Beau Ideal (Plot #4)

Beau Ideal

By Sue

Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Paramount's property.
E-Mail: susieqla@yahoo.com
Website: None.
Series: ENTERPRISE
Pairing: T/Tu, S
Category: Romance/Het
Summary: Back on Earth, Trip and T’Pol solidify their relationship. The Vulcans do more than find out since such a union galls them, and to say they’re not pleased is mild. Trip and T’Pol learn a starship load about themselves and each other that perhaps is more than they wanted to. Nevertheless, dealing with the person you’ve chosen, the one you can’t live without, is the learning experience of their lives.
Archive: All Enterprise archives are fine.
Spoilers: “Harbinger,” “Zero Hour”

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PART I

Theirs was a wonderful home, the starch-white duplex overlooking the mouth of San Francisco Bay, the sleek Golden Gate Bridge ever poised no matter whether it was rain, shine, mist or the fog that clung to everything like a downy blanket. Sausalito was a minute’s excursion, give or take, by aircar. The house afforded western exposure at its loveliest. Trip, the impetuous human male that he was, had bought it especially for her, his beloved, the Vulcan whose taste ran to the Spartan.

Beginning life as a homeowner without a mortgage had been Starfleet’s, and a grateful human population’s, small way of saying, “thanks!” for a job excellently done for the role they had played in thwarting the Xindi. Not having had to come up with a down hefty payment was equally a dream that had come true.

What had been a mere invitation to live with him had, in lightning-quick order, transformed into a formal proposal of marriage, and he hadn’t felt forced into it. He truly loved T’Pol, and simply put, Trip knew she deserved nothing less than commitment that was built to last. She was the finest woman he had ever known, would ever know. He would have been a fool to have let her slip away, or, worse yet, treated what they had together casually. They’d lived together, so to speak aboard Enterprise. Therefore, Trip had determined nothing less than their getting ‘hitched’ would do. So, to his overwhelming relief, when he’d asked T’Pol if she’d consent to become his wedded wife, she’d agreed. Although, it had taken her a full day to examine the scope of what being married to a human male, and not just ANY human male, but Charles ‘Trip’ Tucker, III would entail.

News of their nuptials had surprised no one of the senior staff, not even their captain, on as much leave as they all were. Currently, Captain Archer was vacationing in Aruba with two cousins he hadn’t seen in years. His rescue by the Andorians from the warped time zone which they’d all been thrown into, as well as from the sadists who had imprisoned him, had been nothing short of miraculous.

Jonathan had harbored suspicions about his first- and second-in-command from the moment Trip had unwittingly divulged how T’Pol had grown on him. The extent to which she had grown had been the adjunct escapade pertaining to the Expanse. Archer’s only lament was how he wished the gorgeous Vulcan could have felt for him what she felt for Trip; maybe things might have worked out differently...very differently...

“Somethin’ smells real good...”

T’Pol turned away from the spectacular view on the partially-enclosed veranda in the direction of her husband’s voice. It had become second nature for her to smile in that barely-there way she had when the boom of his voice, praising her cooking, butted into her meditation. She took another small sip of her chamomile bouquet tea, and waited.

In the meantime, she thought about the finer details of the proposal she was slated to present to the Science Committee’s newly-appointed liaison. She had her work cut out for her. Parity between the key parties mired in the factional discussions involving where to take the latest Vulcan research had all but broken off. These days, it seemed she spent more time at the Vulcan compound than at home, much to her husband of three months’, who griped occasionally, frustration. She was officially with Starfleet, but worked closely with former associates. She excelled in whatever genre of exploration, critical analysis and methodology she was called upon to undertake.

All-in-all, considering Trip’s volatile nature, he was handling his wife’s career demands as well as any newly-married man would have who loved being with his new bride as much as possible.

He was a busy man too, understatement of the era, what with his heading up Starfleet’s Warp Drive Research Division.

