Say Not the Struggle Nought Availeth - Part 4

Say Not the Struggle Nought Availeth

By Shouldknowbetter

Rating: R
Disclaimer: See Part 1

Part 4

~

Soval was mediating when Amanda woke, but he had returned to full awareness of his surroundings before her eyes opened, so he saw the indifference in them when they moved in his direction. “What are you doing here?”

Apart from her pallor, she looked little different to the woman Soval had left less than two weeks previously, but to him, sensitive to more than physical appearance, there was a dimension missing: the touch of her mind against his. Perhaps it was the result of the medication she had been given, but the cool question was not encouraging. He reached for her hand, but it lay unresponsive in his. “Where else would I be at this time, Amanda?”

She studied him for a moment more then deliberately withdrew her hand from his. “You should have let me take Trip’s place.”

“You know why I could not allow you to do so. Amanda,” this time he raised his hand towards her face, but she rolled her head away.

“Don’t touch me.”

He had to take a moment to steady himself, even though he had been warned. “Why not?”

“Because I need to be alone right now.”

The unequivocal answer told Soval where he stood: firmly distanced from his unofficial wife. He had trained Amanda well; she could block their psychic connection when she chose, and she had chosen to do so now. He could force his way inside her mind, but he would never perform such an invasion against her will, and Amanda knew that as well as he. Soval found himself remembering with bitter intensity the rebuke he had once flung at T’Pol, that she should have grieved with Tucker over the death of their child rather than alone. The Humans had an expression – his chickens had come home to roost – that he suddenly found all too apposite. “Amanda,” he left a painful pause, “will you at least allow me to visit you?”

“I’m coming back to the embassy.” Her glib answer surprised but did not relieve him. There was no hint of compromise in her tone. “Seth says I was meant to survive. Maybe they want me to leave you. But I’m not gonna give anyone the chance to say that they were right that Humans and Vulcans don’t mix.”

Soval closed his eyes for a moment, then looked calmly back at the Human woman who he would love for the rest of his life, regardless of whether she ever truly came back to him. “A start, at least.”

~

Tucker rose slowly to his feet, painfully conscious that, however innocuous Vera’s question, she had a plasma pistol pointed at the centre of his chest. She was halfway down the stairs that were the main access to the underground room, but he didn’t think the awkward angle would make any difference to her aim. “You were a little evasive earlier, ma’am. I guess that made me curious.”

“Curiosity can be a dangerous thing, Spike.”

“But it can also be real informative.” Tucker had little doubt that he would disappear that night if he didn’t give the right answers – and he hadn’t thought to tell T’Pol exactly where he intended to go that evening. What sort of incompetent ass did that make him? “It’s some collection you’ve got down here.”

“What do you intend to do with this information, Spike? Report it to the authorities?”

Tucker managed a wide, slightly mocking smile. “Now why would I do that, ma’am, when I’d rather they didn’t look too closely into my past? But it has made me wonder,” he swept the arms cache with an appraising look, “just what it’s all for. And how I can help.” He turned his smile back onto the woman. “You can talk pretty loud with this amount of hardware.”

“You can indeed.” Vera came down the last few steps and laid her pistol down next to a batlith: not all the weapons were based on modern technology. “Have you heard of Valentine’s Day, Spike?”

“Sure. An excuse for every restaurant to double its prices.”

“Yes, that’s the association most people make. But on 14th February 1929 one of the Chicago gang leaders had most of his opponents gunned down in the streets. It became known as the Valentine’s Day Massacre.” Vera smiled her motherly smile. “And in ten day’s time, Spike, we’re going to have our own Valentine’s Day. Once we’re finished, there won’t be a single alien left alive on any Human-occupied planet, and the Alliance will be exposed for the farce that it is. We’ll show the other species what Humans really want.”

Tucker swallowed hard. “You mean there are caches like this on other planets? Not just here?”

“Of course. I’ve been planning this for six years, Spike, ever since Terra Prime was so ruthlessly suppressed. But they can’t suppress the truth for ever.”

“No.” Vera’s placid façade had slipped during her last speech, and the perverted passion that had replaced it made Tucker feel physically sick. “So who else is involved?”

“You don’t need to worry about that, dear.” Aunt Vera returned abruptly. “There are enough of us; that’s what counts. Would you like to join us, Spike?”

~

“What the hell else could I say but ‘yes’?” Tucker’s body lay sprawled on its back on his bed, but his awareness was in T’Pol’s white room, pacing angrily. “We know what’s planned now, but it’s not enough.”

“It is enough.” T’Pol stepped in front of him. “We have a date, and we know what is intended. Normal security forces can take over. You must leave at once.”

“I can’t.” Tucker shook his head violently and moved around the facsimile of T’Pol’s body to continue pacing. “Vera’s crazy, but she’s right about one thing: this could split the Alliance apart. There are too many aliens on Earth and in the colonies for each one to be protected. Even the knowledge that it was necessary could be enough. And suppose someone dies, T’Pol? It could lead to another war.”

“Extremely unlikely.”

“But it’s a risk, and not one I’m prepared to take. The longer I stay around, the more chance there is that I’ll be able to identify the ringleaders on the other planets.”

“The longer you stay, the more chance there is that you will be exposed and murdered.” T’Pol’s tone was tart. “You must leave.”

“No.” He came back to face her. “Pass on the information. Tell Harris I’ll try to collect more. I’ll contact you.”

“Very well.”

Tucker nodded and opened his eyes back in his own room. It wasn’t until some hours later that he remembered that he hadn’t told T’Pol that he loved her. When he thought about it, he had to conclude that he had been guilty of that omission rather often lately. And even when he had remembered, T’Pol hadn’t responded.

He grimaced and dismissed the problem. There were more important things to deal with. T’Pol understood that. Probably that was why she had kept their exchanges strictly professional for the last few weeks. Once they were physically reunited, they would argue about whose fault it was, then make up in the nicest way possible. He deserved a whole lot of loving to compensate for the last eight months.

~

Dr Selar observed the ambassador for some time before leaving her children with her husband in one corner of the gymnasium and crossing to another. “Aambassador, you push yourself too hard.” Soval ignored her entirely and she reached out to bring the treadmill to a halt. “Physical exertion is not the solution to your problems.”

It took time for him to bring his breathing until sufficient control to speak, although he could still scowl even when he was panting. “You are not my physician.”

“No. But Dr Tenak asked me to speak with you as a friend.” Soval’s mouth pulled to one side in a pronounced sneer, but Selar did not allow herself to be intimidated. “Ambassador, I have a great regard for you. I have always respected your judgement. But your current behaviour is reprehensible.” He shook his head in irritated dismissal and reached for the treadmill’s controls again, but Selar reacted more quickly, placing her hand firmly in the way. “Soval, I know that your emotional suppression system was damaged when the Andorians tortured you seven years ago. I know that your psychic connection with Amanda has ameliorated the condition. But now you have lost that and, as a result, your synaptic activity is dangerously elevated. You require a neural suppressor, meditation and rest: a good deal of each.”

