STAR TREK: Endeavour: "Icarus" Act V

STAR TREK: Endeavour: "Icarus"

by Rigil Kent

Rated: PG13 … bad language, harsh feelings
Disclaimer: Seriously, if I owned anything, would I be driving a crappy '96 Saturn?
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama
Author's Note: The candle-holder thing was proposed by Kevin in his Soval's Awakening. It's such a fantastic idea that I've incorporated it into my own continuity with his permission.

ACT FIVE

Anoat System, 30 June 2157. 0536 Hours Earth Standard Time.

“Bring her home.”

The captain's last command rang in Rick Eisler's ears as reality re-materialized around him. His breath came in ragged gasps and Eisler flexed his fingers, still experiencing the uncomfortable tingle that always accompanied a transport. No matter how many times he had to use the damned thing, or how much the flag officers of Command insisted that it was perfectly safe, Rick knew that he would never get accustomed to the idea of being disassembled at a molecular level and then reconstructed somewhere else.

It just wasn't a natural way to travel.

A quick glance around revealed that the members of STAB Team Two were all accounted for, and Rick checked the digital readout in the top corner of his helmet HUD. Aside from some slightly elevated heart rates, everyone was good to go. His features concealed by the armored helmet, Eisler allowed himself a discreet smile: no member of the Security force really liked using the transporter but, to their credit, the STAB teams were the least vocal about their complaints.

“STAB Two green,” he declared into his helmet comm before giving a hand signal to his team. CPO Mitchell took point at once, his weapon primed for combat as he moved toward the cargo bay hatch. Relatively isolated from the high traffic areas, this particular cargo bay was also on the same level as the command deck, which made it ideal for this operation. “Moving to secure bridge,” Rick continued before issuing other nonverbal commands, using hand and arm signals that had remained unchanged for centuries. PO3 Hoffman and Wakulich responded immediately and took up cover fire positions in front of the hatch as Petty Officer 3rd Class Hernandez approached the hatch controls.

“STAB One green,” came the voice of the Team One commander across the intersquad comm seconds later. “Moving to secure engineering.”

On Eisler's go signal, his team spilled out of the cargo bay and into the corridor beyond. As always, Mitchell was in front, with Crewman Victrim covering his six. Angry red lights flashed through the corridor, providing the only source of illumination for personnel not equipped with the light enhancement technology in their helmets. Rated for EV operations, the armor was another holdover from MACO black ops that Rick had insisted on acquiring when he joined Endeavour. After reading the reports of the MACO teams that had been assigned to Enterprise during the Expanse mission, Rick had seriously considered tracking down and having some words with the idiot who had assigned Major Hayes to the NX-01 without appropriate equipment.

Sometimes, he still thought about doing it.

“Contact,” Mitchell whispered across the team comm-channel seconds before he opened fire with his rifle. Caught completely by surprise, a pair of startled Orions toppled to the ground. A part of Rick vaguely wished that Captain Tucker hadn’t mandated the use of the stun setting.

A pulse of disruptor fire suddenly whined past him, slamming into the corridor bulkhead in a shower of sparks and explosion of debris. Rick didn't hesitate; instincts honed by years in combat sent him into a dive away from the incoming fire even as the rest of the team oriented themselves toward the unseen target. Orders weren't necessary: this sort of reaction had been drilled into the teams so harshly that they responded without real consideration of the actual danger that it put them in. Each trooper assaulted forward, spraying the corridor with such a volume of fire that anyone who dared pop out to return fire would have been dropped instantly. Crouched at the corner of the corridor, Eisler took aim with his rifle and paused.

“Cease fire,” he grunted across the team channel. Seconds after the team obeyed, an Orion male scrambled from his cover and tried to flee down the corridor, away from the aggressive STAB team. Rick exhaled softly as he squeezed the trigger of his rifle and dropped the man.

“Reading Vulcan life signs in that direction,” Crewman Victrim quietly announced, gesturing with his hand-held scanner in the direction that the male had been heading.

“Can you confirm?” Eisler asked instantly, swallowing the sudden urge to contact the captain and relate the good news. It wouldn't do if they discovered Commander T'Pol was mortally wounded.

“Negative.” Victrim fiddled with the scanner briefly, muttering a soft curse under his breath that he clearly didn't think would be broadcast over the comm line. “Too much interference, sir.”

“Mitchell, take point,” Rick ordered without a second thought. It would mean heading away from the bridge, but retrieving the commander and Lieutenant Hayes was still their primary objective. “Stay alert,” Eisler muttered.

“Stay alive,” came the instinctive response from the rest of the team, clearly imitating his own accent as they finished the almost ritualistic comment. Rick smiled wryly to himself. In other words, shut up and let us do our jobs. For long minutes, they crept down the darkened corridor with barely a sound.

“Uh, Commander...” Mitchell sounded unexpectedly anxious, and Eisler felt his amusement dissolve. Two steps later, he understood the chief petty officer's unease.

They paused just outside an empty room that appeared to have once been used for storage. Face up in a pool of his own blood, the corpse of an Orion male drew their immediate attention, primarily for the fist-sized hole that seemed to have been punched through his abdomen. Less than a meter away, a second body was collapsed along the corridor bulkhead, its leg bent backwards as if his knee had been inverted and now bent in the opposite direction. Two meters beyond that was a third male body, this one facedown and unmoving.

“Holy shit,” Hernandez muttered with something approaching awe in his voice, “That guy has a hole in his stomach! The XO must have been seriously pissed off!” Rick found himself nodding as his eyes locked onto the hole in the first Orion's chest. He knew that Vulcans were stronger than Humans, but he hadn’t realized that they were that much stronger...

“Got a fourth one,” Hoffman commented from several meters away. He crouched to examine the body that was sprawled out in front of what appeared to be a turbolift. “This one's female. Ouch.” The petty officer straightened with a visible wince, letting the corpse fall back. “Disruptor shot to the face. Not a pretty way to die.”

“Vulcan readings in that direction,” Victrim relayed, and Rick frowned.

“Move out,” Eisler growled. Less than a step later, they heard the sound of disruptor fire. “Go!” Rick ordered and the team quickened their pace. It wasn't quite a run, but it was more than a walk and ate up distance quickly.

They passed two opened doorways and three more bodies on the way, one of which had been stripped of its clothes. Once more on point, Mitchell suddenly stopped at a corridor intersection and held up a fist; a half second later, he tapped his helmet and then gestured toward the corner. Kneeling at once, Rick glanced in Victrim's direction. The crewman held up two fingers in response to the unspoken question before pointing to the Starfleet symbol emblazoned upon the back of his scanner. Keying his helmet comm to external broadcast, Eisler spoke.

“Commander T'Pol,” he said loudly, “this is Lieutenant Commander Eisler.” A heartbeat later, a familiar voice answered.

“Authenticate,” came the unflappable voice of the Vulcan commander. “Bravo Zulu X-Ray.” Rick smirked under his helmet; why wasn't he surprised that the commander had the Roughneck security verification codes memorized?

“Yankee Foxtrot Echo,” he replied before standing and lowering his rifle. Lieutenant Hayes was the first around the corner, his face burned and a disruptor pistol held in one hand. He was dressed in ill-fitting Orion clothes splattered with blood. Several steps behind him, Commander T'Pol approached, limping slightly. At any other time, Eisler would have found her appearance almost comical: pants meant for a male significantly larger than she had been tightly cinched at her waist, and a jacket that on her looked like a tent hung off her shoulders. She too was armed with a disruptor pistol.

“Commander,” she said in greeting, acting as though she were in uniform and he was reporting to her on the bridge. “May I presume you're here to assist us in capturing the bridge?” A snort of laughter escaped CPO Mitchell from where he crouched to cover the empty corridor.

“Aye, ma'am,” Rick replied without a trace of amusement in his voice. “It's that way, though,” he finished, gesturing toward the command deck. She inclined an eyebrow.

