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Reflections of Another Universe - Part 5

Author - Misplaced
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TRIP/T’POLERS MU FANFIC CHALLENGE

Reflections of Another Universe

By: Misplaced

Disclaimer: See Part 1

A/N: Special thanks to my betas: Kevin, T’Leela and TJinLOCA. This story wouldn’t be half as good without you guys!

Grab a nice warm cup of cocoa. This one’s a longun’!

11-18-05


**********

Part 5The Conclusion

Chapter 13An Advantageous Connection


“I can smell the human on you.”

The words touched her ear like an icy breeze and T’Pol involuntarily shivered. She knew the statement for what it was—a lie that revealed a frightening truth: Koss had seen her with Trip. He had seen them kiss.

Vulcans do not experience fear.

T’Pol remained silent, her mind devoid of any words that might explain her conduct. There was no explanation, no logical explanation. She dared not look at him, dared not see the shame and the damage she had inflicted. Tense seconds stretched on in silence, her dread increasing with every beat of her heart.

Vulcans do not experience fear.

Koss finally broke the silence. “T’Pol,” he said softly, coldly. She didn’t reply. “T’Pol,” he repeated, firmly. Still she said nothing. Then he did something that he’d never done before.

He touched her—unshielded.

His fingers brought her chin up to face him, to see his eyes reflecting what his touch revealed. Rage, pure, unadulterated rage radiated from him, unfettered and exposed. He must have wanted her to feel it, to know it. And lying beneath the fire of his anger were the black threads of frustration and hatred—a hatred that he took pleasure in.

In that one instant, T’Pol understood that he had never cared for her as she had presumed. His constant proximity to her, his appearance of concern for her, all were only manifestations of his need to control her.

Vulcans do not experience fear.

T’Pol was now aware of the danger she was in. She backed away from him, eyes darting to the door. As though reading her thoughts, Koss stepped between her and her only escape.

She tried to quell the panic that was rising in her bosom. “Leave me,” she ordered.

Koss tipped his head to one side, as if he were amused. “When we bonded as children, I knew that you would make a difficult wife.” He stepped towards her, causing her to back away further. “I find challenges most desirable, and you are my greatest challenge.”

“Leave me!” she commanded with more force.

Koss stepped closer to her still, ignoring her demand. “I have attempted to be patient, but you only defy me further. You are undisciplined.” He took another step towards her, forcing her to move back again. “Perhaps it is illogical, but I find the notion of taming you pleasing.” He stepped towards her once more.

T’Pol’s back touched the cold bulkhead and her heart stopped. Giving into her overwhelming terror, she attempted to dart around him hoping for escape. Koss’ arm shot out and thrust her against the wall with so much force that it sucked the air from her lungs. His hand kept her from collapsing to the floor.

Koss leaned in and spoke quietly in her ear. “You will humiliate me no more.”

She squirmed against him. “Let me go,” she rasped.

“My patience has grown thin,” he said, pressing against her to keep her still. “There are consequences, T’Pol, and you will face them now.”

The pressure was like a vise and T’Pol couldn’t draw a proper breath. She watched in horror as he brought his right hand to her face. “No!” she gasped as his fingers touched the positions for a mind meld. She clawed at him, fought him, but he was too strong.

“My mind to your mind,” he began, ignoring her feeble attempts to break free. Instead he pushed against her harder, further diminishing her capacity to breathe. “My thoughts to your thoughts...”

T‘Pol felt the pressure of him trying to enter her mind. It was vile, churning her already fluttering stomach. She fought, pushed back at it. “No!” she whispered futilely.

“Our minds are one,” he finished as he sliced through her mental barrier like a jagged knife.

If T’Pol could breathe, she would have screamed.

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

On the ISS Enterprise, the door to the brig opened, admitting Lieutenant Commander Reed. He stepped into the cramped quarters with a distinct air of confidence flanked by two MACOs. Archer just glared, resisting the urge to spit at the cocky bastard—not that it would have given him any satisfaction. The plexi-glass would deny his spittle the pleasure of reaching its target.

Reed brought himself to face the angry Captain, his usual smirk playing on his lips. “Good evening,” he said, “I trust you’ve been well treated.”

“Cut the bullshit, Reed,” Archer snapped. “What do you want?”

“Come now, Jonathan, don’t pretend to be so naïve,” Reed leaned closer to the glass. “You know what I came for.”

“That’s Captain Archer to you!” Archer shot back.

Reed shook his head and chuckled. “I hardly think you’re in a position to discuss rank with me at the moment.”

Archer resisted the urge to punch the glass. “How long do you think it’s going to take before the rest of the crew figure out that those orders were fabricated?”

“Oh, they’re real enough, Archer,” Reed replied. “There is more than one Admiral in Starfleet, after all.”

“Admiral Black,” the Captain breathed, sickly understanding dawning on him. “You’re the spy!”

The Lieutenant snorted. “It’s pathetic you believe that there could be only one crewman aboard this ship loyal to the Admiral.” The humor left Reed’s features as he stared down Archer. “Tell me what I want to know,” he demanded.

“Go to hell.”

Reed sneered, “One way or another I will find out what Admiral Forrest has you up to.” He turned away from Archer and motioned to one of the men he brought with him.

“Let’s see if we can make him more cooperative,” he said to the soldier. “I believe that he doesn’t fully understand the position he’s in.” The MACO nodded as the Lieutenant made for the door.

This time Archer did pound his fist against the glass. “Reed, I’m going to kill you when I get out of here.”

Reed paused and gave the Captain an appraising look over his shoulder. “I’d like to see you try,” he replied with amusement.

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

Blackness. Everywhere all around was blackness. T’Pol was running, hiding, fighting the beast that was chasing her, devouring her. It was growing, pressing, overwhelming her, terrifying her.

Fire… Raging fire of anger and frustration overwhelmed her, choking her with the black smoke of hatred. Control, control, control…that was what he wanted, craved, needed.

She would not be controlled. She would not be tamed. She would not be disciplined.

T’Pol threw up barriers that stalled the creature for precious seconds and she dug deeper into her mind. She wrapped her strength around the more precious parts of herself as she threw her hatred, her defiance at the savage that came after her.

He consumed it all. “It is illogical to resist.” His calm yet raging voice echoed in the bleakness, beckoning her. She didn’t answer, but instead ran further, terrified.

And still he came, persistent, unstoppable. He stole the bits and pieces of her away that she could no longer protect. “I will have you.” His statement only urged her forward, kept her running.

But there was no place left to hide. Despair filled the darkness, making her want to weep, to scream and still she fought back.

And then her ears, her physical ears, heard something that brought the smallest light of hope.

“Get your goddamn hands off of her, you Vulcan bastard!”

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

At first nothing happened, and Trip was afraid that Commander Koss was too involved in the mind-meld to notice what he had said.

“You heard me!” he yelled as he stepped further into the room, training his weapon on the large alien. “I said get away from her!”

Trip would have shot him, but Koss was too close to T’Pol. Trip wasn’t a marksman, despite his lucky shot earlier in the brig. He took another step towards Koss, thinking that he’d have to physically grapple with the tall Vulcan. Trip would rather not think about how that might turn out, his cheek reminding him of just how strong Vulcans were.

To his relief, Koss finally turned to face him. The relief was short-lived when Trip saw the expression in the Vulcan’s eyes. This was not the irritatingly calm, emotionless Vulcan that had observed his torture. No, this bastard was pissed.

But so was Trip.

Koss let go of T’Pol, who dropped to the floor in a heap. “Obviously I underestimated you, Commander Tucker,” the Vulcan said, visibly calming.

“Yeah, people often do,” Trip said, still aiming his weapon. He didn’t know why he didn’t just shoot the bastard, now that T’Pol was free of him.

“This is an intriguing turn of events,” Koss replied and stole a glance at the crumpled form on the floor. “Perhaps T’Pol will invoke Kun-ut Kali-fi. You might survive the first moments.”

“The Coe-nut—what?” Trip didn’t really want to know. Just shoot, dammit!

“It is a battle to the death in order to win the right to bond with T’Pol,” Koss explained, taking a step towards Trip.

“I’m not interested in your Vulcan games, you sick son of a bitch.” Trip spat as he finally pressed the trigger and watched Koss tumble to the floor. He kicked Koss hard as he stepped over him. “Too bad, I wish I could shove you into that agony booth of yours,” Trip muttered and kicked the Vulcan again.

A soft groan caught his attention and Trip rushed to help T’Pol, who was struggling to stand.

“You okay?” he asked as he fought the instinct to wrap her in his arms.

“I will be,” she answered in a weak voice. “Give me your weapon.”

Trip hesitated. Would she take him back to the brig? Could he trust her?

“Give me your weapon,” she commanded once more. She held her hand out expectantly and Trip grudgingly relinquished the weapon. T’Pol made an adjustment to the settings and fired on Koss’ limp form. The shot startled Trip and the acrid smell of burning flesh began to fill the room.

“What the hell was that about?” he asked.

“You merely incapacitated him with your shot,” she stated clinically. “I adjusted the setting to kill.”

Trip stared at her—of all the people to be underestimated. “Damn! Remind me to never get on your bad side,” he replied, though inside he was worried what Koss might have done to her to deserve her wrath. It was almost imperceptible, but he could see her quivering.

“Why did you come?” she asked changing the subject.

“After a kiss like that, you didn’t expect me to leave without saying goodbye?” he answered, attempting to lighten the dark mood in the room. T’Pol raised an eyebrow and Trip rolled his eyes. “Listen, darlin’, I’d be real interested in carrying on this conversation later, especially if you could tell me how the hell I knew where to find you. But in a few minutes our ride’s gonna be taking off, and I don’t plan on missing it.”

“’Our’ ride?” she asked, raising her eyebrow once more. Trip groaned. This woman is gonna drive me insane!

“Well, now that you mention it, yes. It’d be pretty difficult to have that conversation without you there,” he said with a hint of sarcasm. He hoped that he hadn’t risked everything just to have her tell him goodbye.

T’Pol seemed to ponder his answer for an agonizing moment. “There is a certain logic to your statement,” she finally said, to his relief.

“Great. Now let’s get out of here,” he suggested as he ushered her to the door.


Chapter 14 – Plans of Subterfuge

The pulse of the warp core could be distracting to anyone that didn’t spend much time in the engine room. It throbbed as the heart of the ship, fast or slow—depending on the amount of energy it was required to exert. To those that spent their days in that room, however, it was a comforting sound, relaxing white noise that meant all was well. It was when there was a hiccup in that steady beat that the engineering crew experienced anxiety.

Lieutenant Kelby was experiencing anxiety right now. Of course, the engines were fine, the constant throb, throb, throb reassuring the delta shift that they were doing their jobs well. No, the unease that the acting Chief Engineer was feeling had nothing to do with anything that simple. Kelby had a decision to make and he wasn’t entirely sure that he was making the right choice.

Dammit, dammit, dammit.

