Say Not the Struggle Nought Availeth - Part 3

Say Not the Struggle Nought Availeth

By Shouldknowbetter

Rating: R
Disclaimer: See Part 1

Part 3

Algeron System, 6 years later

Soval’s prediction that the Romulan war would be bloody proved depressingly accurate. It dragged on for six years of escalating slaughter until Starfleet finally managed to trap the Romulan fleet at Cheron and inflicted on it a humiliating defeat. Even the Romulans had to accept that the defeat marked the end of their ability to wage war on the Humans they detested, and so finally they came to the negotiating table, although a strictly metaphorical one: they refused to meet their enemies face-to-face and all negotiations had to be conducted via sub-space radio. Even then it took six months to reach an agreement, and that a most unsatisfactory one. But at least it marked an end to the conflict, and Enterprise once again found herself witness to a treaty signing, albeit a virtual one.

With the treaty formally ratified, Enterprise and the Romulan flagship backed away from the Algeron system, then simultaneously turned and went to warp, vacating the newly created Neutral Zone with its network of satellites that would monitor its boundaries to ensure no ship from either side violated the treaty. But there was no sense of celebration on the Bridge of the Starfleet vessel. Perhaps better than anyone, even the admirals and the politicians, Enterprise's crew knew what the Treaty of Algeron had cost their planet: not just the loss of life, but the expenditure on weaponry rather than peaceful research, the curtailed plans for exploration, the stagnated careers. Enterprise had come of age struggling to survive in the Delphic Expanse. She had grown old fighting a war Earth had not wanted. Neither had figured in Henry Archer’s plans for his warp engine, and soon his son would have the painful privilege of overseeing the decommissioning of Earth’s first deep space vessel.

Archer had no illusions about his ability to keep either his ship or his crew together much longer. Enterprise was at the end of her design life, and not even Tucker could keep her space-worthy much longer. And if a date had not already been set for her final homecoming, Reed and Mayweather and maybe a few others would already have filed their requests for transfer. No one had been disloyal enough to leave when Enterprise needed to be at the top of her game to survive the desperate commitment of the Romulan commanders they faced, but now the war was over. It was time to move on. But it wasn’t a process that Archer looked forward to, even if the end of the war meant that the tentative alliances and agreements that had developed between a number of planets could now be hammered into something more permanent.

Enterprise exited the Neutral Zone, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Treachery, justified by the Romulan honour code that refused to accept defeat, had been a possibility. But now it truly was over. In recognition of the fact that her husband had completed his mission and could now be considered off duty, Amanda moved from her discreet position at the rear of the Bridge to Soval’s side, reaching up to kiss his cheek. “Nice job, sweetheart.”

The chief negotiator of the Treaty of Algeron frowned at her, and not because of the public demonstration of affection. “A temporary solution only. The Romulans will not indefinitely put aside their desire for conquest.”

“Maybe by then they’ll be ready to cooperate with other species.” Archer felt that someone needed to look on the bright side, but he drew Soval’s disapproval for his trouble.

“Leopards do not change their spots.”

“You’re just tired.” Amanda slipped her arm through the Vulcan’s, hugging it to her side. “Why don’t you use your diplomatic skills on Captain Archer, and persuade him to drop us off some place nice for a few days’ holiday?”

The elderly man freed his arm with a repressive look. “Vulcans have no need for recreation.”

Amanda pulled a face that said he was lying, while Tucker said peaceably, “Sounds like a good plan to me, captain. We’ve not had any R&R in months.”

“Less than eighteen hours to Risa.” Archer turned a pseudo-frowning look on Mayweather, who shrugged and made a pretence of turning back to the helm. “Just trying to be helpful, Captain.”

Enterprise's captain slowly surveyed his grinning Bridge crew, caught Amanda’s wink, and chose to ignore the disapproval of the two Vulcans present. “I guess Porthos would be better for feeling the sand under his paws. Set your course, Travis. Warp 4.”

~

When T’Pol entered Tucker’s cabin, he did not look up from where he was folding a number of gaudily patterned shirts into a bag. “Don’t say it.” The grumpy excuse for a greeting drew no response other than a faint tightening of her lips. “You won’t be there to see me wearing them.”

“As Ambassador Soval stated, Vulcans have no need for recreation.”

“Yeah. I know that.” The engineer straightened to scowl at T’Pol, who had taken up a stance on the other side of the room, hands clasped behind her. “So how come Amanda and Soval are gonna be spending a few days on Risa?” She opened her mouth to answer, and Tucker pounced, one finger raised in admonishment. “And don’t tell me he’s infatuated with her!”

T’Pol’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Ambassador Soval’s marriage is unofficial, but not a secret. He does not risk damaging his career if he is seen with his wife.”

Tucker ran a hand through his hair, and slumped down onto the bed, temper lost in gloom. “Just for once, T’Pol, don’t you think we could take the risk?” He managed to dredge up a rueful smile. “No one thought Malcolm and I were dating when we visited Risa that first time.”

Her expression did not noticeably relax, but she did move slowly towards him. “You know that Starfleet would not allow us to serve together if they became aware of our relationship.”

“Is it really that important anymore? In six months Enterprise is decommissioned. And we have no idea what we’re gonna do then.”

This time T’Pol’s expression did flicker before she took a seat beside Tucker. “You wish to join the Warp 7 project.”

“So could you.”

“It would not make best use of my skills.”

“So what happens? We go our separate ways?”

“If you wish.”

“Seems like it’s all settled then!” Tucker pushed himself to his feet, grabbing a sweater to hurl it savagely at his kitbag. Then just as abruptly he dropped to his knees in front of T’Pol, taking her hands. “Damn it, T’Pol, is it really gonna end like that? After six years we just walk away from each other? We’re married!”

She stared back, eyes sad. “It was you who spoke of ending our relationship.”

“Aren’t you tired of it, T’Pol?” He darted off at a tangent. “Sneaking in and out of each other’s quarters? Never having enough time together? Being worried sick every time we’re in danger?”

“You knew how it would be.”

“Yeah. But that was six years ago.” Tucker eased himself back onto the bed beside her. “I’m 43, T’Pol. I’ve had enough of a part-time relationship, and maybe I’ve even had enough of space travel. I wanna settle down, have kids.” He raised a hand to stroke her soft cheek gently. “What d’you say, honey? We could both resign, find ourselves a home, see if Phlox can’t help us to have another baby.”

“I don’t know.”

T’Pol’s voice was soft and not quite steady, and Tucker’s eyes too were sad when he leant forward to kiss her gently. “I know you’re scared, T’Pol. But there’s no reason why what happened to Elizabeth should happen again.” She didn’t respond and he sighed, sitting back again. “At least give it some thought.”

She nodded and rose to her feet, visibly struggling for composure as she said neutrally, “Will you be attending movie night?”

“I guess.” Tucker had remained on the bed, mouth pulled to one side as he tilted his head back to look up at her. “Gonna sit in the back row with me and make out?”

An eyebrow flicked in instant dismissal of the notion. “Certainly not.”

Tucker left it until after the door had closed behind T’Pol’s shapely posterior before murmuring quietly, “I guess that says it all.”

~

Amanda knew that Soval had relaxed somewhat when she sunk down beside him after her swim, because he immediately put down the book he had been studying to pick up a towel to dry her hair. She submitted with pleasure to the attention, which was much overdue. She was extremely proud of Soval’s achievement in negotiating the Treaty of Algeron, but it had absorbed all his attention for the past few months. She had never doubted Soval’s attachment to her, nor hers to him, but temporarily he had had other priorities – ones of which she approved. However lonely she had sometimes felt, she had kept quiet about it, spending her time with family and friends, concentrating on her work with a law firm that specialised in inter-species disputes. But now the treaty had been signed, and it was time to remind Soval that he had other, more pleasant, duties in life.

He finished with her hair and dropped the towel, then his hands returned to her bare arms, sliding caressingly downwards. She leant back, cocking her head invitingly, and his mouth nuzzled her neck, making her eyes close with pleasure even as she smiled.

“Thank you.” His hot breath caressed her ear, and Amanda turned her head in surprise.

“For what?”

He captured her mouth for a gentle kiss. “For your patience.”