“Curious,” was her only comment before she looked back at Rick. There was a frown on her face as she continued to speak. “It is essential that we capture the commander of this vessel.” She pinned Eisler with an unyielding look. “Harrad-Sar was acting for the Romulans.”

“Mitchell, take point,” Rick said quickly, noting that Lieutenant Hayes had already accepted a rebreather from PO3 Wakulich and was securing it on his face. It would protect the lieutenant from any potential pheromones in the atmosphere should they encounter additional Orion females. Eisler blinked in sudden surprise at the dried streak on the back of Hayes' hand. It was blood.

Orion blood.

Rick said nothing as they retraced their steps past the dead Orions, made no comment as he observed the lieutenant shying away from the corpses in the corridor, and swallowed the questions that he wanted to ask as he again glanced at the brutal hole in the Orion's chest. He frowned, studying Lieutenant Hayes through narrowed eyes as a theory began racing through his brain.

It was a dangerous thought.

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

Anoat System, 30 June 2157. 0558 Hours Earth Standard Time.

He wasn't sure what to think.

Standing outside the primary starboard docking hatch, Hannibal Black found himself frowning as he took in Captain Tucker's appearance. In the minutes since Lieutenant Commander Eisler had commed Endeavour with the information that his teams had not only located Commander T'Pol and Lieutenant Hayes, but had also secured both the bridge and Engineering without suffering a single casualty, the captain had appeared on the verge of physical collapse. It was as if the inner fire that had been driving Tucker for the last fifteen hours had abruptly burned out, leaving behind a fragile shell that seemed poised to fall.

At the same time, there was an eerie sense of strength about the man that Black just couldn't explain. The set of Tucker's jaw, the way he held himself, and just the way his eyes narrowed slightly when someone even gave the appearance of mentioning his need for rest – all of it lent Tucker the image of an unyielding force of nature despite his obvious injuries and physical frailty. Twice in the last several minutes Doctor Phlox had cleared his throat and given the captain pointed looks, but Tucker had responded with glares so dark that Hannibal almost pitied the Denobulan.

Though he didn't want to admit it, Black found himself revising his initial opinion of the young captain since encountering the Orion craft. Contrary to how they had originally appeared when he came aboard, the crew of the Endeavour had displayed a sense of professionalism during the engagement that Hannibal hadn't seen in a long time. There had been no panic from the younger enlisted personnel or officers, no indication that the civilian scientists aboard the starship had been anything but effective members of the crew, and the entire operation had been planned with no input from the commanding officer.

Tucker, it seemed, ran a very tight ship after all.

Once more, Phlox cleared his throat as he crossed his arms; Tucker, now leaning heavily on the cane that had been at his side since his discharge from Sickbay, glowered at the sealed docking hatch before speaking.

“No,” he said, clearly intending the word as a reply to the doctor's unspoken comment. Tucker shifted his weight slightly as the light above the airlock access changed to green. With a loud hiss, the door opened and Black thought he heard the captain draw in a sharp breath.

Two security troopers were the first to emerge, encased in their distinctively dark armor. They were intimidating by their very presence, and both moved with a frightening grace that Hannibal recognized of men long accustomed to zero gee operations. Immediately behind them was Lieutenant Commander Eisler; his rifle now slung, the tactical officer bore a grim expression of triumph that bordered on a smile.

Commander T'Pol was two steps behind him.

This time, Black did hear a sudden intake of breath from Captain Tucker, and the admiral frowned. He glanced at the captain, but was startled to see no indication that Tucker was greeting anyone but his missing executive officer. The Vulcan commander, unsurprisingly, gave no hints as to her mindset aside from a single incline of her right eyebrow.

“Commander,” Black greeted with a nod as he studied her curious clothes with a flicker of amusement. T’Pol returned the salutation with a slight incline of her head before turning her full attention to Tucker.

“You appear unwell, Captain,” she said flatly, ignoring Phlox's snort of amusement as the doctor conducted a less than subtle scan of her.

“Long day,” Tucker replied with a hint of a smile on his face. “How're you doing?”

“Early stages of hypothermia,” Doctor Phlox announced before she could reply, his eyes and fingers still on the hand-held medical scanner. “Not to mention severe bruising that could indicate some internal bleeding. And that neural inhibitor needs to come off as soon as possible before it causes permanent damage.” He lowered the scanner and pinned the Vulcan with a flat look. “Sickbay. Now.” Again, her eyebrow climbed.

“In a moment, Doctor.” T’Pol glanced away from the outraged expression on the Denobulan's face and addressed Eisler. “Secure the prisoners in the brig. Twenty-four hour guard rotations.” The tactical officer nodded as she continued, this time directing her comments to Tucker. “Apparently, Harrad-Sar was working for the Romulans, Captain. You and I were his primary targets.”

“What?” The words tumbled out of Hannibal's mouth before he could stop them. “You're saying that he had direct contact with a Romulan?”

“Evidently,” came the commander's reply.

Ambition abruptly burned brightly in Black's stomach, and he swallowed the lump that suddenly tightened his throat. If they could subvert this Harrad-Sar and use him to feed false intelligence to the Romulans, the entire fortunes of the war could be swayed. Failing that, this Orion was a vital intelligence asset: he had actually seen a Romulan. Starfleet Intelligence had yet to find a single individual with similar experience. This was what Hannibal needed to catapult him to the job that he wanted. This was what he needed to win the war...

What Earth needed, that was.

“Can Endeavour travel at warp with that tractor beam operational?” he asked, mentally calculating what favors he would need to call in to head up the team that would work on this Harrad-Sar person. Admiral Gardner would be the hardest to convince, and it was unlikely that Commodore Leonard would back down without a fight...

“Not indefinitely,” Tucker replied. “But we do still have the grapplers and I'm sure Hess' team can get that tub runnin' again.”

“Do it.” Hannibal exhaled slightly, not even caring that Tucker was standing too close to T'Pol to be considered entirely professional, or that it had been the Vulcan who had moved that close in the first place. “Get us underway ASAP, Captain. Set a course for Earth.”

“Aye, sir,” the captain said, a slightly sardonic tone in his voice. Black glanced at him, ego still smarting from their earlier confrontation, and frowned at the younger man's expression. Tucker was paler than usual, his complexion verging on pasty, and his jaw was clenched so tight that Hannibal thought he could hear teeth grinding. Black opened his mouth to comment.

And, in that moment, Tucker's legs buckled.

Commander T'Pol caught the captain before he could fall to the deck and Doctor Phlox was at their side nearly at once. His hand-held scanner buzzing, the doctor scowled fiercely at Tucker.

“I warned you,” the Denobulan said, anger in his voice. Hannibal looked on in slight surprise; he hadn't known that the normally ebullient doctor was capable of getting angry. “But you wouldn't listen, would you?” Phlox continued, now openly glaring at Endeavour's commanding officer. “As of this moment, I am exercising my authority under Starfleet order one-oh-four, section C, to officially relieve you of duty.” He gave the Vulcan an identical look. “You as well, Commander. Both of you are to report to Sickbay immediately.”

“Phlox...”

“No,” the doctor said sharply, cutting off the captain's argument before it could get under way. Phlox pointed down the hall toward Sickbay, his expression imperious. “Go,” he ordered, “before I have to involve Security.” For a long moment, Captain Tucker studied his chief medical officer with a blank expression on his own face. Being held upright by his Vulcan first officer, however, did nothing for his air of command. Finally, he sighed heavily and tried to pull free of Commander T'Pol's hold.

“Rick,” the captain said as the Vulcan shifted her grip on him but did not let go, “you're in command.” With another sigh, Tucker draped his arm over the petite commander and Hannibal watched the pair briefly before glancing away.

“Aye, sir,” Eisler replied as he turned back toward the docking hatch. Phlox stood nearby, his hand-scanner still buzzing as he ran it over the rigid form of Lieutenant Hayes. For a brief moment, the lieutenant locked eyes with the doctor and Black frowned at the curious interplay. When the doctor next spoke, there was an unusual undertone to his voice.

