He wondered if he was still welcome to drop by. He tried to imagine making conversation with the stern Vulcan without Trip’s animated intercession.

He scolded himself for the self-pity. He should be feeling sorry for Trip. And T’Pol. And Lorian. And Destiny, Phlox, and Amanda.

He’d honor Trip’s memory by being stoic, and helpful to the survivors. It was all he could do.

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T’Pol was sitting by herself at lunch in the mess hall. Almost a week after the funeral she was still in a daze. In the immediate aftermath of the incident she had comforted herself with the thought that her husband went painlessly; that he thought he would soon return to Enterprise; that he was hopeful to the end. Now it hit her that he wasn’t coming back. She felt weepy and lethargic. She felt ashamed. Everyone would know she had been crying.

But she couldn’t sit in her room forever. That wasn’t logical. If she returned to a normal routine, perhaps she would begin to feel normal.

She was startled by a male voice. “May I?” It was Malcolm.

“Were you ordered to sit here?” she asked.

“No, of course not.” He hesitated a moment before pulling up a chair.

“The crew seems afraid of me now,” she explained, “but someone always sits with me at meals.”

“I’m sure they just want to help, but aren’t sure what to do or say,” he offered. She made no reply, so he picked up his knife and sawed at his meat.

T’Pol’s mind wandered from one unhappy thought to the next. “Trip’s death is a setback for the mission,” she found herself saying.

“Undoubtedly.”

“Trip and I used to work well together,” she continued. “The new chief engineer and I never work on projects together. We have always had different shifts.”

“Rostov is quite good. When you’re feeling better, you two should talk. I know he’d be open to that.”

It was a helpful suggestion. She let out a shaky breath. She admired Malcolm’s emotional control. It was better than any other person’s on the ship, hers included. “I’m afraid I am not being a very good Vulcan,” she confessed to him.

“No one is judging you,” he assured her, “There’s no wrong way to grieve.” He paused before asking, “How’s Lorian holding up?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t come home last night . . . or the previous night.”

“Didn’t come home?” Malcolm seemed alarmed. “He’s fourteen! How can he not come home? Did you call security?

“No,” she stated.

“Look, there’s no wrong way to grieve, but there’s a wrong way to parent. Trust me on this one.”

T’Pol was surprised at his directness. “I wasn’t worried,” she responded “I believe he’s sleeping in the access tubes. What problem do you see with this?”

“Well there’s the principle of the thing. He shouldn’t just be running wild. And safety. You don’t know his state of mind. Trip had depression. Lorian could be predisposed to mood disorders. Besides . . . you should just look for him. He might think no one cares.”

“When Lorian was young, he liked the sound of the warp engine. It put him to sleep. I believe he’s moved somewhere closer to Engineering.”

“Well at least you know where to look. I commend you on that. Look, for now, if he wants to sleep in the access tubes, let’s assign him a low-traffic access tube. Then at least we’ll know where he is.”

“Thank you, I didn’t think of that.”

“I was also raised on a ship—in the Royal Navy. When I would run off, my parents wouldn’t know or care where I went,” he said, with a snort of disgust. “So, I may be overly sensitive on this issue.”

“No, I appreciate your . . . insight. I have been somewhat distracted,” she returned. “You were poorly supervised in your youth?”

“Oh, I was quite well supervised. My dad was always sure to teach me a lesson when I returned.”

T’Pol didn’t like the sound of that. “Vulcans disapprove of violent forms of discipline.”

“Doesn’t matter . . . anymore.” He shrugged it off. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Hmm?”

She disagreed, but kept it to herself. “Vulcans value their children,” she said instead, “Perhaps because we reproduce so infrequently.”

Malcolm only nodded.

“. . . . I suppose I’ll have just one.”

“Child?” he asked, surprised. He shook his head. “It may seem that way now. But give it time. You’re still young.”

Humans wouldn’t call an eighty-year-old woman young, even if she did have many fertile years left. Malcolm didn’t know her age. She looked across the table at a face that was lined and weathered. T’Pol now wished she appeared as old as her peers—as old as she felt.

“Do you think we’ll find Destiny?” she asked.

“No leads yet, I’m afraid.” Malcolm shrugged. “It’s interesting. My contacts say that these captives, or converts—or whatever they are—are eventually given their freedom. But only after they’re thoroughly indoctrinated. Some ‘recruits’ are returned to their families, only to run back to the Triannons within a couple of weeks.”

“In that case, we must find my niece sooner rather than later. I have lost a spouse. It would be even worse if Phlox and Amanda were to lose a child.”

Malcolm tilted his head in acknowledgement, while T’Pol stared at her soup.

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The abduction of Destiny had thrown them off schedule completely. In the Expanse, the crew of Enterprise had become very enterprising. Each had their duties and their rations, but those who found ways to earn extra money were rewarded directly with credits.