“I like my bacon crisp, even if it is soy.” Concessions came easier to the southern gentleman these days. If eating more sensibly pleased T’Pol, he’d promised her he’d see what he could do about that. He drew the line though with her staple, Plomeek broth, or when she added scads of vegetables, soup. He’d only touch the stuff if he added red meat, usually after having to convince T’Pol that it gave his serving more body and texture. There were compromises on either side. “It was MY turn to make breakfast this mornin’, sweetie.” Coming up behind her, Trip wedged T’Pol’s body against his, his arms encircling her slender form after he deprived her of her mug, setting it down on the veranda’s broad railing ledge. “Mornin’, Misses Tucker.” His lips nuzzled the warm, inviting shell of her ear. “Happy?”

The beginning of this familiar banter oddly amused her. “Happiness is relative.”

Trip nibbled on her earlobe. “Then, relatively speakin’, are ya happy?”

She listened to the faraway sound of the waves crashing against boulder-like rocks that were roughly less than a kilometer down from the house, feeling her heartbeat step up. “I can’t imagine life without you, my husband.”

Her heartfelt sentiment won her a crushing squeeze from her always over-amorous spouse. The intimate bond they shared mesmerized both of them; T’Pol more so since her telepathic abilities had fully matured due in part to her mate’s precocious nature. Clearly, the development was an added benefit of the relationship, totally unexpected, but treasured. Treasured in the very same way she treasured this gift in men, her man...Trip, despite his flaws which she had come to accept as what made him unique, special, really.

“Aw, thanks, hon, and ya know I feel exactly the same ‘bout you. You’re THE woman among women.” He attacked her neck with its exceptionally smooth skin with eager lips. “The ONLY woman in the universe for me, sho’ nuff! And I’ve got Zephrane Cochrane partly to thank. Jon’s dad too, for that matter.”

T’Pol, shutting her eyes, absorbed all the warmth his love offered, like a small sponge with the ability to suck in moisture greater than its size. Love, her understanding of it, let alone her ability to come to grips with it, was still a work in progress. Still and all, though, the one thing abundantly clear was if it ever came down to sacrificing her life to save her treasure’s life, there would be no contemplation since that decision had been made long ago.

“I’ve got an idea...”

T’Pol already knew what it was. In all honesty, Trip gave any Vulcan male’s virility a run for its money. “But your breakfast’s ready.”

“I know it is. I turned off the bacon, and put the griddlecakes in the oven to keep ‘em warm. So how ‘bout we step into the shower so you can finish warmin’ me up, darlin’? What happens the night before is always the prelim’s.” His hands formed a collar around her slim waist and cinched. The attention his lips were paying her neck intensified until T’Pol literally swooned.

Giddy, she turned in his hands, bringing her own up to his face to frame it. Her gaze alone set him ablaze and with all the sultriness she commanded like a general his troops, she enticed him further with a kiss that nearly stopped his heart in mid-beat.

When what felt like a plank between his legs bloomed, smiles erupted before their kiss ended. Trip ground into her further and growled, “Have mercy, baby, ya know what ya do to me. Don’t even think of leavin’ me like this. Oh, God.” His hands fell to her perfect backside, molding them to its luscious perfection. “’Girl, girl, girl, ya gonna set me on fire. My brain is flamin’, I don’t know which way to go. Your kisses lift me higher. Like the sweet song of a choir. You light my mornin’ sky with burnin’ love. With burnin’ love, with burnin’ love. I’m just a hunka hunka burnin’ love...just a hunka hunka burnin’ love.’” Trip had the ‘Pelvis’’ twang down pat.

“Elvis Presley, circa nineteen seventy-two.” T’Pol playfully nipped the tip of his nose several times.

“Trip Tucker—-right now—-‘I just might turn to smoke, but I feel fine.’ But make me feel finer, sweetheart. Satisfy me, woman--I do the same for you, it’s my pleasure too.”

“We always take turns, don’t we?” T’Pol put to him, sounding sly.

“If I self-destruct, you’ll be sorry!”