She turned around fully, winding her arms around his neck. “You had a job to do. And you did it.”

“We may hope so.”

“We know so!” Amanda leant in to kiss Soval thoroughly, intent on ending his brooding over potential holes in the treaty. She knew she had succeeded when his mouth responded to hers with more interest than he’d shown in a long time, his hands slipping around her back to caress her bare skin. She shivered with anticipation and lowered her hands to fumble for the fastenings of his shirt. She had been patient. Now she was suddenly very impatient indeed.

But Soval pulled away, hands moving to grip her wrists. “Amanda!”

She scowled back in profound disappointment. “I thought you wanted to make love.”

“I do. But I refuse to perform that particular activity in public.”

“Does that mean you would in private?”

“Certainly.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Amanda dived for a bag, ruthlessly stuffing towels, drink bottles and books into it. The beach – public only by Soval’s definition - was a good 5km from their accommodation and she was loath to wait any longer than she had to. She forced the last item into the bag and pulled a tee shirt over her swimsuit. “Let’s go.”

Soval had watched her precipitous packing with well controlled amusement, but he came readily to his feet, reaching a hand down to help her up, then using it to pull her close for another kiss. Amanda responded for a moment, then it was her turn to draw back. “Later, sweetheart. Unless you’re gonna let me change your mind?”

“I think not.” He stooped to collect the rug they had been sitting on just as an energy beam sizzled out of the jungle at the rear of the beach. It caught his back, and he fell forward with a grunt of pain and shock. Amanda dived for the ground after him, MACO training kicking in despite her fear for his life that had been fuelled by the abrupt severing of the psychic connection between them. She had the gun that Soval did not know she carried in her hand before the next shot passed over their heads, and returned fire into the dense vegetation. The sound of something body-sized falling reached her ears, but she wasn’t fooled into standing up, groping for the communicator instead. “Cole to Enterprise. Two to beam up – now!”

~

When Archer and T’Pol entered Sickbay, Amanda was pacing, gnawing a knuckle in a mixture of anger, frustration and worry. Phlox and his patient were hidden behind a screen that Archer ignored to concentrate on the anxious woman. “What happened?”

“Did you get a squad down there?”

Enterprise's captain frowned at her brusque question that ignored his own, but nodded briefly. “Sergeant Kemper’s on the planet now. What happened, Mrs Soval?”

“Someone took a pot shot at my husband!” Then she took a deep breath and added more informatively, “With a plasma rifle, out of cover behind us. I returned fire. I’m pretty sure I hit something, but I wasn’t gonna stay around to find out.”

“Was the ambassador badly hurt?”

Amanda’s tenuous composure threatened to crack at T’Pol’s gentle question. “It looked bad.” She took an anxious look towards the screen then back at the Enterprise pair, scowling. “Bastard! Pity it’s only a stunner I carry.”

The doors to Sickbay opened before either Archer or T’Pol could reply to the vindictive statement. Sergeant Kemper entered, standing in for Reed, who had defied gossip and the likelihood of trouble to risk shore leave with Tucker. The MACO shook her head in answer to the captain’s questioning look. “We found nothing, sir.” The glance she threw Amanda was faintly contemptuous. “Maybe Mrs Soval’s a little out of practise.”

“Oh, right, like I wouldn’t keep up my training when there’s a war on! I hit something!”

“But we found nothing.”

Amanda scowled, but before she could defend her position further, Phlox emerged from behind the screen and she darted towards him. “Will he be okay?” She barely gave him time to nod before adding, “Can I see him?”

The Denobulan gestured expansively and she slipped behind him, while Archer asked, “How is the ambassador, doctor?”

“Fortunate.” Phlox moved a few steps forward, giving the couple behind him some privacy. “The weapon caught him a glancing blow, but it was undoubtedly intended to kill.”

Archer frowned, exchanged a glance with T’Pol, then turned the frown onto the doctor. “When can I speak to him?”

“Now if you wish. He’s conscious.”

The captain nodded and brushed past the Denobulan to round the screen, to find that the injured ambassador was well enough to sit up. What halted Archer in mid stride, however, was the unnerving sight of Soval with his arm around his wife, who had her face pressed into his neck. All hint of tenderness faded from the Vulcan’s expression as soon as Archer appeared, and he released Amanda, who sat back and added her glare to Soval’s, despite the tears on her cheeks. Disconcerted for once, Archer hesitated and Soval took advantage to ask coolly, “Have you apprehended the assassin, Captain?”

“No.” Archer took a quick look at Amanda’s annoyed expression, and added, “But we’re working on it.”

“I hit something!” Amanda wiped at her face, more irritated than ashamed that she’d been caught snivelling with relief. “If there’s no body, then either the assassin had backup, or he recovered more quickly than normal.”

“The weapon you carry, Amanda, would be only partially effective against many species,” Soval observed, and she scowled at him.

“How come you know that? You’re not even supposed to know I carry a gun!”

“Our luggage is checked every time we board a Vulcan vessel. I have always known.”

She grunted with annoyance, and T’Pol asked calmly, “Was it in response to a specific threat, Mrs Soval, that you decided to take the ambassador’s security into your own hands?”

Amanda glowered even more heavily at the implication that she was in some measure responsible for Soval’s wounding. “No, it wasn’t! But the Romulan war hasn’t done anything to quell the xenophobia on Earth. Soval won’t agree to an official security detail when he’s off duty, so I reckoned I’d better take the job.”

“Are you aware of any threats against your life, Ambassador?” Archer queried, but the Vulcan shook his head.

“None.”

“Anyone who might hold a grudge?”

This time Soval hesitated, while Amanda grimaced. “Be honest, sweetheart, there are a few of those.”

“Their names?” T’Pol requested crisply.

Amanda waited briefly for Soval to begin, then rolled her eyes when he remained silent and made a start herself. “Anyone on Vulcan who followed V’Las. It’s possible that a few of his supporters kept quiet at the time he was discredited, and are just biding their time. Any Andorian who still sees Vulcan as the traditional enemy. The Orion Syndicate; they were not happy that you restricted their trade within the Neutral Zone.”

She paused for breath, and Soval said reprovingly, “Amanda, you allow your imagination to override logic.”

“The French representative.” She totally ignored his rebuke. “The Romulans.” Her eyes narrowed in sudden thought. “That makes sense. They must hate you just as much as they do us Humans for getting in the way of their plans for reunification.”

“It does not make sense.” Soval spoke firmly. “The treaty is signed. All Romulan ships have withdrawn. The Senate understands the penalty if the Neutral Zone is breached, or if they again attempt covert disruption.”

“Let’s see what the investigation throws up.” Archer took the proceedings back into his own hands. “If we catch the person responsible, we won’t need to speculate.”

But despite the best efforts of Reed and the authorities on Risa, they failed to identify the assassin. The only one who appeared unsurprised at the failure was Soval, who dryly observed that he preferred to be the target of professionals than of amateurs. Amanda, on the other hand, was furious. She came close to accusing Archer of undermining the investigation because of his lifelong prejudice against Vulcans in general and Soval in particular, prevented only because Soval stopped her in mid rant on the grounds that she was giving him a headache. Stop her he did, but the incident added to the tension onboard Enterprise. Both crew and guests were relieved when they parted company at Vulcan.

~

With the Romulan War over, it should have been the start of a new, more positive phase of progress for the quadrant, and in some ways it was. Archer’s vision of an inter-stellar alliance of planets, working for the common good, was coming closer, and Enterprise spent a good deal of her final few months in commission shuttling diplomats to and fro, and hosting conferences at which her captain presided. But beneath the veneer of cooperation, there still ran a dark layer of sedition.

On Earth, Terra Prime had been suppressed, but it had left behind a small but pernicious vacuum. That the vacuum had been filled by something the government knew, but the best efforts of Earth’s police force and of Section 31 could not discover the workings, or even the intentions, of that ‘something’.

A similar problem arose on Vulcan, still shakily trying to reformulate its society to fit Surak’s two thousand year old vision. The V’tosh Ka’tur returned home, persuaded that they had been mistaken in their beliefs by the evidence of Surak’s own writings, but another splinter group arose. Its views were worryingly similar to those of S’Task for those few who knew the truth of the Romulans’ origins. The treatment meted out to the new group was less harsh than that the Syrranites had received, but it was still dealt with firmly. If there were adherents who could not be persuaded to change their views and so were driven into hiding, no one knew.