Travis taught them how to operate an efficient freighter, and lined up transport jobs for Enterprise. The engineers hired themselves out to do repairs on other ships. Hoshi found a thriving market for foreign-language movies on Grondus V. Even the doctor now accepted compensation for treating alien patients.

Waiting and looking for Destiny had cost them dearly. It was understood that if a break in the case did not come soon, they would all have to move on, or starve.

Malcolm had been fishing for information on Destiny’s whereabouts for over a month. Now, he finally had a bite.

He met with the two most senior officers in the conference room. “Captain, my contacts on Siliar 2 have invited us down for a talk—about their Triannon clients.”

“Even Triannon preachers have business in Sin City,” Jon noted sarcastically.

“Yes,” T’Pol continued, “but, not necessarily with the prostitutes. The Triannons appear to be more interested in the arms trade.”

Malcolm made an urgent pitch to the captain. “If I were to go down there in person, I might be able to persuade my contacts to reveal the location of our missing girl. Failing that, I should try to convince them to negotiate with the Triannons on our behalf.”

“We’re very low on latinum and spices. We have no trillium to spare. How do we pay?”

“Leave me on the planet. Enterprise can still make that transport run to Fogerup. When she returns, we pay. Of course, I’ll need some currency for my own maintenance.”

“We can spare 100 credits worth of latinum.”

“Jon, that’s nowhere near enough.”

“It’ll have to do.”

“Sir, ordinarily I would not bring up personal business at a staff meeting. But as it happens, I have a good friend in the city. She lives near the main market. I was hoping
we might get reacquainted.”

Jon gave him a dubious look. “Candrine?” he asked.

The two men glanced anxiously at T’Pol, and she tried to reassure them with a look of complete indifference.

“Shendra,” Malcolm corrected.

Their unease around her was puzzling. The Vulcan had never judged Malcolm for his affairs, while the humans treated his temporary liaisons as amusing, or even scandalous. .

Malcolm continued, “It would be bad form to just show up on the women’s doorstep, penniless, and dressed in these rags.”

“May I suggest a solution?” T’Pol asked evenly. “Lorian has been reading his father’s computer files, teaching himself engineering. In the process, he came across Trip’s financial account. Surprisingly, my husband had 2000 credits when he died. We have no idea why he would save that much and hide it from us.”

They both looked up, startled.

“Out of that account, I am willing to give Malcolm 200 credits for his personal use.”

“T’Pol, I appreciate the offer,” Malcolm answered, “but it doesn’t seem right. The money is yours.”

“If you manage to bring Destiny back to us, I will be forever in your debt.” She returned graciously. “Besides I suspect Trip would have loaned you the credits had he been here.”

Jon cleared his throat nervously. “Which brings up an awkward subject. I loaned Trip those credits in the first place. It was a verbal agreement. He wanted to buy a present.”

“A present? What type of present?” T’Pol asked, now quite curious.

“He didn’t say.” Jon answered abruptly.

“Then why would you extend the loan?” T’Pol wondered aloud.

“Trip said he would make the money back immediately. And he would have if . . . . Well . . . you know.” Jon seemed embarrassed, but he ploughed on. “I’m afraid I have to ask for the credits back.”

Malcolm stared at the captain open-mouthed. “Unbelievable!” he blurted out.

“Look, it’s not for me!” Jon defended himself. “I’ll use the money to buy food for the crew. It’s either that or cut rations.”

“I see how it is. Use them or lose them!” Malcolm spit out. “That’s why I don’t save credits. They always get confiscated in a crisis.”

T’Pol looked to Malcolm, pleading for calm.

“. . .Sir,” the lieutenant added, backing down.

“Jon,” T’Pol, began turning back to the captain, “though you have no proof of this loan, I will consent to the transfer if you first give 200 credits of latinum to Malcolm.”

Now Jon looked hurt, but he nodded reluctantly, and they proceeded. For the rest of the conference the captain wouldn’t look either of them in the eye, and when the business was concluded, he stalked out.

As Jon cleared the portal, T’Pol looked to Malcolm. What was that all about? they asked each other silently.

“Thank you for your help.” Malcolm began hesitantly.

“Do you have any idea what Trip planned to buy?” T’Pol repeated.

“Well, he kept saying that one day he would take you to a beach. Maybe it has something to do with that.”

“Our honeymoon was on an artificial beach he created in a cargo bay using sand from a mined asteroid. But I told him I never wanted to go to a real beach. It’s too hazardous.”

“Maybe he thought you would change your mind once you saw one. It’s so beautiful. It’s hard to put into words.”

“I have seen an ocean. I was not impressed,” she answered. “Maybe he wanted to take Lorian. Trip and I always used to argue about it. He regretted that his child had never been to a Minshara-class planet.

“Yes, that IS a shame.” Malcolm said wistfully.

“He wanted to teach Lorian to surf.” She felt a stab of pain considering the now-impossible scenario and soothed herself with logic. “ . . .but Lorian can’t even swim. And interplanetary surveys indicate that unpolluted oceans tend to be full of dangerous wildlife.”

