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Clarity - Ch 2

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

Clarity


By: Ludjin

Rating: R (language and adult themes)
Disclaimer and most other info: See chapter one.
Genre: MU, Trip/T’Pol
Summary: T’Pol is slated for execution. Tucker isn't happy with the new Empress. It's time for some action.

Author’s Notes: Sorry for the delay! My apologies beforehand, as well. This is un-beta’d. All errors are completely my fault. Flog me . . or just put me in the agonizer. Tee hee. I like the MU. Oh, and sorry for the abrupt ending. It’s the MU. I’m eeeeevil.

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Chapter Two

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Waking was always a simple matter: one moment, there was sleep, and the next, full consciousness, with thoughts ordered and prepared for the moments or hours ahead. It was the Vulcan way.


T’Pol, unfortunately, could not find that comfortable order. She woke abruptly, unsettled, and took several moments to collect herself, breathing deeply as her fists clenched at the thin, silky material that covered her bed. She had dreamed during those hours of sleep – an unusual occurrence that she never enjoyed, and only experienced when she failed to meditate. It was a testament to her slipping discipline, both mental and physical, that she dreamed at all.


The subject of her dreams was elusive. Half-images and strange filaments of thought drifted vaguely through her mind, but she could not firmly grasp them. It was likely she would not wish to remember; the only clear remnant of her dreams was an eerie disconcertedness. She shook her head and sat up, determined to put aside that lingering anxiety. Tucker would undoubtedly need his own chance to rest, whether or not her mental and physical discipline were fully intact. She would meditate later, before she next slept, and the dreams would not return. It was a simple, logical matter.


The aft cabin was still bathed in total darkness. A hazy image of the room was imprinted on her mind – hazy only because of the minimal lighting that had spilled into the room from the forward cabin, when Tucker had helped her to the bunk. She lifted a hand and reached for the wall behind her, quickly finding the smooth metal, slightly cool to her touch. Running her fingertips up the wall, she also found the hard edges of a control panel. The buttons were foreign and unfamiliar in comparison to the Enterprise, but she had spent enough time aboard the Defiant to recognize – even by touch – the lighting control. A moment later, dim, white-blue light filled the room.


Columbus II had obviously been built for short-range missions, but had still been assembled with a unique melding of functionality and aesthetics. The bunk on which she sat lowered from the starboard side, and the clear indention of another bunk was set into the opposite wall, its seam a clear rectangle that stretched the port side. Other visible seams were labeled neatly and unobtrusively: many of them openings to storage, but one that appeared to be a table. And, in the back, a rounded wall that Tucker had indicated was a lavatory. It was that small area she decided needing investigating.


Standing was difficult, but she managed. Her splinted leg hurt, and she belatedly chastised herself for not accepting a pain inhibitor. Perhaps if she had taken medication, she would have been able to focus and calm her mind, and thus meditated – and not dreamed. She shook her head as soon as she found her equilibrium; fruitless thoughts that had no bearing on the present or the future were becoming too common to her.


She hobbled the four steps needed to reach the curved wall of the facility, and on a small amount of inspection, she spotted the release key. With a touch, the wall slid open, revealing a tiny, round, white room . . that was devoid of everything. She arched a brow as she stepped inside, gaze lingering on various buttons and their cryptic labels; it seemed that the facility served as a shower, as well. She allowed herself a tiny sigh. Adjusting to twenty-third century, alternate-universe technology was proving to be a wearisome task.


A familiar hiss caused her to turn and peer back into the cabin. Tucker stood at the open doorway, one arm casually bracing him against the frame, and a small bundle was gripped in his right hand. They simply stared at each other for a moment, and then he blinked. "A sensor said the lights had come on back here, so I figured you were up." He paused, glancing past her to the lavatory and nodding slightly. "That's also a sonic shower, but you've probably realized that by now." Another pause. She remained silent. "Here's some clothes – they might not fit, but they're civvies. Better than these damn things, at least."


The hand with the wad of clothing gestured at his uniform, and he stepped inside, his other hand deftly tapping at the control panel to, she assumed, lock the door temporarily open. "Indeed," she finally replied.


He nodded and tossed the clothes onto her bunk. She noted there was a pair of slacks, a tunic, and undergarments. The simple fact that he'd had the forethought to steal clothing away from the Defiant was a startling one, and she struggled to keep her expression neutral. It meant he had planned her part in the escape, as well – likely far ahead of time.


"Sit down so I can take care of your leg." She canted an eyebrow at him. He frowned and mimicked her with his own. She resisted a sigh, but did nod, moving to sit once again. She settled on the very edge of the bed, her splinted leg straight and angled so that her foot rested on the floor. He knelt beside her and began unwrapping the gauze, his hands deft and quick. Soon, only the metal brace remained, and with a click, he removed that, too. The metallic strips didn't retract into the original rectangular object she'd seen hours before, and he simply placed the splint beside her on the bunk.


Withdrawing the small medical tricorder from one of his many pockets, he activated it and ran it over her thighbone, brow furrowing slightly. "Swellin' isn't too bad, even without any medication."


"Vulcan bone density is greater than human's. The damage done by Sergeant Mayweather will not hinder me greatly."