The knowledge that Andoria and Orion experienced similar discontent was again limited to a small number of increasingly worried politicians and diplomats, plus one starship captain. It gave an incentive to the talks that were edging their way towards a formal alliance between the major worlds, at the same time that it made the future of such an alliance uncertain.

There were many dedicated men and women who never faltered in their pursuit of their aims. The tragedy was that their aims did not always coincide.

~

The Vulcan Embassy, Earth, four months later

Tucker had grown used to receiving luncheon invitations from Amanda whenever Enterprise's visits to Earth or Vulcan coincided with hers. Privately he even admitted that he enjoyed the occasions. Given that Soval invariably invited T’Pol at the same time, it meant that the engineer actually got to spend time with his girlfriend away from Enterprise, even if she did insist that they left independently. Tucker knew, because Amanda had confirmed his suspicion, that he and T’Pol were invited so that the ambassador could check up on his former protégé, but he could cope with that because Soval appeared to approve of her relationship with a Human. Besides – and this was a very private admission indeed – Soval himself had turned into a friend over the years. Certainly when he was off duty, the Vulcan was a far more pleasant character than Tucker had ever realised – and an infinitely more devious one. It had taken him a while, but eventually he had realised that there were two styles of lunch that Soval hosted. One was genuinely informal, a gathering of friends and family for no better reason than that those invited enjoyed each other’s company. The second pretended to be equally informal, but the guest list would include any politician or Starfleet admiral with whom Soval wished to discuss business that he preferred not to have on the official record. Tucker could only guess at how many such lunches the late Admiral Forrest had attended.

That the event on that particular Sunday was of the latter type, Tucker suspected from the moment he heard that Archer had also been invited; for reasons Tucker didn’t understand, Enterprise's captain had never made it onto the list of Soval’s and Amanda’s friends. A quick scan of the guests scattered around the garden of the Vulcan embassy confirmed his guess. He picked out the Andorian and Tellerite ambassadors to Earth, plus Admiral Gardiner and a couple of other Humans he didn’t recognise.

Leaving Archer and T’Pol to greet their hosts, Tucker drifted over to where Amanda’s eldest brother was lounging by the drinks table, lending credence to the pretence that the gathering was purely for pleasure. “What’s Soval planning this time, Seth?”

“Should I know?” The big man produced a slow smile very like his sister’s. “I’m just here for the food. Beer?”

“Thanks.” Tucker accepted the offering and took a swig, although his eyes mocked the other man over the length of the bottle. “You’re usually pretty well informed.” Seth Cole only smiled wider, and Tucker grimaced, recognising loyal silence when he met it. The Cole family had accepted their odd in-law with laudable readiness, appearing to have a genuine affection for the elderly Vulcan whom Amanda had unexpectedly married. It was admirable, but it was also frustrating when it meant that Seth wouldn’t give him a heads-up on the gossip. “So how’s life on Earth?”

“A little tense. How’s life in space?”

“A little tense.” Very deliberately Tucker echoed the phrase back, subjecting the other man to an unusually thoughtful look. “Is that why we’re here?”

“Hey,” Seth held up a placating hand, “you know Soval. He likes to catch up with his friends occasionally.”

“Yeah, and this isn’t one of those occasions. So come clean! What’s on the agenda?”

“Drop it, Trip.” Tucker turned his head to shoot a mock-annoyed look at Amanda, who had come up behind him. She grinned unrepentantly and lifted herself up to kiss his cheek. “You look tired. Are those old engines keeping you awake at night?”

“No more than usual.” Tucker knew he was being diverted, and knew just as well that it was hopeless to resist. Amanda had sufficient charm and determination to overcome a more recalcitrant nature than his and, on a sunny Sunday afternoon, he wasn’t even prepared to try too hard. “Is that Selar’s latest?”

“That’s right.” Amanda smiled down at the baby cradled in her arms, the points of its ears visible through the soft baby hair that covered its head thickly. “I’m getting in a little practise.”

It took a moment for the implication to register, then he blinked. “Practise? Are you …?”

He waved his hand vaguely, and Amanda rolled her eyes at his embarrassment. “Pregnant? Not yet, but we hope it won’t be too long. The Inter Planetary Medical Exchange programme has just published a new paper on gene splicing. It should mean there are no more barriers to creating a Vulcan-Human hybrid.”

“Would the baby be viable?” Tucker’s guts had tied themselves into knots, and he wasn’t sure if it was with hope or remembered grief at the death of a half Human, half Vulcan baby who had not been viable.

“Probably.” Amanda’s expression was understanding, but also a little sad. “Sure, there’s a risk the baby wouldn’t make it. But we wanna try.”

“Right.” He had to clear his throat to continue. “Well … good luck.”

“Thanks.” She gave him another of the smiles that had made her one of the most valuable assets in Vulcan diplomatic circles, and strolled away to charm her other guests, leaving Tucker to quell the faint tinge of regret that he so often experienced in her presence. He loved T’Pol, but there was something about Amanda’s warm, bright presence that made it very hard to forget that, under other circumstances, they might have become much more than good friends. Not that Amanda suffered similar regrets. There were many who believed that the former MACO had made a serious mistake in becoming involved with the Vulcan ambassador to Earth, and stayed with him only because her pride refused to let her admit her mistake. Tucker knew they were wrong. Amanda was serenely happy with the unlikely partner she had chosen, and certainly no one seeing her smile at Soval when she reached his side could doubt that she loved him.

“She’s still crazy about him.” Seth’s statement uncannily echoed Tucker’s own thoughts and brought him around to face the other man with a trace of guilt that he’d been caught staring. “And you know what?” Soval’s brother-in-law’s mouth twitched into an incredulous smile. “He adores her.”

Tucker raised his beer bottle in a heartfelt toast. “Peace and long life to them both.”

~

Due to careful planning, only a sub-set of the ambassador’s guests made it back to the embassy’s garden after lunch. Tucker saw the moment when his captain finally realised that he had been manipulated, but before Archer could protest the Andorian ambassador dropped heavily onto a stone bench. “Enough prevarication, Soval. I’ve endured your company only for the sake of your very beautiful wife. Now let’s get to business.”

The tone was aggressive, but his heart wasn’t in it; his antennae didn’t even twitch. The Tellerite grunted general disapproval, but he also took a seat – as far from the Andorian as possible – and thumped his hands onto his knees. “Well, Soval?”

The Vulcan also seated himself, indicating that the rest of his guests should do likewise, and said mildly, “It occurred to me that we have been evading an unpleasant truth.”

The evasion continued for a few moments more before Gardiner stated heavily, “There are opponents to the Alliance.”

“Or one opponent.” Soval’s voice was still quiet although his words created a brief but ominous silence.

Archer shifted restlessly, irritation clear. “That’s something that should be discussed in public, Ambassador Soval. Not in private.”

“We’re not hiding anything.” From where she sat on the grass at Soval’s feet, Amanda tilted her head back to look up at Enterprise's captain. “Everyone here is authorised to speak for their respective governments. We’re just being careful.”

“Do you approve of this, admiral?”

Archer’s question to Gardiner made it clear that the captain didn’t approve, but the other man only shrugged a little ruefully. “I might not agree with the ambassador’s methods, Jonathon, but I’ve learnt to trust his judgement. I’m prepared to hear him out.”

The endorsement earned him a warm smile from Amanda, although Soval’s tone was entirely neutral when he continued. “There is one reason only for such an unorthodox approach, Captain Archer: the fact that every operative commissioned by Vulcan, Tellar and Earth to infiltrate the organisations fermenting unrest on their respective worlds has disappeared without trace.” He glanced over at the Andorian ambassador, whose antennae had arched forward at that revelation. “I cannot speak for Andor.”

There was only a brief pause before the man nodded slowly. “The same is true for us.”

Archer’s expression had grown sour. “So your operatives aren’t as competent as you think.”

“No.” Seth Cole entered the debate for the first time. “Earth set some good people on the trail. They still failed.”

“How do you know that?”