“I have similar concerns about swimming, but they say it’s worth the risk. A plunge can be quite exhilarating. You shouldn’t worry. Most kids take to the sea like fish.”

“Trip took risks he didn’t have to take, and he died because of it. I won’t allow this to happen to my son.”

“Your son is awfully bright,” Malcolm responded calmly. “I’ve been watching him train. He may run this ship one day. He should visit a planet. We could take him on the next easy supply run. Let him gain some experience.”

“My son is only fourteen. He has the next hundred years to become a leader,” T’Pol said with finality. She pushed some buttons on the computer. “I have just transferred the credits to your account. May you achieve success in your endeavors.” With that, she turned and left the room.

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T’Pol hurried into sickbay. It was good news. Malcolm had managed to contact the Triannons who had Destiny. They’d sent back a picture of the girl to prove she was unharmed. First reports were that everything was OK. Still, when T’Pol entered sickbay she found Amanda crying. Phlox smiled as he tried to comfort her. “There, there. It’s fine. She’s looks perfectly healthy. It’s a good thing she’s growing up.”

Amanda was holding a padd to her chest, peeking at the picture intermittently. She let T’Pol have brief look, but didn’t seem willing relinquish the padd altogether, so Phlox pulled up the picture on his medical viewscreen. The long-lost girl smiled down at them from above, larger than life.

Destiny was wearing foreign clothing, layers of brown dresses and robes. Her ears were pierced, and she had on long dangle earrings.

“She looks so grown up,” T’Pol commented.

“I know! It’s remarkable!” Phlox answered enthusiastically, then lowered his tone, “Though it’s upsetting Amanda.”

“It’s not fair. I’m missing so much of her life!” Amanda explained. She took a minute to collect herself. “I know, I know . . . it’s a good thing. These are happy tears.” Maybe she’d convinced herself, because now she wiped her eyes with her fingers. “I’m going to go show the others.” She kissed the padd, and then hurried out the door with it.

Phlox gave T'Pol a weary smile.

“We are all relieved to know she’s safe.” T’Pol said.

“Well, there’s finally hope. And how are you doing? You seem to be recovering.”

“I believe if I follow a regular routine, over time I will begin to feel . . .” She was searching for a word.

“. . .better?” Phlox suggested.

“. . . self-sufficient,” she decided.

“You don’t need to be self-sufficient.” Phlox reminded. “There are many people on the ship eager to help you. I believe the captain is now advising Lorian in his studies.”

“Yes.”

“I know I have not been self-sufficient. I haven’t been working much, but medical care on this ship has not suffered, thanks to Liz. My second wife has remained energetic and on-task through this whole ordeal.”

“Yes, she is a competent medic.”

“Speaking of medical care . . .” Phlox began to pushing buttons on his computer. His daughter’s picture disappeared from the medical viewscreen and appeared as wallpaper on his personal monitor. He gave a harrumph of satisfaction, and then turned to T’Pol.

“Have you given any thought to your upcoming pon farr? My records show that you are due to enter your next cycle within the year.”

“I admit that I have procrastinated in dealing with the issue.”

“It’s something we’ll have to face within the next half year.”

But she didn’t want to face it, she yearned for her soulmate. She imagined holding out for Trip, burning with unfilled desire, till the pon farr burst the blood vessels in her brain. It would be a relatively painless way to go and she’d escape the indignity of a successful mating session . . .

But abstinence was a fantasy. She had to stay alive—for Lorian, Earth, Vulcan, and the mission. These things never left her thoughts.

In any case, she’d gotten up close and personal with suicidal depression caring for Trip after the incident at the subspace corridor. He’d blamed himself for their accidental temporal detour. Depression, she knew, wasn’t the least bit romantic. Trip hadn’t wanted to wash, comb his hair, work, or do anything.

She shook off the ridiculous daydreams; it was time to make some difficult choices.

“Is there any chance I could impose on you?” T’Pol asked. “Would Amanda and Liz mind if I chose you as a partner?”

Phlox smiled apologetically. “I am honored you would ask. However, both Denobulans and humans have taboos that discourage sex between genetically close pairs. In my mind, if not in biological fact, you fall into the category of a close relation. I’m afraid it wouldn’t seem right.”

“I understand,” she answered stoically.

“There are plenty of single men on this ship,” Phlox said more cheerfully. “I’m sure you’ll be able work out a solution.”

The perfect solution, only person she’d ever cared for in that way, was gone. Nothing could bring him back. She needed to find the least-worst alternative.

Realistically, once the fever was upon her, T’Pol knew she could probably approach any of approximately twenty men on board, disrobe, and manage to avoid death. But she remembered how a similarly careless approach had once wounded Trip. Today, she sincerely regretted her “experiment” with human sexuality and the role it may have played in Trip’s slide to depression. And what would Lorian make of her example if his mother used men and tossed them aside? Besides, she wasn’t some Orion companion. She was a long-time acquaintance and superior officer to almost every man on board. No, this would inevitably get complicated.