“Your self-destruction is never a good idea,” she replied, and the prim and proper tone of her seductive voice nearly pushed him over the edge then and there. “Certainly not for me. You’re my Trellium-D.”

Trip grabbed her hand. “Neither is self-gratification if it doesn’t involve you. Let’s go!” He held up his baggy pajama bottoms, the elastic of its waistband had too much give, with his other hand, and prepared to make a mad dash for their bathroom.

“Perhaps a swim in the ocean first to cool you off a fraction? I worry about the extent to which you overheat, ‘t’hy’la’.’” T’Pol was already slipping off the filmy jacket of her negligee. “I am enjoying my swimming lessons, as well. And...how we finish in the hot tub.”

“Later, after we’ve played in the shower a while. We’ve got all day for once. It’s the weekend. Feels great, don’t it? Not havin’ to be anywhere till Monday, amen. We’re still workin’ on the honeymoon we haven’t had time to take yet.” ‘Here I go again,’ Trip thought, but felt he had to say what seemed always on his mind. “It’s like they’ve got ya under lock and key at that friggin’ compound, just about, only lettin’ ya go when YOU haveta remind them you have a life outside their confines. I understand how Starfleet wants ya there, but what I DON’T like is how the you-know-whos try to monopolize your time more an’ more.” He’d never trust the Vulcans, except the one he loved.

The whole concept of honeymoon baffled T’Pol. They reveled in each other every night since they’d wed, and if being honest was important, before. What difference did location and clime make?

“What a thing approximates doesn’t make it the reality.”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” Trip relented, ushering her along with busy hands to the place they liked making love second best to the bedroom. There was something wildly erotic, T’Pol had expressed to him, about the pulse of warm water saturating her body while his drove hers over the brink of insanity time and time again. “Tonight, dinner and dancin’ at your favorite jazz club?”

T’Pol squeezed his hand with a grip any man would envy and Trip tugged her along some more. “Wait, allow me to put your orange juice in the refrigerator so it will keep cold, the way you like it,” she observed.

Trip yanked her back from the countertop. “It’ll keep, unlike somethin’ you like more than keepin’ my OJ chilled.” And he glanced down meaningfully at the area T’Pol’s eyes had unwittingly drifted.

“You do have a point, my husband.”

“So, let’s put it to good use, wifey...”

Primed to rush the spiral staircase leading to the bathroom, that looked more like a guest suite, a short hallway away from their bedroom, man and wife, the man especially, winced when the door chime sounded. It chimed again but neither twitched; immobilized, Trip and T’Pol exchanged speculative facial expressions.

“Okay,” Trip said, rancor scrawled on his face, “who the hell is THAT at this hour?”

“It IS eleven-thirty,” T’Pol stressed, figuring it was probably one of Trip’s colleagues who was taking his amenable superior’s invitation to, “drop over anytime,” literally.

“Let’s ignore it, and whoever it is’ll get lost.” In his head, Trip chanted, ‘Go away—go away—go away! I mean it!’ He knew T’Pol wouldn’t ignore the summons.

“But it could be important for either one of us.” Firm hands laid claim to his bare broad shoulders. “If we’re clever about it, our needs will be satisfied as quickly as it will take us to say goodbye as the door closes.”

“I’m holdin’ ya to that, hon.”

“Don’t you always?” T’Pol aptly rejoined, and Trip gave her butt cheek a feisty little pinch.

“Call us rabbits, but like I give a shucks. The faster we ditch this intruder, the faster we get to play.”

“Precisely.”

Yet, sadly, when the front door halved and their interloper’s identity revealed, Trip’s spirits plummeted. It was his normal reaction whenever dealings with the slab-faced Ambassador imposed. Posing trenchantly before the bemused couple, Soval scrutinized them the way he always did, disapprovingly. The sinking feeling in Trip’s heart felt like a noose around it. There wasn’t the white thistly portion of a dandelion perennial’s chance in a malicious windstorm that ridding themselves of this nuisance would be child’s play.