Soval’s breathing had settled to a normal rate, but it hadn’t improved his temper. “I would thank you to respect my privacy.”

“As I have always done.” Selar stared calmly back into the man’s eyes. “But you are destroying yourself, Soval. I am a doctor. I cannot stand by and permit such a thing.”

His expression flickered and he broke eye contact to study the floor before him instead. “I don’t care for the side effects of a neural suppressor.”

Selar nodded thoughtfully. “The temporary loss of your telepathic ability?” She voiced the painful truth without hesitation. “Soval, Amanda has shut herself off from you. It will make no difference.”

He grimaced and looked around at her again. “Do you believe that Amanda is well, Selar?” The doctor had no answer to that. “Her refusal to grieve is unhealthy. Eventually she will need me. I will not compromise my ability to help her when that happens.”

Selar’s mouth tightened in a rare display of ill-controlled emotion. “Unless you submit to treatment, Soval, you will not be there for Amanda when she does need you. The dead cannot aid the living.”

~

With barely three days to go until the planned massacre, Tucker’s anxiety had approached desperation levels. He reckoned that the meeting he had been asked to attend at Vera’s house was his last opportunity to find out more about the other groups involved. If it led to nothing – and after an hour that seemed probable – he would submit to T’Pol’s pressure and let others take over. Maybe a detailed examination of the arms cache would give them the necessary clues, and if not then at least murder on one planet would have been prevented.

He was wound so tight with tension that he was the first to hear the unusual noise outside, but even if he had thought to shout a warning it would have made no difference to those inside the room. The gas canister that exploded through the window rendered everyone unconscious within five seconds.

~

Tucker woke with a bad taste in his mouth and a headache that wasn’t improved when he sat up to find himself in what looked suspiciously like a brig. The fact that Vera was unconscious on the opposite bunk was good, but the fact that he was on the wrong side of the door was bad. It meant that whoever had raided the meeting didn’t know he was really one of the good guys, and convincing them of that might be tricky. A glance at his chronometer told him that trying to contact T’Pol would be pointless; he had missed their slot and she wouldn’t try again for another ten hours.

Vera stirred and began to cough. Under other circumstances, Tucker would have gone to her assistance, but he rather vindictively decided that she didn’t deserve his help. The coughing changed to one of the most impressive bouts of swearing he’d ever been privileged to hear, then she sat up, her furious expression curiously at odds with her kindly appearance. “Damn Starfleet!”

“You reckon?” Tucker leant his head back against the wall. Maybe he was meant to maintain his cover and encourage her to spill the beans. He’d watched enough crime shows to know that a cornered criminal always confessed, but he’d never had much faith in that gimmick. “I guess it’s over then. Someone lost their nerve and sold out the whole conspiracy.”

“Never.” Vera’s fit of temper had passed with a speed that demonstrated just how dangerously unstable she was. She patted her greying hair neatly into place. “This is too important to fail. But even if it does, there’ll always be others to carry on the fight.”

“I doubt that.” The new voice came from outside the cell, and Tucker and Vera both turned to see Harris standing just beyond the transparent door. “Welcome back, Vera. But you really shouldn’t have left the family in the first place.” He opened the door and stepped aside to allow two others in anonymous grey suits into the cell. They caught the woman’s arms and dragged her out, ignoring her screams of abuse and protest, while Tucker watched open mouthed. When Harris beckoned him out, he moved in a daze, following the other man in silence down a short corridor to a comfortably furnished room. It wasn’t until Harris said easily, “Coffee, commander? I’m afraid that particular anaesthetic agent does leave quite a taste behind,” that he recovered at least some part of his wits.

“You’ve cracked it? You know who’s planning the massacre on the other planets?”

“Not yet.” Harris handed him a mug and Tucker took an instinctive swallow, grimacing at the bitter taste in his mouth that the strong coffee seemed to worsen rather than mask. “But we can extract the information from one of our own.”

“One of your own?” Tucker thought back to Harris’ greeting to Vera, and added incredulously, “You mean Vera’s Section 31?”

“Was Section 31,” Harris corrected pedantically. “I hope you don’t think we’d allow someone so mentally unstable to remain on active duty, Commander. She was sent to infiltrate Terra Prime, but unfortunately she fell under their influence and we lost contact with her years ago. It wasn’t until your very timely report reached us that we discovered what she was up to. We’re indebted to you.”

“Hell.” Tucker sunk into a chair, rubbing his throbbing temples. “So it wasn’t a Romulan plot after all?”

“No.” There was surprise in Harris’ voice. “You had no suspicions regarding Vera’s background?”

“Not a clue.” Tucker sighed, and raised his head. “So it’s over? I can go home?”

“Actually, no.” The engineer grimaced his incomprehension, and Harris continued almost apologetically, “We can’t allow it to come to light that it was one of our agents who nearly destroyed the Alliance. We’d be disbanded, and that wouldn’t be in the best interests of Earth. So I’m afraid, Commander Tucker, that you’re going to have to ‘die’ again.”

“What?” Tucker’s response held both alarm and outrage. “You’re gonna shoot me in cold blood? Just to protect your damn organisation?”

“Of course we’re not going to murder you! Please don’t over-dramatise, commander. This is the 22nd century. No, we’re just going to give you a new home – with the Orion Syndicate.”

“As a slave?” Abruptly Tucker slumped back, grinning. “You’re kidding me, right? You can’t make people disappear. Particularly not me.” He tapped his forehead. “Psychic connection to a Vulcan, that’s why I got into this in the first place.”

There might have been regret in Harris’ expression. Alternatively it might just have been exasperation at Tucker’s naivety. He directed a significant look at the empty mug at the engineer’s elbow. “Your coffee contained a Vulcan neural suppressor. I’m afraid, Commander Tucker, that you won’t be able to contact Commander T’Pol for quite some time. By the time it wears off, you’ll be fitted with an Orion slave tag, and we’ve found that they have exactly the same effect.”

~

T’Pol’s stare as she strode through Jupiter Station would have gained her access to most areas, even if she hadn’t had permission to be there. She didn’t moderate her pace until she reached the office overlooking the huge space dock where the keel of the first Warp 7 ship had already been laid. A name hadn’t been selected yet, but Enterprise was high on the list of possibles, and with Jonathan Archer already nominated to captain the new vessel, there weren’t many who were betting on the other options. But the subject of ships’ names was not what T’Pol had come to discuss. She halted purposefully before the desk where Archer sat, his gaze more inward than outward until he registered who had entered. Then the grief in his face deepened still further. “T’Pol. You’ve heard?” She nodded and he rose to catch her close in a warm hug. “T’Pol, I am so sorry.”

“Trip isn’t dead.”

There was doubt on Archer’s face when he leant back to look down at her, but it was at her grip on reality, not of the official news. “We’d all like to think that, T’Pol. But it’s not a deception this time. Harris reported to me personally.”