He had spent two shifts with his mind only half focused on the work of keeping the engines in pristine condition. The other half was furiously laying out the pros and cons of any action (or lack of action) he might take since the leadership change on the ISS Enterprise. Nothing looked good, and every path seemed to lead to his ass getting thrown into the brig… or worse.

So Kelby went with his gut.

He stood from the tiny desk that was Commander Tucker’s and walked around the large engineering room, searching. Finally his eyes lighted on his target: Rostov. The younger man was reviewing the data from a routine diagnostic when Kelby approached him with more confidence than he felt.

“Ensign Rostov,” he said, barely above a whisper. “When you have a minute, I’d like to speak to you.”

Rostov looked him over with a bland expression, only the hardness around his eyes betraying his apprehension. “Now is as good a time as any, sir.”

Kelby took a deep breath. “Are you Tucker’s man?” he asked.

Rostov’s face turned dark. “Commander Tucker isn’t here, sir,” he answered cryptically.

Kelby wanted to groan. The Ensign was doing nothing for his nerves. “Rostov, I’m not on a witch hunt here. I need to know, are you Tucker’s man?”

Rostov didn’t speak at first, instead giving Kelby an intense, searching gaze. He seemed to be deciding whether or not Kelby was trustworthy. When he did speak, it was with a guarded tone. “Yes,” was all he said.

That was enough to take the edge off of Kelby’s anxiety. “Good,” he replied. “Has Reed or any of his people been to see you?”

Again, there was a long pause before a quiet “No.”

Kelby had been counting on that. Reed was never one to bother with anyone who didn’t seem to have any power or ambition especially not a simple ensign. “I need your help,” Kelby told the other engineer. As he explained his plan, he watched the taller man’s eyes widen just before a dreadful smile turned up the corners of his mouth.

I hope I’m doing the right thing. That was becoming Kelby’s mantra.

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

“Fire.”

The word rolled off his tongue so easily, so fluidly, that it made Malcolm Reed smile. It was a word that would doom Commander Tucker—if he was still alive—and so Malcolm enjoyed it all the more.

Originally he hadn’t wanted to be bothered with going after the Vulcans, but Archer had gotten them nearly there. Malcolm had decided he might as well finish what he’d started a year ago with the little ‘accident’ that had gone awry. A frown crossed the Lieutenant’s lips. I really should find a way to make the bloody Denobulan pay for that one.

Malcolm had given the Vulcans exactly three seconds to answer his hail before giving the command to open fire. He had to cover his bases, of course, for the ‘official record’. Sensor logs could be changed—they had been before—but Malcolm figured he would save himself some tedious work later. Efficiency was, after all, one of his strengths.

He watched the viewscreen with malicious pleasure as the torpedo smoothly banked across the glittering backdrop of stars and struck the Vulcan ring ship with precision, sending a spray of explosion into space. It would, of course, take far more firepower to destroy the alien vessel—firepower that Malcolm was more than happy to authorize.

It was a fine art, blowing things up, and it was Malcom’s genius.

“Again, Ensign,” he commanded in a cool voice, feeling the symphony of the moment. Once again a torpedo soared across the viewscreen and smashed into its target. Oh the beauty of it. Malcolm opened his mouth to order another when he was rudely interrupted.

“We’re being hailed,” Hoshi said, her voice the discord in his melody. “Audio only.”

Malcolm sneered at the loss of his momentum. “Put them on. Let’s see what they have to say.”

The speakers cackled with static as a baritone voice spoke. “Terran vessel, you will cease your illogical attack on our ship or we will be forced to destroy you.”

Malcolm snorted. He was intimately familiar with Enterprise’s capabilities—which were far greater than he’d ever led Archer to believe. He’d be a fool if he weren’t as familiar with his enemy’s abilities as well. Malcolm was no fool.

“We will gladly cease fire when you surrender,” he returned in a bored voice.

“Clearly, your view of the situation is not rational,” the voice protested. This was getting old and Malcolm wanted to return to the art of destroying the bloody bastards.

“Cut transmission,” he ordered. “I don’t want to be bothered unless they’re ready to meet our terms.”

“Aye… sir,” Hoshi said. The pause didn’t go unnoticed by the acting Captain, but he would let it slide for now. There were more pressing matters to be dealt with.

“Fire.”

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

When the Vulcan ship shuddered the first time, Lieutenant Anna Hess had wanted to close the shuttlepod hatch and blast out of the shuttlebay. She hadn’t signed up for this. She’d only wanted to escape the hell-hole she had been raised in and live out her Starfleet career hidden in some engineering room on some starship. She certainly didn’t sign up to go on away missions, especially ones that ended in her capture by freakishly strong and impassive pointy-eared aliens.

It wasn’t the first time in the past few days that Hess had cursed herself for being too good at her job.

And no matter what Biggs said to the contrary, she knew that he was scared out of his mind too. But they waited just as the Commander ordered. Why? Because they both knew that Commander Tucker was scary as hell when he lost his temper and he would make good on his promise if they dared to leave him behind.

Ten minutes. The clock was ticking far too slowly for Hess’ racing heart.

The ship shuddered once more and Hess had serious doubts that they would make it out of this alive. Maybe it was time to cut and run, regardless of what Tucker might do to them—if he survived this. Hess was about to share these thoughts with Biggs when she saw something that made her heart jump, and not in a good way.

The door to the shuttle bay opened and in sauntered Commander Tucker, hands in the air, followed by a petite Vulcan holding a weapon to his back.

Oh no!

“Biggs!” she screamed at the Lieutenant sitting at the helm of the shuttlepod. “Get us out of here!” Hess frantically began closing the hatch.

“Wait!” Acting from years of programming to follow her commanding officer’s orders, Hess hesitated. Out of sheer morbid curiosity she looked out the hatch. Commander Tucker stood facing the alien woman, a hand held out to her.

“Oh come on, T’Pol,” Tucker said in an exasperated tone. “Just give me the damn thing. You’re scarin’ my people.”

Hess watched in wide-eyed astonishment as the Vulcan obeyed and handed him the weapon.

“Thanks,” Tucker smiled. (He smiled! At a Vulcan!) “Now let’s get off this bucket before it blows up.”

As they boarded the shuttlepod, the alien spoke in a surprisingly rich voice. “It is unlikely that your vessel has the means to destroy this ship.”

“I swear, T’Pol, you’re gonna give me a headache. Just sit down and let me do my thing. We can argue about this later,” the Commander countered.

Again, the Vulcan complied and Hess realized that this ‘T’Pol’ was coming with them. A prisoner? Tucker’s behavior towards her said differently.

“Hess!” The Commander’s voice made her jump. “What the hell are you staring at? Close that hatch then get over here and help me save our asses!”

“Uh, yes, sir!”

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

The Enterprise rocked from the return attack from the Vulcans as Hoshi watched Malcolm, hating every inch of him. She’d always hated him, just as she hated Archer and Tucker and every other person on this ship. She still tolerated Reed, though, because advancing her career was more important than sharing a bed with someone she actually liked. Malcolm had promised to make her a Lieutenant, which was more than Archer ever offered. He’d better come through, or else he might not wake up one morning. It wouldn’t be the same half-hearted effort like her attempt on to Archer, either.

“Sir, a shuttlepod has emerged from the Vulcan ship,” Lieutenant Sharp exclaimed behind her. “It’s ours.”

Hoshi watched Malcolm’s face darken. Obviously, he hadn’t counted on Tucker or any of his team managing to escape from the Vulcans. For purely absurd reasons, she found that crimp in his plans gratifying.

“Scan the bloody thing!” Malcolm snapped. Hoshi tried not to smirk. She shouldn’t be happy that his plans were falling apart, since she would go down with him should he fail. At least, that’s what everyone thought.

A blip on her own monitor caught her eye. The shuttlepod was hailing Enterprise. Hoshi pressed the button and listened to her earpiece.

“Enterprise, this is Commander Tucker. Do you copy?”

Hoshi said nothing.

“Three humans and a Vulcan, sir,” Sharp blurted out.

“Enterprise, this is Commander Tucker. Do you copy!?”

“It’s obviously some Vulcan ploy,” Malcolm sneered. “Destroy it.”

“Enterprise! Answer, dammit!”

Hoshi still said nothing, but instead typed a text message. She encrypted it and pressed the button to send to the shuttlepod. She really shouldn’t have. Malcolm would be pissed if he found out.

She found she didn’t care.

Chapter 15 – Fate’s Fickle Heart

Thousands of tiny symbols danced across the small screen like random static. They seemed to tease Trip, taunting him with the secret that was hidden somewhere beneath the layers of chaos. He was already expecting the worst after his hails were only answered with an encrypted text message. Whether that meant that the ISS Enterprise was too busy engaging the Vulcans to give aid to the tiny shuttlepod or that Archer had finally grown tired of his uneasy alliance with the chief engineer, Trip didn’t know. What he did know was that trying to decrypt this message while flying into a space battle was making him cranky. Very cranky.

He needed answers and he needed them right now.

As a last ditch and frustrated effort he tried using some of the more complicated engineering algorithms to break the code. The static suddenly winked out, replaced by four words that made Trip blink. He read them again, the bold letters staring back at him defiantly. It was worse than he imagined—much worse.

Reed is in command.

That was all. In fifteen letters the lives of everyone in the shuttlepod went to hell in a hand-basket.

“Sonofabitch!” A new, deeply disturbing understanding blossomed. Reed wouldn’t just be satisfied by ignoring them and flying away. No, the conniving Brit would make sure that Trip and his crew didn’t survive at all. And unfortunately, the odds were in Reed’s favor. A shuttlepod was no match for an NX class warship.

A blinking red dot on the monitor jolted Trip into action. It was true that they probably wouldn’t make it out of this alive, but he would be damned if he didn’t try. He grabbed the controls and banked the shuttlepod hard astern, the engines whining in protest. The small craft shuddered as the torpedo exploded nearby—but fortunately far enough away to do nothing more than shake them up.

“Hang on to your seats! It’s gonna get a little rough!” he warned as he turned the ship again. If Reed was going to put them into an early grave, Trip was going to make him work for it.

“Sir?” Hess’ quivering voice came from behind him.

“Let’s just say that they’re not puttin’ up any ‘Welcome Home’ banners for us back on Enterprise.” He glanced at the monitors, trying to decide which way to run. Putting out a distress signal was out of the question, especially this deep in Vulcan space. Things were looking bad, worse than bad. “Biggs,” he glanced at the lieutenant just behind him, “I want you to watch for any stray torpedoes.”

“Uh, here comes another one, sir! Port side!”

“Dammit!” Trip wrenched the controls and the ship groaned. The torpedo exploded close, but it only made the shuttlepod shudder.

“Are they trying to kill us?” Hess asked incredulously, fear quivering her voice.

“Yes!”

“Why?!” Hess practically screamed the question and Trip ground his teeth. He wanted to shake some sense into the young woman.

“I don’t have time for this right now!” He turned to face her, “I need everything I can get from this engine and you’re gonna make sure that happens. Now do your damn job!” Hess stared back at him, wide-eyed, looking like she was trying to decide which was more terrifying: Death or an angry Commander Tucker.