In the end there was only one logical choice. It would be necessary to find a willing participant, inform him of the risks…including the possibility of a mating bond… and work to develop an emotional attachment prior to mating. It wouldn’t be easy, as empty as she felt now, but she had a duty to try.

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Trip was eating again. After dropping 10 kilos, he decided to just memorize the damn lessons and get his meals. Now, suddenly he was the star of his introductory religion class. Compared to the other Seekers (a collection of actual seekers and people bribed and rescued into the fold), Trip was the most educated. To keep his mind active and his thoughts from despair, he began to comb the Triannon myths for inconsistencies that he could ask about in class. It was an interesting diversion. And it proved entertaining to the others as well.

“If these Makers are so powerful, what do they need our help for?”

“Why are some of the spheres already broken?”

The teacher, a young Triannon woman with an amazingly complicated hairdo, would actually smile at his interruptions. For some reason, she tolerated debate. His fellow students cheered on the troublemaker, and he quickly became bolder.

“And what’s so great about an anomaly eat’n your ship? Trust me. I been to paradise and this in’t it.”

Soon the students were hearing about Florida, Lorian and T’Pol, and the teachings of Surak, as well as some inconvenient principles of physics. Trip was probably undermining his chances of escape. He should have been faking consent, playing along, winning the trust of his captors. But he just couldn’t do it.

Trip knew the network of spheres they were worshiping would eventually destroy the Expanse and spread to his own sector if it could not be stopped, and that the Triannon religion would destroy its practitioners in a catastrophic sectarian war a hundred years into the future. His own fate seemed almost irrelevant next to these truths.

Be logical and focus. We can do this. Those were T’Pol’s last words to him. His primary responsibility was to his homesick niece, his family, Enterprise, and to Earth. I’ve got to shut up, he told himself. But, perhaps it was too late.

@@@@@@@

It was late. Lorian, Asatoshi, Glenn, and Carlos were crammed into access tube #27, with blankets and pillows, plates of French fries, and a bottle of ketchup. It was Lorian’s fifteenth birthday, and his friends were sleeping over. Out of respect for the dead, they had forgone the traditional horror film in favor of a comedy. Now they were quoting the most ridiculous lines to each other and laughing hysterically. Even Lorian was smiling for the first time in months.

“These fries taste different.”

“That’s because they ARE different.”

“What are they made of this time?”

“Who cares? Just cover it in ketchup. Lorian, what’d you get for your birthday, other than the last bottle of ketchup?”

“He got a necklace,” Glenn teased.

“It’s a medallion,” Lorian corrected. “It’s traditional.”

Carlos was palming Lorian’s newly recycled basketball, “Hey, this has great grip. Let’s go to the gym and try it out.”

The others ignored his suggestion.

“My dad was going to buy me something big,” Lorian revealed “He had borrowed 2000 credits for a gift. But we’ll never know what it was.”

“Man, that’s rough.”

“Yeah, we’re really sorry about what happened,” Carlos offered. Everyone murmured in agreement.

“Your dad was cool,” Asatoshi added.

Lorian nodded his thanks. All the laughing had now stopped and Lorian looked away.

“Hey guys, don’t talk about it,” Glenn advised.

“It’s all right,” Lorian assured them. But no one had more to say, so they sat there munching fries.

Finally Glenn broke the spell. “I know another present Lorian got… a LETTER from Paris.” The others looked up in interest. “I was there when he opened the file. Shoulda seen his face. Looked like that guy in the movie with his hand in the fish tank.” Glenn assumed a pose of frozen shock.

“Shut up. Did not.”

“So what was in the letter?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Man, I don’t know what she sees in you.” Carlos shook his head appreciatively. “Must have a thing for short guys.”

“I think she likes the way I beat your butt every time I go up against you in basketball.”

“I can take you, Vulcan.”

“In basketball?”

“In anything!”

Now Lorian pounced on Carlos and they struggled to pin each other to the metal grill flooring.

“Hey, stop the wrestling, There’s no room in here.” Asatoshi warned. “You’re rolling on the fries.”

Carlos banged his head on a metal strut. “OW!”

Lorian sat up examining a ketchup stain on his elbow. “Shit”

“I can’t believe your mom lets you talk that way.” It was little Asatoshi, son of the English teacher.

“She let his dad talk that way.” Carlos raised an arm defensively, and snickered. He found it funny when Lorian’s mom would give orders to his dad. Lorian wondered how such attitudes had survived into the human space age—and was about to pound him when Glenn signaled for quiet. “Hey, I hear the girls!” Glenn whispered.

“Up this late? It’s impossible,” Lorian decided. “They wouldn’t be hav’n Destiny’s party without her . . . Hey, man! Who ripped a fart?”

Now the others were doing it on purpose.

“You Reptilians! We’ve got to sleep in here!” Lorian protested.

“No we don’t!” Carlos countered, “Evacuate! Last one to the gym gets Asatoshi on his team!”