“Then he lied.” Archer shook his head, forehead creasing in perplexity, and T’Pol continued firmly, “If Trip had died, I would have known. The severing of a psychic connection is,” she hesitated and finished with typical understatement, “unpleasant.”

Slowly Archer drew her to a couch against the windowed wall, although neither of them paid any attention to the view. “You’re saying that Harris just repeated the trick we played eight months ago? That Trip’s alive, maybe undertaking another mission for Section 31?”

“He is alive, but I do not believe that this time his ‘death’ was voluntary.” T’Pol gazed earnestly into Archer’s concerned face. “Captain, I cannot connect with him. Something is preventing him.”

“Any ideas on what could do that?”

“Drugs, the distance between us.” She dismissed the question with a fractional shake of her head. “Captain, will you help me find Trip?”

“You know you don’t even have to ask.” Archer gave her arm another reassuring squeeze. “I’ll make a few enquires about Section 31’s activities over the last few days.” Then he directed a rueful look through the window at his skeletal ship. “And I’ll ask about borrowing something a little more space-worthy.”

“No.” For almost the first time, T’Pol contradicted her captain outright. “Starfleet must not become involved. We cannot risk Section 31 discovering what we are doing.”

“I’d agree,” his voice was patient, “but we won’t get far without transport, T’Pol.”

She looked confidently back. “I know someone who can provide that.”

~

For the second time in her life, T’Pol sought Ambassador Soval at the Vulcan embassy only to be told that he was unavailable. She glared at Storr rather more forcefully than she had that first time. “I must see him. Now.”

“You cannot.” The man glanced at the electronic diary before him. “You may have an appointment with V’Mir.”

“I need to see Ambassador Soval.”

“The ambassador is not available. V’Mir will handle your business.”

T’Pol weighed the possibilities, seeking a way around the refusal. She did not want to see V’Mir, who was Soval’s deputy. The woman had always believed that Soval favoured T’Pol for personal rather than professional reasons, and would refuse the most logical request – and T’Pol had to admit that her request was not entirely logical. “I wish to offer the ambassador my condolences on the death of his son.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but if it gained her entry she was prepared to stretch the point, to use a Human euphemism. Storr wavered, and T’Pol pressed her advantage. “The ambassador was a close personal friend of my mother’s. She would expect me to show respect.”

A little doubtfully, Storr inclined his head towards the rear of the compound; T’Pol had the impression that if anyone questioned her presence, he would deny complicity. “He is in his private apartments.”

“At this time of day?” But Storr had already returned to his screen, undoubtedly so that he could state with absolute veracity that he had not seen her pass his post. T’Pol left him to his self-deception without further comment.

She requested entrance twice before trying the door to the ambassador’s residence and finding it unlocked. If her business had been any less pressing, she would not have intruded, but she was conscious that with every passing minute, Trip could be moving farther and farther from her. She slipped through the door to find that, far from being busily engaged on some project that required his full attention, Soval was simply meditating, seated on a low chair in one corner of the living space. About to announce her presence – somewhat pointedly - she hesitated when Soval’s haggard appearance finally struck her, and her hesitation gave him time to register that he was no longer alone. He lifted his head slowly, eyes narrowed. “T’Pol.” His normally smooth voice was rough with strain or exhaustion, or perhaps both. “What do you want?”

She seated herself slowly in front of him, concern for his well-being momentarily shunting aside all other concerns. “I grieve with you for the loss of your child.”

“Really?” The sarcastic response was unexpected, as was his abrupt movement away from her. “Don’t insult me with spurious sympathy, T’Pol. Just tell me what you want.”

She too came to her feet, almost as unsettled by her mentor’s behaviour as she had ever been by Tucker’s. “Ambassador, are you ill?”

“I’m fine!” The answer was snarled more than spoken, and Soval took a few quick steps to the far wall and back, apparently trying to settle himself although appreciably failing: T’Pol could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest under the thin robe he wore. “Why are you here?”

“I wish to borrow one of the embassy’s transport vehicles. One with warp capability.” T’Pol dared not pass up the opportunity to achieve what she had come for, however ill she might consider the ambassador.

But he only shook his head. “No.”

She stepped in front of him, forcing him to look directly at her. “Will you reconsider? My request is,” she drew a quiet breath, “urgent.”

Soval looked back for a moment, and T’Pol had to exert some control to remain still under his contemptuous stare: this was not the man she knew. “I suggest that you ask one of your Human friends.”

“There are reasons why I cannot. Ambassador, please …”

He flung himself away, interrupting her half formed appeal. “I said no! What …” Then he broke off as he staggered and pitched to his knees.

~

The Vulcan embassy in San Francisco had its own fully equipped medical facility, even though Vulcan physicians preferred their patients to take preventative measures rather than to require treatment. Soval’s doctor pointed this out to the ambassador at great length, as well as providing a résumé of the many valuable pieces of advice that his patient had chosen to ignore. Waiting quietly in a corner, T’Pol watched Soval’s control begin to fray again despite the heavy dose of neural suppressor that the doctor had administered, and stepped in firmly. “Your most recent recommendation, doctor, was that the ambassador rest. I suggest you allow him to do so.” She accompanied the request with a pointed look at the door and, after a brief assessment of his patient’s temper, he took the hint and left. T’Pol moved closer to the bed, meeting Soval’s shadowed eyes.

“I must apologise.” His voice was quiet. “My behaviour was,” he grimaced faintly, “uncivilised.”

“You have no need to apologise.” T’Pol’s own voice was also quiet, almost gentle. “I have been informed of the cause.”

He rolled his head to one side, the muscles in his face twitching as he struggled to remain calm. Then he swallowed hard and faced her again, changing the subject. “You requested a ship?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” She had meant to explain, but hesitated in the face of Soval’s weakness until he added dryly, “T’Pol, even sedated, I am not prepared to authorise the improper use of government equipment without justification. Kindly provide some.”

Knowing that he had never believed in Tucker’s earlier ‘death’ made it easier, but recounting the story again made T’Pol aware that it was far from plausible. Even Captain Archer had initially believed that she had been misled by affection. What would another Vulcan think? But once she had finished, Soval simply asked, “Are you sure?” She nodded and he reached for the sides of the bed to push himself up. “I will authorise your transport.”

She pressed him firmly back down. “I will fetch a portable terminal.”

He didn’t like being overruled but subsided after a moment, frowning when T’Pol neatly rearranged the blanket covering him. “Nursing does not become you!”

Behind them the door opened, and T’Pol saw the pain that flickered across his expression before he mastered it. Given the reports she had heard from the embassy staff following the ambassador’s collapse, she experienced no surprise when she turned to find Amanda Cole standing in the doorway, although the indifference in the other woman’s face was strange to see. No one spoke until finally Amanda took a few stiff steps into the room, eyes reluctantly moving from the foot of the bed to Soval’s face. “Are you okay?”

He inclined his head, leaving it to T’Pol to say crisply, “The ambassador collapsed. His doctor diagnosed a severe neural imbalance, aggravated by exhaustion and stress. He requires rest,” she glared at the Human whom she had never considered good enough for Soval, “and support.”