He grunted. "Good to hear." He snapped the tricorder shut and shoved it back into his pocket. Brow still furrowed, he glanced up at her. "Y'know, I always kinda wondered why Vulcans didn't just kick humanity's collected ass. All your legendary strength, smarts, and stuff."


"Vulcans are pacifists." An edge had suddenly crept into her voice; his words were enough to prick both her pride and her temper, unguarded as she was.


He snorted. "Not so much anymore."


“Your meaning?”


He grinned up at her, a strange glint in his good eye. “That rebellion of yours.”


“Your comments are not wise. Since you know that I’m stronger than you, why do you insult me?” The edge increased, but she did not bother to tame it.


He snorted. “You won’t kill me. Maybe seriously injure, but not kill.” His wicked grin returned. “You need me.”


“Indeed.”


He laughed at her sarcasm. “Hey, you should’ve trusted me in the first place – but ya didn’t.”


He was baiting her. It was irritating. "Mister Tucker, leave that I may bathe," she hissed.


He held up his hands and sank back onto his heels, away from her. "Fine. But, you think you might need some help?" He tilted his head at her, still grinning – although it had become more of a leer.


"I will manage adequately."


He chuckled and stood, adding, "I'll get some more gauze while you're gettin' clean. It'll be out here when you're done. If you do decide you need some help – well, I'm out there." He jerked his chin in the general direction of the forward cabin. She didn't respond. He was silent a moment, then added, "Don't take too long. I need some sleep. A shower, too – even if it's not water." Amusement was clear on his face. "I bet I smell pretty awful to you by now."


She canted an eyebrow but remained silent. He apparently thought her reaction humorous; he chuckled again, shook his head, and left, undoing the door's override as he went. The door slid shut, and she was alone once more.


Alone with rather disturbing thoughts. Tucker undoubtedly had a much larger plan of action; he was an intelligent human, and the bitterness he had harbored all his days aboard Enterprise seemed to be sliding away from him, replaced by an unusual confidence and good humor – which was odd enough. He practically exuded it. He was annoying and arrogant, and he had clearly rescued her for some purpose, one that he'd yet to inform her of. She knew she had no choice but to trust him – or, at least, resign herself to his plan. Once she knew more about the situation they were in, she would be able to formulate other choices, other avenues that might be explored. With the technology she and Tucker held, there were a great deal of choices that they could make . . .


Unfortunately, for the time being, Tucker held the “upper hand,” as the Terran phrase went. She needed to find a way to balance that power.


She cleared her mind – at least momentarily – of those thoughts, and re-focused on the present. She then realized his scent lingered. He had mentioned he needed to bathe, and indeed, his scent was rank, to the point of unpleasant; at least she was far more used to his aroma than to the other humans on Enterprise, which made it bearable. She was also far less clean than she would prefer, and thus rather pungent herself, so she turned her attention back to getting some semblance of a shower.


Starfleet standard uniforms were far from practical, and the cool temperatures of the Enterprise had always left her chilled. In fact, the few times she had felt comfortably warm were in Tucker's arms (a realization that she, at the moment, wasn’t fond of); the man's metabolism was a scientific marvel. As she unzipped the top-half of her uniform, she glanced at the clothing he had left behind. The tunic was a deep red pullover, and the leggings a darker brown. She was glad to note that the underwear appeared to be actually comfortable – a novel thought in her universe. She wondered where he might have acquired such clothing, and if they, like the shuttle, had come from the twenty-third century.


Her top and bra removed, she turned her attention to her remaining clothes. The effort to stand without the brace did not appeal to her, so she wriggled out of the regulation pants with a pronounced lack of grace. She found stripping off the thick blue material was much like a purging, and as she glanced back at the too-small top that she had let fall behind her, she debated removing the command pips and finding a waste receptacle for them. It was an illogical urge, so she did not. Still, it was tempting.


Naked, she picked up the brace and placed it once again around her thigh and the upper part of her calf. With a satisfied click, it fitted once more to her, tightening to the point of noticeable pressure but not to pain. The last task was simply to remove the clasp in her hair, and she did so, freeing the silky mass so that it floated around her shoulders. Her scalp itched uncomfortably from dried sweat.


It took some effort to stand again, but she managed. It took added effort to hobble to the washroom, but the thought of being clean was a welcome enticement. The washroom’s door had closed once she'd stepped away from it, and she pressed the release on the curved, gray wall; it slid obligingly open. Without hesitation, she stepped into the bright white room.


It only took a moment to understand the controls, and within a minute, her body was bombarded with sonic pulses. Though the sensation was pleasant, she had become too familiar with the refreshing power of water. Still, she was glad to be free of the sweat and dirt that had accumulated on her skin and hair.


She leaned against the curved wall, taking the majority of her weight onto her uninjured leg. Lulled somewhat by the inaudible pulses, her thoughts returned to Tucker. He was human. That in itself presented a problem. He had been a commander in Starfleet and had held a position of tenuous power. Despite the inherent risks of life within the Terran empire, he would assuredly be despised beyond its borders, even if he had thrown off the cloak of his old rank. Humans were hated and feared past their realm. Many shared the same sentiments within it, as well. She did not doubt that Tucker knew all that. Perhaps his rescue of her had been, in part, a safeguard against that prejudice. If she supported his image of a renegade human, then the likelihood of him being killed on sight would be drastically diminished.