“More tea, Ambassador?” T’Pol offered, ready to refill his cup.

“No, thank you, what I’ve accepted suffices...”

T’Pol had excused herself almost immediately to go change into something less provocative. She had known not to leave her husband alone too long with Soval, his comment of three months ago about their union being a travesty of bondmate selection, a mockery of what was natural, still fresh in memory.

Trip had elected to remain underdressed on principal, taking inordinate pride in being gloriously bare-chested. Soval was trespassing on his weekend; how he dressed, or didn’t, was HIS prerogative, take it or leave it. This was HIS house and HIS rules went. The men had exchanged pleasantries that were strained, at best, waiting for the lady of the house to come back.

On T’Pol’s swift return, both men had stood, and each silently agreed that she looked lovely, attired in a pastel green chemise and darker green Capri pants, matching sandals, naturally.

There was something forced about Soval, the couple sensing so as one mind, as though he was holding back, biding his time, but for what? Trip wondered where the Ambassador, who was looking a little older around the eyes, had picked up the annoying habit, amid his many others, of being so shifty-eyed. This made it the third time his glance had gone to the door as though he were expecting someone.

“So what can we do ya for?” Trip brusquely asked, crossing his leg by placing his left ankle over his right knee, and hanging his arm on his wife’s shoulders once she’d reseated herself beside him. The inquiry earned him a pat on his thigh from T’Pol, and Trip returned it by patting her arm.

‘...Okay, I’ll try behavin’, for your sake, honey, only yours...but if he gets to be the royal pain in the ass as usual, do us both the favor. Nerve-pinch him, we’ll carry him to the door and dump him outside...’

‘...Uh, yeah...and it goes both ways...’

T’Pol snuggled up against Trip closer, heedless to Soval’s hawkish scrutiny.

Soval could make neither head nor tail of their being far-removed facial expressions. If he didn’t know any better, he might have been tempted to charge them both with ‘V’tosh ka’turism.’ But that was impossible—-the human was mentally deficient, and T’Pol, though having latent tendencies in that vein, would never immerse herself in such vagary. She had been schooled better. Yet, what accounted for her unsavory selection of a mate?

“Word of your project’s latest success is promising,” the Ambassador congratulated, yet with no spark of enthusiasm to suggest he could have cared less, or that warp drive acceleration advancement was even remotely important for his being there. “Commander...”

Despite the promise he’d made to his wife, Trip snapped, “Does this look like the insides of a starship? The Expanse it’s not, ‘though it’s gettin’ real anomaly-like in here. Addressin’ me as ‘Commander’s’ outta place, don’tcha think?”

Eschewing the rebuff, Soval tore off the mask, and addressing T’Pol directly, in blatant ignorance of Trip, sedately appealed, “You cannot want this for the rest of your life, regardless of your outliving him. I have beseeched you countless times. Leave this man, this debasement; it is far beneath you. Return to your proud heritage.”

The personification of equanimity, T’Pol rejoined, “I never left it.”

Trip jumped to his feet, his sweatpants nearly falling down, his hotheaded inclinations winning out, and hollered, “Get the HELL outta OUR house!” Even more impassioned, he cried, “STOP tryin’ to come between my wife and me! T’Pol’s here ‘cause she wants to be—-if you and the Vulcans havin’ a problem with it can’t wrap your narrow minds around that, that’s YOUR problem!”

Following the thunderclap of his voice, silence reigned supreme for several tense moments.

Finally, T’Pol spoke and when she did, what she said had Trip basking in the sunshine of the unique love she reserved only for him. Rising, she stood as close as close could be next to him, clasping his closest hand. “There has never been, nor will there ever be, aside from my parents and close family, anyone whom I would willingly sacrifice my life for. Charles ‘Trip’ Tucker the Third IS my life; I lack nothing. He is all that I could have ever hoped for in a bondmate. And since you, dear Ambassador, will never understand, I suggest you comply with the wishes of my husband, and, with all due respect, which you have neglected to show us...please. LEAVE.” Her request had been said as staidly as if she had asked for someone to fetch her meditation candles.