Amanda’s month thinned and Soval said firmly, “Enough. T’Pol, tell V’Mir that you are to take the Solkar. I will ensure that the authorisation is in place.” T’Pol hesitated, knowing that she had been dismissed and eager to start her search, but also reluctant to leave Soval alone with the cause of his collapse, and he added, “If you or Commander Tucker require a refuge after this, come to me on Vulcan.” His eyes slid momentarily towards Amanda, but returned without quite having reached her. “I will be returning home,” he seemed to sigh, “for a period.”

T’Pol inclined her head and moved away, although she hesitated when Amanda asked in a less assured voice, “Can I come with you?”

A check over her shoulder showed T’Pol that the question had not been directed at her. The Human woman was looking doubtfully at Soval, who looked back, expression carefully neutral. Then he said equally neutrally, “If you wish.”

Amanda nodded slowly. “It’d look better.”

“Then of course you must come.”

T’Pol left them still watching each other, separated less by the few metres between them than by the barrier Amanda had created and refused to breach.

~

By the time Archer reached their assigned cabin on the Solkar, he had become aware that he was involved in a subterfuge more complex than he had been told. He had his mouth open to protest when he caught T’Pol’s hard stare and responded to the hint, waiting until the Solkar’s captain had withdrawn to get them underway before saying incredulously, “He thinks we’re in a relationship!”

“Yes.” T’Pol’s response was completely calm as she lifted her bag onto a chair and began to lay out her few belongings. “You may have the bed. I will sleep on the couch.”

Archer struggled for words for a few seconds more, then pulled her around to face him. “What’s the game, T’Pol?”

She stared back and he noted a certain implacability in her face that was new to him, although it would have been familiar to his officers: it was the look she wore when her captain went missing and she was determined to get him back. It didn’t bode well for anyone who got in her way over the next few days. “Section 31 would become suspicious if you and I were to undertake a journey for no apparent reason. It was necessary to furnish them with one.”

“Did you tell Admiral Gardiner the same thing?” Archer now remembered that his request for leave had been met with a decided smirk.

“No. When I encountered the admiral, I was at pains to deny any such rumour.”

“What rumour?”

“The one started by Ambassador Soval when he asked Admiral Gardiner if there were any truth to it.”

Archer cocked his head, forehead crinkling. “You could have told me.” She simply looked back. “Trip’s not going to like this.”

T’Pol turned back to her unpacking. “Since there is no truth to the rumour, he has no cause to object.”

Momentarily defeated, Archer dropped onto the bed, brooding over past and present injustice. “Have you ever thought of what might have been, T’Pol? If things had turned out differently …”

“No.” The single word cut him off short, and for a moment it seemed that that was all she had to say on the matter. Then she turned to face her very good friend. “No, captain. If events had been so very different, I doubt that any of us would have liked the result.”

It wasn’t the sort of remark to which even Archer could find a response.

~

Although Alpha Centauri was the closest inhabitable system to Earth, it took the Solkar many days to reach it due to the circuitous course upon which T’Pol insisted. With their mission firmly in her hands, Archer found himself relegated to a supporting role to which he was entirely unaccustomed. It did nothing for his temper, and when T’Pol announced that she wished to access the shipping logs for the period covering Tucker’s disappearance, he leapt at the opportunity. “I’ll speak to the authorities. I’m sure they’ll be willing to cooperate.”

They were standing on the Solkar’s tiny bridge at the time – the ship might be warp-capable but it had a crew of only ten, with accommodation for half a dozen passengers at most – and he quickly become aware that he was the subject of uncomprehending looks from the Vulcan crew. T’Pol also gave him a pitying look, but condescended to explain. “The Solkar can access the necessary information remotely.”

“Remotely?” Archer’s lips pursed in exasperation: they had done that frequently of late. “Without permission?” One of T’Pol’s delicate eyebrows tilted a little in acknowledgement, and he shook his head. “So that line about the Vulcans not looking over our shoulders anymore didn’t mean a thing?”

“One have may the capability and not use it.” T’Pol nodded to the Solkar’s captain, who set about uploading the information she had requested. “Although the authorities on Earth often request Vulcan assistance when the need arises.”

Archer continued to sulk right up until the moment T’Pol raised her head from her study of the logs to meet his eyes. “There are a number of possibilities. But approximately 12 hours after my last contact with Trip, a vessel of the Orion Syndicate stopped briefly in orbit, ostensibly to take onboard provisions. Less than an hour after it left, so did the Starfleet vessel employed by Harris to transport the insurgents back to Earth.”

Chagrin forgotten, Archer leant over her shoulder to check the records for himself, then nodded. “It’s good enough for me. Can you trace it?”

“Yes.” T’Pol began to call up further data, but there was regret in her voice when she added, “Although it may take some time.”

~

They got lucky. Unusually for an Orion ship, the flight plan it had filed on leaving Alpha Centauri was accurate, at least as far as its next port of call, and from there T’Pol detected something extremely irregular in its warp signature. Because she was a scientist and a good one, she double-checked her findings before alerting Archer, who also looked narrow-eyed at the frequency pattern. “Is it my imagination, or is that a Starfleet ident code embedded in the harmonics?”

“It is.”

Archer grinned. “Trust Trip to convince them that their engines were running rough.”

“You believe it is him?”

“Who else do you know who can manipulate a warp field that accurately? Lay in a pursuit course. And ask Captain Vernik to show us what this ship of his can do.”

~

It was late when Soval and Amanda reached his family’s home in one of the smaller provincial towns. Once they had visited only occasionally to see Soval’s mother, who, to the end of her life, had remained contentedly unaware that her son was estranged from his first wife. But S’Lar had died four years before, and her sister S’Lek, who had been fully aware of Soval’s new relationship and extremely hostile to it, had gone to live with her own son. Since then Soval and Amanda had spent most of their time on Vulcan in the traditionally constructed house, taking advantage of the fact that it was sufficiently far from the capital to discourage Soval’s colleagues from stopping by uninvited in search of advice. This time that was important not because they expected to enjoy their time alone together, but because Soval’s doctors were insistent that he rest. What Amanda intended to do was unclear. She might have asked to accompany her husband, but no one knew better than he that she had not relented towards him. All his patience and all her family’s pleading that she attend counselling sessions to help her deal with her grief had had no effect. She remained outwardly cool and detached, and went about her life as if nothing had occurred – except for her loss of joy in anything she did and her refusal to let Soval into her mind.

Amanda flew them in, and Soval left her on the roof to shut down the aircar while he carried the first of their bags down the precipitous staircase to the first floor where the living accommodation was located. He was skimming through the letters of condolence from their neighbours – provincial Vulcans retained the tradition of handwritten missives for certain matters – when a noise from the stairs above made him look up. Amanda had halted halfway down, staring around her; it was the first time in weeks that Soval had been sure that she was fully aware of her surroundings. And the detachment that had distressed both him and her family was crumbling. “Amanda?”