The boys tumbled out of the tube. Lorian spilled out into the hallway behind Glenn and Carlos. He pulled himself upright and found Paris standing among them. She was wearing make-up and was dressed to kill—at midnight. For a moment, all the boys stood and stared.

“Happy birthday, Lorian,” she said… and waited.

Lorian ran a hand through his messy hair and wished he hadn’t just been rolling in the ketchup. But Paris didn’t seem to mind his appearance. Lorian reviewed her letter in his mind.

“OK, Lorian, we’re outta here,” Carlos called to him. “We’ll see you when we see you!” He got no response. The three boys broke formation and ran. Laughter broke out as they rounded the corner.

Lorian pondered the letter, searching for clues on how to proceed. She wants to “get together.” Said I can “call the shots.” But this wasn’t basketball, and he didn’t know what shots to call. His heart pounded and his knees felt unsteady as curiosity waged a war with sheer panic.

“Are you feeling all right?” she asked.

“No,” he answered truthfully.

Paris reached to place her hand against his face—like his mom would do to check his temperature. Probably just an excuse to touch me.

Lorian caught her wrist. “It won’t work,” he explained, his face a mask. “Our temperature is higher than yours.”

He brought her hand down gently and examined it with both of his.

“What are you doing?” she asked, relaxing her hand.

He arranged her fingers slowly. “It’s kind of like a secret handshake.”

Their fingertips touched. She looked up, startled, and he grinned back. She felt it too.

@@@@

T’Pol was there to meet Malcolm as he climbed up out of the shuttle pod. The security officer had returned from Siliar 2 with good news, though most of it he had already been forwarded to them. The bottom line was that negotiations with the Triannons had been initiated. A deal might be possible. Malcolm was proud of the accomplishment, and graciously accepted T’Pol’s congratulations.

He expected her to turn on her heel and go after greeting him. Instead, she offered to carry his bags—an uncharacteristic gesture. He was about to object, but stopped himself, hoping to avoid a lecture about the superior strength of Vulcans relative to humans.

“Was your visit enjoyable as well as productive?” she asked.

“You want to know about Shendra,” he realized.

They stopped. She stared back without comment. Well why not? I would have told Trip. T’Pol probably learned all my previous business through that psychic connection. “To tell you the truth, in that department, things didn’t go quite as smoothly as I’d expected.”

They returned to walking, but she raised an eyebrow in interest, encouraging him to go on.

“At first she was glad to see me—very glad to see me. Then, three days into my visit, we started to argue. She pressured me to make the relationship more permanent. As much as I’d love to do that, I just can’t. I tried to explain—the Xindi, the mission. I can’t leave Enterprise.” He shook his head. “A pity, really.”

“Did you ask her to come here?”

They stopped again. “I’m embarrassed to say I never thought of that,” he confessed.

“Jon and Major Hayes have both invited spouses aboard.”

“Huh.” They returned to walking. “It must be simpler on Vulcan. I hear you are assigned a mate.”

“Yes. As a result, almost all Vulcans eventually marry.”

“Maybe someone should assign me a mate. I can’t seem to make up my mind.”

They arrived at his door and he entered the code. He stepped inside and she handed him his bags.

“May I make a suggestion?” T’Pol asked.

“Certainly.”

“You should marry me.”

He laughed. To his knowledge, it was the first time she had ever been funny on purpose. She gazed back at him with an expectant expression that was starting to make him nervous. Malcolm’s laugh turned into a coughing fit. He couldn’t catch his breath and began to turn purple. At least the coughing gave him an excuse to keep a hand over his mouth… to hide the smirk he couldn’t suppress. Poor Trip, he thought, first Ruby and now this.

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Trip was silent and brooding. He had vowed to be “good,” i.e. less confrontational, with his teachers. But today it was easy to be quiet. The topic was disturbing. His teacher was describing alternative timelines, which the Makers could supposedly see happening simultaneously. But, something about this part of the myth rang true. The Sphere Builders were transdimensional after all, and time was just another dimension. Trip recognized that he himself lived in an alternative timeline. Ever since the subspace corridor, he had felt a little uneasy about the fact.

On sleepless nights, Trip had often feared that, sooner or later, Daniels or some equivalent would catch up to Enterprise, declare them superfluous, and blink them out of existence. The next morning, in the artificial light of day, his worries would seem ridiculous. As Trip struggled to maintain a ship without replacement parts, Malcolm defended the ship against pirates, and Travis scrounged for transport jobs in an overcrowded market it was apparent that their situation was plenty precarious—with or without the temporal police.

“Seeker Tucker? Don’t you have any questions?” The teacher looked at him expectantly.

“Yeah,” he said, waking from his daydreams. “What did you say would happen to the alternative timeline?”

“Most people believe that the secondary timeline is unstable. That it will proceed until it achieves its purpose, then dissolve.”

“In how many cycles? One, a hundred, a thousand?”

“I honestly don’t know. Not much is known about secondary timelines. Though sometimes we glimpse one near an anomaly. I have seen it myself.”