“I apologise.” Soval’s tone was silkily insulting this time. “Commissioner Cole has recently been appointed head of this continent’s police force. Commissioner, you will know of Captain Archer, I am sure.”

Archer returned Seth’s polite acknowledgement with a brusque nod, while Tucker sighed quietly to himself. He was much the same age as Amanda’s brother, but Seth’s career was still going strong, while his had stalled. Maybe part of his current dissatisfaction stemmed from the knowledge that he wasn’t going to progress much further. There had been a time when the height of his ambition had been to become Enterprise's chief engineer, but that had been a long time ago. He’d stayed in the one job too long. It would be hard now to convince Starfleet that he had the necessary drive to move up to first officer, let alone captain.

“You are suggesting, Ambassador,” T’Pol stated into the silence that had fallen, “that not only is there a single entity behind the opposition to the proposed Alliance, but that they have access to sources of information within the highest levels of government.”

“That is the conclusion that I have reached.” Soval swept the assembled group with dark, assessing eyes. “I would welcome an alternative.”

But though they argued the afternoon away, no one could construct a viable counter-argument. Neither could they decide on a better course of action than to continue such intelligence gathering activities as were currently underway, and to hope that one of those would stumble on the clue that would allow them to crack the conspiracy open. It was only after most of the guests had departed, leaving only Seth, his family and the Enterprise trio, that Amanda said thoughtfully, “Seth, you could get me a job in one of the colonies, couldn’t you?”

Her brother didn’t have time to answer. Soval’s head snapped around from where he was talking to T’Pol to say forcefully, “No!”

Amanda’s mouth compressed with exasperation. “About all we know is that the opposition is strongest in the colonies. We have to start somewhere.”

“A start has been made, and every operative has been lost.” There might have been no one else listening for all the attention Soval spared from his wife.

“Where’s the risk? No one would know except us, and I wouldn’t need a contact other than you.”

“I forbid it!”

“But that must be how the rest were caught!” Soval’s high handedness had made Amanda angry. “They were intercepted when they tried to report back. That couldn’t happen with me.” There was a profound silence while the pair stared intently at each other, then Amanda flushed, her expression softening into half embarrassed understanding. “Oh.”

Soval held her eyes a moment more, then calmly turned back to T’Pol. Amanda stared after him, her face full of fatuous affection, then she turned briskly to the important business of dispatching their remaining guests as rapidly as possible.

There were only two people present who understood what had passed between the pair. Which two and what would become of the knowledge was problematic.

~

In frowning silence Archer left Tucker and T’Pol at the airlock, and for once T’Pol didn’t offer an excuse when Tucker suggested that they eat together. She didn’t even come armed with a PADD to preserve the appearance that they were meeting to discuss ship’s business. But neither did she make any attempt to introduce the subject uppermost in Tucker’s mind, just delicately pushed a few shreds of salad around her plate. Eventually he gave up waiting, and said as casually as he could manage, “Did Soval tell you that he and Amanda are hoping to start a family?”

“He did.”

Her tone was indifferent, as was the brief glance she awarded him, but Tucker continued doggedly, “Quite a surprise, huh?”

“Hardly.” This time she subjected him to a cool and discouraging stare. “It’s not unusual for Vulcans to become parents late in life.”

“But it’s a little unusual for one to have a baby with a Human.” T’Pol averted her eyes, and he sighed. “We have to talk about it, T’Pol.” He got no response, not even a flicker of emotion through the psychic connection between them. It had taken a good deal of time and experimentation, not to mention a number of embarrassingly intimate discussions with Soval, but T’Pol had eventually learned how to block her Human’s emotions when she wished – and how to prevent him from sensing hers. Most of the time it was a blessed relief, but just now he’d have been glad of a hint to give him some idea how to proceed. “D’you remember Lorian? T’Pol, we know that we can have a child together, and one that doesn’t have to die. Maybe it’s time to think about having one on our own terms.”

“It’s not possible.” T’Pol raised her head, her expression superficially composed, although Tucker could see the telltale signs of tension around her mouth. “How do you propose that we explain a child to Starfleet?”

Tucker sighed, raising a hand to rub a thumb and forefinger over his eyebrows. “We’ve been there, T’Pol. I told you: we could quit, start a new life together.”

“Where do you propose we live? On Earth? Where Dr Selar and her family have been subject to speciest abuse?”

“Twice, T’Pol. Twice in the last seven years.”

“You find that acceptable?”

“Of course I don’t!” Tucker drew a calming breath, forcing himself to back off. Making him angry enough to walk away was one of T’Pol’s favourite techniques in her arsenal, and all too frequently he reacted exactly as she wished. “But we could live together.”

Finally she appeared to consider the matter, although the glint in her eyes made him squirm even before she spoke. “Would you put our personal contentment before the greater good – as Ambassador Soval has done?”

“Huh?”

Her eyes narrowed as they often did when her role as first officer meant that she had to present a logical course of action to Archer only to have it summarily rejected. “Ms Cole was prepared to volunteer her services to infiltrate the opposition to the Alliance. Ambassador Soval would not permit her.” She considered Tucker’s shocked expression. “You were not aware of their exchange?”

“No!” He shifted uncomfortably. “I guess I was thinking of something else.”

“No doubt!” The stinging reprimand made him wince. Then he had to attempt to turn the grimace into a welcoming smile as Archer approached their table, although the captain made no such attempt.

“I’m a little late.” The forced joviality in his voice fooled no one. “Join me for coffee.”

It was an order, not a request, and first officer and chief engineer followed their captain obediently into the private dining room, Tucker at least grateful for the distraction. But the gratitude lasted no longer than the time it took for him to register that Reed was waiting for them. Archer took his place at the table then directed a searching look at the pair of officers whose relationship he had chosen to ignore for over six years. “You know what Mrs Soval proposed this afternoon?”

Tucker kept his head down, while T’Pol confirmed calmly, “Yes.”

Archer nodded as if he had only been confirming something already known. “Would it have worked?”

“That is impossible to judge.” T’Pol still sounded calm to Tucker’s ears, not as if she were undermining their future. “We do not know why the agents sent to infiltrate the opposition have failed.”

“I had Malcolm look into that one.” To his credit, Archer seemed reluctant to voice the conclusion his tactical officer had reached. Instead he picked up his fork and nodded to Reed, who launched into his report without hesitation.

“Mrs Soval was well informed. All the agents disappeared immediately after their first report. It seems that that’s how they gave themselves away.”

Neither Tucker nor T’Pol chose to comment, and after a moment Archer said almost gently, “I know you two have a mental link of some kind. I’ve never asked why, and I’m not asking now. But I am asking – what is it capable of?”

It was T’Pol who answered, Tucker still fighting a silent, rearguard action against an unavoidable fate. “We don’t know.”

“But you can speak to each other without anyone else detecting it?”

This time she glanced at Tucker before replying. “Yes.”

“Then it’s possible? One of you could infiltrate the anti-Alliance organisation and report back without being detected?”

At long last Tucker raised his head to look back at his captain. “Maybe. But the last time we went under cover, we were spotted almost as soon as we set foot on that mining installation on Mars.”

“That was over six years ago, not long after we got back from the Delphic Expanse. We were heroes! We’re a lot less famous now.” Archer halted as if with half his prepared speech undelivered, and it was Reed who voiced the other aspect of the plan, his tone faintly sarcastic, even mocking, as it often was when he didn’t like what he was about to say.

“Besides, who would expect to see a dead man?”

~

Despite the fact that Reed had turned his back on any association with Section 31 many years previously, his request to meet with the mysterious Harris was granted almost immediately. That Harris wasn’t happy when Reed arrived at the rendezvous with three companions was evident, but his mood improved once Archer had outlined their proposition. Indeed he seemed almost gleeful as he listed a number of other factors that they had forgotten to consider, together with his proposed solutions, making it clear that this wasn’t the first time he had participated in such a subterfuge. Tucker grew even glummer as the plan evolved, eventually breaking into Harris’s lecture on the need for secrecy to say belligerently, “I have to tell my folks.”

“No.” Harris didn’t hesitate. “We have to restrict the truth to the minimum number of people possible.”

“He’s right, Trip.” Reed wasn’t pleased to have to agree with his old associate, but he was firm. “More agents are innocently betrayed by their families than by any other means. They can’t know.”