He spoke softly, but she turned her head slowly towards him. A long pause followed, then she said brokenly, “I always thought this was a real dangerous place to raise kids.”

She halted on a sob, and Soval simply held out his arms to her. For a second longer she held back, then almost fell down the remaining stairs to reach him, burying her face in his neck as she had always done when seeking comfort. And with the physical contact came the mental one, the lack of which had almost destroyed him, as Amanda finally relaxed the barriers she had erected between them.

She clung to him for a long time, catching up on all the weeping she had denied herself until then. It was only when she had sobbed herself into exhaustion that she realised that Soval had wept with her, finally able to share his own grief with the one person in the universe he trusted not to betray his weakness.

~

The captain of the Orion vessel wasn’t pleased at being overhauled by a diminutive ship that a cursory scan revealed to be more heavily armed than her own. Nor was she pleased to see Archer’s face when her viewscreen activated. “You!”

“I’m flattered you’ve heard of me.” Archer’s tone was detectably insincere, even to an alien relatively unfamiliar with the Human species. “But I’m not here to exchange pleasantries.”

“I wasn’t about to offer any!”

“Pleased to hear it. I think you’ve got something of mine on board your ship. I want it back.”

“All my cargo were legitimately purchased.”

“I’m talking about something you picked up on Alpha Centauri II – where the slave trade is most definitely not sanctioned.”

“The engineer was a gift. I have the papers to prove it.”

Archer exchanged a triumphant look with T’Pol before turning back to the screen. “He didn’t belong to the man who gave him to you. I’d like him back.”

“I’ll name a price. If you match it, we could have a deal.”

“What about this for a deal?” The Human captain’s mouth was smiling, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “You hand the engineer over, and I won’t report you to the Alliance for impersonation of one of their ships. They’re very sensitive about the misappropriation of official call signs.”

“What?” The woman’s smooth, green forehead pulled into a frown, and Archer’s smile became just a little smug.

“Your warp engine’s broadcasting on a reserved frequency – one unique to Alliance shipping.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Check again.” Archer exchanged another look with T’Pol. “The third harmonic.”

A hostile silence ensued while the Orion ship ran the necessary checks, then the captain turned back to Archer, a sultry smile firmly in place. “Quite accidental, Captain Archer, I assure you. Why don’t you come on board and confirm that for yourself?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think so.” Over confidant Archer could sometimes be, but he wasn’t wilfully stupid: not with T’Pol breathing down his neck. “Let’s discuss my deal. Or shall I ask Captain Vernik here to escort you to the nearest Alliance planet for further investigation?”

The woman gave it some thought, no doubt calculating potential profit and loss scenarios. Fortunately for all concerned, the possibility of keeping Tucker didn’t weigh heavily enough on the credit side of the ledger. “Very well, captain, I’ll make you a gift of the engineer. As a good-will gesture only, you understand.”

“I think we understand one another very well indeed, captain. A pleasure doing business with you.”

~

When Tucker emerged from the airlock into the Solkar’s narrow corridor, he looked angry and apprehensive, although both emotions dissolved into delighted relief at the sight of Archer and T’Pol. Archer returned the engineer’s grin, reaching out to grip his shoulder and give him an affectionate shake. “You’re a hard man to kill, Trip.”

Tucker’s smile faded. “Tell me that bastard Harris is staring at the inside of a locked door.”

“Not yet.” Archer nodded towards T’Pol. “We needed hard evidence that you were alive, or it would just have been his word against T’Pol’s.”

“I guess I owe you again.” This time Tucker’s smile was a lot warmer as he turned it onto the Vulcan woman. “Thanks.” She inclined her head in acknowledgement, and he raised a hand to the device impaled in his neck. “Can someone get this thing off me?”

“You will have to wait until we reach Vulcan.” T’Pol indicated a direction and they fell into their usual pattern, Archer in the lead, she slightly behind his left shoulder, with Tucker bringing up the rear. “The Solkar has limited medical resources.”

“Vulcan? Why are we going to Vulcan? Come to that,” Tucker finally noticed that he wasn’t on a Starfleet vessel, “what are we doing on a Vulcan ship?”

“It seemed prudent.” T’Pol looked to Archer for support, and he supplied the unpalatable answer.

“We didn’t want to alert Section 31 that we were onto them. T’Pol persuaded Ambassador Soval to lend us a ship.”

“But why Vulcan?”

They had halted outside a cabin door, and Archer reluctantly turned to face Tucker. “It’s not safe for you on Earth, Trip. Certainly not until we’ve convinced Starfleet that Section 31 tried to make you disappear a second time.”

“It was a cover up.” Tucker’s voice was grim. “The woman in charge of the dissidents on Alpha Centauri was a former Section 31 agent. Harris didn’t want me reporting that.”

“You can make a statement,” Archer said firmly. “We’ll see that it’s delivered to the right people.”

Tucker sighed in reluctant agreement, and turned hopefully to T’Pol. “Will you be staying on Vulcan?”

“No.” She shifted uncomfortably at his visible disappointment. “I must return to Earth with Captain Archer.” She leant forward to activate the door beside him. “You may use this cabin. Your clothes are here.”

“Thanks.” He stepped into the doorway, looking back at her. “Come help me unpack?”

“That wouldn’t be appropriate.” T’Pol wasn’t looking at him, but at one of the Solkar’s crew walking past.

Behind her back Tucker’s mouth pulled to one side in frustration, and Archer smiled sympathetically. “Get cleaned up, Trip, and make your statement. Then we’ll all grab a quick meal before we get to Vulcan.” He nodded towards the door opposite. “We’re in here. Give us a knock when you’re ready.”

He moved towards the door, not noticing Tucker’s incredulous reaction, although T’Pol did. Her eyes narrowed, even as she said softly, “You do not trust me.”

His eyes went from her slight figure to Archer’s handsome face frowning over her shoulder, and back again. “What the hell’s going on, T’Pol?”

“Not what you think.”

Her voice was tight with hurt, but, emotionally vulnerable after Harris’s betrayal and tightly strung from months of undercover work, Tucker didn’t hear it. He was too busy remembering T’Pol’s affection for Archer, the time she had spent with her captain over the last months, adding in the lack of warmth she had shown during the psychic encounters with the man who was supposed to be her husband, and coming to the wrong conclusion. “It sure as hell looks like it!”

“Trip,” Archer began, but Tucker didn’t wait to hear anymore, disappearing into the cabin and letting the door close behind him. The captain sighed then tried to sound reassuring. “I’ll speak to him, T’Pol, tell him he’s wrong.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Her voice was very calm as she stepped towards the door of the cabin they had been innocently sharing. “A relationship is built on mutual trust.” The brown eyes she turned on her captain were less calm, but very determined. “It would appear that the relationship between Commander Tucker and myself is without foundation.”