And, if that were the case, she had leverage for power against him. That would be nicely acceptable.


With a click of a toggle, she stopped the shower. She felt adequately clean, and as she further examined the room, she discovered all the available necessities. Dental hygiene. A way to relieve one’s self. Even deodorant. Very efficient. Still, she preferred the spaciousness of her personal washroom, particularly the one on Enterprise.


When she emerged from the bathroom, she noted that Tucker had, true to his word, brought new gauze. In fact, one whole bag sat on the floor opposite her bunk, and the med kit he had used before lay neatly on her bed. The sonic shower had removed the dermal sealer along with the dirt on her body, and she quickly reapplied it to her cuts and abrasions. She then eyed the slacks that he had provided; they looked wide enough to accommodate her cast beneath them, rather than above, so she set to re-wrapping her splint. It was unsurprisingly awkward, but, as she had before, she managed.


Some minutes later, she was clean and clothed. And now, she once again needed to face Tucker. Perhaps he would be more explicit in their plan – although she doubted that. With one hand steadying her against the wall, she toggled the door open.


Pausing at the cabin’s threshold, she saw Tucker hunched over the console, one arm casually draped over the edge of the navigational array. The glow of a view screen formed a halo around his head, and he remained focused on whatever image was before him for three seconds before switching the screen off and turning his seat toward her. He didn’t look up at her, though; instead, he simply rose and stepped toward the portside seats, one long arm reaching out to grab what she realized was a makeshift crutch. For a moment, she was surprised.


Then, he did look up at her, glancing only briefly. He paused and looked again, his gaze lingering and the frown that had tugged at his lips disappearing. Nervous, she glanced down. The tunic and leggings did not seem to be out of order, or of any remarkable notice. She glanced back up as he suddenly moved toward her, his eyes still roaming her body. “You look good in that,” he finally remarked, his voice gravelly. Before she had a chance to respond, he continued, “I put this thing together, to help you out. It’s not perfect, but it’ll work.”


He slid the crutch beneath her right arm, and she wrapped her hand around the support. It was a little too tall to be completely comfortable, but it was adequate. “Yes,” she answered, then paused. “Thank you,” she added, a bit awkwardly.


He nodded sharply and turned away, moving again to the console. He halted beside his seat and glanced expectantly back at her. “My turn to get some sleep – and that shower. But there’s some things you need to know first.”


As she joined him, much aided by the crutch, she wondered how forthcoming he would actually be. At his side, she slid into the chair and spun it to face the console; he took the crutch and leaned it against the wall next to her. Glancing at the navigational array, she noted one distinct fact with surprise. “We are not on a heading to the Venari nebula.”


He plopped down into the second seat and grinned at her. He ran a hand through his dark hair, causing the spiky locks to stand even more on end. “No, we’re not. The Apollo and the Damian would get to us before we reached the Venari, so we’re taking a little diversion. That’ll happen in about a day, give or take a few hours. We’ll still have plenty of time to rendezvous.”


She was still looking at the data available on the array. “There aren’t any ships detected by our long range scanners.”


“Oh, I know they’re out there. We’ll see ‘em soon enough.”


She narrowed her eyes. “Your confidence is surprising.”


“Why would it be?” His grin widened. “I figured this would happen.”


“Indeed? The chief engineer held the knowledge of ship deployments?” She didn’t try to hide the doubt in her voice. His chuckle was short and harsh, and he leaned close to her ear.


“Can’t you think of someone on a ship that might hear about where ships in the fleet are?”


She tilted her head back, one eyebrow quirking upward. “I find it doubtful that Sato would divulge such information to you, if you weren’t her lover.”


“It wasn’t Hoshi.”


She stiffened.


“Hey, Crewman Gellar probably thought she could get somewhere with me. And I needed that information.”


“Is there a reason you are divulging this?”


At the iciness in her tone, Tucker’s grin became wicked. He moved even closer, his lips brushing her earlobe, and his breath moved tendrils of her hair. “Just wanted to see if you were jealous.”


Jealous? She breathed in deeply, taking several seconds to calm the ire in her belly. What she felt wasn’t logical by any means, but she did have a rather insane notion to either strangle Tucker or kill Crewman Gellar. Both options were desirable at the moment. He moved slightly, the tip of his nose sliding down the edge of her ear. She controlled a shiver – it wasn’t one of disgust – and tilted her head away. From the corner of her eye, she noted the disappointment that flashed across his face. “You require a shower, Tucker.”


He snorted and sat up straight, scowling. “Yeah.” He drawled the word, his tongue poking the side of his cheek for a moment as he stared down at her. She stared right back. Finally, he sat, one arm dangling over the back of the chair. “All right. As you can see, we’re headed for the Oolian system.”


She arched an eyebrow. “Interesting choice.”


“Had an interestin’ time there ‘bout ten years ago, too. I figured if I could survive that place once, I could survive there twice. And anyways, my luck’s been pretty good lately.”