“It won’t be for long, Trip.” Archer added his encouragement. “I know they’ll be hurt. But it won’t be for long.”

The engineer grimaced, shook his head, and finally blew out his breath in resigned acceptance. “Okay. But I wanna see them first.”

“Of course.” Harris’s glib agreement should have started alarm bells ringing, but did not. “We’ve agreed that your ‘death’ can occur during Enterprise's decommissioning – a tragic accident! But I’m sure Captain Archer will see fit to grant you leave beforehand.”

Archer nodded, and they moved on to discuss other details. But there was an encrypted message waiting for Reed when he returned to Enterprise. ‘The decommissioning accident is too obvious,’ it read. ‘Make sure it happens before you return to Earth. We know we can rely on you, Malcolm.’

~

Enterprise, two months later

When T’Pol entered Tucker’s cabin, she found him sitting on the edge of his bunk, head in his hands. He didn’t look up, even when she seated herself beside him. “You have been brooding again.”

“It’s a little hard not to.” He raised his head, and she noticed how tired he appeared. “We’re heading for Earth. In a few days the Alliance charter’ll be signed and Enterprise’ll start her decommissioning. And then I’m gonna die!”

“You may be fortunate. Captain Archer is struggling with his speech. The signing ceremony may be delayed.”

Tucker chuckled weakly, and sat up a little to pull her close. “Nice try, honey. But nothing’s gonna interfere with that one.”

She allowed him to hold her, but her slender body did not relax. Her tension was eventually explained when she said softly, “I am sorry.”

“For what?”

Her warm brown eyes lifted to his. “That you have been forced to take this mission.”

Tucker grimaced ruefully. “I wasn’t forced, T’Pol. I don’t wanna do it. I might not even have had much choice. But it needs to be done, and it seems like I’m the only one who can do it. So …”

He broke off with a shrug, and T’Pol put in quickly, “I intended that it be me.” Tucker frowned his incomprehension, and she expanded on her cryptic observation. “When the mission was first proposed, I believed it was I who would go undercover. I have the training and the experience and,” she paused fractionally, “I have no family.” She lifted a hand to his face. “I’m sorry.”

Tucker captured her fingers, bringing them to his mouth. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

“I never spoke out against your participation.”

“That’s because it’s the right thing to do. We both know that.”

“But as you said, nothing will now stop the signing of the Alliance charter.”

“Yeah. But we have to make sure it stays signed.” Very deliberately Tucker stroked back T’Pol’s hair to give himself a clear view of her right ear. “We’ve done plenty of exploring over the last ten years. More than our fair share of fighting too. But if the next generation can look back and say that we contributed to the formation of an Alliance that’s still working,” he shrugged depreciatingly, “that makes it all worthwhile. Even this.”

She stared up into his face. “Vulcans are not supposed to miss people. But I find myself missing my mother more as the years pass. I will miss you too.”

“No, you won’t.” He tried and failed to smile. “Psychic connection, remember? That’s the whole reason we’re doing this.”

“No.” T’Pol curved a hand around Tucker’s neck and pulled him towards her. “I will miss you.”

~

Vulcan Embassy, Earth, 5 days later

Soval always had a vast amount of information to sift through in any one day, something he dealt with early in the morning, before Amanda awoke. He usually had the activity completed in time to bring her tea in bed, but when she stirred on that particular morning, it was not to the smell of lemon and ginger tea. Grumbling gently to herself because she had found that the tea helped combat her pregnancy-induced nausea, she pulled on a robe and stumbled into the living area, fully intending to complain at Soval’s neglect. But the sight of him sitting immobile behind his desk, hands clasped before him and a formidable scowl accentuating the slant of his eyebrows pulled her up short, knowing that they meant trouble. “What’s happened?”

He switched his gaze from his knotted fingers to her face, then stretched out a hand to turn his terminal in her direction. “This.”

Amanda moved forward to read the Starfleet communiqué, an involuntary gasp escaping her at its import. Then she turned and fled through the bedroom to the sanitary unit beyond as shock and grief combined to trigger yet another bout of sickness. When the fit finally subsided, she slumped against the warm body that had interposed itself at her side almost as soon as she began retching. “I hate this.”

“Drink.” Obediently she sipped from the glass held to her lips, swirled the water around her mouth, then spat it gratefully into the bowl before her. Nor did she resist when Soval lifted her to her feet and led her to the bed, handing her the water glass then fetching a damp cloth to wipe her face. Normally she didn’t allow him to fuss over her, but right now a little loving attention was exactly what she needed to counter the cold knot in the pit of her stomach. She let him hold her for a few minutes, her head resting on his shoulder, then broke the silence to say bitterly, “It’s so stupid! Trip survives the Romulan war, the Xindi, a hundred other risks, only to die a few days from home in a skirmish over some stupid feud that wasn’t any of Starfleet’s business.”

Soval had been holding her quietly, his only action the half unconscious movement of his fingers through her thick hair. Now he turned his head to press his cheek to her down bent head. “Extremely stupid.”

The dry undertone registered with Amanda at the same moment that she realised that her husband was by no means grieved at the death of a man he had liked and respected. She raised her head sharply, banging her cheekbone on Soval’s chin. “What d’you mean?”

He looked steadily back, dark eyes thoughtful. “This was not the first time that Enterprise had been boarded by hostile aliens. Lt Reed is a competent officer. I am sure he had planned for such a scenario and would have reacted with due haste. Yet it seems that Captain Archer and Commander Tucker faced the invaders alone, with no aid from security. Nor is Commander Tucker a foolish man. Now I learn that he died in an unnecessary act of self-sacrifice.” An eyebrow rose in cynical dismissal of the story. “I find the entire episode most implausible.”

Amanda sucked in a lungful of air and blew it out in a silent whistle. “You think they faked his death? So that he can go after the opponents of the Alliance?” Soval nodded and her mouth twisted in misery again. “Then it’s my fault.”

“Amanda?”

She shook her head at his uncharacteristic obtuseness. “I suggested it that day they were all here. I pointed out that what was needed was someone with a psychic connection with a Vulcan.”

Soval took her chin in a firm hand, forcing her to look directly into his eyes. “And I told you then, as I will tell you now, that I lived too long alone to risk being permanently parted from you. If there is blame to be apportioned, ashel-veh, it lies with me.”

Amanda stared back, eyes wide, then gulped and leant forward to press her face into Soval’s neck and cry. Whether she was crying for Trip and his family, or for the good fortune that had led her into the path of the kindest man she had ever met, she couldn’t have said – but she did sincerely hope that her hormones settled down before she unbalanced Soval with her wayward emotions.

~

San Francisco, Earth, three days later

“You look,” T’Pol paused to select a word that Archer would appreciate, “heroic.” His resultant hug was unexpected, and not something to which she could bring herself to respond, but she understood her captain’s motivation: not merely gratitude for her support, but silent acknowledgment that she was bereft of any true satisfaction in this culmination of close to 100 years of Human contact with her species. If Trip had been at her side, she wouldn’t even have considered remaining outside the auditorium. Her official motivation might have been to ensure that Mr Tucker conducted himself with dignity, but the reality would have been that she wished to share his enjoyment. Vulcans could be just as passionately attached to science and to causes as Trip, but they could never experience his fierce joy in success. He had been gone only four days, whisked away from Enterprise in his ‘coffin’ by silent men sent by Harris, and already she missed him. He was light years away, en route to the carefully selected colony where he would start his dangerous task. The connection between them had attenuated to the point where he was no longer a ubiquitous presence in her mind, and his absence made her feel more alone than she had since her first hours on Enterprise. They would still be able to exchange thoughts, but it would require concentration on both their parts, not the easy rapport that had – usually – served them so well over the last few years. They would be able to talk, but the intimacy was gone. It was a very cold prospect.

“I would offer you my condolences,” the cool voice broke into T’Pol’s reverie, and she swung to face Soval, who had approached on soundless feet, “but I doubt that they are needed.”

T’Pol directed her full concentration into dealing with that statement. If anyone could see through their careful arrangements, it would be former intelligence officer Soval. “You know that I continued my relationship with Commander Tucker. I find it unacceptable that you believe I am unmoved by his death.”