Trip fell intractably in love with her all over again. She would always be his kind of woman until the day came when he’d draw his final breath.

“You heard my wife. GIT!”

Soval stood in measured stages, but looked as though he had in mind becoming a permanent fixture. “I had hoped it would not have had to come to this.”

“Come to what?” Trip spat.

“The High Command, in conjunction with the Consulate, has deemed it necessary to have T’Pol forcibly removed from this abhorrent situation. Your union is an insult to all Vulcans.”

“Abhorrent!!!” Trip bellowed, and this time the squeeze T’Pol gave his hand went thoroughly unheeded. “FORCIBLY REMOVED—WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN?” He was HOT, molten lava hot! “That’s the fourth time you’ve insulted us,” the blond, ostensibly beside himself, raged. “Don’t think we’ve forgotten about the verbal slaps you gave us on our wedding day! The ones you thought I was too dense to get!”

“A character like you certainly would not,” Soval charged, enjoying seeing the gush of florid color flush Trip’s cheeks.

Trip released himself from his wife’s strong hand and menacingly closed on Soval. “I’m gonna make ya wish you never knew where we live, you pompous ass! Don’t say you weren’t warned...”

On that sour note, the front door flew open and four Vulcans, youthful ones, added themselves to the fracas.

Dumbfounded, Trip froze in his tracks, fear co-mingled with violence spiking in him. Having sized up the situation faster than blinking an eye, everything he’d worked so hard for was at stake. “Over my dead body, over my dead body! I don’t care if you’ve got half of Vulcan with ya!!” Trip remonstrated. “T’Pol’s mine—-she stays with me!”

Soval spoke to T’Pol again. “If what you say is true, if what you feel for this man is the truth, you will come with us, T’Pol. It is for the best; you are too valuable to waste on inane indulgence. Back on Vulcan, you will begin the Kohlinar ceremony and none of these memories of your life with him will remain to plague you.”

Imperceptibly, T’Pol trembled as, inwardly, defiance galvanized her. They’d have to kill her, she couldn’t live without Trip—-her Trip. “My place is with my husband,” she re-emphasized, flowing to him, meshing her body with his. The look on Soval’s face was enough to convey he was shocked.

“Tell him to stand aside,” Soval coldly ordered. “We aren’t averse to the use of deadly force.”

One of the Vulcans, one whose hair coloring was somewhat auburn, advanced on the couple with phase weapon drawn.

“I won’t,” Trip insisted, hating Soval and his goons with every fiber that steeled his resolve, keeping it intact. “You’ll haveta kill us both then, ‘cause we’d rather die—-both of us, together, than you tearin’ us apart.” Much to everyone’s surprise, even Trip’s, he’d announced it calmly, suddenly the soul of forbearance. He looked at T’Pol and smiled, hearing her thoughts as though she were directly whispering in his ear.

‘...I’ll handle this one with the superior look in his lifeless eyes. When his weapon drops, retrieve it immediately. Aim for Soval. The man is a coward. He’ll back down. We’ll drive them out...’

‘...I’m with ya, hon. I’ll be quicker than a jackrabbit...I can’t believe this crap they think they’ll get away with...’

“Very well, Ambassador, I will go with you.” Though she’d said she’d go, she moved not a muscle to get herself moving in Soval’s direction.

Nevertheless, a triumphant look leaped into Soval’s eyes. “I’ve always admired your profound ability to be logical, T’Pol.”

“Yeah, I just bet you have,” Trip snarled.

“Commander,” Soval made a point of badgering, “I don’t need much of an excuse...” He signaled for the stockier Vulcan of the four to aim her weapon dead center on Trip’s chest.

The action compounded T’Pol’s animosity, but self-possessed to the last, she fearlessly shielded his body, stepping into the direct line of fire. “I am prepared to die for the sake of my ‘t’hy’la’,’ Ambassador. You need only test me out.”