“Lieutenant, report to Sickbay.”

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

Anoat System, 30 June 2157. 0919 Hours Earth Standard Time.

Gaining release from Sickbay had not been easy, but Commander T'Pol found herself illogically glad to be free of the medical facility.

Dressed in a spare uniform devoid of command pips, the Vulcan walked slowly through the corridors of E Deck. At her side, still relying heavily on the cane that Phlox had provided, Trip limped forward. Every step sent a jolt of pain through his abdomen, and T’Pol winced as the flashes of agony lanced through their bond. It was sheer human stubbornness that kept him placing one foot in front of the other.

Following their discharge from Sickbay, predicated on their agreement to go straight to their respective quarters for a period of not less than twenty-four hours, Trip had insisted on escorting her to her cabin. Unable to convince him of the illogic of that desire, T'Pol had grudgingly acquiesced and had spent the entire walk watching her mate for further signs of distress. He made no mention of the discomfort he felt, but she had long ago realized that Trip rarely complained when he was in actual pain.

To their surprise, a Medical quarantine lock had been placed on her quarters. T'Pol recognized Phlox's handiwork at once and made a mental note to have a conversation with him regarding the boundaries that he was not allowed to cross in the future. Sensing Trip's flagging stamina, she made the suggestion that she escort him to his quarters where she could use the comm system to sort out the quarantine lock. It was an indication of how much pain Trip was in that he agreed without arguing.

“Ladies first,” Trip said with a poorly concealed grimace once they reached his quarters. She gave him a concerned glance before quickly stepping through the open doorway. Almost instantly, a wave of very agreeable heat washed over her and she breathed in the warm air. The door hissed shut behind Trip and she turned to face him.

Almost instantly, she found herself wrapped in a tight embrace. Trip clung to her, burying his nose in her hair, and she instinctively brought her arms up to reciprocate the distinctly human gesture. Shared emotions bounced between them at the speed of thought as the bond, no longer hampered by the neural inhibitor, sang within them. T'Pol relaxed at the sensation of safety she experienced within Trip's grasp.

“I couldn't feel you,” he whispered and T'Pol could feel the overpowering fury and terror that had filled him in the hours when she had been absent from his mind. Never before had he been as filled with wrath as he had in those horrifically long hours. He had wanted to kill anything that stood between them, wanted to sear planets to ash, to exterminate entire populations until she was returned to him. “You weren't there,” her mate emphasized, his entire body shaking with the pent-up emotions that he had been forced to conceal from his crew. “And I couldn't feel you!”

“I know, Trip,” T'Pol replied softly, looking up at him as he held her. The doubt and fear in his eyes was still there, and she offered him a slight smile, knowing that it would lighten his mood as it always did. “But I'm here now,” she said as she once more rested her head against his chest. “And I'm not going anywhere.” The steady beat of his heart was soothing and she inhaled his familiar scent. Had it been possible, she would have remained standing there forever with his arms around her. But a wave of exhaustion suddenly washed over her, and she looked up at Trip in surprise, recognizing instantly that it originated from him. He offered her a sheepish grin that did not hide how tired he was.

“Phlox's meds are startin' to kick in,” Trip muttered as he struggled to keep his eyes open. His jaw cracked with a sudden yawn and T'Pol carefully hid the smirk that threatened to spoil her Vulcan poise.

“Then you should rest,” she stated as she began backing him toward his bed. He only made a half-hearted attempt to resist.

“Wait. We need to talk,” he slurred as she maneuvered him across the cabin. “This isn't workin'...” T'Pol quirked an eyebrow at that and he continued. “This,” Trip said, gesturing toward the both of them. “Us not bein' together. 'S not workin'.”

“We can talk later,” T'Pol assured him as she pulled the blanket back. Swaying on his feet, he looked at her through unfocused eyes.

“Promise?” Trip asked and she gave him her half-smile once more.

“I do not lie. I am Vulcan.”

“My Vulcan,” he smiled as he dropped onto the bed, pulling her with him. Caught off guard, T'Pol gave an indignant squawk as she hit the mattress, but Trip was too far gone to notice. “My pretty, pretty Vulcan ...”

Within seconds, he was sound asleep and T'Pol found herself still entangled in his embrace. After a moment of consideration, she readjusted her position slightly and drew the blanket over the two of them; after all, she decided, attempts to extricate herself from his hold would likely wake him, thus interfering with his rest. Remaining at his side was the course that logic dictated. Satisfied at the complete lack of emotion in her decision-making process, she rested her head on his chest and let herself listen to the constant drum of his heart. Sleep overtook her moments later.

When she next opened her eyes, T'Pol immediately realized that several hours had passed. The ambient sounds of Endeavour had changed and she recognized that they were now traveling at warp speed. Glancing at the wall chronometer, she started in surprise at the time: over six hours had passed since they arrived in Trip's quarters. She couldn't recall the last time she had slept this long, and she deduced that the bond must have been at work; mated pairs were known to heal more quickly while in one another's presence, but it was news to her that they apparently slept more soundly as well. She suppressed a flicker of embarrassment as she noted that neither she nor Trip had shifted even a centimeter.

Long minutes passed as T’Pol let herself simply luxuriate in the welcome sensations of being alongside Trip again. It had been too long since they had been together like this, and she silently lamented the necessity for their enforced separation. With another look at her mate's sleeping features, she silently agreed with his assessment: This wasn't working. Though it was unspeakably emotional of her, she was tired of not sleeping in the same bed as her mate.

Chastising herself for the illogic of her musings, she rose from the bed, wrinkling her nose at the smell of antiseptic and decontamination gel that still clung to her skin. As she divested herself of the uniform in preparation for a shower, T'Pol abruptly noticed a medical kit resting atop Trip's desk. She frowned at its presence: it had not been present prior to their arrival. A PADD was inside the case and she activated it at once. Skimming the contents, she raised an eyebrow at Phlox's curious instructions; phrased in such a way as to sound like standard medical protocol, they effectively made her part of the medical team necessary for the captain's well-being and provided an excuse for her presence in his quarters. Once again, T'Pol found herself hiding a slight smirk as she saluted Phlox's inappropriate but welcome duplicity even as she fought another flash of embarrassment that she hadn't even heard the doctor enter.

She spent more time in the shower than was necessary, but the feel of the hot water against her bare skin was pleasant. The towels smelled like Trip, and she was amused to discover that he hadn't even touched the hygiene products that she had left behind. Dressed in one of his large robes, she emerged from the bathroom to discover her mate still deeply asleep. Another long moment passed as she quietly watched him slumber.

Meditation was her next goal, and she sank into the appropriate trance-like state before Trip's candle-holders. These meditation accessories had originally belonged to her father, and had been a gift from T'Les following Trip's first disastrous visit to Vulcan. At the time, he hadn't been aware of the symbolism behind T'Les' gift to him and, by the time that he discovered its significance, T’Les was already gone. Once more, T'Pol briefly acknowledged her still unresolved emotions involving her mother's passing before she focused on restoring control.

To her surprise, a ghostly half-image of Trip was present in her whitespace. He was sprawled out, still asleep, but the physical manifestation of her mate brought to mind additional questions that she decided to forward to T'Pau at the earliest opportunity. A smile crossed her lips as she listened to Trip begin snoring lightly and she made no effort to school her features to stoicism. Here, in this place, she was free to let her emotions show.

Nearly an hour passed as she rebuilt the fractured mental control within her meditative state. Her decision to shoot Navaar instead of Lieutenant Hayes didn't trouble her in the slightest, and T'Pol decided that her logic had been flawless in that decision; there had been no time to familiarize herself with the weapon, and it could hardly be considered her fault that the disruptor did not have a stun setting. Neutralizing the origin of the pheromones had, fortunately, resulted in the lieutenant recovering his self-control a half step before he reached T'Pol; but his speed had been too great to allow him to adjust his momentum before he had knocked her to the deck. T'Pol considered it a significant improvement over being killed, however. His apologies afterwards had been profuse but unnecessary.