“I believe that he is no more dead than you or I.”

“You would be wrong.” T’Pol raised her chin, and attempted to change the subject. “Why are you not attending the ceremony, ambassador? Are you in disfavour with the Vulcan government for conceiving a hybrid child?”

“Hardly.” Soval dismissed the shaft that had been selected to jab at a sensitive issue. “I simply do not care to listen to Human bombast.” T’Pol gave him a withering look for that old, old prejudice against Jonathan Archer, and headed for the doorway. But his next words brought her up short. “T’Pol, I have always had a care for you – for your own sake as well as for T’Les’s.” She half turned, expression uncertain, and he moved close enough to add, for her ears alone, “If you ever require assistance – either of you – do not hesitate to contact me.”

T’Pol almost flinched at the emotional jolt provoked by the unequivocal offer. Archer was her very good friend, yes, but he was not Vulcan. In a few carefully chosen words, Soval had eased some of the aching sense of isolation that she had felt since her mother’s death, renewed her connection to the planet of her birth. She had to swallow before she could voice her response. “Thank you. We both thank you.”

~

Earth, 8 months later

“Amanda.” Dr Selar raised one clearly marked eyebrow at the sight of her unexpected visitor. “Are you unwell?”

“I’m sick of being pregnant. Does that count?”

“No.” The other woman had risen to run a scanner over Amanda’s distended stomach. Although a paediatrician, Selar had taken a keen interest in the progression of her friend’s pregnancy, anticipating the day when she could practise her skills on the baby himself. “The child is fine. You are,” she subjected the scanner readout to another impersonal scrutiny, “as well as can be expected.”

“If this was a Human baby, he’d have been due a week ago.”

“But he is not Human.”

“Yeah, I know.” Amanda leant against the wall, trying to ease her back. “But I’m damn sure no one told me I’d be pregnant for eleven months!”

“You were the one who wished to have a child. Soval would not have been sympathetic to the concept of you bearing one fathered by another man. Such a thing is not acceptable in our culture.”

“I know, I know. And I wouldn’t have wanted a baby unless it was Soval’s, so it’s not his fault. Have you got time for lunch?”

“You are bored because Soval had to go to Rigel X, and would not permit you to go with him?” Selar surmised.

Amanda gave a rueful smile. “Are you suggesting I only come visit when Soval’s away?”

“No.” Selar deactivated her terminal and rose to her feet with a grace that Amanda would currently have killed to achieve. “But his absence increases the probability significantly. Where do you wish to eat?”

“Seth told me there’s a new restaurant opened in town, and I need a walk. Are you up for it?”

“If your security team permits.”

Amanda pulled a face. “Who’s to know who I am when Soval’s not around?” But she shrugged in response to the other woman’s disapproving look. “They’re waiting outside the hospital. Probably be as glad of some fresh air as me.”

“For someone who insists that Soval’s safety is of the utmost importance,” the Vulcan woman had not been appeased, “you are most careless of your own.”

“People call me names.” They had emerged from the front doors of the hospital. Ten metres away, Amanda’s pair of plainclothes bodyguards – new since the assassination attempt on Soval on Risa, and recently doubled in response to intelligence from a reliable source - nodded the all clear to her. “What could really happen on Earth?”

~

Seven light years away, in the office of the Governor of Rigel X, Soval gasped and closed his eyes while all colour faded from his skin, leaving him a livid shade of grey. Alarmed at the prospect of having to explain why one of the Alliance’s premier ambassadors had been taken ill while the guest of his planet, the governor shot a panicky look at the others present and reached for the comm. outlet before him. Rigellian physiology was close enough to that of Vulcan that his personal medical attendants might be able to deal with a straightforward heart attack or stroke. But before he could make the call, Soval straightened in his chair, although his colour remained dreadful. “I apologise.” He pushed himself wearily to his feet. “I must leave for Earth immediately.”

“Ambassador?” The governor shook his head, still more confused at this turn of events. “I must ask why.”

The Vulcan’s narrowed eyes turned on the Rigellian, who immediately wished that he hadn’t asked when he saw the pain in the other’s tightly controlled face. “Personal reasons.”

~

When he had been growing up in Florida and family holidays had offered nothing more exiting than trips to a Colorado ski resort – despite the advent of space travel, few Humans ever made it off their home planet – Tucker’s dream had been to visit the Alpha Centauri system and solve the mystery of Zephram Cochrane’s disappearance. The fact that Cochrane had disappeared in the same year, almost the same month, as Tucker’s birth had made it a very personal mystery, almost as if he were in some way responsible for the loss of the great man. But his parents had never listened to his pleadings and, once into Starfleet training, there had never been time. Even serving on Enterprise hadn’t given him the chance: they had always by-passed Earth’s first colony beyond her own solar system because it was close enough to be serviced by the plentiful warp 2 ships. Now he was living there, and searching for traces of the inventor of the warp engine, who had departed Alpha Centauri for an unknown destination at the age of 87 and never been seen again, couldn’t be further from Tucker’s mind.

Of course he pretended that was why he lived on Alpha Centauri II. Section 31 had provided a cover story and told him to stick to it, but Tucker knew that real people rarely had a single motive for their actions, and he felt that an eccentric hobby added a certain verisimilitude to his act. It also provided an excuse for his familiarity with the history of space travel and the mechanics of warp flight that he couldn’t always hide. And since he could pontificate for hours on the subject of Zephram Cochrane, it meant that his workmates rarely encouraged him to do so. He was able to hover on the edge of any group, accepted as a harmless hanger-on, but never one of the in-crowd: just what Section 31 had ordered. ‘Don’t make yourself too noticeable,’ had been the exact wording of his briefing. ‘If you find nothing and we have to move you on, we don’t want your absence to be remarked. The time to raise your profile is when you hear something significant.’ That time had been slow to come, and he’d been moved on three times – another drifter who would never make anything of his life. He had been sick of it, ready to walk away from the hopeless task, until his most recent move. His skin had started to prick after only a few days in his latest job, not for any reason he could put his finger on, but a slow, steady growth of the feeling that something was off kilter, like a plasma injector slipping out of alignment. Obedient to orders, he had set about making himself noticeable, going the extra mile in the performance of even the most menial task, carefully echoing back the views of those around him, however distasteful he found many of those views. And it was working. He had already joined the clique at the sewage recycling plant where he worked, the ostensible leader of whom was a loud-mouthed, overweight lout who Tucker longed to take a swing at. But if there was something subversive going on, his money was on the man’s partner, a pleasant woman who reminded him of his favourite aunt. Someone so ordinary just had to be the prime suspect – and some days Tucker seriously doubted his own sanity.

“Spike!” Tucker looked around obediently from the pump he had been assigned to clear. He had trained himself to respond to the outlandish nickname so thoroughly that he reacted faster to it than he ever had to ‘Trip’. “End of shift.” From the door to the compartment, one of his new ‘friends’ gestured emphatically. “We’re for the Lion. Coming?”

“Sure.” The incongruously named Lion bar was the favourite haunt of the sewage workers: its standards of hygiene weren’t too high. “I’ll finish up here and join you.” The job was just about the most thoroughly disgusting he’d ever been privileged to undertake, but he had his standards.

The other man grimaced. “Are you on overtime or what? Leave it for the next shift.”

“I’m nearly through.” Tucker returned to the reassembly process. “Just a few minutes more.”

He heard the door close, and promptly speeded up his work. Regardless of what the rest thought, he intended to have a shower before joining them. Let them add that to his list of eccentricities.

~

When Tucker entered the Lion half an hour later, it was loud with shouts of encouragement and disgust directed at the large screens decorating the walls that were currently showing a water polo match. In a fit of nostalgia, he ordered a genuine imported Earth beer rather than the local brew, and went to join in with the abusive commentary. He was still on his first beer when the game ended – ‘never get drunk’ had been another pearl of wisdom from Section 31 - and contrived to get a seat at the table where his prime suspect was also sipping slowly while her partner damned the water polo referee as a blind, biased asshole, fit only for the ranks of Starfleet.