“Dependence on ‘luck’ is an act of foolishness.”


He stood and stepped away, his chair swinging on its pedestal in his wake. She followed his progress with guarded eyes. Over his shoulder, he remarked, “Well, I guess I’ve always been a fool.” He paused by the aft cabin’s door, toggling the switch to open it. “Just keep us on course. And don’t try to kill me in my sleep.” He turned slightly, meeting her gaze. “Believe me, you’re gonna want me alive.”


“You’ve given me little information to want otherwise.”


His laugh was short, almost a bark. “I know you. You’re goin’ to dig into that computer and find what you want, and you’re probably goin’ to come up with an idea that doesn’t really involve a human in it. Just trust me on this, darlin’. Don’t try to kill me, yet.” With that, he stepped through the open door and disappeared behind it.


After a comment of that nature, the urge to kill him was irrationally strong. She repressed an angry hiss and turned back to the navigational array. Diverting her temper into work would be a far better choice than murdering the man who had happened to save her life. Her fingers flew momentarily over the console. All was in order; the little craft was flying smoothly and quietly through space, its engines thrumming steadily in a soothingly familiar way. Long-range sensors detected neither the Apollo nor the Damian, but their range was limited. She wondered if she could divert power to the sensors without compromising any of their other systems. Accessing the computer, she began sorting through the data.


It was impossible not to admire the technology beneath her fingertips. The shuttlecraft, far less powerful than its mother ship, still had a computer that rivaled Enterprise. Research and technological advancement had obviously taken precedence in the other universe, as opposed to the haphazard achievements of the scientists in her universe. Safety had been squandered for power, details had been forgotten for the sake of mass production, and the thirst for victory had drowned out any desire to understand the galaxy they roamed – at least, in as much as the Defiant’s historical records detailed the quadrant. Those records alone spurred on the scientist within her. She quelled that curiosity with the knowledge that her home world was likely in serious danger.


Ironically, the humans had yet to fully realize the depth of deception that was aimed at their species; the Vulcan Science Directorate had long been feeding false information to the Empire, on all matter of subjects. It had only been recently that whispers of the Vulcan’s deception had become known – and her people’s tenuous safety under slavery had been compromised. Now, with the Defiant to change the balance of power in the sector, and Empress Sato the Empire’s head, she feared – yes, feared – for her species.


She turned her attention back to the computer. The most acceptable means to enhance the sensors was to divert power from the shields; she did so – and then, she saw the Apollo. The heavy warship – a class lower than the Enterprise – was at the very edge of the sensor scans. It’s heading wasn’t aimed directly to them, and she understood why. The coordinates entered into the computer varied on the hour, pointing the shuttle in different directions that likely had thrown off the Apollo from their true course. It might put an added strain on their engines, but it was giving them needed time. True to Tucker’s word, it would take 23.4 hours for the ship to reach them at their present heading. The Damian, however, was yet to appear on the scans.


She shook her head and moved her fingers to bring up information on the Oolian system. She knew only relatively little about it: the system had been the place of a rather large battle between the Empire and the Orion Syndicate, ten years ago. She hadn’t known Tucker had played a part in that battle, but it was somewhat surprising that he had survived. Perhaps it was a testament to his stubbornness that he had. The casualty list from the Oolian battle was one of the largest in the Empire’s history, but it wasn’t one-sided. The Orions had suffered their final defeat in that system, and had succumbed to the Empire’s shadow. They had held out longer than many of their neighbors, and their defeat had been a psychological blow to the then-small rebellion movement. However, over time, the Orions proved to be the rebellion’s greatest asset.


She furrowed her brow in momentary confusion at the information the computer brought up, and then felt a brief flash of irritation, aimed at herself. Of course the Columbus II wouldn’t have relevant data concerning the Oolian system. The victor’s strike in the Oolian battle had been the damage wrought to its sun. In the other universe, the system was, of course, thriving and well. In her universe, it was a dark, foreboding graveyard. A fitting analogy for both universes as a whole, she surmised.


With a flick of her hand, the screen darkened, replaced by the Federation’s symbol. For a moment, her gaze lingered on the pattern of blue stars against black. It was aesthetically pleasing, peaceful. There was no sword, no anger – no vicious tyranny. Staring at that symbol of peace was enough to twist her stomach uncomfortably. Could such a union of planets be possible in her universe? It seemed unlikely.


She had spoken the truth to Captain Archer. Humanity would pay dearly for its arrogance. It would only be a matter of time for the Empire’s megalomania to falter and crush inward on itself; perhaps she would not live to see the day, nor her children -- but possibly her great-grandchildren, if she were to beget offspring. For her own part, she could only hasten the end of such tyranny, especially that which enslaved her own kind. She could not leave the Empire, not permanently. She had the information the Defiant carried. She had the schematics, the designs for the weapons, the engines. Even if the humans still had the ship, she at least had the information the ship carried.


. . . That is, she and Tucker. She could only trust that he had spoken the truth about the data disks; however, it seemed unlikely that he would lie -- not if his intentions to flee the Empire were sincere. Thus, the data disks held the information he claimed they did. She glanced at the black case that still sat on one of the cabin’s port seats. His cryptic warning that he shouldn’t be killed likely alluded to those disks. She wondered what he had done to safeguard both himself and the information those disks carried. Considering the amount of detail he had put into the escape plan, she was doubtful that even touching the disks was a good idea.