Her telepathic abilities had also been greatly strained by the incident with the Orion male and she was particularly careful to examine the entire situation from every conceivable angle. It was essential for her sanity that she be assured that her actions had been the logical ones and had not been rooted in emotion. Accepting that the emotion of fear had played a part in her decision but was not the driving factor in it, she opened her eyes, satisfied that she had acted in a way worthy of Surak.

From her sense of him, T’Pol knew that Trip would be waking soon and would likely be hungry. Rising to her feet, she studied the contents of his closet before extracting one of her older jumpsuits. It was scarlet in color, and she decided that the circumstances were such that wearing it once more would not be untoward. After all, she was still recovering from the early stages of hypothermia, and the thermal-lined jumpsuit would assist in that regard. That Trip had often called it his favorite had nothing to do with her decision.

Quickly donning the jumpsuit, she was satisfied that it still fit perfectly. Pausing briefly before the comm panel, she watched Trip sleep for a moment longer before deciding against contacting Chef Killick. The risk of waking her mate with the conversation was too great and he needed all of the rest he could get. For a moment, T'Pol wondered if Trip would be opposed to her placing him in another healing trance to further accelerate his recovery. Brushing her lips against his forehead in an illogical gesture that she didn't even try to explain to herself, she quietly exited his cabin and proceeded to the galley.

Surprisingly, Killick was cordial when she asked him to prepare a meal for her and the captain. In the past, the chef had not been afraid to speak his mind about whatever he thought and had been one of the loudest sources of complaints during the Expanse mission. Today, however, he seemed oddly eager to please.

Sensing eyes upon her, T'Pol glanced briefly around the slowly filling dining facility. Almost at once, she found herself looking at Lieutenant Hayes.

Seated at a table near the back of the facility that was often called a “mess hall” (for reasons that completely defied T'Pol's understanding), the lieutenant was studying her with an unblinking gaze. The large burn on the side of his face was mostly gone, due to one of Doctor Phlox's curious treatments involving some sort of leech that emitted a surprisingly disagreeable stench. Dressed in gym clothes, the lieutenant appeared alert and healthy. Once again, T'Pol made a quick decision and approached the young man.

“Lieutenant,” she said by way of greeting, noting immediately the tension in his expression and body language. Without asking permission, she seated herself across from him, quirking a slight eyebrow at the uncomfortable expression that flitted across his face.

“Ma'am,” Hayes responded as he refocused his attention on his tray of food. He gripped the fork tighter than was absolutely necessary.

“Doctor Phlox has released you to active duty?” T'Pol asked, and the lieutenant glowered at his food.

“Not exactly, ma'am.” He glanced up. “Medical leave for another twenty-four hours and he'll make a judgment call afterwards.” Hayes looked away before lowering his voice. “What happens now?” he asked softly. T'Pol lifted an eyebrow.

“Elaborate,” she instructed. The lieutenant's likely concern was about his own career, but T’Pol intended to avoid any of the miscommunication that was inherent in speaking with humans.

“About me,” Hayes muttered, once more giving her a look. “About the ... things ... you know about me.”

“You are a security risk,” T'Pol stated bluntly, ignoring the slight wince her words evoked from him. “And your loyalty to Endeavour is questionable at best.” An outraged expression crossed his face at that but she continued. “According to Starfleet regulations, I am required to report potential security threats to my commanding officer.” The tightness in the lieutenant's face was clear to anyone who might have looked at him as she continued. “I have done so, and Captain Tucker has agreed with my suggestions.”

“And what are they?” he asked, tension in his voice. “Turn me over to Starfleet Command?” The contempt in his voice revealed exactly what she expected to hear; without saying a word, he was letting her know that if she ordered this, he would disappear from custody. It was to be expected, she momentarily mused, since this mysterious Section organization had such unexpected penetration of Starfleet.

“No,” T'Pol replied, fixing him with her most resolute expression. She and Trip had made this decision together while in Sickbay, even though neither of them had been entirely comfortable with it. “You will continue in your capacity as commander of the security force.” Hayes was surprised at that and it showed on his face. “And as Gold Shift officer of the deck.”

“Why?” The lieutenant leaned forward slightly, giving discreet looks to assure himself that no one was eavesdropping on their conversation. “You don't trust me.”

“No, I don't,” she responded, frowning slightly as she spoke. “But you have access to vital intelligence assets that neither I nor Captain Tucker possess.” Understanding flashed in his eyes. “You will put those assets at our disposal for the duration of this crisis.”

“I can do that,” Hayes declared as he gave her a smile. “We're on the same side, after all.”

“Are we?” T’Pol’s question hung in the air and Hayes’ light expression faded. “You will further cooperate fully with Doctor Phlox for a complete physical.” She raised an eyebrow at his disgruntled frown. “I have little doubt,” she remarked coolly, “that any classified information gleaned from such an examination will be lost due to computer failure should the circumstances warrant it.” It was a less than subtle reminder of his earlier illicit computer activity, and he nodded sharply in acknowledgement.

“Is that it?” the lieutenant asked, voice flat.

“No.” Hayes exhaled and gave her a dark look. “If by your action or inaction,” T'Pol continued, her own expression unyielding, “Captain Tucker comes to harm, I will spare no effort in bringing you and your organization to justice.” She stood.

“I thought vengeance was illogical,” Hayes muttered, and she turned on him with a hot look.

“It is,” she replied, and departed the dining facility.

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

2 July 2157. 1815 Hours Earth Standard Time.

The door that led to the mess hall slid open, and Charles Tucker glanced up from the work he had spread across his table.

Had T'Pol been present, Trip mused, she would likely have been impressed by the blank expression he displayed as Admiral Black entered the Captain's Mess. Though it had been difficult, Tucker had successfully managed to avoid the admiral all day, and had been looking forward to a quiet dinner alone that would allow him to get some work done. That hope, unfortunately, had just been dashed.

“Admiral,” he greeted as he started to stand, knowing the older man's unhealthy appreciation of the protocols that most officers in Starfleet loathed. To his surprise, however, Black waved off the standard courtesy.

“As you were, Captain,” the admiral said as he walked to take his place at the far end of the dining table. “Will Commander T'Pol be joining us?”

“No, sir. She's in the command center going over some sensor telemetry from the Anoat system.” Trip frowned at that. “She thinks that she may had discovered indications of a Romulan ship hiding in-system during the battle that observed the whole thing.”

“What?” Black's expression darkened as he glared at Tucker. “How the hell did you miss that?”

“We were a little busy at the time, sir,” Trip replied flatly, feeling his own temper starting to flare at the admiral's intimation of incompetence. “And Lieutenant Ricker isn't as qualified to identify sensor readings as T'Pol.” Once more Black frowned, and Trip spoke before he could comment. “I don't think I need to remind you, sir, but my people are spread pretty thin right now. I can't spare Ricker for additional training.” That was putting it lightly: off the top of his head, Tucker could name four jobs that Ricker did above and beyond being T'Pol's Science department 2IC.

Silence descended on the Captain's Mess, and Trip returned his attention to the technical schematics laid out in front of him. It was difficult to concentrate when his annoyance with the admiral continued to simmer in his stomach, but Tucker forced himself to focus. That it gave him something to think about beyond the possible court-martial waiting for him back at Earth was an added bonus.

“Those are the schematics for the Gagarin,” Admiral Black commented moments later, and Trip looked up. “Why are you looking over them?”

“Because Endeavour's current configuration isn't good enough for a sustainable warp six, sir.” Tucker hated to admit that, hated to think that the Enterprise-class was already close to becoming obsolete, but the numbers didn't lie. “Our engine can't put out enough power, so I'm looking at this engineering hull as a solution.” Originally planned to be the NX-07, the construction of the UES Gagarin had not gotten beyond the mostly finished engineering hull before the war had necessitated that it be set aside. Trip now found himself trying to determine if they could refit Endeavour again, this time with Gagarin's engineering hull. By his calculations, such a refit could be completed in a couple of months… maybe less if things went well.