For a fleeting moment, disgust mingled with regret flared up on Soval’s face.

Angrily, Trip pushed her out of the way, and in the split second of being shoved, T’Pol jostled against the coppery-headed Vulcan who had drawn on them from behind. She nerve-pinched him, and as the Vulcan fell away as though dead, Trip, making good on his promise for jackrabbit speed, seized the weapon dropped by the unconscious Vulcan. The chief engineer on hiatus already had Soval lined up for a strike.

The balance of power had dramatically shifted in the couple’s favor.

“DON’T do it,” Trip strongly urged the three Vulcans who stood poised to take T’Pol and him down. “You weren’t kiddin’ about deadly force if the settin’ of this weapon is a clear indication,” Trip said to Soval as T’Pol took her rightful place beside her mate. “So, as my wife kindly asked ya before...” He made an obvious shooing motion with the firearm. “But, I’m not as nearly polite...GET THE HELL OUTTA OUR HOUSE!”

Soval, although reading the murderous intent in Trip’s eyes hesitated until, reluctantly, he complied. He motioned for his people to back down. With a slight nod of his head, he sanctioned that two of the coercive party return their weapons to their persons and go fetch their incapacitated comrade to carry him out.

The Ambassador hung back long enough until his group was outside. Before departing through the door, he vowed, “You haven’t heard the last of this, nor seen the last of us. None of our people will rest until our own has been recovered.”

“Make your damn threats. We’re lodgin’ a formal complaint with Starfleet. Maybe have ya kicked off the planet for good,” Trip railed. “Who do ya think ya are?”

“Vulcan.” He eyed T’Pol, not quite passing judgment. “We who recognize that without logic, there is NO stability.” He targeted Trip with a honed look. “Whom do you think will be taken seriously?” Soval rebutted. “You, or ME? Your reputation is a liability, which works in our favor.”

“Or me?” T’Pol submitted, her tone deferential, overall. “Attempted kidnapping is viewed a serous offense here.” No one, save Trip, knew that she was losing her patience with this mentor she’d once highly esteemed.

“Kidnapping, or saving you from yourself? Our government has authorized your retrieval.” He gave the new wife a pitying facial cue. “You have been judged unfit perforce of your irrational decision by marrying outside the species,” Soval ended succinctly, looking back at the bewildered couple before vacating the duplex’ cantilevered terrace that was imaginatively decorated with all manner of eye-catching flowers native to the locale. T’Pol had a real flair for landscaping.

Trip threw Soval a ‘never saw that coming’ look, as though the haughty Vulcan had gotten him right between the eyes, but the handsome man recovered quickly. “Hearin’ you spew that crap, it’s the other way around. If this is what your species is really like, then she made the smartest decision she ever could have made.” Before their door closed, and Soval and company loaded into their snub-nosed transport, Trip couldn’t resist lobbing a parting verbal shot. “She married up—-not DOWN, loser!!”

Behind the closed door, the unsettled couple embraced as if the only things holding their world together were the death grip of their strong arms, and their quaking bodies, united.

“I would have found a way to end my life if they had succeeded forcing me from you, Trip.”

Oddly enough, T’Pol was shaking more than her husband, and he tried comforting her by saying everything would be all right.

“What are we going to do?” she asked when she had finally allowed him to walk her over to the sofa and get her to sit. She refused to let go of him, and her trembling had become more pronounced. If there was any doubt he might have still had regarding the trueness of her devotion to him, that was what had ended this day. “What can we do?”

Trip massaged her middle firmly, telling her to take deep breaths. She did as he advised, and not too long after, she calmed, finding it fascinating that it was he telling her to breathe properly; she’d taught him well, and he was a remarkable coach in his own right. As he eased her head to his shoulder, he softly said, “We’ll figure it out. When we put our heads together, we’re a hard team to beat. We’ve got less than a month to go before repairs and the refit on Enterprise are completed. Once they are, and we’re recalled to active service for the second leg of our mission, what CAN THEY do? You’re one of us now, baby. High Command and the Vulcan government can stand on their collective heads and yell all they want.”