Thus also came a dilemma. He had voiced his only desire: leave his home and never return. I just want out. She knew the anger and bitterness he harbored; she'd both observed it and felt it in his mind. She was no expert on human psychology, but his simmering disquiet had always been noticeable, even to her Vulcan sensibilities. On Enterprise, she had found his unrest unusual; after all, he had been placed aboard the ship by Admiral Black in what she had assumed was the position of a planted spy. Delving into his thoughts, she had been surprised to find that he held absolutely no loyalty to Black, nor to any other. He was alone.


Why had he saved her? She was now beholden to him, indebted to him for a chance at life and a renewed fight -- although he undoubtedly would not encourage her involvement in the latter. Their lives were indelibly entwined due to his illogical actions on the Defiant. Logic would have dictated that he had left her in the brig -- especially as she had only served to be a hindrance, simply extra baggage for him to -- literally -- carry. He had not left her and had carried her, and now, instead of facing execution, she was fleeing an empire, its entire fleet likely in pursuit, with stolen technology . . . and her lover.


Lover.


An interesting human term. He had said similar words during and after their sexual encounters, and she had come to enjoy his post-coital murmurs. His habit of lazily exploring her body during such times was also endearing. His hot breath and wet mouth on her skin never failed to leave her wanting more. It was a mistake to think of such things, and she shifted in her seat, unsettled by those physical memories. The phantom sensations were enough that she felt her nipples pucker beneath the fabric of her top. She again shifted, willing her body to forget, even if her mind would not.


Perhaps she should not have followed Captain Forrest's orders, nor done so with such an unusual zeal. In her research on male human sexuality, it had seemed that a female aggressor was duly admired by a man and would never be refused; to prevent him from suspecting subterfuge, she had simply claimed biological imperative: pon farr. It mattered little that only the males of her species naturally came into the blood fever, and his response to her advances had been . . . fervent. He'd called the episode a favor, despite the fact she'd broken his wrist and fractured his collarbone. Afterwards, she'd known he would want more.


She hadn't known she would, as well.


In the years since their initial encounter they had both sought each other out, again and again. She knew where he was ticklish, knew what spots made him groan in erotic pleasure, and knew how to make him lose control. She enjoyed his utter fascination with her ears, and she had humored his obsession with sex in a variety of places and positions within Engineering. She was also aware that he knew her tastes and preferences just as well, if not better. He was an extraordinarily attentive partner.


In truth, their encounters weren't frequent occurrences; if their liaison had been too obvious, it would have proven dangerous. More often than not, she had used their times of intercourse to ensure his continued interest in her, and to ease the possibly damaging effects of forced mind-melds. Their intimacy had aided her greatly in obtaining information or simply manipulating him. Still, she could not deny those moments of true release. Nor the pleasure she'd found with him.


It was disconcerting.


It was equally disconcerting that he had taken on another lover. Was this jealousy she felt? Surely not. Jealousy was not an emotion she would experience. Despite that, knowledge of Crewman Gellar was . . displeasing. There was some gratification in the fact that he had used the young woman. She supposed, now, that her very presence on the shuttle was simply a matter of necessity, rather than some sort of sentimentality. She had used him, after all. It was reasonable that he, in turn, would do the same to her. There was something comfortably familiar in such maneuverings, despite her newfound sense of justice. He was still a human – a human of this universe, and not the other.


Her thoughts satisfied for the moment, she turned her full attention back to the navigational array. The autopilot had switched course once again, their heading now marked for a large, distant star in the first stages of going nova. Perhaps at another time, in another universe, she could have been a part of the team studying that phenomenon. She chastised herself; it would not do to focus elsewhere. Helping her people was an important enough purpose to contend with. In her particular situation – flying a powerful shuttlecraft with technology that could be the Empire’s undoing – there were only a limited number of logical choices she could make.


Her mind registered the irony of it all: their counterparts in the other universe had been important figures in their quadrant's history, and now, she and Tucker could also be key in monumental change -- if they were successful in escaping with the Columbus II. At the moment, though, there was nothing for her to do to ensure their escape beyond watching the navigational array and monitoring the little ship’s systems, which was hardly a difficult task.


In idle curiosity, she re-activated the view screen. She remembered Tucker having been rather intent on something upon her entrance to the cabin; with a few taps of her fingers, she brought up the information he’d been looking at.


Icy shock poured over her.


It was a photo album, holographic images lined up one after the other. Their subjects were a family. Without thinking, she drew up the most recently viewed picture. Commodore Charles Tucker the III, also known as “Trip,” stood with his wife, Ambassador T’Pol. It was an unguarded moment, a private family picture that still had found its way into the Defiant’s database. The human, his sun-bleached hair bright, but streaked with gray, stood with his arms loosely wrapped around his Vulcan mate. His head was tipped down, his eyes half-lidded – but the merry gleam of blue was still visible. T’Pol – the other T’Pol – was looking up at him, the fingers of one hand lightly planted on his chest, almost as if the photo had caught her in a gentle caress. There was a softness to her mouth and eyes that bespoke a Vulcan smile.