“Another one! Behind us, sir!” Biggs’ shout forced Trip’s attention back to the controls. He turned the shuttlepod again and brought it to a full stop, hoping that the torpedo would overshoot them. It wasn’t enough. Dealing with Hess had cost him precious seconds. When the torpedo detonated Trip was thrown from his seat, landing painfully against the control panel. The shower of sparks flooded the room, followed by the smell of singed circuits.

“Status!” he demanded as he stood, coughing.

“If I understand this console correctly, it would appear that one of the… EPS conduits has ruptured.” Trip spun around at the sound of T’Pol’s husky voice. She looked back at him calmly, as if she had just announced that it was time for tea.

“What the--? Where’s--?” Trip cut off the question when he saw the answer for himself. Biggs was lying unconscious on the floor at T’Pol’s feet. He turned back to his own control panel to confirm what the Vulcan said. Damn! She was right. Without power to the helm, they were dead in the water.

Well, am I a goddamn engineer or what?

Trip pushed past T’Pol and dug out the tool kit from beneath the bench and hollered at Hess. “Lieutenant, help me move Biggs to one of the benches and secure him.” Her face was unnaturally pale when he looked at her, and he wondered if Hess had even heard him. Her eyes stared blankly through him. Ah hell! “Lieutenant!”

Her eyes snapped into focus. “Yes, sir?”

“Give me a hand with Biggs then get in the pilot’s seat. When I reroute helm control I want you to get us the hell out of here. Move!” he snapped, making her jump. She finally obeyed. He’d pity the younger woman later, when he had time for it.

After they moved Biggs, Trip tossed a look at T’Pol. “Keep watch for those torpedoes or anything else they might throw at us.” Without waiting for her to acknowledge him, he turned his attention to tearing up the floor at the rear of the shuttlepod. Rerouting power was the easy part; getting to the damn junction—now that was the pain in the ass.

“Any torpedoes yet?” he demanded once he was shoulder deep into the floor, feeling his way to the junction.

“It appears that your ship is concentrating their firepower on… the Vulcans.”

Thank god for small miracles. The thought came just before his fingers made contact with live wire. “Sonofabitch!” Trip cursed, jerking his hand out to suck on his burned fingers. He forced his hand back in despite the pain and was rewarded with the cold metal of the junction box. Trip quickly made the necessary adjustments. “Now, Hess!” He was tossed to the side as the inertial dampeners took a second to catch up to the pod’s sudden lurch.

“A torpedo appears to be on an intercept course with us,” T’Pol coolly informed him.

“Evasive maneuvers!” He bounded the two steps to the helm as Hess jerked the ship into a turn.

What was it the Klingons said? Today is a good day to die.

“Well, it seems like a damn crappy day to die to me,” Trip muttered just before the torpedo detonated.

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

While dividing the ship’s firepower between two targets wasn’t ideal—certainly when one was a scrap of metal that couldn’t fight back—Malcolm found it exhilarating. He was killing two birds with one stone, while displaying the cool efficiency that he prided himself on. Ridding himself of Commander Tucker and some of his loyal team members would certainly make his transition into Captain easier. Admiral Black had assured him that he would receive the Enterprise as his commission and the admiral never reneged on a promise to those who were loyal to him.

And defeating the Vulcans? That might well lead to a war… a war that Malcolm felt was long overdue. The Terran Empire had stifled its own growth by only expanding into empty territory. It was time to show the galaxy its strength. It was time for other alien races to bow to the superiority of Humans.

“The shuttlepod’s engine is disabled,” Ensign Michaels announced at tactical.

“Concentrate all weapons on the Vulcans.” Malcolm ordered. After he was finished with those bloody aliens, he’d take care of the shuttlepod.

The ship rocked as the Vulcans returned fire. Acceptable damage—more than he would have liked, but still within his calculated parameters. Malcolm smirked. He’d always believed in destiny and it was a beautiful thing to watch being fulfilled.

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

“Damn idiot is going to get us all killed!” Archer yelled to no one in particular, bracing himself as Enterprise groaned from another impact. The ship shuddered again and this time the captain was thrown to the floor, intimately reminding him of the injuries Reed’s men had inflicted on him earlier.

Another sound caught his attention, and he drew himself back up. Were those shots he heard? The brig doors opened suddenly and Archer covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut when he saw the grenade tossed in. The glass did little to muffle the deafening boom as the weapon exploded.

Archer lifted his eyelids and saw one of Tucker’s men step over the bodies of the guards through the curling smoke: Ensign Rostov. The young engineer was wearing a self-congratulatory grin as he punched the code to open the cell doors. He tossed Archer and Mayweather weapons.

“Are there others?” the captain asked.

“Plenty,” Rostov confirmed. “Want your ship back, Captain?”

“More than you know,” Archer answered, stepping through the brig with his phase pistol in the lead. Two more of Tucker’s engineering crew stood guard in the corridor.

“Looks like we’ve got a bridge to rescue.” Archer’s mouth twisted into an unnatural smile as he led the men down the hallway.

Payback was going to be sweet.

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

“Sir, that last shot took out our weapons!”

Hoshi watch Malcolm leap from his chair. “What?” The would-be captain rushed to the security station. His face contorted in anger as he looked at the report. “Impossible!” Malcolm turned his furious face to Hoshi. “Get me Engineering.”

She suppressed a smirk at the lovely way things were falling apart. If he suspected that she was the reason why the shuttlepod lurched just before the first torpedo could strike… Well, she didn’t care anyway. She pressed the button and nodded her head, letting a hint of a glare darken her eyes.

God, how she hated him.

“Kelby here.” The lieutenant’s voice was hassled.

“I want my weapons back!” Malcolm snapped. He was a bastard, but maybe not as stupid as Hoshi thought. Not that it mattered.

“We’ve taken heavy damage, Sir—“

“Don’t play that bloody game with me, Lieutenant!” Malcolm cut him off.

“Sir?” Kelby’s voice sounded so innocent that Hoshi almost laughed outright.

Malcolm’s face was turning red. “Get Security down to Engineering to teach that… imbecile what happens when he disobeys a commanding officer,” he ordered through clenched teeth. He was so wrapped up in his rage that he didn’t notice the hiss of the turbolift doors. Hoshi heard but she said nothing, watching silently as the captain stepped onto the bridge, aiming a phase pistol at Malcolm. She idly wondered if the weapon was set on stun or kill.

“Belay that order, Ensign--if you value your life.” Archer spoke in a cool voice.

Malcolm turned his eyes slowly to the man that should be in the brig.

Reed stood erect. “I suppose you’re going to shoot me now,” he said in a mocking tone as other armed men, including Mayweather, stepped off the lift and surrounded the bridge. “Don’t believe that will put an end to it, Archer.”

Hoshi rolled her eyes. Really, these ‘whose phase pistol is bigger’ games were getting old. She suddenly realized that she couldn’t bear watching another one.

A flash of light glinted off the dagger as it rotated gracefully in the air before embedding itself into Malcolm’s chest. His hand instinctively went to the handle as his astonished eyes followed the direction that it came from. Rage and betrayal washed over his face as he glared at Hoshi. She winked at him just as his eyes glazed over and he dropped to the ground. That was much more fun than a stand-off between macho bastards.

Archer swung his weapon on her. “Whose side are you on?” he asked, his expression dark.

“Mine,” she answered honestly, enjoying the new appraisal that Archer was giving her. Perhaps he’d finally see her as more than something to keep his bed warm at night. “The Vulcans are firing again,” she reported casually as if she hadn’t just killed a man.

“Evasive maneuvers!” Archer ordered and Mayweather practically threw the helmsman out of his seat. “Kelby,” the captain said as he raised engineering on the comm, “I’ll take those weapons now.”

“You’ve got it, sir”

Hoshi caught Archer staring at her once more. Yes, whether or not she remained an ensign...she just got a promotion.

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

Trip’s mind was working frantically—though, in truth, he couldn’t remember what it was like to be relaxed anymore. The last torpedo had damaged the plasma exhaust ducts. Luckily the denotation didn’t ignite the drive plasma or else there would have been a pretty little fireworks show. Right now he didn’t have enough power for much of anything besides life support. But at least they had two good things going for them: the Enterprise didn’t seem to be firing at them anymore—most likely because they were disabled. Fortunately, despite the engine being offline, the pod was drifting slowly—agonizingly slowly—away from the crossfire between the two spaceships.

What Trip needed was that flash of inspired insight that earned him his reputation of being the most brilliant engineer in Starfleet. Repairing damaged exhaust ducts wasn’t something that he could do from inside the shuttlepod. If only…

“The Vulcan ship is retreating.” T’Pol’s statement, delivered with a calmness that he envied, interrupted Trip’s train of thought. Damn. Reed would probably come after them now and finish the job.

“We’re being hailed by Enterprise,” Hess announced. She sounded so hopeful. Trip shook his head. Poor girl. He considered not answering, sure it was Reed calling to gloat just before he turned them into space dust. In the end, it didn’t really matter. Finally he pressed the button to receive the transmission.

“Looking for a ride?” Trip blew out the breath he hadn’t realized that he was holding at the sound of Archer’s voice. He never thought he’d be this happy to talk to the captain.

“If it wouldn’t be any trouble,” he replied with a grin on his face. Trip glanced at Hess and saw relieved tears glistening in her eyes.

“We’ll be there in a few minutes. Archer out.”

“Let’s see if we can get the maneuvering thrusters online. I’ve had enough bumpy rides for one day,” he said to Hess. For the first time since they left on their ill-fated away mission, Trip saw Hess smile.

He couldn’t help but smile back.


Chapter Sixteen – Endings and Beginnings

It is done.

The sentence formed in her mind, casting all doubt from her. T’Pol had made her decision. It was illogical to dwell on it as the Human ship—the Enterprise—loomed before them, growing in the window as it approached the shuttlecraft. Whether or not her choice was a mistake, made in a moment when her emotions were too close to the surface, was irrelevant. There was no turning back now, no matter the apprehension that had taken residence in her bosom.

She could only go forward.

The blond head of Commander Tucker drew her attention. She studied him as he piloted the small craft. The effect that this Human had on her was disconcerting. It was irrational and overwhelming and… most pleasing. She felt a small flutter in her middle when, as if sensing her thoughts, he turned to face her and smiled. T’Pol took some comfort in the knowledge that she had the same unique effect on this being that she barely knew.

No, she corrected herself, not a stranger, not anymore.

“Hess,” Trip said, taking his eyes off of T’Pol to look at the other female. “Take over, will ya?” The young woman nodded mutely, apparently still suffering some distress. Trip patted Hess softly on the shoulder as he stood. T’Pol felt… uncomfortable with his open physical contact with the other Human. Another emotion tried to surface as well, one that she did not care to acknowledge.

His blue eyes were on her once more but the smile had faded from his lips. Without speaking, he ushered her gently to the rear of the small cabin, his hand to her back. She was wholly aware of his touch and it took a moment for her to notice that he’d gestured for her to take a seat on the unoccupied bench. Seeing no reason to resist, she obeyed. He squatted near her, placing a hand on her knee. She stared at it, fixated with the electric hum of his physical contact.