~

Two days later

Tucker rose early, partly because that part of Vulcan was on a different time zone to the one he’d been accustomed to, but mostly because he couldn’t sleep for trying to work out where he and T’Pol had gone wrong this time around. After the deafening morning clarion, the sound of someone quietly climbing the stairs from the ground floor bedrooms was welcome, and he didn’t waste any time in following. He found Soval in the kitchen area, and was greeted by a slightly questioning, “Good morning?”

“Morning.” Tucker halted uncertainly, one hand rising to scratch a bristly cheek. He hadn’t shaved; there hadn’t seemed much point. “Uh, I wondered if I should make breakfast.”

“A courteous thought.” Soval poured hot water into an elegant teapot, and produced another mug from a cupboard. “But unnecessary. Amanda would not appreciate being asked to arise at this hour, even for food. Besides,” he added as he handed Tucker a fragrantly steaming mug, “we trust you will make your home here. You need not consider yourself a guest, Commander.”

“Thanks.” Embarrassed by the generous offer, even if he didn’t like the implication that he wouldn’t be returning to Earth, Tucker changed the subject. “I am so sorry about your baby. Did T’Pol tell you it was the attack on Amanda that got me accepted by the conspirators?” Soval nodded fractionally, and Tucker grimaced, knowing it was no compensation. “How is she?” He’d been dropped off by the Solkar in the middle of the night, and been grateful that Soval had simply shown him to a bedroom and left him to untangle his thoughts in private. He’d hardly even noticed that his hostess hadn’t been visible.

“Grieving.” For a second, Tucker thought that an expression of relief crossed the Vulcan’s face. “But she will recover.”

“Sure.” Tucker tried the tea, and got a burnt mouth for his trouble. “Will you try for another baby?”

“No.” Soval’s voice remained calm, but his fingers tightened around his mug. “Amanda was too badly injured. She will not conceive again.”

Tucker’s mouth twisted in a mixture of disgust and regret, even as he shook his head. But there was nothing that could be said and, with some insight, he did not try.

They drank their tea in silence while the sky lightened outside, then Soval turned his head towards the door. Amanda appeared a second later, hair dishevelled and a robe rather carelessly pulled around her. But she smiled at both men before walking straight over to Soval and wrapping her arms around his waist. Tucker averted his eyes hurriedly when he realised that she had every intention of kissing the Vulcan and that Soval wasn’t about to stop her. That their relationship was every bit as physical as his and T’Pol’s, Tucker had accepted some years before, but he suddenly found that he didn’t want a demonstration. When he risked looking again, Amanda still had her arms around her husband, but Soval was busy making more tea – one-handed since his other arm was wrapped around his wife. It wasn’t quite as bad as kissing.

Amanda smiled at Tucker, apparently oblivious to his discomfort. “You’re up early, Trip. Soval said you didn’t arrive until late.”

“Yeah, well, different time zones. You know how it is.”

“Sure. But it’s too early for me.” She snuggled even closer to Soval, forcing Tucker to avert his eyes again. “Can we take the tea back to bed, sweetheart?”

“If you wish.” The Vulcan’s response was calm, but almost indecently precipitous. He did remember his guest, however, when he followed Amanda to the door. “Please, commander, make yourself at home.”

~

It was a good two hours before Amanda put in another appearance. In the interim Tucker had experienced all the discomfort of someone at a loose end in a house not their own, and was glad of something to distract him from the depressing thoughts that had inevitably resulted. He followed her into the kitchen, where she proceeded to investigate the contents of a stasis unit, asking over her shoulder, “Are you hungry?”

“I guess.” His stomach had been rumbling, but he had lost his appetite at his first clear sight of Amanda’s face in the morning light. She looked pale and there were dark circles under her eyes that the extra time in bed had not cured, but it was the droop to her full mouth that really drew his attention.

“Then we need to go shopping.” She closed the stasis unit, straightened and caught him staring. For a second her expression stiffened, but then it relaxed into a faint smile. “Don’t ask me how I am, Trip. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it.”

“Then will you believe that I will be fine? Soval too.”

“He took it hard?”

“Didn’t T’Pol tell you?” Amanda didn’t wait for an answer. “He’s been ill. That’s why we came to Vulcan. Come on.” She headed for the door. “We’ll hit the shops while Soval’s meditating. We only arrived yesterday.” Then she added mostly to herself, “And we had more important things to do than pick up the groceries.”

They were out on the hot streets before she continued abruptly, “It was my fault.”

“What was?” Tucker had lost the thread of the conversation in looking around him, and turned a confused look on Amanda. “Forgetting to buy breakfast?”

“That Soval got ill.” Her mouth twisted in self-disgust. “That’s why I’m surprised T’Pol didn’t tell you.”

Tucker shrugged uncomfortably. “We didn’t talk a whole lot.”

“For a good reason or a bad one?”

“A bad one.”

“Again?”

There was resignation rather than surprise in Amanda’s voice, and Tucker grimaced at the implication. “Yeah. I guess happy endings really only do happen in fairy tales.” Her mouth twitched and she looked hurriedly away, leaving Tucker to curse his insensitivity. “Sorry.”

She forced a smile that became more genuine when she saw his mortification. “Things’ll get better, Trip. They usually do.” She slipped a companionable arm through his. “Your mom helped me a lot.”

“Mom? How come?”

“You know she trained as a grief counsellor after your sister died?” He nodded absently. “She contacted me just after,” she paused to take a breath, “our baby was killed. But I didn’t wanna know. I just wanted to shut myself away inside my own head and not think about anything that hurt.” She shook her head at the memory. “But after we got here, I finally,” she shrugged, “gave into it, I guess. Admitted how much it hurt to lose the baby, how I felt I’d let Soval down. How much I still loved him – loved them both.” She took another deep breath. “Once I’d stopped crying, Soval made me call your mom. We talked about losing children, how nothing else hurts quite so much. It helped.” She raised an understanding face to Tucker’s stricken one. “We can let her know, Trip. Even if you can’t go back, we can let her know that you’re okay.”

“Yeah. Captain Archer said he’d let mom and dad know.” He pulled a rueful face, again ignoring the implication that he wouldn’t be leaving Vulcan any time soon. “There wasn’t much else to say.”

“What happened, Trip? The way Soval told it, T’Pol was desperate to find you. Hell, she was the only one who believed you were still alive!”

He shook his head in irritable denial. “She and Captain Archer have something going.”

“What?” Amanda stopped in the middle of the street, unmindful of other pedestrians. “Trip, that’s crazy. You and T’Pol have a psychic connection. Don’t you know what that means to a Vulcan? There’s no way T’Pol would go with someone else while she knew you were still alive.”

He stared back, first in shock then with dawning horror as he realised the magnitude of the mistake he had made. “Maybe you know that.” Now his tone held sick misery. “But it’s not the kind of thing we ever talked about.”

“D’you know what Soval says?”

“No. But I reckon I’m gonna find out.”

Amanda ignored the less than subtle dig. “That he can admit to needing me far more easily than a younger Vulcan like T’Pol because he’s had longer to come to terms with his emotions: he knows himself. T’Pol’s still scared of what she feels. And you sure as hell don’t make it easy for her!”