“Can’t argue with you there,” Tucker murmured sympathetically. If a genuine water polo referee had ever applied to join Enterprise, Archer would have welcomed him with open arms, and finally forced his chief engineer into putting serious consideration into fitting out the cargo bay as a swimming pool. “Never met one yet who’d listen to sense.”

“You know people in Starfleet, Spike?”

It was Vera who asked; even her name suggested ‘aunt’ to Tucker. He shrugged depreciatingly. “I wouldn’t say ‘know’, ma’am. They don’t ‘know’ the likes of me. But I’ve crossed paths with a few.” ‘Play up your accent’ – Section 31 advice, article 29. ‘It makes you sound like a dumb hick’. He’d nearly throttled them for that one.

But Vera only smiled and patted his arm. “I wouldn’t let it worry you, dear. We’re not like that here. You won’t find us calling aliens our friends.”

Tucker raised his bottle in an entirely erroneous salute, and turned his attention to the news bulletin that had come on. Just sometimes one of his friends – amongst whom he was proud to number aliens as well as Humans – got a mention, and it made him feel a little less isolated. The reporter was standing outside a hospital building on Earth, speaking with the tense, almost excited voice of someone reporting breaking news, although here on Alpha Centauri bulletins could be anything up to a week old if the events covered weren’t considered relevant to the colony. “The shooting took place barely half an hour ago. Eyewitnesses report that it was one of Mrs Soval’s own bodyguards who attacked her before turning his weapon on himself. There has been no official report on her condition, but unofficial sources within the hospital say that her injuries are critical. Ambassador Soval is not currently on Earth. Whether he’ll return to be with his Human wife we don’t know, but we’ll keep you posted. Amanda Cole was born and educated in Florida. She joined the MACOs when she was …”

Tucker tuned out the brief résumé of Amanda’s life that sounded all too much like an obituary, fighting to keep his shock and disgust internalised. But that was impossible when the people around him were actually laughing at the news, congratulating each other on another blow struck for the purity of the Human genome. He forced a path from the table to the bar, ordering bourbon – a double – and knocking it back in one long swallow. To hell with ‘don’t get drunk’. He needed the bite of alcohol to bring him to his senses before he gave these people his opinion of their attitude and arrested them all on the grounds of … some charge he’d invent if there wasn’t already something suitable on the statute books.

“You seem to be taking this news very personally.”

Tucker turned his head from contemplation of his empty glass to find that Vera had appeared at his elbow. Of course: Aunt Vera to the rescue. “You could say that.” He sought frantically for an excuse, and had to settle for a bastardisation of the truth. “I knew Amanda Cole. We grew up only a few kilometres apart.”

“Were you in love with her?”

Tucker managed a choked chuckle, not difficult when his throat was tight with anger. “What school kid isn’t in love?” He gritted his teeth and shook his head, hoping it looked like regret he was banishing, not blind fury. “That was before she decided a Human wasn’t good enough for her.”

“It may not be entirely her fault.” Vera’s voice was kind. “I’ve heard that Soval brainwashed her into accepting him.”

“Makes sense.” Tucker had to pause to unlock his jaw that had cramped at having to utter such absurd untruths. “Why else would she go with the bitter old Vulcan?”

Vera rubbed his arm sympathetically. “Let me get you another drink. And, Spike, why don’t you come along to our house later tonight. I think you’d be interested in some of the subjects we find to talk about.”

~

Tucker managed to leave the bar in time to make it back to his room for his regular chat with T’Pol. Utterly secure the psychic connection might be but, with the distance between them, it only worked if they focussed on each other at the same time. That meant a schedule of contacts, and somehow that institutionalised it, made it less personal and more a matter of duty. But neither duty nor pleasure were uppermost in Tucker’s mind when he flung himself onto his bed and visualised that white room of T’Pol’s; a few times he’d tried adding a little décor, but she hadn’t been amused. She was waiting for him, maybe even alerted ahead of time by the intensity of his anger, for the white space had barely formed around him before she said flatly, “You have heard about Ms Cole.”

“I’ve heard.” Even here, where the physical world had little meaning, he felt the heat of anger engulf him again. “D’you know how she is?”

“She will survive.” If possible, even more emotion had leached from T’Pol’s voice when she added, “She was pregnant. The foetus died.” Tucker dropped his head, hands resting on his hips, as he shook his head at the cruelty of life. “It would seem,” this time T’Pol’s voice was as remote as the Great Vulcan Desert, “that our respective species are not destined to interbreed.”

Tucker jerked his head up quickly. “That’s what some people would have us believe.” His original annoyance with her resurrected itself, and he glared across the intervening space. “When’d it happen?”

“A little over two days ago.”

His mouth pulled to one side. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“I deemed it wisest not to. I knew that you would react emotionally.”

“With reason!” Tucker advanced on the slight, familiar figure. “I told you there was something being planned against Soval. How come this was allowed to happen?”

“Ambassador Soval’s personal bodyguard was doubled. So was Ms Cole’s.” Still utterly calm, T’Pol looked directly into Tucker’s angry blue eyes. “It was one of the new guards who attacked her.” He swore silently, and she relented enough to add, “It was not your fault, Trip.”

“Tell that to Amanda and Soval.” He grimaced, anger overtaken by regret and grim resolution. “Tell them I’m sorry. Tell them I’ll make this count. I know it won’t make any difference to their loss, but maybe it’ll help a little.”

T’Pol’s head cocked in incomprehension. “Your meaning?”

“Tonight when I heard the news, I couldn’t hide how it made me feel. I managed to twist it around, and I got invited to a meeting of the inner circle as a result. We’ll crack this, T’Pol, and when we do, I’ll personally help lock away every sick bastard involved.”

~

For a Vulcan cruiser capable of warp 7, it was little more than a couple of days from Rigel to Sol, and a matter of minutes from Earth orbit to the hospital where Soval insisted on being taken without first reporting into the Vulcan embassy. But it was still a long 53 hours after Amanda had been attacked before he stepped out of the shuttle and found Seth Cole waiting for him. Human and Vulcan eyed each other grimly until Seth broke the silence to say harshly, “We’ll find out who was behind this, Soval. You have my word on it.”

The other inclined his head in barely detectable acknowledgement. “How is she?”

He sounded cold, but Seth wasn’t fooled. “Quiet. Too quiet.” His mouth twisted in profound disgust. “The baby didn’t stand a chance, Soval. The bastard targeted him. Amanda only survived because it happened right outside the hospital.” He gritted his teeth. “Maybe she was meant to survive.”

Again Soval nodded stiffly. “May I see her?”

“No question.” Seth met the Vulcan’s eyes squarely. “None of the family blames you, Soval. Both Earth and Vulcan security checked the man out. No one could have anticipated that he’d do this.”

“But,” there was a hard edge to Soval’s voice, “had I taken Amanda to Rigel with me as she wished, this would not have happened.” He left a demanding pause. “Does she blame me?”

Seth’s mouth curled with discomfort. “You’re the one with the psychic connection to her.”

“I have been unable to contact her. Does she blame me?”

“Give her time, Soval. She’s still in shock. She’ll come round.” Seth knew there was nothing he could say to ease the tension in Soval’s carefully controlled face. Instead he turned towards the entrance to the hospital. “The press are waiting. We’ll have to go through them.”

“I have dealt with the press of your world before.”

“Yeah.” Seth had seen the Vulcan ambassador in action for years before Amanda had brought home a quietly spoken man with a dry sense of humour and a cautiously optimistic view of Humanity. “But this is gonna get dirty.”

There were half a dozen reporters hovering outside the entrance, all of whom darted towards the two men as soon as they were identified, clamouring questions. They got no response until one carelessly worded question brought Soval to an abrupt halt, swinging on the unfortunate man who had voiced it. “Do I have any feelings on this matter?” Soval’s clipped words carried a vicious edge. He took a step forward and the men and women of the press swayed back from the glittering fury suddenly and clearly visible in the eyes of the aging Vulcan. “My son is murdered, my wife critically injured, and you ask if I have any feelings on the matter!”

“Soval.” Braver than most, Seth took a firm grip on his brother-in-law’s arm, knowing that he could be brushed violently aside. “Leave it.”