It had been entirely too long since she last meditated.

“A penny for your thoughts?” His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. T’Pol raised her eyes and found him smiling again, though this time with reserve.

“What is a ‘penny’?” Her inquiry was met with a soft chuckle.

Trip shook his head. “It’s a sayin’ that means ‘What are you thinkin’ about?’”

“I see.” An idiom. That, unfortunately, was something that was not part of her instruction during her study of the Terran language.

“I was contemplating my—“she stopped and amended, “our situation.” Trip ran his fingers along his scalp, mussing his hair. T’Pol refrained from reaching out and setting it right again. It was past time to meditate—long past.

“You and me both,” he replied with a small sigh. “I’ve gotta figure out how to explain you to the Cap’n.”

“Indeed.”

He gave her a searching look. “Got any special skills besides being a good kisser?” Her mortification must have been plain as his expression quickly changed from a leer to concern. “Hey, hey. I was just teasin’ ya a little, darlin’.” T’Pol felt relief wash over her. That her emotions were so close to the surface was disturbing.

“So, what are your specialties? I take it you’re not the type to sit around my cabin all day, waitin’ for me to come home at night.”

T’Pol pondered the question, deciding which skills would be most beneficial to the Human crew of the Enterprise—within reason. There were some abilities that she was not comfortable in revealing. “My specialties lie in the sciences, though I am proficient in some other areas as well.”

He smiled in response, evidently pleased with her answer. “Good.”

A question floated up in her mind and she hesitated, unsure that she wanted to know the answer yet. It nagged at her as he returned her gaze with that alluring smile. Finally she decided to ask despite her trepidation. “Are we to share living quarters?”

It was fascinating how many expressions could cross the Human’s face in a matter of seconds. First his eyes widened in what she believed to be surprise, followed closely by a thoughtful look where he sucked the insides of his cheeks. The expression he finally settled on was the familiar lecherous grin that she found disturbingly appealing.

“Well, I can’t say that the thought hasn’t crossed my mind,” he admitted, flicking his tongue across his lower lip. It was… distracting. “’Course, I understand if you need your space. That is if I can convince Archer to keep you.”

He was worried; it wasn’t difficult to read the concern on his features. T’Pol had thought about that possibility—that this Captain Archer would not be willing to integrate her into the crew; however, she was prepared to make herself invaluable. Before she could speak to Trip’s concerns the shuttlepod lurched with a clanging sound.

“The docking arm,” Trip explained as he stood. Her knee felt surprisingly cool where his touch disappeared. He reached a hand out to her which she took tentatively. “We’re home,” he announced with a smile that didn’t quite reach his blue eyes.

“Indeed.”

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

“Aw, hell.”

It wasn’t exactly the homecoming that Trip was expecting. Of course, it fit right in with the crappy day that he was already having, but he couldn’t help but be disappointed when he stepped out of the hatch of the shuttlepod only to be faced with the wrong end of a phase rifle… a phase rifle in the hands of Amanda Cole.

No, things were just not going his way today.

“We’re here to escort you to the captain,” Amanda announced, nodding to the other MACO at her side. She was giving Trip a glare that he was sure he didn’t deserve—but hell, he’d never pretended to understand women anyway. As if to punctuate that thought, he heard the recognizable delicate footsteps of T’Pol as she exited the shuttlepod behind him. He watched her as she stepped beside him, her face expressionless as she took in the scene.

If it were possible, and apparently it was, Amanda’s face hardened even further when she laid eyes on the petite Vulcan. Her full lips were tightened to a thin line when she returned that glower to his face. “Let’s go, Tucker,” she ordered in a cold voice. “The Vulcan comes too.”

Trip and T’Pol stepped forward and the other soldier swung back behind them, nudging the engineer none too gently in the direction of the shuttlebay doors. Amanda fell behind them as they passed. Trip bit back the tirade that threatened to erupt from his mouth. He was not about to pay for Reed’s unsuccessful coup if that’s what this was all about, but shouting at the two MACOs wouldn’t help. The last thing he needed was to give those trigger-happy soldiers an excuse to open fire. It would put T’Pol in danger and that must be avoided at all costs.

Funny thing, that. Two days ago he was looking for ways to get under her skin, and now… well, he still liked getting under her skin, but now he would die before he let anything happen to her. That was a damn good kiss to change a man like that. Trip shook his head. No, not just a good kiss—not even a great kiss—but a mind-blowing, off the charts, fireworks kiss.

I’ve turned into one huge walking hormone. The thought made him grimace.

“It appears that events are not transpiring as you desired,” T’Pol spoke, interrupting his thoughts. He opened his mouth to reply but was stopped when Amanda jabbed the butt of her rifle into T’Pol’s back, causing the alien to miss a step.

“No talking, Vulcan,” she sneered, spitting the last word like a vulgar curse. Within seconds Trip was on top of Amanda, pummeling the snot out of her pretty face. Well, in his mind he was anyway. That was something else he couldn’t do without endangering T’Pol—at least right now. Instead he glared back at her.

“That’s enough, Corporal Cole,” he said emphasizing her rank. She may be ‘escorting’ them but he was still a senior officer.

“That’s Sergeant Cole!” she snapped in return, her face reddening. Sergeant? Just what the hell happened in the three days that he was gone?

“Congratulations on your promotion,” he replied, not even attempting to sound pleasant. She had struck T’Pol after all. “I’m surprised that Hayes gave it to you so soon.” The implication was dripping in his tone and by the way her lips curled in a snarl, he knew she hadn’t missed it.

“I’d advise you to remain quiet as well, sir,” growled Amanda. The look she was giving him made him want to report to sickbay with stab wounds from all the invisible daggers flying from her eyes.

“So I’m assumin’ that you all fell on the right side of that little incident while I was away,” Trip said after walking a few minutes in tense silence. “Where is Hayes, anyway?”

Amanda gave him that thousand-flying-daggers look again. “It’s none of your business, Tucker, no matter how good you are in bed.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Trip noticed that T’Pol missed a step again, but this time not because of Amanda’s rifle. Trip hazarded a look in her direction and found her staring back at him with that all too familiar flicker in her eyes. Sonofabitch! He had to face the wrath of two women, one that he’d scorned and another he wanted as his lover—and maybe even more.

Could this day get any worse?

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

Everything was grey, shades of grey. Grey walls, grey floors and grey doors. T’Pol found the lack of color surprising considering how… lively Human personalities appeared to be. She had expected something brighter, more vibrant. It was intriguing that her ship, built by a people that spent their lives suppressing such whims of fancy that Humans seemed to invite, was more aesthetically appealing.

It was possible that her perception of Humans was skewed by her more intimate knowledge of Trip. He appeared to be more animated that the few other Humans that she had encountered so far. It was one of his more appealing attributes, oddly enough. His open displays of emotion were the antithesis to her stoic Vulcan nature and yet she found them fascinating. Certainly he must find her calm demeanor appealing in return. Of course he did. Of course his attraction had little to do with the way he would run his eyes over her petite form and dance his tongue across his lips. Of course.

“… no matter how good you are in bed.”

Those words surfaced in her mind, interrupting her pleasant musings and making her brow furrow. What did they mean? T’Pol strongly suspected that they had little to do with how well Trip slept. Was that female his companion, his bondmate? The glares the woman had given him did not appear to speak of affection, but T’Pol was woefully lacking in knowledge when it came to Human mating customs. What other surprises lay in wait for her?

Her jaw tightened in frustration as her speculations only led to more questions. She would need to speak with Trip privately. If he was planning to take her as a mate then he would have to take her as a Vulcan mate, regardless of his mating traditions. There was a limit to how far she was willing to compromise for this Human. And it was becoming just as apparent that there was a limit to how well she was able to suppress emotion without meditation. It took considerable effort not to turn around strike at the woman that would speak of her Human in such intimate tones.

Her Human? Meditation moved to the top of her priority list.

Suddenly they stopped in front of a grey door just as dull and uninteresting as every other door seen on their short journey, but different in the two soldiers standing guard to either side. Both wore sober a expression that would be agreeable on a Vulcan. One studiously ignored the group, continuing to survey the corridor in all directions, while the other pressed a button next to the door.

“Sir, Commander Tucker is here… with the Vulcan,” he announced. Why did Humans say her species’ name with such disdain? Another question for which she had no answer. Another question for Trip.

“Send them in.”

Within seconds the monochrome door slid open and T’Pol was roughly shoved into the room. Giving in to the un-Vulcan-like urge, she turned and fixed the female soldier with a cold stare, memorizing every detail of her face. The next time they met… she stifled the irrational thought. The next time they met, most likely T’Pol would have meditated and would have regained the ability to ignore the disagreeable female completely.

The door closed again and T’Pol turned her attention to the small room. It was as drab as the rest of the ship; the only reprieve from the monotonous grey was the display of various weaponry. Most were unfamiliar to her, daggers of unique design and size, and some projectile weapons—but she did recognize a Klingon bat’leth and surprisingly, a Vulcan lirpa.

“What’s with the warm welcome?” Trip asked in a displeased voice. His question drew her eyes to the man sitting behind the grey desk. She recognized the grim-faced man from her meld with Trip. He was Jonathan Archer, Captain of the ISS Enterprise. He stared back at the two of them, his hand fingering the scar on his throat as he studied Trip. When his hard eyes turned to her his mouth contorted into an unpleasant sneer.

When Archer spoke, he spread his arms and leaned back into his chair with a smile that only touched his lips. “I can’t be too careful these days, can I?” The darkness in his eyes belied the light tones in his voice. When neither she nor Trip made a comment, Archer dropped his arms and leaned forward. “What did you think I would do when you brought one of them on board?” He jabbed a finger at T’Pol.

Perhaps convincing this captain that he needed her was not going to be as simple as she had anticipated. Her confidence level dropped minutely.

“Her name is T’Pol,” replied Trip. She looked at him and saw the muscles in his jaw tightening. A familiar redness began to darken his face. He was going to become volatile and she would need to prevent the explosion that was sure to follow.

“She’s pretty, Trip,” Archer commented. He was studying her, his expression unreadable. “Hell, I’d even say she was beautiful—if she weren’t a Vulcan.” He turned his gaze to Trip. “I’ll be damned if I take some Vulcan onboard just so you can get laid every day.”

T’Pol was unfamiliar with the term ‘get laid’ but it was plain from Trip’s reaction that the phrase was derogatory. His face darkened further and he bared his teeth as if he were a wild sehlat about to strike. It was the same expression he’d worn just before he shot Koss.

“I am capable of defending my honor,” she spoke in a low voice, placing a placating hand on his arm. Before he could argue, as he invariably would, she turned her attention on Captain Archer. “It is impossible to offend me,” she explained coldly, receiving a snort from the Human. She took an imposing step forward. “However, if you continue to upset Commander Tucker further, I will regrettably be forced to demonstrate the superiority of Vulcan physiology.”