They wore their formal attire: Ambassador T’Pol in rich crimson robes, Commodore Tucker in his midnight-blue dress uniform. Both appeared to be trim, fit . . and so very happy. They stood in a garden, surrounded by spring flowers. Far behind them spanned San Francisco’s Golden Gate Bridge, and the sea sparkled beneath bright sunlight. Darker hills were visible on the edges of the photo, framing the couple. The scene took her breath away.


Still dazed, she returned to the photo album. She tapped another picture. This one appeared to be a family gathering of enormous dimensions, and was an older picture in comparison to the other, taken likely many years prior. This time, Tucker and T’Pol stood off-center, two small children huddled around their legs, wide grins on their face. Seeing those grins was somewhat odd, as both children had the pointed ears of Vulcans. The taller of the two was a boy, a mop of white-blond hair sticking out in all directions. Dirt was smeared on his left cheek, and the picture had caught his mother – the other T’Pol, who was quite visibly pregnant – looking at him with a rather disgruntled expression on her face. The other child, a little girl, gripped her father’s hand and tugged with her other hand on the robes of another Vulcan standing next to them – oddly enough, Soval. The robes he wore indicated he was an ambassador. Around them all, in various stages of age and health, a massive human family stood, squatted, sat, or – in one case of a little boy – jumped. All beamed happily at the camera, and most had similar characteristics: a distinctive nose, sparkling blue eyes, or blond hair. The most elder members of the group stood at the center, and one very old woman sat in a chair in the very middle of the group. She smiled as happily as the rest of them. Other adults stood companionably together, arms slung over shoulders, although a respectable amount of distance was given the two Vulcans. Far more than a dozen children also crowded into the image. A family reunion – although the reason behind Soval’s presence there was beyond her. The group was all outside, enjoying a sunny day, with massive trees, their long limbs draped in gray-green moss, crowding out the sky behind them.


She shook her head and chose another picture. This time, the two half-Vulcan children she had seen were grown, and the unborn child had joined their ranks. Tucker and T’Pol flanked their three offspring; a wide, proud smile threatened to split Tucker’s face in two, and even T’Pol seemed inordinately proud. The boy with the white-blond hair had grown, his hair darkening with age, and he now stood with confident pride in his Starfleet uniform. A smile twitched at his young, full mouth, and his blue eyes twinkled with humor. His sister, who looked extraordinarily like a young T’Pol – both T’Pols, she realized – looked up at him fondly, the barest of smiles gracing her lips. The third child, who sported the dark hair, complexion, and ears of his mother with the blue eyes, nose, and tall, strong build of his father, stood on the eldest’s other side, his grin aimed at the camera. Graduation day, T’Pol realized. Starfleet Academy, a far more beautiful, grand building than existed in her universe, rose up behind them, sweeping gardens and broad walkways leading gradually up the to the gleaming-white building.


With a trembling hand, she closed the photo album. She knew the names of those children, and she knew the names of those children’s children. She hadn’t ventured to into their photographic records, however. The shock remained.


She stood, stumbled as she momentarily forgot her broken leg, and grabbed the back of her chair. The crutch was where Tucker had put it, and she snatched it up. Taking a deep breath, she hobbled to the back of the cabin. Her hand was still trembling as she hit the door’s toggle; it hissed open, and light spilled into the small room. Tucker had left her bunk lowered, but had moved the bag and its contents onto it. He occupied his own bunk, his long form stretched luxuriously out. His legs were too long for the bunk’s specifications, and his feet dangled off the end. He slept, one arm thrown over his head, the other resting across his chest. He had bathed, but had not dressed – or, at least fully dressed. A thin sheet of that silky material covered the lower half of his body.


She stepped inside, reaching over to bring up the lights. The soft, blue-white glow filled the room as the door hissed shut behind her. Perhaps it was the sound of the door, or the thump of her crutch, but he woke, grimacing and blinking at the light. “Wha’?” She moved to sit on the edge of his bed, and he shielded his eyes from the light with his arm, blinking at her from beneath. “T’Pol? What?”


“We are not them.”


He shook his head, his brow furrowing. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”


“You know exactly what I’m talking about. We are not them.”


He sighed and dropped his arm onto his face, completely covering his eyes. “Yeah. I know.”


“Do you?” she asked sharply.


“God dammit, T’Pol, I know!”


“Then why do you waste your time looking at their personal holo-photos?”


He sat up, pushing himself close to her. The bed sheet gathered around his waist and pooled between his legs as he shifted. “You might not be able to be jealous, but I am. He had a good life, he did somethin’ that was meaningful. He had a family – a family he was happy with and he was a good father for an’ husband to. What am I? Some sorry-assed guy with half his face melted off.” He paused. Fury had tightened his scar tissue and darkened his good eye. “Frankly, I don’t see how it’s a bad thing to want to be like him.”


“Because we are not them.”


“Listen to yourself! I know you read some of that database and then decided to try and destroy that ship. Don’t tell me you didn’t read about your history in that other universe, and that it didn’t make a difference.” Scorn weighed heavily on his voice.