Tucker shrugged in bitter resignation. “I thought we were going shopping, not analysing my failings.”

“We can do that.” Amanda set off briskly down the street. “But if T’Pol ever gives you another chance, Trip, just try to remember that she loves you, even if she can’t say it.”

They walked on in resentful silence until the moment both recognised the futility of such an emotion and almost simultaneously turned to each other, although Tucker got in first. “You didn’t deserve that. Will you accept an apology?”

“Sure.” Her smile warmed her pale face. “And I didn’t mean to be so sanctimonious.”

“Soval’s a bad influence, you know that?” They carried on down the street, friends again. “The Amanda Cole I knew on Enterprise didn’t know words like ‘sanctimonious’.”

“Sure she did.” Amanda’s voice had relaxed. “She just knew better than to use them around that hick of an engineer. He could barely speak English.”

~

They were still exchanging amicable insults when they reached the grocers Amanda favoured, and found its proprietor standing morosely outside while his wife harangued an impassive deliveryman. Amanda winked at Tucker and addressed herself to the storekeeper in Vulcan. He seemed grateful for the distraction, ushering the two Humans into his shop where he engaged Amanda in a lengthy conversation while she tried to interest him in serving her.

Watching the exchange for want of anything else to do, Tucker knew that Amanda was struggling to maintain a suitably serious expression and so wasn’t surprised when she finally turned to him with a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Trip, d’you reckon you can fix a stasis unit?”

“Sure.” He frowned, a little startled at receiving another request for that particular service on only his second private visit to Vulcan. “Why?”

“Well, Mr Velon’s weekly stock has just been delivered, his stasis unit has broken down, the driver won’t take the delivery back, and he doesn’t know where he can find a repairman.” She grinned. “So I thought of you.”

“I guess you would.” Tucker raised a thumb to scratch his cheek, smiling quizzically back. “Why’s it so difficult to get things fixed on Vulcan? I had to repair T’Pol’s mom’s stasis unit, too.”

“It’s the government’s fault.” Amanda paused to speak to Mr Velon, who inclined his head deeply and urged Tucker towards the back of the shop. “All the best people are diverted into the Science Directorate, or the military, or one of the ministries whether they want to be or not. It means there’s a skills’ shortage in the trades. When our water heater broke down, we had to invite Skon to lunch to get it fixed.” She smiled again. “Soval can negotiate a mean treaty, but he's useless when it comes to fixing things, and so am I.”

“Sounds like a job opening for an out-of-work engineer.” And because he knew that Amanda hadn’t meant to upset him, he didn’t bother pointing out that fixing domestic appliances was no substitute for working with the intricacies of a warp-capable star ship.

~

6 weeks later

It was well into the afternoon when Tucker made his slow way back from yet another repair job. As soon as he had picked up enough Vulcan to deal with the essentials, he had insisted on responding to such calls by himself. It made him feel more independent, but mostly it ensured that his hosts had some time to themselves. Neither Soval nor Amanda had complained, but he had some idea of just how much the rift between them had hurt, and suspected that what they now wanted was to spend as much quality time together as possible. That wasn’t easy with a morose engineer hanging about the place, so he absented himself as much as he could. Besides, seeing just how close and loving a Human/Vulcan marriage could be wasn’t good for his morale. Soval and Amanda had achieved the mutually beneficial partnership that he and T’Pol had only been able to attain in their professional lives. Within their personal relationship, T’Pol had remained fiercely independent, only occasionally allowing Tucker to feel that she needed him as much as he did her.

He sighed, knowing that it was futile to think about T’Pol, but unable to give up poking at the painful subject. There was too little else to distract him: repairing even the most truculent domestic appliance took no more than half his attention. He let himself into the dim hallway and felt his way carefully up the narrow, unprotected stairway – Soval had raised a dismissive eyebrow when Tucker had offered to upgraded the house’s lighting – and halted on the first landing when he caught the murmur of voices from the living area. It meant that there were guests present, otherwise Soval and Amanda would have been in the kitchen or the garden – or even the bedroom! - and Tucker found it easier to disappear when there were guests. Few of the locals spoke English and his Vulcan wasn’t up to conversational level yet, while visitors from the city usually required long and complex explanations of his presence. But he had taken no more than a step back when the door before him opened and Soval looked out. “Trip,” it had taken some persuasion, but the ambassador had finally consented to use the nickname, “you have a visitor.”

Expecting Captain Archer, or Malcolm, or maybe even his mother, Tucker moved past the Vulcan into the room and halted abruptly when T’Pol rose from the chair where she had been perched. They stood in strained silence until Amanda said briskly, “We’ll need extra fruit for tonight. Come with me, Soval?”

“Of course.” He stood aside to let her pass, and Tucker found himself on the receiving end of paired looks that eloquently told him not to screw up this time. Then the door closed, and he was alone with T’Pol: a T’Pol who looked as if she would rather be anywhere else in the galaxy.

“Hey.” He had to stop and clear his throat. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“It was necessary to debrief you.” Her tone was cool, very much the first officer’s. “Captain Archer was obliged to remain on Jupiter Station.”

Bitter words hovered on the tip of Tucker’s tongue, but he managed to bite them back, remembering Amanda’s frustration with him. “Big job, building a new ship.” He paused to select his next statement carefully. “He’ll need a lot of help.”

“Yes.” It was possible that there was a hint of sympathy in T’Pol’s voice when she added, “But not from you.”

It hurt to hear it, but her words weren’t the body blow they might have been. Tucker sighed with more resignation than anger and slumped into a seat, resting his elbows on his knees. “There’s not gonna be any come back on Section 31?”

“No. Harris has been disciplined, but Section 31 claim that he acted without authority.”

“That doesn’t explain why I have to stay dead.”

T’Pol sunk onto the edge of a chair facing him, hands clasped around the PADD she carried. “It’s believed that the other Alliance worlds would react unfavourably to the news that a Human organisation planned a massacre of their citizens.”

“So the information has to be suppressed.” His mouth twisted bitterly. “And so do I.”

“Not entirely.” T’Pol held out the PADD to him. “Starfleet wish for your input on the warp 7 project – anonymously, of course. Your family is also permitted to know that you are alive.”

He looked up at that. “Did the captain see mom?”

“I did.” She inclined her head towards the PADD. “She has written to you.”

He dropped his head, rubbing his eyes. “Thanks.”

There was a pause then T’Pol said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He looked back, mouth pulled to one side in a rueful grimace. “I knew the risks when I took the job. I just preferred not to think too hard about them.” He squared his shoulders, trying not to sound too self-pitying. “I guess you’ll be working with the captain on the new ship.”

She stared back, no readable expression on her smooth face. “I haven’t yet decided.”

Unable to remain still any longer, Tucker came to his feet, wandering randomly around the sparsely furnished room. “Like I said, he’ll need …”

“I have been offered a post with the Science Academy on Vulcan.”