“How can we know of ours is the primary or the secondary timeline?”

“It doesn’t matter. All of existence is one in the eyes of the Makers.”

He settled back in his chair.

The teacher looked almost disappointed. She dismissed the class, who filed out to attend another round of prayers and worship. As he waited in line to exit the portal, she called him over.

“Is there a problem?” she asked kindly, “You seem to be troubled.”

“I want to go home,” he repeated with stubborn determination.

“Look . . . Uncle Trip.”

He snorted.

“I’m sorry. May I call you “Uncle Trip?”

“Not unless you’re my sibling’s kid. Though I’m probably old enough to be your uncle.”

“Is that how you’re related to Destiny?”

“Look . . . it’s a long story.” The teacher had been kind to him. She put up with his questions. “If you want to be less formal call me ‘Charles’—it’s my first name.”

“Char-les,” she said, testing the word on her tongue. She gave him a sly smile.

Trip laughed. She likes me. The engineer had just found a lever. Give me a lever and a place to stand and I can move the Earth . . . or maybe save it.

“So, how’d a clever woman like you end up with a silly job like this?” Trip asked, stepping into her space. He lifted his brow, awaiting an answer.

“My job is prestigious,” she said, sounding uncertain.

“Yeah, but you don’t even believe all the crap you’re feed’n us. Admit it. You’re trapped here too.”

She looked at the floor. He reached out and touched her face, tipping her chin up until she met his gaze. He read the guilty look in her eye, then dropped his hand.

“You could get us outta here . . .” he whispered insistently.

“I can’t.” She turned her back to him and continued. “You’ve learned too much about the spheres—on your ship and in your journey with us. If you return, you will try to use this knowledge to destroy the spheres and our whole way of life. If it weren’t for my protection they’d have found an excuse to execute you by now.”

“Look,” he said pursuing her, “This phenomenon is detrimental to all the species in the Expanse. Believ’n otherwise won’t change that. Help me, and you help yourself.”

A gong began to sound. If the teacher had been as fanatical as her peers, she would have been pleased. It meant they had found an anomaly. Instead, the woman turned and looked up at him in fear.

When Triannons came across an anomaly, they would try to match direction and speed and “surf” the phenomenon. Then the worshipers would gather in the main arena, shouting, crying, getting hysterical. They would dare one another to get closer to the distortion, until someone was hurt or killed.

“I gotta find Destiny,” Trip told her as he bolted for the hall, “You watch yourself, ya hear?”

He waded through the crowded hallway looking for his niece. Finally, he spotted her among an eager throng of boys. They were bragging to her about something. Probably planning to show off their bravery once in the arena. She was smiling appreciatively.

“Destiny! Destiny! Wait up!” he called.

“Look, it’s that heretic,” Trip heard one of the boys say.

He’d caught up to her and placed a hand on the back of her neck. “You’re with me,” he said, as he tried to steer her out of the crowd.

“Uncle Trip, I’m fifteen. Let me go with my friends.”

“Your friends are gonna get themselves killed over this nonsense.” He called out to the boys who were heading into the arena. “Y’all be careful in there.” They just ignored him. One glared back.

“Uncle Trip! You’re embarrassing me!”

An armed Triannon saw the two non-worshippers lingering in the hall, and gestured for them to enter the arena. Trip reluctantly stepped inside. The show was already in progress. People were throwing items into the anomaly to watch them warp and bend.

Trip steered Destiny towards the more stable side of the distortion. In the frenzied mob, it was safe to talk. “Look, don’t get too cozy here. I‘m gonna get us out. I promise.”

Destiny gasped and pointed. Projected from the anomaly were “ghosts.” Trip felt a shiver. A glimpse of a secondary timeline. Part of the dogma is true.

Now Destiny squealed. One of the “ghosts” was her. The ghostly Destiny seemed to see them across the anomaly. “Uncle Trip!” the apparition called, running towards them. Then a scream of pain as the ghostly girl crumpled to the floor holding her arm. The vision vanished, and then the anomaly itself.

TBC

Chapter 3

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

It's very interesting thus far but I am having some structural issues with the whole female pon farr thing. Nothing we've seen on the screen (even that really poor episode Bounty) leads me to believe that the females enter pon farr like the males and, from the way Old T'Pol acted in E2 (“How's Trip?” “Follow your heart”), I find it very difficult to believe the she took another mate between the time of Trip's death and the episode itself; that would be far more tragic and angsty, in my opinion, if she loved him so much that completely closed herself off fom forming new emotional attachments and spent the rest of mission alone (except with Lorien, of course). Regarding the pon farr, it's always struck me as a little silly to assume that BOTH genders “go into heat” since, as far as I know, there is no evidence to support such a thing happening anywhere in the animal kingdom; I think it more likely that the male enters pon farr and triggers a reciprocal state of arousal. The idea that humans and Vulcans aren't entirely compatible is very interesting though...