Archer ran his eyes over her small frame, a half-smile curling the corner of his mouth. Undoubtedly he was forming an inaccurate opinion of her ability to act. “Is that so?” His eyes remained on her for a moment longer and then with a dismissive grunt, he turned back to Trip. “I don’t keep whores on my ship.”

The blond engineer took a stride forward, his hands clenched in tight fists—so tight that his knuckles turned white. “No, you just make them your communication officers,” he accused through gritted teeth.

His claim made little sense to T’Pol, but evidently it had great meaning to Archer as the same red hue of rage colored the captain's severe features. “At least I have sense enough to stick to my own species instead of looking for it in a filthy Vulcan bitch—or is that all you can get these days?”

Now that T’Pol understood and she reacted with quiet speed. In an instant she had stepped around the desk and was behind Archer. She wrenched her arm up his back in an uncomfortable angle and firmly pushed his torso against the top of the desk.

“I warned you,” she said calmly as Archer struggled against her unsuccessfully. “I am a deserter,” she explained with surprising ease. Odd that it was this moment that she realized how fully she accepted her decision. “Commander Tucker and I have not engaged in sexual relations. If we had it would not be your concern.”

Archer barked a disbelieving laugh. She jerked his arm again, causing him to grunt. It gave her enough time to retrieve the small crystal disk from a small pocket in her uniform—something that she refused to leave the V’Laran without despite Trip’s rushing. Placing her elbow against the captain’s back to keep him restrained, she held the disk in front of his eyes. “I am an accomplished scientist, among other things, and this,” she waved the small item, “is a copy of the Vulcan database. As a member of your crew I would be obligated to turn it over to you. Otherwise, as a Vulcan I must destroy it in order to keep it from falling into your hands.”

His eyes were mesmerized by the disk, thoughtfulness washing over his face. “Let me up,” he finally demanded. When she hesitated he growled at her. “I said let me up, dammit!”

She released him and with the same earlier swiftness returned to Trip’s side. Archer straightened, rubbing his shoulder and fixing her with a threatening glare.

“I don’t like having my hand forced,” he snarled as he fingered the scar on his throat once more. “How do I know that disk is what you say it is?”

“It would be illogical for me to lie.” Archer rolled his eyes with doubt. Perhaps logic would not be enough for this Human. T’Pol suppressed a sigh. “Make me a member of your crew and I will give you the disk for verification. If it is not what I say it is, then I’m sure that you will act accordingly.”

As the captain mulled his decision over, T’Pol took the opportunity to glance at Trip. He was wearing an expression that seemed to mix shock and pride. She found his reaction illogically pleasing.

“All right, give it to me. I lost my science officer recently.” Archer left something unsaid and T’Pol was sure that the loss was related to some mutiny that had transpired on the ship. As she handed him the disk, he grabbed her hand. She wanted to recoil from the oily feeling his touch gave her. “Don’t think for a minute that I won’t have you watched. One step out of line and I’ll toss you both out of the nearest airlock.”

“I expect no less,” she replied in a tone as cool as his.

Trip spoke up, “Well, now that we’re all one big happy family, I guess I’ll go show T’Pol her quarters now.”

“She can have Reed’s quarters,” Archer waved a dismissive hand, his eyes were on the disk. “He won’t be needing them anymore.”

Trip placed a hand on the small of her back and ushered her toward the door. She found his touch comforting, calming after the repugnancy of Archer. Before they had taken more than a step, Archer stopped them.

“Wait.” They both turned to face him. He shifted his gaze between Trip and T’Pol, appearing wary. “Debriefing at oh-eight-hundred tomorrow, Commander. Dismissed.”

T’Pol raised an eyebrow as she left. So, she was still not to know of this secret mission in Vulcan space even now that she was a member of the Human crew. She found her curiosity piqued even further. It was illogical, but then again much of her logic seemed to have left her since she’d met Commander Tucker.

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

“Here it is.”

Finally. It had taken them far longer than Trip liked to get to this destination. Their first delay had been sickbay, a reluctant decision of Trip’s after seeing T’Pol wrinkle her nose several times. She was stuck on a ship full of smelly humans and there was no point in forcing her to deal with it if Phlox could help, despite his unease around the doctor.

Phlox, for his part, was far too excited at the prospect of studying Vulcan physiology. He was more than eager to help, even offering to remove T’Pol’s olfactory nerves entirely. It was an offer that she calmly declined, showing none of the disgust that Trip felt. In short order, the doctor had managed to create some nasal inhibitors and Trip hurried them toward the doors as soon as that was taken care of.

Unfortunately he didn’t hurry fast enough. Phlox stopped him with a suggestion that Trip let him take care of ‘that ugly bruise’ on his cheek. That made the bile in his stomach rise. The doctor didn’t like his grand experiment to be marred in any way. He often complained about the scar Trip purposely kept on his cheek. Good old Doctor Frankenstein’s concern for his monster. Trip shook his head and they left Phlox muttering something about sentimental Humans.

The next unavoidable stop was at the quartermasters. T’Pol had brought nothing but the clothing she was wearing, and being a member of the crew now, she would need a uniform. Unlike the doctor, the quartermaster was less than thrilled about helping out a Vulcan, his prejudice as plain as the sun on a clear day. Trip came close to threatening bodily harm to get the man to comply. In the end they walked away with some Starfleet issue necessities and a promise that tailor-made clothing would be produced quickly. Trip was sure that he’d have to toss a few more threats around to get that promise fulfilled in a timely manner.

The last delay was Reed’s quarters—T’Pol quarters—only three doors down from his own. Trip wasn’t all that surprised that Hoshi had been the one to do the security officer in. The whispers on the ship were that the comm officer was double dipping with Reed and Archer and it had been only a matter of time until one of them got the sharp end of her dagger. No, what was unexpected was that she had killed him with surprising finesse, on the bridge at the climax of his mutiny falling apart. Trip wished he’d been there to see it.

Once they crossed the threshold into T’Pol’s new quarters it was clear right away that they were unsuitable. The cabin was still filled with the dead man’s belongings. Trip thought Archer had an impressive collection of weapons, but the Captain had nothing on Reed. There were some things in the room that could only be defined as torture devices, very disturbing torture devices. It was certainly not a place for T’Pol to spend the night. After a few calls, Trip had it set up to clear the cabin out the next day. He tried gallantly to appear disappointed that she would have to spend the night with him but he failed miserably.

Now here they were in front of his quarters. Trip pressed the code to unlock the door, feeling anticipation rise as the door slid to the side. His mind was already working on a way to get another one of those soul-melting kisses—hopefully more.

One glance at the disheveled state of his quarters sobered him up quickly. There were clothes all over the floor, PADDs scattered over his desk and a few little projects that he’d been tinkering with sitting at the foot of his bed. T’Pol looked around the room with a raised eyebrow.

“Sorry about the mess,” he apologized with an embarrassed grin. She inclined her head and wrinkled her nose. “Those nasal inhibitors not workin’?”

“They appear to work just fine. It seemed a suitable place to test them.”

“If you want a real test,” Trip said as he hurriedly picked up clothing, “I can take ya to the ship’s gym.”

“Perhaps another time.”

There was silence as he hastily made his cabin a little cleaner. Every so often he would steal a glance at T’Pol who stood near the door watching. It seemed surreal that she was there in his room. Just a few short hours ago, he hadn’t believed it was possible and yet here she was. At least the day was going to end well. Very well.

“Well, that’s that,” he said when he finished. He plopped down on the bed and patted the space next to him. T’Pol made no move to join him. “Okay. I guess we can get the sleepin’ arrangements squared away pretty quickly. You’ll take the bed and I’ll take the floor.”

“These are your quarters. The floor is more than adequate for my needs.”

Trip looked at her and knew there was no way in hell that he was going to let her sleep on the deck plating. “I don’t think so. The bed is yours.”

“My presence is… unexpected. It would be illogical for you to give up your bed.”

“Are you… are you arguing with me about this?” he asked incredulously, frustration causing him to rise. “This is my place and you’re not sleeping on the floor.”

“You are being irrational.”

“Irrational?” Trip took a step closer. Irrational?

“Yes, irrational,” she replied in that damned calm voice, moving towards him as well.

“Darlin’, you don’t want to see me when I’m irrational,” he returned menacingly. How could such a tiny, beautiful woman push all of his buttons? He grabbed her shoulders firmly, his proximity to her causing her to have to raise her head to meet his eyes. Somehow she managed to make him feel like she was looking down on him. Irrational!?

“Listen,” he explained in his best because-I’m-the-damn-boss-that’s-why voice, “you’re takin’ the bed and that’s final!”

“No.”

Trip almost shook her. “No?” His jaw tightened.

T’Pol opened her mouth, probably to present some other rational and logical argument, but he was on the brink of exploding. So he shut her up the best way he knew how: He planted his lips over hers. The muscles in her back went taut under his hands, but he wasn’t about to concede the point just yet, deepening the kiss further instead. His persistence paid off when only a heartbeat later she leaned into him and a half a breath after that she was returning the kiss with hunger. Her fingers danced through his hair in that way that made delicious chills tingle down his spine.

Trip had thought after kissing her the first time that it was like licking a live conduit but this…this was like lying in the middle of the warp core itself, the hair on his body threatening to stand on end with the incredible electric current that passed between them. It was beyond anything he had experienced before and he wanted more—he needed more. She parted her lips to allow his probing tongue entry and he moaned softly in her mouth, but it still wasn’t enough. He wanted her, he needed her—he ached for her.

Lost in the haze of passion, Trip didn’t feel T’Pol’s delicate fingers move from his hair to his face at first. It was when they rested on the familiar points along his temple and jaw that coherent thought finally surfaced. He shoved her away, despite his body’s protest at the loss of physical contact. Anger and betrayal overwhelmed the hormones coursing through his veins.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doin’!?” he demanded furiously.

T’Pol blinked at him looking… confused? No way. No damn way! There was no mistaking where her fingers were.

“Don’t look at me like that!” he snapped at her. “I’m not stupid, T’Pol. What the hell was that about?”

This time she looked… upset? Damn it was hard reading a Vulcan’s expression sometimes. “I apologize. It was… instinct, my action.”

“So what, you mind meld just before you…” Trip let the words trail off. He wasn’t exactly sure what was going to happen between them tonight.

“Not exactly,” she replied. He waited for her to explain further, crossing his arms. Before she spoke, her eyes darted to the bed. Was that longing he saw in her eyes? Certainly not. That was just his hormones trying to regain control. “The mating bond—“ she cut off, drawing a deep breath. “The marriage bond is far more complicated than a simple mind meld—“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Trip cut her off. Marriage? Did she just say marriage bond? “Don’t you think that’s a little fast for only knowin’ each other for three days?”

Her eyebrow climbed her forehead. “I am unfamiliar with Human mating customs but Vulcans are typically betrothed in childhood and rarely meet before they are to be bonded for life. From my perspective it is not so hasty a step.” She glanced at the bed again with that same expression, almost making him lose his train of thought. Snap out of it Trip! He berated himself.