He halted abruptly, but couldn’t bring himself to face her. “You’ve got a lot to offer them.”

“My time on Enterprise has certainly suggested many avenues of research.”

With his back to her, Tucker could hear the stiffness in T’Pol’s voice that he might otherwise have missed if they had been face to face. It forced him to acknowledge that this time it was he who had to apologise – and that it had better be a good one. “One good thing came out of this mission.” He turned and saw that T’Pol’s expression was no longer quite so well controlled; there was a suggestion of a tremor to her lips. “I realised that where I belong is with you, and this thing between us … it’s a hell of a big deal.” She sucked in her breath as if to speak, but no words came out. “I’m sorry. I should never have doubted you. T’Pol,” Tucker hesitated, almost afraid to say it, “think you can ever forgive me?”

She nodded, still unable to speak, and he crossed the space between them to lift her to her feet. He felt her shiver even as her hands came to rest on his shoulders, then he bent his head to complete his apology.

~

They dined that night on catfish and pecan pie – at least the Humans did. The Vulcans stuck to salad and, in Soval’s case, sarcastic remarks that made it clear that he didn’t approve of the unlicensed import of foodstuffs. But everyone knew that his heart wasn’t in it. Not only had Mrs Tucker conspired with T’Pol to ensure that her son got his favourite meal, but she had added enough arabica coffee beans to the care package to appease his host – and Amanda had laughed for the first time in weeks at the sight of the fish.

They moved into the courtyard garden after dinner, where it was pleasantly warm and fragrant with the many pots of herbs strewn around. Soval and Tucker discussed irrigation techniques while T’Pol wandered around, studying the flora. She halted by one pot, frowning a little. “I do not recognise this specimen.”

“It’s a hybrid.” Amanda spoke quietly. “Rosemary crossed with kahzain to allow it to survive the heat and the draught. We planted it for our baby.” Soval stretched out a hand to her, and she gave him a sad smile and moved closer on the stone bench they shared.

He stroked her cheek, then slipped his arm around her in a demonstration of affection that had Tucker averting his eyes and led T’Pol to say sternly, “I have a number of confidential reports to pass on – if you are interested.”

“Naturally.” Soval took an appreciative sip of coffee, settled Amanda a little more comfortably against him, and nodded mildly. “Proceed.”

T’Pol pursed her lips but didn’t bother protesting her mentor’s shameless behaviour; she knew it would have no effect. “The first is from Commissioner Cole.” She directed her warm brown eyes at Amanda, moderating her tone. “His people have finally discovered the motive for the attack on you.” Amanda stiffened within Soval’s embrace, and T’Pol continued gently, “You will know that the personal files of the man responsible were heavily encrypted. That led to the assumption that he was supported by a wider organisation.” She paused almost diffidently. “He was not. When the encryption algorithms were finally decoded, it became clear that he was merely a psychologically damaged individual who had become obsessed with you.”

There was a profound silence before Amanda asked huskily, “If he was ill, how come he was cleared by both Human and Vulcan security?”

“Because his illness had never before affected his role in society. There was nothing for them to detect.” T’Pol paused again. “Your brother says that he has already put revised clearance procedures into place.”

There was another pause before Soval said quietly, “There were other reports?”

T’Pol hesitated almost as if reluctant to proceed in the face of Amanda’s stunned expression, but eventually she continued. “Vulcan security also believes that they have identified the assassin who attacked you on Risa.” Soval raised an eyebrow, while Amanda straightened, some of her shock banished by interest. “Trip was not the only item retrieved from the Orion Syndicate. A routine scan by the Solkar happened to access their main computer.” Tucker pulled a face at that euphemism for spying. “The financial records indicate that the ship’s captain hired a Corridian to carry out the assassination.”

“I told you!” The revelation appeared to please Amanda at least. “I told you it could be the Orions. They really weren’t happy with the formation of the Neutral Zone.”

“You suggested that it could be a large number of people,” Soval pointed out dryly, and Tucker sighed.

“I guess that’s the problem.” The others looked expectantly at him. “You know how there’s always one teacher at school who scares the hell outta you? Mine was Mrs McCray. We’d run when we saw her, even if we’d done nothing. And she’d shout after us, ‘The wicked flee where none pursueth’.”

Amanda shook her dark head, frowning. “I don’t get it.”

But T’Pol nodded thoughtfully. “The corollary being, ‘The righteous pursue where none are guilty’. We sought to discover a conspiracy where there were only unrelated incidents.”

“So it would appear.” Soval flicked a rueful eyebrow. “The Andorians and the Tellarites have found no recent evidence of off-world interference in their internal affairs.”

Amanda wrinkled her nose. “So Trip’s ‘death’ was a waste of time?”

“Hardly.” Her husband nodded courteously to the engineer. “He discovered a plot that would otherwise have threatened the Alliance and cost many lives. But it would seem that our suspicions of a conspiracy against the Alliance are unfounded.”

“Good.” Amanda drooped against him again. “I can do without any more excitement.”

“And yet,” T’Pol’s voice was very soft, “we know that there are still members of every species who oppose the Alliance.”

“It’ll work out.” Emboldened by Soval’s example, Tucker ventured an arm around her shoulders. But she stiffened, straightening her back, prompting Amanda to take pity on the other couple.

“I’m tired.” She rose, holding out a hand to Soval. “You can meditate while I get ready for bed.”

He followed her without question, and Tucker watched them go with some frustration, even as T’Pol finally relaxed against him. “You could learn from Soval. He’s not afraid of touching Amanda when there’s only friends around.”

“His feelings for her are extreme. It would be unseemly to follow his example.” Then she stiffened again. “You resent my reticence!”

Tucker drew in his breath to protest then let it go in a laugh, hugging T’Pol to him instead. “Let’s not go that route this time, honey.”

He captured her mouth and it was quite a long while before she said gently but firmly, “I do not wish to have a child.”

“Yeah.” Tucker rested his chin on her hair. “I thought you might feel like that.”

“You don’t object?”

She sounded surprised and he smiled a little. “I object to the fact that we live in a time where a hybrid baby won’t be accepted. But I think you’re right: it wouldn’t be fair on the kid.”

“Thank you.”

He rubbed his cheek against the sleek hair so temptingly close. “We’ve come quite a way, huh?”

“Yes.” T’Pol pulled back to look into his face. “But have we come far enough?”

“I reckon so.” Tucker slipped his arms around her slender waist, jerking his chin at the tranquil garden around them. “Seems to me that this is a good place to end the journey.”

She studied the garden in her turn then looked back. “I believe we have a little further to go.” He frowned at her response to what he thought had been a rather neat piece of allegory on his part, and she added pedantically, “We are some metres from our bedroom.”

And once Tucker had thought about it, he had to admit that T’Pol had a very good point: one that he was at pains to address as soon as possible.

The End

Thank you from Shoulknowbetter for reading this story. And thank you all from Bucky and Myst for your continued support of Trip/T'Polers?

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