She knew he was right; she’d already contemplated her counterpart’s history, and how dissimilar and similar it was to her own life. She had wanted to live a life that had done and succeeded in so much. “That was not my history.”


He closed in on her, their faces mere inches apart. “But you’d like it to be.”


She fell silent. The emotion flashing in his eye was primal. She’d only seen him furious once before, and somehow, that occasion paled to this. This was far deeper, far more personal. It struck at the depth of who they were, and who they might be.


She found her gaze dropping, focusing on his mouth. His lips were parted slightly, his breath rough and heavy from anger. He licked his lips, and she licked hers. She realized that the furious tension that hung between them contained something . . . more. “Yes,” she finally admitted.


He didn’t answer; instead, he leaned forward slightly, slowly closing the distance between them. Entranced, she did not move away. His mouth brushed hers tentatively. For whatever reason, it wasn’t enough. She edged forward, pushing her lips against his. His response was more forceful, and she gladly opened her mouth to him. He wasn’t gentle, but his anger had been replaced by pure heat. He moved closer, his scent filling her senses.


She didn’t know how long she lost herself, but as his hand happened to brush against her own, she felt the snap of reality deep within her mind. Abruptly, she pulled away from him. He stared at her, confusion warring with desire, and reached to bring her back to him. She pushed his hands away and stood.


“T’Pol?” Bewilderment was clear in his voice, but she only snagged her crutch and stumbled out of the cabin. She could hear his bed-sheet rustling as he moved to follow. She slapped at the door’s control and nearly hissed when it didn’t comply quickly enough. Before he was up, though, she was through the door and into the relative safety of the forward cabin. She took a deep breath, hoping to calm herself. Failing to meditate had been one of the most foolish things she’d ever done – at least, that was what her racing, unsettled brain told her. She could and would calm herself.


If only for a second.


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



Chapter 3

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

That was good! Can't wait to see what happens next.

Thanks so much for updating! It was nice to see the "other" Trip and T'Pol's family. I really love where you're taking this. keep up the good work!

Dammit, Jim!

...yet another evil cliffhanger!

Damn. I like this story. I hope you have a nice, long, drawn out arc in mind for this - it's a goldmine!

Looking forward to your next...

I have been waiting for this!!! Sooo good!! I agree with Anne Alder, I hope you've sketched out a long plot arc. Great fic!

Very good. Great seeing a quick look at the other universe. Can't wait to see what Trip's plan is.

Thanks for the comments! :) Honestly, this thing started out as a quickie fluff-fic in the MU, simply because I didn't like the ending of IaMD,II. (I wanted more Trip and T'Pol!) Since then, it has mutated into something larger. Clarity is, essentially, "book one" of the plan. The second book (still untitled) is sketched out, but still really rough around the edges.

Outstanding! So glad you decided to continue with MU TnT -- the story is great so far. Can't wait to see what comes next! Even MU TnT in the hands of talented fanfic writers is WAY more satisfying than anything else on TV nowadays...especially now that it's over! Keep up the great work!

omg wonderful! i'm so entranced. this is a wonderfully layered, well thought out piece. it is very intriguing!

Excellent, Ludjin. :-)

I'm really enjoying the way you take time to work through T'Pol's thought processes so logically.

Also, it's nice to see Tucker getting an opportunity to show he can do more than purge impulse manifolds and align EPS grids; we know our Trip can be quite the decisive tactician when he's given the opportunity (acting Captain Trip in the VCW arc, anyone?), but sometimes it seems the character is treated as just a Mr. Fix-it; a top-notch Mr. Fix-it, but still just a Mr. Fix-it. I like that you've shown him - convincingly - as a strategic mastermind.

As for Crewman Gellar, well, I'm not sure if I believe Tucker really slept with her or just implied it to get to T'Pol, but either way, I'm glad he's not letting T'Pol get too confident in her importance to him. That would be too much like the RU. ;-)

Can't wait for Chapter 3!

I can't tell you how much I like this story of yours. There are many, many facets of the story that is totally unique and refreshing, too many to go into in the commentary space here but the standout is the characterization of Tucker. Like Trinneer said in his most recent assessment of the Trip/T'Pol relationship, "get Trip a spine." In Clarity, T'Pol never really knows how Tucker feels about her or what he is thinking. Since we are reading it from her point of view, neither do we, the readers.

I was excited to see a new chapter in the story and I wasn't disappointed. I'm glad this is turning into a long complex story. I want to hear more about Tucker's plan. I want to know if T'Pol will try to double-cross him or convience him to topple the empire. Best of all, I like that it's from T'Pol POV, so we don't know what Tucker's motives exactly are. Very good story.

Love this story - good characterisations, really into the MU T'Pol! Thank you, now I patiently wait for part 3!

By far the best of all the MU stories I've ever seen, even the ones that got on the TV!

Ooooooooooooo! Excellent, and SOOOOO well done! You have a gift with the written word, did you know that? More please, and soon! :)

I agree, this IS a veritable goldmine.