“We held warp six for several hours...” The confusion in Black's voice reminded Trip that the admiral wasn't an engineer by trade, and Tucker nodded.

“Yes, sir, but the core readings were fluctuating the entire time.” Trip glanced toward the door, wondering where Killick was. “The power output for a stable warp six is beyond what our current warp core is capable of.” Trip sighed and gestured to the schematics before him. “So engineering needs to be bigger and this appears to be the most logical solution.” Too late, he heard the “L” word slip past his lips and mentally rolled his eyes. He could easily imagine T'Pol's barely-there smirk had she been present.

Black, however, didn't seem amused, and Trip sighed. He placed the schematics aside and looked into the admiral's eyes.

“I want to apologize for my comments to you earlier, Admiral,” Tucker started. There was little chance that Black would overlook the incident, even if the situation had turned out as positively as it had. “I was concerned for my missing crewmembers, but that doesn't excuse my comments. I was out of line.”

“Yes, you were,” Black replied grimly. “But you were also right.” Trip blinked in surprise and wondered if he had heard correctly. “Commander T'Pol is an irreplaceable asset to Starfleet, and allowing the Romulans to gain access to her would not only have been a disaster for Earth, it would have been an abrogation of our duty as officers.” The admiral looked away for a moment before returning his gaze to Tucker. “Your decision to pursue the Orions was the correct one, even if your ... relationship with the commander affected that decision.” Exhaling slowly, Trip fought to keep the frown from his face.

“That had nothing to do with it, sir.” The struggle to keep his voice even was more work that Tucker had expected. “I would have done the same thing for any member of my crew, regardless of rank or position.”

“Don't try to bullshit me, Tucker,” the admiral snapped, his own voice sharp. “It's not exactly a secret that the two of you are sleeping together.” Black glared as he continued. “If it was up to me, both of you would be drummed out of Starfleet.” He abruptly shook his head. “But,” the admiral pointed out, “it isn't up to me.”

Thank God for small favors, Trip reflected. His attempt to conceal what he was thinking apparently wasn't as effective as he would have liked; Admiral Black gave him another dark look before glancing toward the viewport.

“So, if you're wondering,” Black said, eyes fixed on the streaking stars, “I won't be pressing for a court-martial.” He sighed heavily, as if he was tired or worn out, before speaking again. “We've got enough problems with the Romulans right now and you have too many damned advocates at Command for it to even be worth the trouble.” Trip frowned at that; aside from Jon, he wasn't aware of anyone really being on “his” side at Starfleet Command.

“Thank you, sir,” Tucker said honestly. He glanced toward the door and briefly considered paging Killick to find out where dinner was, but decided against it; if there was one thing he wanted to do even less than sit across from Admiral Black, it was to anger his chef.

“Don't thank me, Captain,” Black responded. He continued to stare at the viewport. “If Starfleet didn't need every resource at its disposal right now, I would make it my mission to have you brought up on charges.” Finally, he looked back at Trip. “I do intend to mention my concern about the command structure of Endeavour when I issue my official report.”

“As I recall, sir,” Trip said through clenched teeth, “you were the principle opponent of our command change proposal.”

“Because it shouldn't be necessary!” the admiral retorted, anger once again surfacing in his voice. “She's your goddamned first officer, not your girlfriend!”

No, she's my wife, Trip corrected mentally as he concentrated on maintaining his poise. Don't screw this up, he told himself. If Black found out about the bond, there was no way of knowing what he would do. Once more, Tucker found himself glad that he could tap into T'Pol's control when necessary.

“Then back my recommendation to promote Eisler to full Commander,” Trip suggested. “He could replace T'Pol as the first officer.” Black's eyes narrowed.

“Even then, she would outrank him according to time in grade,” he pointed out. Tucker shrugged.

“So? She was the first officer on Enterprise after the Expanse mission and I outranked her by time in grade and time in service.” The admiral grunted in acknowledgment of that point and Trip pressed on. “She's a scientist, sir, and would gladly turn the administrative duties over to someone else.” Black gave him a wry look.

“I suppose you've already suggested this to her?” he asked, not entirely hiding his distaste at the idea, and Trip gave him a tight smile.

“Actually,” Tucker revealed, “it was her idea.”

“Why doesn't that surprise me?” Black muttered under his breath. As the door finally slid open to reveal Killick bearing dinner, the admiral looked at Trip and frowned. “I'll consider it, Captain.”

“That, sir,” Trip said with another slight smile, “is all that I ask.”

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

Aschaffenburg, Germany. 12 July 2157. 0336 Hours Earth Standard Time.

Asking for better directions might have been a good idea.

Dressed in unremarkable-looking civilian clothes, Nate Hayes ducked into a darkened alley, eyes and ears straining to detect any pursuers. Long moments passed in silence before he discreetly checked the hand-scanner that he kept concealed in his jacket pocket. Capable of tapping into the CCDTV network scattered throughout the small city, the modified scanner allowed him to quickly identify any potential threats to his anonymity.

Satisfied that he wasn't being followed, Nate jogged down the narrow alley and paused at a nondescript side entrance. A covered keypad was hidden to one side of the door, and he quickly entered his access code before glancing around once more. The door opened silently and he entered without hesitation. Soundlessly, the door slid shut behind him.

Complete darkness surrounded Hayes, and he breathed in calmly. There was no way for him to tell exactly what sort of surprises might be waiting for him should he appear anxious or tense. A soft beep sounded, and he recognized his cue.

“One scanner,” he stated to the darkness, “and a phase pistol in a shoulder harness.” Attempting to hide what he was carrying was a quick way to get identified as a threat; and threats never walked out of a Section safehouse. “I'm also carrying three blades in concealed holsters and one in my left boot.”

A second beep sounded, this one louder than the first, and Nate winced at the sudden light that briefly blinded him. Blinking his eyes in an attempt to clear them of the spots that danced in his vision, he took a step forward.

“I told you not to contact me,” came a soft voice to his left. Hayes glanced in that direction; he could just make out the shape of his Control.

“I'm sorry, sir,” he replied, making sure to keep his hands away from his body. “I needed to report that my primary objective was completed.”

“So soon? That's unexpected.”

“Yes, sir,” Hayes nodded. “I was forced to accelerate the time table based on circumstances.”

“But T'Pol agreed?”

“With conditions, sir.” Nate frowned slightly at the memory of that uncomfortable discussion. “She's willing to look the other way as long as I put the Section's intelligence assets at her disposal.” He offered a tiny smirk. “Frankly, sir, I think she was more worried about Captain Tucker's welfare than anything else.”

“Not surprising.” The older man stepped forward, his expression unrelenting and cold. “Continue with phase two, Lieutenant.” Hayes drew in a sharp breath at that: phase two was recruitment. He hadn't expected to be put in charge of that. “Keep a low profile for a few weeks.”

“Yes, sir.” Nate turned to go. “Will there be anything else, sir?” he asked, and the older man smiled tightly. It was an odd expression that he wore – an almost-smile that somehow appeared devoid of any human warmth – and it stretched the hideous scar that covered the man's face.

“Not at this time,” Lieutenant Commander Malcolm Reed replied calmly.

*** END ***

Return to Act IV

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

***waits for the screaming with an evil grin***

Malcolm Reed????

Well, well, well...

Whoops! That was me. Great job on the fic, btw. A bit heavy on the military lingo for easy reading, but a damned fine story.

Malcolm! Malcolm?!?!? Aaaaaaaaaargh!

Great end for a great story, Rigil, and I'm looking forward to the next installment. I really NEED to find out what happens to Eisler. He's my new hero. :)

I already hit you with a frying pan at wwbj for that last line, and I'm seriously considering going down there, hunt you down and tie you to the keyboard until you explain it...