I'm also finding this version of T'Pol to be far too human: some of her lines don't sound like anything she would say at all. And ugh ... I find the image of T'Pol and Malcolm together is nearly as ... gross as the image of T'Pol and Archer. I'm hoping that since this is AU, a reunion between T'Pol and Tucker is on the horizon since it seems that T'Pol is simply destined to lose her mate far earlier than she should (E2-verse, TATV.)

Wow...this is probably one of the longest reviews I've written! :-D

But Rigil, lots of fanfics assume that Vulcans of BOTH genders have some version of ponfarr. Some writers have even gone as far as to give female ponfarr its own name (ponfrell, I think?). I think what's giving you trouble is the idea of T'Pol being with anyone besides Trip. You have to admit that, if you assume that both genders have some sort of forced mating cycle, T'Pol would have had to find an alternate mate to survive. Who better than the most discreet and least romantically involved member of the crew? Someone who would NEVER reveal the particulars, and was capable of being objective and cold-blooded enough to realize that T'Pol remaining alive... no matter how this goal was achieved... was beneficial and necessary for the mission.

About the sillyness of female pon-farr--point taken. But, seeing as it has become part of the cannon of this site, I'm going with it.

Sim would not have had Trip's memories. But we suspend disbelief and see what the writer is going to do with that premise. I promise to use female pon farr for good and not for evil!

What I don't understand is, if they think Trip is dead why would the Enterprise believe that Destiny is alive? Both Trip and Destiny were on the same Triannon ship after all

Trip is dead because his transporter beam was scattered by an anomoly. Destiny was merely abducted.

Distracted: Just because a lot of fanfics ASSUME that both genders enter pon farr doesn't mean I particularly like it (remember what they say about assuming). Usually, the quickest way for me to lose interest in a fic is to have T'Pol enter Pon Farr - even my favorite TnT fic of all time Cry Havoc by MissAnnThropic suffered from that. Yes, I will acknowledge your point that, if you accept the femles entering PF, she would have to find an alternate.

And I actually think that there are a number of fics on here that DON'T have female pon farr in them - in the unlikely event that I even touch that subject matter in my fics, I will be one that avoids it. I'm merely arguing that against female pon farr, based on what I saw on the show - ESPECIALLY in E2.

And yeah, my dislike of pairing T'Pol off with anyone other than Trip probably IS playing a factor.

But, of course, that's just my opinion which, with a $1.25, will get you a soda at your local McDonalds. ;)

I'm with Rigil on the Polly Pon'Farr stories, although my distaste for them might be a bit stronger. Although I love "Only You", I can't imagine another story involving Polly Pon'Farr that I can stand.

I much prefer Favors' way to have TnT have sex for days on end. She just has them do it because they want to. :-)

LOL! Kevin, I'm with you. You'll notice that TnT are pretty darned enthusiastic in my stories as well, even outside of Ponfarr. I see Ponfarr as an inconvenient but necessary biological function, but it's a useful plot device sometimes. I used it to get the two of them together. (They're awfully stubborn, after all. I had to find SOMETHING to force them to acknowledge that they belong together.)

I think JustTrip'n's idea to use Ponfarr as a source of plot conflict and suspense is an original one. Although my preference is to see Malcolm with Hoshi rather than T'Pol, I for one am willing to suspend judgement and see what she does with it.

first i think the story is very interesting and curious to see where it is going.

now to pon frell we dont have zane who invented the concept but my understanding is that is a one time type thing that singnals the sexual maturity of a vulcan female.

i know some of his stories have more about it.

i just have practical issues with the pon farr in females ie what happens if they are not in the same cycle together but a lot of interesting stories have used it.

Hi great story

PM pookha I have recently reread Zane Gray's stories, he hasn't written for awhile
why do you say we dont have Zane?

Well JustTripin this will probably be my most negative review ever.

Ok First off I can understand T'pol beinin at a lose after Trip death, an probably for a while, but correct me if Im wrong here, But a year for her to be lost in this Sorrow seems a bit much to me. Yes The trell would affect her control a lot, But she's strong she would of eventualy learned to adapt an live with the lose of Trip. IMO

Now I have to agree with Rigil on the Issue of the Ponn Far. I just never got the impression that T'pol remarried, or had any other relationships of the sexual or Romantic kind after Trip died in the E2 universe. She was still in love with him over a hundred an 17 years later, Their was only one person for the E2 T'pol (Or the RTL T'pol for that matter) an it was Trip.

Their were never any hints that confiremed that Female Vulcans experance Ponn Far, an add to the Fact that T'pol was scared shitless in "Bounty" once she realised what was happening. suggest that Female Vulcans never do go through what the males go through. Pluss the rate in which her Ponn Far hit in "Bounty" came at lightning speed, every other Vulcan Ponn Far has come at a slow pace that takes days sometimes to even begin to show.

An Rigils right,, it always seemed stupid for both male an female Vulcans to go through Ponn Far, unless Vulcan males can Trigger the Pon Far in the females, which they can. And I beleave that to be the only natural way for a female to contract it.