I don't think anyone else capitalized on the MU-T/T situation as well as this story does. I'm glad they're not running into each other's arms but have fleeting moments of sincerity. In reality (MU reality I guess), it'd be hard for two people who grew up and lived in such a shitty universe to just act all lovey, so I like this - it's believable!

T'Pol's deceptiveness and coldhearted calculation is really icy! It's good to hear her warm up every now and again, and Tucker's quiet reservedness is believable b/c he just seems to be avoiding saying anything about why he rescued her ;). He clearly wants to be able to have her the way his counterpart did :)

In a way it reminds of a star-wars-esque story, like they're gonna run off to try and topple the empire all by themselves and little situations here and there increase their sincerity for each other.

Great story, I'm looking forward to more!

Just when I thought "Hurdles" couldn't be topped, you come along and write an even better story. Well-written with great characterization. I love it. I'm glad we're in T'Pol's head this time.

This story is excellent really. You're doing an amazing job capturing the MU T/T with the promise of finding out more of both their past together and their future. Also, nice touch using the Defiant's records. :)

There is something very poignant about mirror Trip wishing he could have the life his counterpart had. A loving family life with T'Pol and children mutually adored. Can't wait to see where this road leads Trip and T'Pol this time round. Very fine story. Ali D :~)

I knew from the Mu episode's that MU tnt wernt all bad,, ;) sure in their cabins they are very naughty, but out of the quarter's they are victems of thei Universe's way's. And I really love how your takin these two an showin how envious they are of that life they can never fully have,, But so desperately want. Cant wait to see what happen's to MU TnT next. :)

I really love the characterization in this. They're enough like the real TnT to be recognizable as such, but with a rather nasty "edge". Good job!

Good story. Can't wait for the next part. soon please

Great Story!

I have to agree with everyone in saying that this is -- excellent! I've seen so many promising stories begin, and watch as they fall by the wayside; so I'm really happy to see you continue with this.

Can't tell you how much I'm enjoying your MU Trip & T'Pol characters. You've given them more depth. There's an edge to them, a certain amount of desperation and as well as a sense of urgency that just jumps out at you... grabs you, and doesn't let go. Their interaction and dialogue flows very naturally, and you've managed to capture their plight beautifully.

I'll be looking out for your next installment, as I am curious to see how this will all unfold. Great story, do hope you post soon. :-)

Excellent chapter, Ludjin, treally absorbing, and I'm glad to hear to hear you have a long story (and sequel) planned.

Hello! I just realized I have been spelling my name wrong. Embarasing! I wish they had had time to do this continue.

Hello! I just realized I have been spelling my name wrong. Embarasing! I wish they had had time to do this continue.

You're doing a wonderful job with this story! I'm looking forward to the next chapter. You've hooked me back on fanfic, darn you ;-)

Please, sir, can I have some more?

Re: persianmouse -- No zoup for you! (Sorry, couldn't resist. ;) )

I'm sorry about my double posting.
This computer sends them realy slow, I thought it wasn't going.

You are eeeeevil! You can't stop there! At least give me a time frame for the next installments. I keep checking and checking, hoping against hope for the next part. Evil.

Thanks again, everyone, for the comments! And don't worry about it, Fireheart. I suffer from the malady that is dialup. Not fun! BDoll, I'm actually not sure when I'll be completing chapter three, but I hope to get it done in the next two-three weeks. Long time, I know, but there's some technical bits that I'm trying to make accurate. Which means research. I'm bad at that! (It'll probably be longer than the previous two chapters, too.)

Thanks again, everyone. I'm glad you're enjoying it! (It's a blast to write, too!)

I'm glad you enjoy writing this. That realy is all that matters. I only know 2 people that are trekers so this site is a godsend.

sequel asap! it's perfect, fate hanging over their heads, their jealousy of the other MU, the characters are extremely well drawn - just like I would the MU characters expect to be... keep it up!

I love this fic! The characters and story line are very true to the Mirror Universe episodes. I hope that there are many more chapters to come.

OMG, This is my fav. fic of all time. I love the MU TnT! I don't suppose you have the next chapter ready by any chance? I'm just a stressed out teacher about to take her summer vacation in need of a good read.....I just LOVE this fic. More please. :)Sunshine Ali

this fic keep s getting better each time i read it. i really think i get too excited the first time around-- but really there is so much here... and you dole out the info in such small, but gloriously full moments and meaningful dialogue. the complexity and yet plain spokenness of t'pol's inner musings is excellent and compelling.

Still brilliant. Keep going.

Ya know, I really hated In a Mirror, Darkly (second only to that stinker of a "finale"). I thought they were a waste of two hours that could have gone to other storylines in the regular Enterprise universe.

The only good thing to come from the 2-parter is all the great MU fic that has been posted here. I can't wait to read part 3!

Keep 'em coming, Ludjin!

This is such a good story, when is the next part due out?

Wheres the next part? Whaaaaaaa!

I'm really enjoying this story, and yes, I'm desperate for the next part too, as I really, really want to see them get together (don't we all!)- please don't let it be one of those unfinished stories...

It's coming! I swear! And I'm so sorry! :( Life .. writer's block .. argh.

I needed to read this again, and I'm still wondering where the rest of it is?? C'mon Ludjin!!