But seriously, great ending to the story. I had another nasty thought last night about who it could have been that knocked T'Pol down (I was afraid it might have been a Romulan trying to protect what they were after), and that you'd be cruel and actually end out with T'Pol snatched away after all that, so I'm really, really glad that didn't happen.

Serves Navaar right, and it was the best solution. Can't help but wonder if Rick is going to be digging more deeply into Hayes' past now, after this, and what he might decide to do about it...

I could almost feel Trip's utter exhausation after the adrenaline that's been keeping him going for the most part since he woke up wore off, and his determination to stay there at the airlock no matter what anyone said to him until he saw for himself that T'Pol was alive and well.

I see the admiral still hasn't quite gotten to the point of looking past his own possible glory yet, but I suppose that will take a bit of time. He does seem to be trying to change, though. At least he wasn't quite as irritated this time when Trip and T'Pol pretty much ignored him at their reunion.

And I see Phlox is still trying to help them out wiht their relationship, between the quarantine on T'Pol's quarters and then the PADD stating that T'Pol was necessary to Trip's recovery. A nice way for them to stay together until both are healed.

Loved the description in Trip's quarters, and how they fell asleep in each others arms and didn't move.

And T'Pol's confrontation with Hayes in the mess hall was well done. I don't blame Hayes for thinking that they would report him and have him arrested, and T'Pol's reasoning for why it was more important for them to keep him there, even if they didn't trust him fully was logical. Never hurts to have other sources of information besides the official ones...

The admiral's decision to not pursue the court martial, and Trip's apologizing because he did know he was wrong to say it (if he was right) was well done. And I'm glad the admiral is going to consider backing the proposal that TnT originally made in regards to her stepping away from being the first officer.

And then that ending... I do vaguely remember something about Malcolm never being found when Enterprise was destroyed, but still... that's just evil, evil, evil.

Great story as always, Rigil. :)

Absolutely love it! Thanks.

HtH2k

Heh heh heh

You devious son of a gun

:D

I love it.

And shooting Navaar caught me by surprise, but thinking abou tit, that was absolutely the most logical and appropriate thing to do. That's called effective tactical ability, a.k.a. low animal cunning. *bows low*

GIANT SMILE ---at that last line! Sure didn't see it coming!

Perfect. Everything perfect. Only one complaint? You trying to get us all fired, posting this at 9:00am on a workday! It took Vulcan-like control to wait until lunchtime!

Anyway, I'm very happy with this! *Still smiling*

Great ending to your story Rigil I really enjoyed it. I hope in your next story we'll find out why the Romulans wanted Trip and T'Pol so badly. T'Pol found a logical way too get rid of Navar. I liked the descriptions about Trip pushing himself too hard and I could visualize it like a tv episode. Liked T'Pol and TRip's scene in his quarters nice ly written I enjoyed Phlox still being a matchmaker always the optimist. T'Pol and Hayes confrontation in the mess hall well done. The twist ending a real suprise loved it.

i'm expecting the next episode pretty soon after an ending like that...
but love your work... do you write anything else?

Delightful.

I'm not sorry to see Malcolm but I am sorry to find him back with Section 31.

I never liked them and still don't.

I think Trip & T'Pol need to work with Hayes on some Vulcan control techniques.

Well one could say, That no one really ever leaves the Section. ;-)

Dang I didnt really expect that at the end.
An while Im glad that Brit lived, I cant help but wonder.
JUST HOW THE HELL HE SURVIVED THE FINAL BATTLE OF THE NX-01?!?!?!

Dang Rigil. You sure know how to get a readers attention.

Loved that ya fit in the future Refit ideas into this fic. Now I really cant wait for the next fic. Especialy since I know what the ship will look like with its up an comin upgrades. ;-) [evil laughter] Endeavour,s gona need a bumber sticker that reads "Rommie buster". [/evil laughter] ;-) cant wait for the book cover to.
:-D

So now that this Chapter is over in the Captain Tucker/Commander T'pol story. Theirs somethin that cought my attention, an got me wondering. You mentioned that Adrenalin is going throough Hayes realy freakin fast compared to Normal Humans, an this is one of the reasons the Orion She bitch took control over him so quick. In your verse is this increased pumpage of adrenalin one of the Reasons Euagenics have inhanced strength? Just wondering.

Glad to see that Black isnt a complete Asshole. But he's still a worldclass Jerk that makes Patton look like everyone's fav Grandfather figure. Just to bad he dsont have the brillance that Patton had when it came to military smarts.

An he obviously had no idea how much Trip was holding back. an its probably for the best since Black was one of those inbetween him an T'pol. Black Would of been puppy kibble if Trip hadnt been putting the mission, ship, crew, an War ahead of his personal feelings. Trip is by far the Best Trek Capn Ever.

Ok I loved that T'pol shot the Orion She bitch. LOL!!! Why didnt anyone think of that on Enterprise. LOL!! But really it was the logical choice. what else could of T'pol done, Shoot her only other present ship mate, an a walkin talkin Killin machine. I think not. Deffinatly more logical to remove the interfearing, source of the problem, an pain in the Ass bitch.

An I still love yer Mitchell to. Cant blame him for laughin at T'pol. That would be quite the sight. LOL!!

An I just think Hayes is to cool. Far more interesting then his father ever was. An its a bit odd that he's workin with the guy that considered his father to be a serious pain in the ass. But I do wonder who he is gona have to recruit. I doubt if its T'pol she would ever even consider rejoining that type of life, the only other logical person would be Eisler. But he dont seem to be the Cloak an dagger type to me.
I dont think Hayes will be sucessful in any recruitment attempts for the Section on the Endeavour.

Ok Man that reuninon in the privacy of Trip's quarters scene, was perfect. I was even breathing easier after readin it. An why dos a Bonded Vulcan feel the need to logicly explain a reason for being with her mate. Seems to me since he is her mate, that should be a logicla explanation enough for her. Oh well. In time, In time she will know being in his presance is logical for her. ;-)

Beautiful job man.

I cant wait for the next one, So ignore all the comments an get to writing now!!!!!

;-) just kiddin. :-p

Thanks for the fic man.

Some thoughts and observations on the final act:

* Perhaps you should have explained what a helmet HUD is. Maybe you did in an earlier chapter and I have forgotten? I gather it stands for something like "Heads Up Display" and is some kind of monitor within the helmet's goggles?
* Heh, considering your rants about how ill equiped the MACOs were in season 3, I wasn't surprised at this mention by Eisler! LOL
* Poor Navaar getteing her face disrupted/disintegrated. She might have been a bitch but what an awful way to waste a pretty face. :-(
* I liked that T'Pol and Nate just didn't sit around waiting to get rescued but actually managed to surprise the STAB team.
* And after all this action you manage to write a very cute TnT scene with them in his quarters. I loved her "logical" reasoning behind staying put in his embrace as he slept.
* And sneaky Phlox to do what he did while they slept! He does know what's good for both of them, hehe! :devil:
* So, you brought out the much despised catsuit again! :P And I see that you went with the thermal-lined "excuse" too! ;-)
* T'Pol frakkin' rocked when she talked to Hayes and admitted that vengeance would be illogical but that she'd do it anyway if Trip ever got hurt. :thumbsup:
* Black is still an ass, but he is a smart ass (not to be confused with a smartass). He knows what battles he can fight and that he can't go against TnT during this time.
* I wonder what Hayes' primary objective was? To reveal himself as an augment and Sec31 agent to T'Pol? For what purpose? Methinks this is something that needs further explanations.
* Can't say I was surprised by the revealing of Control in the end. But then again, you had already spoiled me about that part! ;-)

All in all I really liked Icarus, even if you may think it's the weakest - or least strong is probably a better word - of your ENT/END fics. But you did manage to get some cool space battles and grunt fighting in as well. You wouldn't be a "bloodthirsty misanthrope" if you didn't! :-D

Weakest? What's weak about it? My only possible complaint is a desire to have seen an expanded exploration of Orion culture. I would have loved to see mroe interaction between Harad Sar and Navaar, and get a more in-depth feel for the dynamic there. I know you have dealt with this before, but for some reasons the Orions fascinate me, even moe than Romulans in some ways.