Ok Im not really tryin to be mean here. But when a story has T'pol aproachin another man besides Trip for mating,, or heaven forbid marriage. It just hurts like hell. Especialy when so many stories show painstakingly how devoted she often has been to Trip.,,, an the fact that you had T'pol aproach the biggest Man slutt on the ship for marriage, that really didnt sit well with me. Malcolm might be devoted to his duty, but he sure hasnt ever come off as beining able of beining devoted to one women. It erks me that T'pol would aproach him.

Ok Im sorry normaly I dont write un possitive reviews, but like I said I really dont like that much readin stories where T'pol has to take another mate.

Theings I liked in yer story.
Trips refusal to convert. He is with out devoted to his own beleif an that is in his family. He has only one thought on his mind through out your stories an that is the drive to be reunited with his family. I love his devotion.

An poor Lorian havin to deal with an agressive Girl when he dosnt seem all that interested. Its pquite funny.

Oh an I liked how you had the ship an Crew makin their way through the Expance. Its very orginal.

I almost hate to say anything because it seems to squelch the comments, but thanks for the reviews, pro and con. Mitchell, I don't think you're overly negative. You brought up aspects of the story other than the pon far, which I'm glad to see, becasues this story really isnt ABOUT the pon far; its about some other things, including Lorian. Rigel Kent, Distracted, Kevin I can't do what you do, but I'm having fun so don't worry about the commentary! I love commentary and debate. Part 3 is obviously going to be a delicate matter. I may not be done this week.

Whoa. Looks like I started a firestorm. Sorry about that, justTrip'n. :-D

Interesting (or maybe weird) that it's the three GUYS who don't like the whole female pon farr thing, isn't it? You'd think we would love the idea of T'Pol in heat, absolutely needing sex NOW...no cuddling, no sweet nothings whispered in her pointed ear, just sex, sex and more sex. :-D

I find that rather peculiar as well, Rigil... but if you think about it, it's not terribly surprising. If you guys were the "wham bam thank you ma'am" types, you'd never be hanging out here, now would ya? The world needs more romantics... of both the male AND female variety. : )

Well, it's certainly an interesting story and it has people talking. When people are discussing your story, that means it's certainly worth something. Agreeing or disagreeing with a particular plot development doesn't mean a story isn't well-written.

That being said, I think that most of the folks here at Trip/T'Polers are big fans of the relationship and quite protective of it as well. I would probably consider myself protective of them too. I might not necessarily like the direction this story seems to be taking or the way the characters are acting, but it is understandable given the circumstances. Most of us would rather not think of our beloved couple being forced to pair off with someone else. It twists the gut inside a bit. But, this is a fictional story and sometimes when you're writing, things happen that even you wouldn't expect. I find this story intriguing. I'll try to remain open-minded about what you've presented here in this part and hopeful that you may eventually give our favorite couple a happy resolution. I still have faith.

Very good comments, Bether6074, and I'll freely admit that I'm very protective of TnT because of silly ass tripe like that f#cknale and having to interact with people who seem to crow over that absurd episode and Tucker's "fate" in it. And, as I mentioned above, the whole concept of female pon farr irks me ALMOST as much as (a) stupid holodeck episodes and (b) magic reset button episodes.

That being said, I will try to continue reading and will also try to keep an open mind (which is admittedly difficult to do when it comes to my favorite fictional characters and "moving on"; it's been nearly a year since that Abomination and I've still not moved on so...

I will be interested in seeing how you acknowledge the fact that Reed stated in E2 that his alternate never married and died a bachelor.

Hey justTrip'n, I love this story. I dreaded it a bit at first because you mentioned that we'd "have to say goodbye to Trip" a.k.a. see him die. That reminded me of things I shouldn't have thought about. But now that I have read your story, I'm stunned because of how funny it is! That's one accomplishment, given the subject. I could probably list half a dozen things ... ah, what the hell. The basketball game was awesome. The notion that all the "parents" watch the "Big Game" and have a spaghetti banquet afterwards is hilarious. Lorian's line "Get over it already." was my favorite. I loved that "Jon" quarrels over 2000 credits these days. The whole affair is quite mysterious, I'd love to find out what that was about.

The Triannons are great too. I loved the educational toys they hand out, and I think it's a great twist that Trip is getting acquainted with his teacher. His *teacher*, for crying out loud. The man rules. Come here, believer girl, let me show you some mind-bending truths. He, he. I hope she is pretty!

I'm also really looking forward to learn what the Makers have in store for T'Pol. I can't see what all the fuss is about because she's trying to deal with her pon farr, or whatever she's doing exactly. I think it doesn't matter whether it's canon or not. I like it exactly the way you're writing it. Her helpful suggestion certainly made me laugh when I imagined Malcolm's face.

Please post the next chapter soon, I want to read on!

And for the record, I wouldn't mind one bit if there is lots of sex. ;-)