“Well, darlin’, we Humans prefer to get to know someone real well before we make a lifetime commitment.” Marriage after only three days—most of which had been spent as her prisoner? It was ridiculous. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. After kisses like that, I don’t know that I’ll ever want another woman, but… marriage?”

“Be that as it may, if you wish to be my mate then it is necessary to do it the Vulcan way.”

“Necessary? You’ve got to be kiddin’ me. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna be the one bendin’ over backwards here.” That flicker flashed across her eyes. Well, fine. She can get cranky if she wants to.

“I am willing to compromise, when it is possible. I assure you that it is not possible in this case.”

“All right, explain exactly why it’s necessary for this marriage… this marriage thing to happen before we can…” Her eyes finished the sentence for him as they drifted to the bed once more. He wished she wouldn’t do that. Despite his anger and frustration, he still wanted her and every time she looked at the bed his hormones threatened to overwhelm him.

“If we were to mate without the bond, it is likely that it will eventually endanger the females onboard this ship.”

Trip stared at her. What the hell was that supposed to mean? “What!?”

“Vulcans have emotions, Trip—“ Damn time for her to actually start using his name! “—they are extremely volatile, more so than Human emotions—much more so. We must suppress them to keep from destroying ourselves and those around us.”

“Okay, what does this have to do with endangerin’ the other women on the ship?”

“If you would allow me to finish, I will explain it to you.” Trip had the nagging feeling that this was going to be a long explanation. He leaned against the wall, nodding for her to go on. T’Pol’s chest rose in a deep, silent breath. “A bond is similar to a mind meld. In fact often there are residual effects from a mind meld that are similar to a bond. That is how you found my quarters on the V’Laran.”

“Are you sayin’ that we had some kind of psychic connection?”

“That is a simplistic description, but yes. A bond would permanently link our minds.”

“Wait a minute, permanent? You mean you’d always be in my head?”

“And you would always be a presence in mine. There are techniques I can teach you to make the… invasion minimal.” Again her attention turned briefly to the bed. He had the urge to lick his lips, his body responding in anticipation. Visions danced through his mind of what he’d like to do with her on that bed, attempting to trample what little hold he had on rational thought.

“Stop looking at the bed!” Trip bellowed in frustration. “I can’t think when you do that!” Her eyes snapped to his and she looked surprised, as if she didn’t know that she’d been doing it. Dammit! Knowing it was subconscious did nothing to quell his hormones. In fact knowing that she had sex on the brain made him want to relieve her of her clothing right now—bond be damned. Trip shook his head, trying to regain control of his higher brain functions. His restraint was tenuous at best.

“What…” he cleared his throat, his tongue felt thick. “I still don’t see why having this bond has anything to do with the other gals on the ship.”

“You don’t?” T’Pol stared at him with an obvious disbelief. She thought he should know. She thought he should know! Well, if she’d stop looking at his damn bed like that maybe he could figure it out. What had she told him so far? Vulcans have extremely volatile emotions that they must suppress or else it destroys them and a bond would be a permanent psychic link between the two of them. Nope. Nothing that made any sense anyway.

“Sorry, you lost me.”

Another silent sigh escaped her full lips. “One of the most volatile emotions for Vulcans is jealousy.”

“Yeah, but you suppress it, right?”

“Among other Vulcans it is not difficult to suppress emotions. Your ways are very… alien to me.” She took another deep breath. “Before today I have never experienced jealousy. I am able to suppress it, but the fact that it has surfaced concerns me.”

“Oh.” Understanding struck him like lightening. “You don’t trust me, then.”

“Trip,” she said in exasperated tones. Did she just roll her eyes? “This isn’t about trust. It is my nature, my Vulcan nature.”

Trip sucked the inside of his cheeks. Why couldn’t things just go nicely now? Why couldn’t he just make mad, passionate love to her without it being so complicated? If he didn’t know better, he’d think the universe was conspiring against him. His head was starting to ache.

“So what you’re saying is we have two options.” He held up a finger. “One, we sleep together without this bond and you might go crazy and attack every woman that looks at me.” He raised another finger. “Or two, we get hitched, save the women on the ship but we’re stuck in each other’s heads for the rest of our lives.”

“There is a third option,” she replied. Trip felt a pinprick of hope. “We could simply choose not to mate at all. However, without a compelling reason to stay, I would most likely find a way to leave the ship as soon as possible.” The pinprick changed to a kick in the gut. So much for the third option.

Groaning, Trip rubbed his eyes. He muttered a few curses under his breath. He just couldn’t win today. He ran the alternatives through his mind. The not ‘mating’ choice wasn’t even in the running—his ferocious attraction to her saw to that. Marriage—no, that was out of the question, not after only three days. But she did seem worried that she might freak out without the bond and she couldn’t be lying about that, could she? No, lying about that didn’t seem logical.

“Sonofabitch!”

“Have you made a decision?”

“Hold on, now! You gave me a lot to chew on. You can’t expect me to make a decision just like that,” he snapped his fingers. “I mean, we’re talkin’ about bein’ stuck together for the rest of our lives. Are you even sure you wanna be stuck with an irrational, illogical Human bein’?”

“I made my decision when I chose to come with you.”

Her words felt like a bucket of cold water dousing him. He stared at her. She wanted to be his… wife? She made that choice when she walked out the door of her quarters with him? The ache in his head grew as conflict rattled him. It was flattering that she was ready to make such a commitment to him—hell, it was far more than flattering. But his Human nature balked at the thought of making the commitment so quickly. And this bond… being in each other’s minds… Dammit! Would she just stop staring at the bed so he can sort things out!?

“It would seem that you need more time to consider,” she said with one last long glance at the bed. “If you don’t mind, I would like to bathe.”

“Sure, the bathroom’s in there,” he muttered, waving a hand towards the small room. He plopped down on the bed and rested his head between his hands. That headache was really coming on strong now. He hoped it wouldn’t get bad enough to warrant a visit to sickbay. Now wouldn’t that just be the icing on the cake?

There was an unmistakable sound of a zipper being undone. Trip looked up to find T’Pol shrugging out of her Vulcan uniform, her back was to him. He gaped as she pushed her clothing to her waist. His mouth went suddenly dry and it was a moment before he could find his voice. Her skin is so smooth. The tenuous hold he had on his restraint just became as slippery as an eel. “T’Pol, what are you doing?”

She looked over her shoulder at him; her hands paused at her hips. “I am disrobing.”

“Here?” he swallowed.

“Where else?”

“I just thought…ah…” He licked his lips. “I thought you’d change in the bathroom, for… y’know… privacy.”

She cocked her head every so slightly. “There is no need for privacy. I assume that no matter the decision you make, the final result would lead to us mating.” She began to pull her uniform down again as she spoke. “Does this make you uncomfortable?”

Trip closed his eyes. Uncomfortable? In a manner of speaking it did—in the way he liked. A grin began to spread his lips. So, she assumed they were going to ‘mate’ despite what his decision would be? At least they were on the same wavelength there.

He opened his eyes again and almost jumped off the bed. Her back no longer to him, she stood before him, fully nude now, with a raised eyebrow. He blinked in surprise. Well hell, if she was going to show off, then he would be damned if he wasn’t going to appreciate it. His gaze took in every inch of her, from her full bosom to her taut stomach to her… He was only barely aware of his tongue pushing the inside of his cheek in appreciation. Goddamn, she was more than he imagined. A hell of a lot more.

“Is it always gonna be like this?” he asked as he slowly stood.

“Like what?”

“You backin’ me into a corner until you get what you want?” He gave her another appraising look and suddenly realized, why not? Would it be so bad to be stuck with her as a wife? Was it really that big of a deal to share his mind with her? She already knew his deepest secret.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Her expression was so innocent that Trip threw back his head and laughed.

“Like hell you don’t!” He placed his hands on her shoulders, gently caressing her silky skin before pulling her to him. She smelled damn good for needing a shower, like an exotic spice.

Yes, he could live with this for the rest of his life.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear before kissing it softly. “Let’s bond, darlin’”

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

He made a strange sound as he slept, this Human. Her Human. T’Pol lay wrapped in a tangled heap with him on the floor, her hand gently exploring his muscular chest. The contact was no less powerful than the first time she’d touched his bare skin, but it didn’t threaten to overwhelm her with burning desire—at least not as strongly as before they’d consummated their relationship. Her appetite was still not fully sated, but her mate needed rest. He hadn’t agreed, saying something about being able to ‘go all night,’ but there was no denying the fatigue she felt from him through their bond.

It was intriguing. She had not expected that the bond could be so strong with a Human. Bonds varied from couple to couple with Vulcans, but Humans had no telepathic ability. She hadn’t even been sure that it was possible for more than a one-sided connection. When she felt the force of his mind in hers she had been surprised, pleasantly surprised, and overwhelmed. His mind was intense, a swirling mix of ever changing thoughts and emotions. She would need to teach him shielding techniques soon, but for now she enjoyed the chaos that he brought. It was so… different from the calm order of her mind.

There were other benefits from their strong link as well—very pleasing benefits. She allowed her mind to recall the few hours before he had fallen asleep. Remembering the way he ran his hands all over her body, feeling his awe at her beauty, his growing hunger for her. Her own need fed on his, spiraling upward to destroy all rational reasoning until waves of ecstasy washed over them both. Recalling the moment he realized that he was her first, which resulted in another moment of growing passion. Even as she relived those intense hours, she felt the burn begin to grow in her middle.

He shifted in his sleep, turning into her soft touch, and mumbled something incoherent. She studied his face, noting how the hard lines seemed to soften as he slept. Contentment was the only emotion that he was emitting now and it made her pull herself closer to him, intensifying their connection. There was no doubt that she had made the correct choice. She shivered slightly at the thought of whom she had chosen him over. The image of Koss, enraged with hatred as he assaulted her mind, flashed before her eyes. Her shaking intensified and she attempted to smother the memory.

“Darlin’?” Trip’s groggy voice whispered in her ear. His eyes fluttered open, filled with concern. “What’s the matter?” he asked, raising himself up on his elbow.

“I am fine,” she lied. It wasn’t completely untrue—she would be fine once she meditated.

“No, you’re not,” his said as alarm flooded the bond. “You’re thinking about that bastard, Koss!”

“It was unintentional. I did not mean to distress you.”

“What the hell are you apologizin’ for?” His anger almost overtook her. There was something else… fear. Fear for her well-being. “What did he do to you?”

Before she could answer, he picked up the memory that was at the surface of her mind. His face darkened and the bond burned with the fury and outrage that was swelling within him as well as… guilt. Guilt? Why would he feel guilt?

As if hearing that thought—perhaps he had—Trip answered, “Because I should’ve gotten to you sooner. Before…” he paused as another surge of rage pulsed through their link, “…before he could do that to you.”

“Your guilt is not logical,” she explained. For some reason she found deep comfort in his need to protect her. “You could not have known what his intentions were.”

“Damn your logic!” he snapped. “I should’ve been there. If I’d only listened to that… residual effect sooner…” He left the sentence unfinished. “I’m sorry, T’Pol.”