Otherwise, I think this one came just about as close to perfect as it is possible to hit.

Thanks for the various kind words and I'm really glad this fic is done...I mean, I'm really glad that you enjoyed it. For some reason, this particular fic has been my bane since I started it so I'm pleasantly surprised at how well it has been received and how well it actually turned out. For the longest time, I felt that this fic was going to be the weakest of my series but around act 4, I finally realized that I was just being a little too hard on myself.

To wit: NO, that is *not* a clone, not an evil duplicate from the mirror universe and time travel was *not* involved. That *IS* Malcolm Reed. How he got from "Elysium" to where he is now is a story that will be told.

Eventually.

For those interested, I suggest you check out the "book cover" again and look very closely on the "back" page. Over there by the word "Icarus" on the far left is a familar-looking face if you look hard enough. Chris did a FABULOUS job at hiding him in there and I must admit, I really expected some people to notice it earlier...

Oddly, I'm a little startled that T'Pol's targeting of Navaar is a surprise to so many since I had T'Pol reflect that an Orion disruptor would be weaker than a Klingon one, and we remember what happened with the Augments & those weapons. Also, me going out of my way to avoid stating *who* T'Pol shot seemed like a dead giveaway...

HOLLY: Right now, I don't really write anything else. I've got a partial Star Wars story up at Fanfiction.net but it'll likely never get finished since the Prequels kind of killed my love of that franchise (even so: ESB is the greatest movie ever). I am writing a number of episodes for the Foundations series over at Trekonline.org wherein we're sort of rebooting the entire Enteprise series without the massive continuity and canon violations that the televised series did. It's script format but I'm enjoying it so far.

PATRICK: If you didn't like Section 31 before, you're going to hate them now. Trust me on that.

MITCHELL: The adrenaline is just one of the reasons Augments are stronger. They're just wired better than normal humans and their muscle & bone density is simply superior. And who said that phase two of Hayes' mission has anything to do with recruitment? Heh.

KTR: Yeah, I kind of figured that everyone would know what a HUD was since I had the Rommies using something similar in Ragnarok. We're working on this sort of stuff today (see Land Warrior system) so it defies comprehension that Trek wouldn't have an even better system of it. And don't get me started on the ill-equipped MACOs of season 3.

I am currently in the process of plotting out the next TWO fics (as "Endeavour: Pandora" and "Endeavour: Acheron" will be a two-parter ala Vigrid & Ragnarok). Some of your questions will be answered, some won't, and some new questions will be raised. Fair warning: I'm approaching the entire "Endeavour" series with a metaplot in mind (ala Babylon 5) so don't expect me to tidy up *everything*...

Again, thanks for the compliments!

Wellllllllllll,,,, ;-)
"“Not surprising.” The older man stepped forward, his expression unrelenting and cold. “Continue with phase two, Lieutenant.” Hayes drew in a sharp breath at that: phase two was recruitment. He hadn't expected to be put in charge of that. “Keep a low profile for a few weeks.”"
It looked like you said it. :-p But hay I could be just goin out on a limb there.

I always figured that a Euagenic/Augment inorder to be as strong as they are (10Xs Human norm) that the enitre system would have to be enhanced. I was just wondering on yer thinkin on this.

Oh an if one were to go against a augment, it would probably be best to go Old School an ditch the damn energy weapons. Cause as strong as they are, I doubt their skull can stop a rifle bullet.

Oh an I love that you've filled yer ongoing story up with tech, an pleanty of action to boot. An It be pretty stupid if the MACOs or starfleet for that matter didnt have a HUD display for tactical gear. Especialy since the US Military (last I checked) was wrokin on prot types systems. So just ignore those that complain about to much action, fightin, tech, an right on the button Military way Trek should have been. Cause its not like this site isnt packed full of fluff fics.

I dont mind yer Super plot way of doing things. ;-) Just dont leave us hanging for to long when you get the Next one done, since its the 1st part of a two part arc.

Thanks again. Cant wait for that Refit. [evil laugh] Bigger reactor means more power for weapons. [/evil laughter]
Keep up the great work man.

Oh yeah. I did say that phase two was recruitment, didn't I? Heh. *cue evil (but not maniacal) laugh...

hmm very very interesting..
but "Hoshi knelt on the deck plating, her eyes looking but not seeing, her heart fractured beyond repair, her mind numbed by grief. Around her, the sounds of repair crews hard at work echoed loudly but she did not hear them, was unaware of the sad looks she received as she caressed Malcolm's cold hand, didn't see the understanding on the faces of the Columbia crewmen assigned to the body collection detail. She wanted to cry..."

cant wait for the explanation'
evil grin

Dunno Mitchell. I read a report once about an Alaskan Grizzly that took a twelve gauge slug in the skull and ran off with it. A Grizzly is about ten times as strong as a man isn't it?

And you are right. In order to get anything like ten times normal strength, they can't possibly be using normal bone and muscle tissue. No way. Not only would the structure of the joints, and the angle of muscle insertion need ot be modified, but the actual cell structure of the tissue itself would have to be changed, and some new kind of material would have ot be used to provide the structural strength to avoid shattering the bones by the stress their own muscles would be applying to them. We argued this out forever on another comment page a while back. I am sure Rigil remembers it :) I am guessing he had his augments bred with titanium rods running through the center of their bones or something.

Yay! Yay! Yay! Malcolm's NOT.DEAD. either! *does a silly skippy happy dance*

Ummm... are we gonna get to see what Hoshi does to him when she finds out? Huh? Pretty please? You could recruit Hoshi, too, you know. I'm sure Section 31 could use a good linguist. THEN he'd have to explain himself and dodge the fallout. She's his WIFE now, if I'm remembering your previous stories correctly, (or rather, his widow). I wonder if she's moved on now or not. How long has it been since his "death", anyway?

" Oh yeah. I did say that phase two was recruitment, didn't I? Heh. *cue evil (but not maniacal) laugh..."

Now dont go gettin al Mr. Burns like on us Rigil.

Well BnB, Hayes was sorta created in a secret millitatry base in Canada. ;-) So maybe Rigil's Augmented lil friend did get a frame refit, Just like a certin X-men had. LOL!!

I always orginaly imagined the Euagenic program had more to do with selective breeding then Genetic modifying. Selecting people with known Naturaly Extream athletic strengths, and mating them. Ya know like hitler tried to do. Then when they got these Augmented children as far as they could the natural way, then they brought in the Genetic modifcations. Which I have no clue as to how they would enhance them furthur, I guess maybe some how they had learned to modify/enhance certin Genes. Maybe they increased bone strength, an mass by placing the baby euagenics on vibration devices. Sorta like NASA has sugested to sue on Austunauts on future long term missions to keep their bone density from decreasing?
But Im no Dr. or genetic expert, so Im just guessing.

Warning side tracked subject ahead
----------------------------------

Well Shotguns have always been over rated. An a slug is not a Rifle bullet. You dont aim a slug loaded gun at an animals head. The Slug moves to slow, slugs are not nearly as aerodynamic as a rifle round, a head is usualy to thick for it to do any instant fatal damage, an pluss Slugs are ment for entering through soft tissue not the bone of a skull. This is why Rifles are superior. shot guns with slugs dont have near the penitration power that a rifle bullet, or even a pistol round has.
My Fav rifle (a 30-06 springfield) is able to shoot through a inch thick piece of solid steel at 400 yards. An Ive heard of people shooting through 4 inch steel at a 100 yards with them. An this is a round thats been around for 100 years. No Slug gun could ever compare to that.

An Head shots are diffcult on any animal. Trust me I know first hand.

"An Head shots are difficult on any animal. Trust me I know first hand."