For a handful of seconds, Soval stood motionless, his face working as he hovered on the verge of an explosion that would have shaken the preconceptions of many of Earth’s inhabitants. Then he turned abruptly and strode into the hospital. Seth sent the press a warning glare that forbade them from following and hastened after the Vulcan, reflecting with bitter irony that Soval’s display of emotion had probably done him more favours with Humanity than all his careful diplomacy over the years he had spent on Earth.

~

The meeting at the house of Vera and her loutish partner did not live up to Tucker’s hopes. There were some familiar faces there, as well as a few he’d not met before and dutifully committed to memory, but the talk was only that. He’d heard the same anti-alien vitriol a dozen times before, and the only difference this time was that it was uttered openly. Not once did someone suggest that the group take action, it was always ‘they’ who should do something, and Tucker got the distinct impression that ‘they’ were the same amorphous entity who were blamed for every problem. It was a profound disappointment when he’d been keyed up to succeed, so that the endless parade of sick and ill informed views set his teeth on edge even more than normal. To disperse the worst of his inner tension, he eventually excused himself for a comfort break and had his hand on the door to re-enter the room, where the group were still noisily damning Vulcan interference in Earth government, when the anomaly struck him.

Half doubting what he saw, and half reluctant to believe that he had spotted anything significant, he peered down the corridor before him to its end, but it still ended in a blank wall less than 3m ahead of him. Yet his clear recollection of the room to the right of the corridor was that it was a good 4m in length. Somewhere at least a metre of space had gone missing, but more tantalising yet was the cable that teed off a junction box near his head, ran along the angle between wall and ceiling – and through the wall at the end of the corridor. There was a chance, of course, that it was simply the space for the house’s services, but Tucker really didn’t think so. He’d been in quite a few houses on Alpha Centauri: they mostly followed the same plan and that meant that the services should be tucked away in a cramped space in the roof of the building, not occupying valuable living space.

“Spike.” He jumped at the statement of his assumed name, and jerked his assessing gaze away from the curtailed corridor to find that Vera had come out of the room. She smiled kindly. “You were gone a long time. I thought perhaps you’d got lost. This style of house was thrown up quickly in the very early days of the colony, and it wasn’t well planned.”

If Tucker’s suspicions hadn’t already been aroused, the conveniently delivered excuse would have done the trick. Now all he had to do was ensure that Vera didn’t suspect that he had been snooping, while trying to edge himself closer to the centre of whatever conspiracy was operating out of this poorly planned house. All in a day’s work for an engineer turned spy! “I didn’t wanna hurry back real fast.” He hoped his expression reflected frustration: he’d suffered enough of that over the last eight months to get it right. “I’m hearing a whole load of talk in there, but what good’ll it do us? It seems that everywhere you go, humans are getting to be an endangered species,” he was proud of himself for remembering that phrase from almost seven years previously, “and talking won’t solve the problem.”

“Very true.” Vera smiled warmly at him. “And you’re not the only one who feels like that, Spike, never think that you are.”

“Do you?”

She reached for the door. “Why don’t we go back inside?”

~

Amanda was asleep when Soval entered her room, but her mother rose from a chair by the bedside, relief in her face. “Soval!” She kept her voice low even as she drew him to the far side of the room. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She managed a shaky smile. “They’ll have told you that physically Amanda’s recovering. But she won’t grieve, Soval. Since she first heard the baby was gone, she hasn’t once mentioned him.” Soval’s eyelids flickered, and Mary stretched out an impulsive hand to cover his clasped ones: fond though she had become of her daughter’s husband, she had always respected the Vulcan taboo against touching. “We’re so very sorry, my dear. So very sorry.”

She saw him swallow while his hands clenched beneath hers. But his voice was soft. “My feelings are irrelevant.”

“Oh, Soval, no!”

He shook his head at the ready sympathy. “I’m Vulcan.” He halted Mary’s instinctive protest with a quick movement of his hands. “And very much older than Amanda. I am intimately familiar with the fragility of life, and with the depths to which members of every species can sink. I grieve for our child and for Amanda’s pain, but she has lost more than I.”

“Her faith in others, you mean?” Mary found that she had no answer to that, and tackled another issue instead. “Did Seth tell you that Amanda doesn’t want to see you?”

“Not that, precisely.”

Soval’s expression was under control, but Mary still found herself flustered. “She still loves you, Soval, I’m sure she does. You’ve always been so close …” She broke off with a sigh. “I guess I hope that having you here will help her.”

“As do I.”

His eyes had drifted towards the bed, and Mary recognised that it was time to leave. Greatly daring, she leant forward to kiss Soval’s cheek. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgment and moved composedly towards the chair she had vacated. But her last view from the door wasn’t of her son-in-law’s impassive expression, but of the tension in his tightly clasped hands. Amanda had told her to watch Soval’s hands if she wanted an insight into his emotions, and for the first time Mary wasn’t grateful for the advice.

~

Despite the fact that the colony on Alpha Centauri II was barely 50 years old, the layout of its oldest residential quarter was sufficiently shambolic to make clandestine snooping feasible. Tucker made it to the back wall of Vera’s house without anyone querying why he was roaming around at 0200, only to realise that he had no real idea what he planned to do next. Housebreaking hadn’t appeared on the Starfleet curriculum, and for once Section 31 hadn’t felt the need to pass on any handy aphorisms on the subject. Besides, now that it came to it, the good manners that his parents had drummed into him suggested that entering someone else’s house without permission wasn’t the sort of thing that nice people did.

Tucker reminded himself firmly that he wasn’t dealing with nice people, and cautiously directed his homemade scanner at the building before him. Section 31 had thought to forbid incriminating evidence - ‘never carry anything that can help trace your origins’ – so he couldn’t use one of the highly sophisticated Starfleet scanners, nor even construct one that would suggest he was more than a lowly mechanic. The device he had rapidly put together that evening could do little more than tell him the layout of the building and the location of any people inside. But even that data was informative. It confirmed his theory that there was a hidden void within the house that appeared to give access to a larger one below ground. He knew that all the early houses had been constructed with subterranean boltholes – a purely psychological buffer for the colonists against the threat of the unknown – but this was much larger than others he had seen, and the access point wasn’t through a trapdoor in the backyard but a cupboard in a bedroom. And therein lay the problem: the bedroom was occupied. The fact that the two heat signatures within the house came from different rooms had initially amused Tucker, providing him with proof that Vera and her partner didn’t sleep together, but this latest piece of information didn’t provoke the same reaction. He could deactivate any security devices within the house, but searching for a hidden access point while someone slept in the same room was another matter.

Chewing his lower lip, he took another scan of the space below ground, this time following its extent beyond the floor plan of the house, his breath hissing in satisfaction when he discovered that it backed onto the bolthole. There was a wall between, but he was prepared to bet that the two connected in some way. The trapdoor in the yard was concealed beneath a pot containing a local flowering shrub that took all Tucker’s strength to move aside, but the trapdoor itself lifted easily and the handholds of the ladder felt clean as he climbed cautiously down, having closed the cover behind him. His flashlight revealed what he had expected, a space no more than 9m² with two sets of bunk beds and a locker for emergency rations. The walls were lined with the ubiquitous building material of the early colonies, prefabricated reinforced plastic that came in metre square slabs. On the buildings above ground, the depressing grey had long since been covered with more attractive facings, but here it had not been touched. And where Tucker’s torch illuminated the rear wall of the dugout, the joints around one corner slab appeared as clean as if it had been installed only that morning. He located the pressure switch by the simple expedient of running his fingers along the edge of the adjoining slabs, and the corner one slid obediently to one side.

With a rush of excitement he hadn’t felt in a long time, Tucker crawled through then remained crouched on his haunches, staring in shock at the arsenal picked out by the beam from his torch. At first sight, there appeared to be weapons from every species he had encountered, from MACO-issue plasma rifles to Klingon disruptors. If there was a conspiracy to disrupt the Alliance and this collection was part of it, then identifying the unifying force behind it from this disparate array was way beyond the scope of one lone Starfleet engineer.

He was still wondering how the hell his discovery was going to help when his torchlight was swamped when the overhead lights came on, and Vera’s voice said pleasantly, “Why, Spike, whatever are you doing here?”

Part 4 Conclusion

Return to Part 2

Back to Fan Fiction Main Menu

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