His guilt was confusing and she did not know how to make him understand that it was misplaced. “He is dead, Trip.” She said the words as much to assure herself as to placate him. Koss is dead. He can no longer damage her.

Trip wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. The guilt still lingered in his mind, but there was a swelling of affection now. It soothed her like a healing balm and in that moment she wondered how she had managed without him before.

I feel the same way, darlin’.

She looked up at him when she felt that thought in her mind and found him smiling down at her. “This is gonna take some gettin’ used to,” he said.

“Indeed.”

He chuckled softly. “I guess that means there won’t be any secrets between us.”

“Perhaps now you will tell me why you were deep in Vulcan space.” His smile dropped and his body stiffened in response to the suspicion that trickled through the bond.

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not? I am a member of this crew now.” She opened herself more fully to him in an attempt to show that her intentions were not nefarious.

“Nice try,” he snorted. “But you’re not officially Starfleet. You’re a civilian consultant. Even if you were an officer, you don’t have the security clearance.” His mind was guarded, but she sensed there was another reason that he refused to answer her question. Something to do with how she might react if she found out. Intriguing.

“I am merely curious. What could be so important that you were willing to face torture over it?” Again she sent assurance across the link between them.

He shook his head. “T’Pol—“

“I could perform another mind-meld.”

His face radiated with the shock she felt from him, as well as anger. “I’ll throw your ass in the brig if you do!”

T’Pol knew that she should not rise to the bait he seemed to constantly lay before her when they argued, but it was too tempting. “Not if you cannot recall the mind-meld.”

This time he sat up all the way. “Why you—!” he cut off when he suddenly realized that she had no intention of melding with him. His eyes narrowed in accusation. “I can’t believe you did that—let me think you’d do somethin’ like that.”

“I merely stated what I could do, not what I intended. You drew your own conclusions.” Inexplicably, she found the realization that their miscommunication continued despite the bond illogically pleasing.

Yeah, it’s kinda fun when we fight, isn’t it?

Indeed.

“I am still curious,” she stated as he smiled again. With their bond, it was inevitable that some of his thoughts would slip and eventually she would learn the answer. It would be preferable if he would tell her now.

“Dammit, woman! Get your logic outta my head!” He demanded, though amusement laced his words. He studied her face for a long moment and surprisingly all she could sense were half formed thoughts. “Y’know, there’s an old sayin’ where I come from. ‘You get more flies with honey than with vinegar.’”

T’Pol was momentarily confused, the phrase making no sense to her, but soon she saw the image of a small, flying insect in her mind. Suddenly she tasted the sweet flavor of what she now knew to be honey, followed by the bitter, acrid taste of vinegar. The analogy was clear now.

“You’re catching my drift, now, darlin’,” he laughed as she sent an impression of how she might convince him to divulge that secret. His laughter was a pleasing sound but she was more pleased when it cut off suddenly with a gasp as she began to demonstrate exactly what her plans were.

Y’know, I think I could fall in love with you right now, wife.

Wife. She paused when the thought touched her mind. Wife. That word gave her an irrational, overwhelming feeling of contentment. In fact, she could say that it made her… happy.

And I, you, t’hyla.

Those were the last coherent thoughts they shared before they felt the burn of desire swell and crash over them, losing themselves to their mutual passion once more.


Epilogue – Questions Answered

Archer stared at the door as it slid shut with a soft hiss. He grunted as he rubbed his chin. Debriefing Tucker had gone pretty much as he had expected. The mission was a bust. What was annoying was how content the young engineer seemed. Archer hadn’t seen him like this since… well, since before the accident. Actually, that wasn’t true. Tucker had never been this content. During the debriefing, his first officer’s expression would often change to amusement despite reporting an absolute failure. If Archer wasn’t sure that the Vulcan had something to do with Tucker’s demeanor, he might have suspected that the younger man had been happy that the mission had failed.

But that wasn’t possible.

The two men may not see eye to eye, they might have an uneasy alliance, but there was no suspicion in Archer’s mind that Tucker was a spy for the likes of Admiral Black—no matter the insinuations that Reed had made about more being on the ship. The young engineer’s hatred for Reed was all too real. After all, it was Reed that had tried to kill him in the first place.

No, Tucker was not a spy.

Archer blew out a loud sigh. Now he had the unfortunate task of contacting Admiral Forrest and reporting the failure of the mission. At least the Vulcans had never learned what it was. If they had… Well, no use getting worked up over something that hadn’t happened.

“Hoshi!” the captain barked as he pressed the button to the comm.

“Sato here.”

“Get me Admiral Forrest.”

“Yes, sir.”

As he waited, Archer thought of what piece of bad news to drop first. Reed’s mutiny? Hmmm… maybe it was better not to bring up that one at all. The admiral would find out soon enough, but explaining that as well as explaining taking on a Vulcan crew member after the failure of the mission might put Archer in a dangerous position. Forrest might just decide that the captain wasn’t worth his protection.

Dammit! It was supposed to have been a simple mission. Go to the coordinates and pick up a cloaking device as well as information about the Vulcans—damning information about their plans to attack the empire. Archer snorted in disgust. It was information that was missing from the database that T’Pol had given him, but that didn’t mean it didn’t exist.

T’Pol.

Archer didn’t trust the petite Vulcan, no matter how much she proclaimed that she was a deserter. He should have killed her after taking the disk, but that would have been the end of any alliance with Tucker. Not that he needed it anymore with Reed out of the picture… but still, the engineer had almost killed him once. There was no telling how Tucker would react if he lost his little Vulcan. It was better to just watch her for now, keep her close and if she was a spy… well, that was something he’d be happy to take care of.

“Sato to Archer.”

“Yes.”

“I have the admiral for you, sir.”

“Patch it through, en… Lieutenant,” he replied, almost forgetting the promotion he’d given her. It was well deserved after the way she’d handled Reed, and the celebratory sex afterward… Archer grinned widely. He was sure he’d never underestimate Hoshi again.

The symbol of the empire winked out on his monitor, replaced by the grim face of Admiral Forrest. The man never looked anything other than grim, but then again, neither did anyone else who had been in Starfleet long enough to have to fight for their promotions and defend their positions.

“Archer,” the admiral said in greeting. “You’re a little late, aren’t you?”

“Let’s just say something came up that required my immediate attention and leave it at that.”

“Yes, I’ve heard about that. Admiral Black is rumored to be throwing temper tantrums,” replied Forrest with a hint of amusement—dark amusement. Archer grimaced. So much for avoiding any discussion of the mutiny. Forrest spoke before he could explain, “We’ll talk about that later. Right now I want a report of the mission.”

“You should have known better than to trust aliens that refuse to show their faces,” sneered the captain. He wasn’t going to take all the blame if he could help it.

“The Romulans claim that they don’t have the ability to transmit video with their communications.”

“Likely story,” snorted Archer.

“It’s not your job to question your superiors, Captain,” growled the admiral. “Now report.”

Stifling the urge to sigh, Archer explained the failure of the mission, watching with growing dread as Forrest’s face darkened with each word. The man turned almost purple with rage when he got to the part about Tucker bringing back a Vulcan—a Vulcan that Archer had made a member of the crew.

It was an hour later when Forrest’s voice became hoarse from yelling that the connection mercifully ended. By then Archer had a growing migraine. His position in the admiral’s good graces was shaky now, and he was going to have to make himself invaluable again.

In the meantime, it was time to head back to Jupiter station for a new weapons refit. At least Archer couldn’t fail with that order.

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

She stood on the vast balcony, resting her hands on the warm carved stone rail. Before her lay the vista of a rolling red desert, broken only by the rising peak of Mount Seleya in the distance. It was uncommonly quiet for this time of day. Usually there were others bustling about with business in the large office that lay through the double doors behind her—but not right now. She had sent them away with an understanding that she was not to be disturbed for at least an hour. The quiet was soothing and she had much to think about.

There was a soft click as one of the doors unlatched, but Chancellor T’Pau chose not to move, continuing to study the vast, barren sands.

“It has not been an hour yet,” she said in cool tones.

“I apologize, Chancellor, but we have just received the latest report from the V’laran.” She recognized the voice of her assistant, Kov. The young Vulcan often had only a tenuous control on his emotions, but he was surprisingly insightful—his advice had always been crucial to her success as a leader.

She turned to face the portly Vulcan and held out her hand. He placed the data pad he had been holding in it and with a slight incline of his head began to walk away. “No, stay.” A faint trace of a smile graced his lips as he obeyed. What had pleased him in that moment she couldn’t say, and it was illogical to attempt to speculate.

The information in the report was lengthy and detailed, as it should be, but there were only three points that were important to her. The Human captives had escaped, Commander Koss was dead, and Sub-Commander T’Pol was missing, presumably taken hostage by the Humans. Not a pleasing report at all.

She looked up at Kov, who was still smiling, and asked, “Have you read this?” She already knew the answer, but formality must be observed even if it was just the pretense of it.

He inclined his head. “I have. We haven’t received a report from the… other ship yet. It would be illogical to act without that information.”

T’Pau turned her gaze back to the burning landscape. She felt regret. It was an emotion that she should not have allowed herself to indulge in, but she had known Sub-Commander T’Pol. Would it not be proper to grieve for one that had sacrificed everything without knowing the importance of it? The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one. The young chancellor was sure that T’Pol would have understood.

Inhaling deeply, T’Pau suppressed her regret and turned to face her assistant once more. His expression was more befitting a Vulcan now as he studied her.

“Chancellor?”

“It would seem that now we must wait.”

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

A year ago, two events transpired that irrevocably altered the life of Commander Charles “Trip” Tucker the third. The first, and more tragic in his opinion, was the death of his younger sister, Lizzie Tucker. She had died during a transport accident while on her way to the lunar colony. Lizzie had given up a lucrative offer at one of the biggest architect firms to become a philanthropist. The lunar colony was to be the first of many places that Lizzie would be designing and building housing for the more destitute members of the empire.

In a matter of seconds she was gone. When Trip got the message from his mother he felt as if he lost the ability to breathe. She was so young and full of life… and so compassionate. Her death was nothing more than a brief story in the news feeds, the accident downplayed in order to keep the people’s faith in the Empire’s interstellar public transportation system.

Less than two months after that tragedy, Trip went to work one morning and woke up several days later in sickbay with the memories of a clone swirling in his mind. Try as he might, he couldn’t completely shut away Sim’s memories, thoughts and feelings. Sim had seen the universe through different eyes, eyes that saw past all the Empire’s propaganda, eyes that saw flaws in the system… eyes that Trip had inherited. He found that he was no longer passionate about serving the Empire, that he no longer believed Starfleet was the embodiment of all that was great and powerful.

The boy who had such great and unrealistic dreams finally grew up.

How the reformists had discovered the change in his sympathies he never found out, but it was only a month after nearly killing Archer that he was approached with a mission. He accepted without reluctance. It was nothing more than supplying the reformists with information about Enterprise’s more top secret assignments. Gradually the requests required more effort from him, sometimes meeting other agents covertly and often monitoring communications between Archer and Forrest.