Yeah, I know. We always killed hogs by putting a .22 magnum between the eyes. A lot of times the bullet would cut right on through and make it as far as the belly. So I see your point about a shotgun slug not being real good at penetration. But the shock value should be something horrendous, wouldn't it? I mean the kinetic energy in a twelve gauge slug is massive. Penetration or no, the simple shock of impact should have busted a crack in that critter's skull like the grand canyon. Plus, it seems to me I read somewhere about a test where a guy shot a twelve gauge magnum slug through the firewall of a car. Dunno if I believe that or not. I have seen how badly they flatten out after passing through soft tissue, and that sounds like a stretch to me.

What a wonderfully edifying conversation. *rolls eyes and waves the smoke out of the air*

Now field dress that piggy and bring him on over to my house. We'll have pork roast with rice and gravy for Thanksgiving. Then we'll call "Mythbusters" and ask 'em to shoot up a couple of cars for our holiday entertainment. : D

(Continuin to annoy D some more, an still keepin off topic) :-p

Well If its a newer Car, yeah it should go through without a problem. Considering modern cars are hardly even made out of tin foil anymore. But an American made Auto from the mid 80s back to the 30s, well the slug would be lucky to make a dent in one of those firewalls.

As for shock value,, The critter has to have a brain worth shockin to begin with. But Like I orginaly said, It wouldnt cause instant mortal damage to the animal. It might crack the skull, cause a lil vibration to. But Ive seen some critters do a hell of a lot of damage to their own heads with out blinking. Had a bull that beat his head against a Cast Iron tractor Front end, like he was tryin to kill the thing. He did that for 2 years every day Till we got ride of him.

Unless Ya shot the animal up the nose, into their mouth, or through an eye socket. I really doubt a slug would kill against the thick parts of a skull. Atleast not instantly, Long after it ate you maybe.

Distracted we Cant have piggy for T-Day, cause Im gona go [cough]Try[/cough] an shoot a turkey tomorrow. Will put the piggy on Ice an save him for Christmas instead.

pookha (cant remember that part entirely so I could be really wrong here) but maybe Hoshi was strokin the only piece that was left to be found of Reed his hand? Dang thats pretty disgusting come to think about it. EWWWWWWWWWWW.

It's Star Trek. As long as they didn't actually serve him up for Thanksgiving, he can come back. :)

A bull is one thing, they are designed to hit their heads into things. That's what the horns are for. Same for a buck sheep, or a buck for that matter. But a bear is more like a pig isn't it? Thick skulled, yeah. But from the skulls I have seen (admittedly, I did not get them down with calipers and do comparisons, so I may be talking out my ass here) they looked to me like they resembled a pigs skull more than anything else I ever saw. If so, you should be able to split one with an ax or a hammer if you hit it at the right point.

Good luck with the turkey hunt. Better thou than me. Wild turkey is delectable, but I would rather shell out for a butterball and spend the day warm. It is cold and wet here, slimy rain that want's to turn into snow if it ever gets the ambition. Not the kind of weather I like to hunt in. Good for stalking, easy to move quiet in the wet leaves. But my bum ticker doesn't like the cold.

Sorry, got off track from Rigil's story big time didn't I? I wonder if Section 31 trains its people to hunt?

omg its the end nnooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo nnnnnnnnnoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo......

anyway i loved this it was so brilliant man
(whow hoo)lol i hope u do another part from this!!!

ok let me do it agen
nnooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
its the end ur evil man (jk)
anyway i loved this it was so brilliant man
(whow hoo)lol i hope u do another part from this

"maybe Hoshi was strokin the only piece that was left to be found of Reed his hand? Dang thats pretty disgusting come to think about it. EWWWWWWWWWWW."

I would have to agree with you there, Mitchell. Ewwww.

Maybe that body wasn't actually Malcolm? Maybe it was a fancy copy of Malcolm that wasn't alive but was good enough to fool Phlox since he really wouldn't be looking TOO closely... I mean, if it was blown virtually to bits and in uniform and on what was left of Enterprise's bridge and the DNA matched, then what other tests did he really need to do? He was too busy saving the ones that WEREN'T blown to bits. (I've always wondered if you could do that with a resequencer using enough raw biomass and the patterns from the transporter. The copy wouldn't have to be alive. Preferably NOT in this instance. It would just have to be structurally identical, like that copy of Travis at the alien repair station. Hmmm. That also might make an interesting premise for a finale fix, y'know?)

Well yeah a bears Skull should be weaker then a Bull's, Bucks, an other head butting critters. but then Their still stronger then a Human's, An a slug is weaker then a Rifle bullet. Theirs many variables to take into account.

I only hunt in bad weather. LOL!! I cant stand sweating while I hunt, so I like wet an nasty, or snowy an sub-Artic type of weather.

An I'd hope that the section 31 would train for wilderness survival skills, trackin, hunting among other things. Other wise Section 31 agents would make piss poor agents.

Distracted-, I guess a Reed version of the Mayweather dead clone could work. Pluss the only reason Phlox cought on to the fake Mayweather, was cause of a shot or something he gave the crew a couple weeks before hand, it didnt show up in the Dead/fake Mayweather.
Sure sounds like something a Cloak an Dager black ops agency would do.

Oh an why fix the Finale??? Tera Prime was perfect. IMO. ;-) Nothin about that episode needed fixin.

Heh. Ya'll don't actually expect me to comment on your theories, do you? :-D

Not really, but we can hope can't we? :)

No. You just get yer butt in gear on the next story.. We'll keep ourselves entertained till yer done. :-p

Captain Tucker is great. I hope Starfleet begins to appreciate what a terrific combination Trip and T'Pol are. Hayes is an inspired character and now he's in cahoots with Malcolm -- great stuff. I hope we see them both again real soon. Is that too subtle a hint?

WHAT THE CRAP?!!?!! MALCOLM??!????!?!?????????!!!!!

Whoa. Good fic. Nicely done, Rigil, and I reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally can't wait for more! :)

Blimey Rigil, that was an awesome read! Well done. The action scenes were so vivid, and I love tender scenes of Trip and T'pol in his quarters.

But I'm a bit lost at the moment because I've forgotten how Malcolm died in the previous episode, I have to read them all over again which I don't mind.

Hope we see the next series very soon!

Sigh, seeing a character, obviously once confirmed dead and in the morgue with his fiance at his body then revived kinda breaks the creditibity contract for me. Yeah, Yeah, I know this is fiction and Trek at that. This author brought some sense of the reality and consequences of conflict and people die in war. That is necessary to carry the weight of combat.

HtH

I can totally understand that, HtH, as I personally struggled with the decision to actually pull the trigger on the Reed resurrection. I knew HOW I wanted to end this fic but no one else I plugged into the role Reed has here worked as well from a "What the Hell?" standpoint. And there were a number of other ideas I toyed with (like Daniels or ADM Forrest or even Lorian). Ultimately, I decided to go with my gut regarding the Reveal even though I too cannot stand it when characters experience mysterious rebirths after being killed in a show.

That said, I needed a familiar character (one that wasn't an OC) so I could examine the inner workings of Section 31. If you'll note the final scenes of "Elysium", it's pretty clear that Reed's survival is NOT common knowledge so, as far as everyone else is concerned, he IS dead. There IS a method to my madness, though, and I will attempt to explain it as time goes by...

Providing I can actually get some writing done, that is.

I figure you have some purpose in mind.

Just a minor whine and snivel. Pay no attention.

HtH

It's a legitimate opinion and grievance, especially given my obvious attempts to ground the series in a less ... fantastic version of the universe (i.e. no time travel, or AUs, or Mirror Universes, etc.)

I do hope that you'll like where I'm planning on taking it though...

Unless he was flash frozen in cryogenic stasis, or grown from a quick clone like Sim and then fed that super duper treatment to make him permanent, you are gonna be catching flack no matter what you do. But I for one am willing to withold judgment until I see what you have in mind. Considering your patience with some of my shenanigans, it is the least I can do.

But if there is any chanting or sacrificed chickens involved, I am outta here.

Dammit. I was soooo looking forward to the chanting and sacrificial chickens. Guess I should go back to the drawing board...