His latest mission was the most dangerous of all, and he nearly failed when the V’Laran showed up and captured him. Trip had been willing to die to keep his secret. His commitment to the reformation was now as ardent as his love for the Empire had once been.

Romulans, Trip snorted. He’d never heard of such aliens. They probably did exist if the Vulcans said they did, but it wasn’t Romulans that had contacted Admiral Forrest.

Trip glanced at the set of crystal disks that sat on his desk. Despite their innocuous appearance, they were deadly for Trip to have in his possession. If the Vulcans had learned what he had hidden under their noses… the outcome would have been as bad as if Archer had learned it. What he had said to T’Pol days ago was correct; the Vulcans would never have let him go if he told them the answer to that question: What was he doing in Vulcan space?

On those little disks was the full Vulcan database, the information on them only accessible by the upper echelons in the Vulcan government. They had everything from the locations of all Vulcan ships to the secret listening post hidden beneath the P’Jem monastery. It was information that they would take deadly action to keep out of a Human’s hands.

Ironically, it was the Vulcans who had given it to him willingly… just as he had left hidden on that moon a copy of the terran database. The swap was the last act of good faith in the covert alliance between Vulcans and Humans. It was the catalyst to start a chain of events that would lead to a major shift in power in this corner of space.

The final plans were also on those disks… plans to overthrow the Emperor’s government with the help of the Vulcans. In return, the Humans would help subdue the Andorians, who had been a thorn in the pointy-eared aliens’ sides for more than a century. Right now the Empire had a tenuous alliance with the Andorians and if someone discovered that sitting on Trip’s desk was a strategy for a large scale attack against them…

He would be glad when they were no longer in his hands.

Earlier in the day, Trip had assigned himself the repairs on the shuttlepod. Normally he would have left the task to someone like Biggs, but he needed an excuse to get to the small craft without raising any eyebrows.

Once alone in the launching bay, he had removed an exterior panel that had fortunately escaped damaged. Deep inside were the disks, safe from the searches of those officers aboard the V’Laran. Not all Vulcans knew of the growing alliance yet and wouldn’t know until everything had been confirmed.

He had placed the disk in a hidden compartment in his tool kit before getting on with the repairs to the shuttlepod. Now they sat on his desk awaiting their next journey.

It was time to contact the admiral.

He activated a program that he had written in order to mask any communications he made from his quarters. It was a program that he had to update constantly in order stay one step ahead of Hoshi. Unlike Archer and Reed, the engineer had never underestimated Enterprise’s comm officer.

The bearded face of Admiral Gardner blinked onto his monitor, the man he had come to know well over the last year. Trip might even call him a friend. Gardner gave him a hesitantly eager smile. “Commander Tucker, I’m glad to see that you’re alive.”

“That makes two of us,” Trip replied with a snort.

“Well?”

“I’ve got ‘em.”

Gardner nodded soberly. “Good work. Enterprise has been ordered to Jupiter Station for a weapon refit. When you arrive, I’ll transmit further instructions.” Trip nodded his understanding. “I’ve heard you’ve been through hell for this. Don’t think you’ll be forgotten when the reformation succeeds.”

Forgotten? Trip didn’t care all that much about being remembered after all of this. He had the sudden urge to disappear and live out the rest of his life with his new wife, maybe even have babies—if that was possible. Being forgotten sounded just fine.

“I want out,” he blurted before he could stop himself.

“You know we can’t let you go,” Gardner said with narrowed eyes.

Trip shook his head. “I’ll do what needs to be done, but when this is over, I want to be left alone. I don’t want any special honors. I just want to live a quiet life—outside of Starfleet.”

“Trip,” Gardner replied, his tone softening, “You deserve more.”

Trip sighed. “I’ve got more than I deserve right now. I just want to live to enjoy it.”

The admiral’s brow furrowed in confusion. “All right, all right. Until next time, Commander Tucker.”

The monitor turned dark once more and he blew out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. It was almost over.

No. Trip shook his head. With these disks, it was just beginning. It would be a long time before he could fade into obscurity.

A familiar tingle touched his mind and he opened the door before she rang the chime. T’Pol had gone to her now cleared out quarters to meditate earlier and her presence in his mind had practically disappeared. Trip had felt… empty. It was not an easy admission for him to make.

He had been relieved, however, to be “alone” as he dealt with Gardner. Why he hadn’t told her last night about the real mission, he didn’t know. The secret would be impossible to hide for long, though, and Trip thought he might as well lay all his cards on the table now.

T’Pol raised an eyebrow as she stepped past him into the room, wearing a robe over silky pajamas. He grinned, taking her in his arms and enjoying the electrifying current that passed between them. Damn, but he loved to touch her. She responded by pressing her head into his chest.

“You look good, darlin’,” he murmured into her hair.

“The fabric is agreeable,” she replied.

Trip chuckled and squeezed her. He wished that he could stay longer in this moment, but he was sure that T’Pol would pick something up from their bond. “Listen, darlin’,” he said, pulling back. “We need to talk.”

“I know.”

Trip’s eyes widened. “You know?”

“Yes. I am able to keep my mind from you… but you have not yet developed the ability to keep your mind from me. I could sense your thoughts during my meditation.”

“Ah, hell.” Trip ran his hand through his hair. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you before.”

“Your reticence is reasonable.”

“So you’re not angry with me?”

“I am Vulcan. I do not get angry.”

Trip threw back his head and laughed. “That’s right, I forgot.” He sobered after a few seconds. “Do you understand what I’m doin’, though?”

He felt her tentatively pick through his mind, seeking out memories, thoughts, and feelings relating to his choice to work for Admiral Gardner. It was a gentle touch, where, unlike the mind-meld, she wouldn’t force open the thoughts she sought but rather waited for his permission to access them. And he let her. This was the last secret he had kept from her, and it was a relief to let it go.

“I understand,” she said after a few moments. He felt her withdraw from his mind partially. “Your logic appears to be sound, despite the emotions it is based on.”

That comment gave him another laugh.

Am I so amusing, t’hyla?

More than you know, darlin’.

“I will help you,” she spoke out loud.

Trip frowned. “No. I can’t risk you like that.”

“Trip—“ Oh sure, use his own name against him… It still made him want to smile when he heard it, especially during…--“Trip!” He felt a slight exasperation emanating from her. “The success of your mission affects my people as well. You can not ask me to do nothing.”

I can’t bear the thought of you risking your life, darlin’. Not after all that I went through to get you in the first place.

I share your concern, t’hyla. But we must do what needs to be done.

Trip stared at her for a long moment, taking in her beautiful, delicate features, sensing her resolve in his mind. There was no point in arguing with her.

Nor should you ever disagree with me. Her thought was laced with amusement.

But ya gotta admit, sometimes it’s fun to argue. Especially when we make up.

T’Pol raised an eyebrow. “Indeed. Perhaps we should practice ‘making up’ in anticipation of the arguments we are sure to have in the near future.”

Images began pouring through the bond of the different ways T’Pol wanted to ‘practice.’ It was becoming difficult to think straight, especially when his body ached to get started.

“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed in a thick voice.

He abruptly forgot about the weight that rested on his shoulders—the weight of his part in saving the empire from itself. There would be time later to worry about the disks sitting on his desk.

For now he was simply a man about to show his wife just how much he was growing to love her.

~The END~


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A whole mess of folks have made comments

I loved the conculsion of this MU story. I like the set-up for a sequel...

WOW!!! Great Job!

I loved how ya put in the Whole idea of certin Good Starfleet an VHC personel Workin together in a Very covert way to bring about a Stronger Empire,,,,, That was sweet,, In an a clandestin MU sorta way ofcourse.,, Good setup for a sequal.
Just loved MU Polly/an Trips over protectiveness of eachother,,,,,, An I just loved Koss gettin what he had comin to him,,,,, Now if Only Plot pointy RU Koss would of got what was comin to him.,,,,,, Great Fic,,,, Im hopin for a sequal.

Thank you, thank you, thank you! for finishing this story. Definitely one of the most satisfying of the MU stories. AND a happy ending! YES!

The clarity and quality of your writing is amazing, Misplaced. I love the fact that MU Trip is still secretly idealistic... a real good guy... and that it was Sim's innocence that converted him. It's really refreshing that even in the MU, you had them get "married" before they consummated their relationship... good for you, Mom. Kov's proximity to T'Pau is intriguing... any chance of a sequel where they become a couple? Hoshi is SO satisfactorily self-serving, and Malcolm is SO wonderfully destructive... "the beauty of blowing things up", indeed! LOL! Even MU Archer is somewhat likeable... after all, he did give Hoshi a promotion in return for her knife-throwing prowess and the "celebratory sex" afterwards. All in all, a very satisfactory MU romp!

Thanks for all your comments!

Mitchell, I always felt that if Koss was to be done in, T'Pol had the right to do it! I was actually working toward my fic matching TOS canon where Vulcans aren't slaves but allies.

Distracted, high praise indeed coming from you! And yes, I did get them married before their hot steamy sex (that's left to your imagination)! LOL

I'm not entirely sure if I have it in me for a sequel just yet... But sadly, thoughts are already forming in my mind. Argh! I shall never be free! LOL I have another fic to finish first, though. ;)

Nice job! Enjoyed the whole thing. And isn't that how it always is? You finish and more ideas start to creep in...

Guess you're lucky; you get to kill of Malcolm and Distracted forgives you for it. :-D

Thanks RK! LOL But this is science-fiction, after all... is Malcolm really dead???

Mwahahahahahahahahaha!

I really enjoyed it. Hope those thoughts keep forming. I would love to see where you take the MU characters next.

Oh boy! Y'mean I might get more MU Malcolm? Yeah.. that's the ticket. Phlox CLONES him, and he's all, like, NICE... yeah... Then he and MU Trip could join forces to kick the Empire's butt... and maybe Chancellor T'Pau'd be so GRATEFUL, she give Malcolm a medal... or possibly a reward of a more PERSONAL nature... yeah. : )

Just finished reading this, Misplaced. Had to reread the whole thing again just to appreciate the ending even more. Great job! I thought you did a wonderful job depicting the shifting alliances that the MU universe has, the way T'Pol kept unconsciously distracting Trip with her glances towards the bed, and the fact that even Archer doesn't believe Trip is a spy, when he really is. I'll add my vote for a sequel too.

Beautiful. This is so going on the hard drive!

Hee hee hee! Practice. *sighs* Well done, well done, great to read the whole way through! I, too, must join the sequel chant. Keep 'em coming! :)

Loved it. You totally have readers for a sequel. :)

Thanks for finishing of your M/U story, great fun, I've enjoyed it very much. I think you have enough for a sequel ;-)

Thank you everyone...

Well, since I like to keep the readers happy... I suppose that I shall begin working on a sequel! I do have another fic to finish first, though!

Thanks for the good news! Hopefully more of the same good stuff.; )

Wonderful! Very happy to hear a sequel is in the works. I'm interested in hearing more about reformists movement.

Great story, looking forward to the sequel.