T’Pol lifted her head from him. “Somehow picturing that is impossible.”
Trip had the feeling that Soval had done nothing but lie to them about the High Command and the government behind it, but he kept his opinions regarding that to himself, even though T’Pol could lift it from his mind. Somehow, he sensed it was better to go with his first instincts that Soval was hell-bent on getting T’Pol back, and would stop at nothing short of stealing her. Whether the calculating Vulcan was lying to them or not, they weren’t safe remaining here, so close to the see of Vulcan-Human relations.

“Well, you get the idea, darlin’. Back in space, with Starfleet callin’ the shots, we’ll be fine...”

“And what if my homeworld pressures Starfleet for my surrender? Wars of varying inter-species description have begun for far less, ‘t’hy’la’.’”

Trip was at a loss for knowing how to answer the question he knew she had to ask. He hemmed and hawed a little and tried to sound like he had game. “Then space becomes our refuge, and we disappear for good. I’ll give it all up. Dig ditches on a dustbowl of a planet, wade through the muck of one
that’s a cesspool, plant trees on a planet that’s all mountains, just to keep you in my life, T’Pol. You ARE my life.”

She looked at him, and he looked right back into her eyes as unwavering as death itself. “I am T’Pol, and belong to you, my husband. Whatever you decide is what I must do.”

Nuzzling, then kissing the nape of her neck, Trip promised, “Whatever’s best for US is what we’ll do. I don’t own you, sweetheart, it’s the other way around, as far as I’m concerned. You’ve got ME, babe, don’t ever forget that.”

PART II

“Trip.”

With keen eye, T’Pol scoured the shady clearing of the mangrove forest that lay beyond the hunting lodge they called home for the time being. It was a modest dwelling, Trip and his buddies used to use when they’d take off for the hinterlands with beebee guns.

The refugees from the city with Alcatraz still a main tourist draw, lived on the eastern side of what native Floridians were now calling the Great Rift. Absent-mindedly, the transplanted Vulcan swatted at the several flies buzzing about her head. She knew she was scowling, but couldn’t help it. This heat was really getting to her, and despite having come from a furnace of a homeworld, the difference between dry heat and this moist, humid mixture of breathable atmosphere was as different as day from night.

The southern tip of Florida was its singular brand of greenhouse. The exotic fauna was proof of that, as was the lush flora. And if the stains of perspiration that perpetually dotted whatever clothing worn were further validation, no one in their right mind would argue the point.

Complain, she? No matter how unbearable it got, T’Pol had promised herself she would not. She and Trip were as far away from Soval and his dupes as they could get. Would they think to hunt for them deep in the heart of Florida’s “river of grass,” the Everglades, Trip’s old swampy stomping grounds? They might, but it was highly unlikely. Even Trip had initially found it difficult locating this forgotten place. Technically, the small island, or key, was on the outskirts of the great swamp, but it was close enough.

In the background of her spiraling thoughts, she could hear him banging away on the latest piece of machinery he was working on, the engine of their nearest neighbor’s airboat. She called him again, and was about to walk to the ramshackle shack he had handily converted into a makeshift repair shop. He was never short on work. News, despite the distances involved, of a skilled mechanic, whose rates were reasonable, traveled fast in these parts, largely still primitive. All kinds of news circulated...

Suddenly, he popped into her view. “What’s up, hon?”

“It’s the captain. He has returned to San Fran--.” T’Pol went speechless, her greenish complexion a mite paler. Her eyes were the true indicator of the emotion that coursed through her like a gush of electrons. Nearly gasping, she pointed, on the verge of frantic because she saw what her husband clearly did not. “I—-it’s one of those flesh-mangling lizards. It’s off to your right, by the massive cypress stump.” The tree chunk could block an adult’s body from view, easily.

Trip smiled and as he walked to the porch, tried wiping sticky grease off his forehead with the back of his equally greasy hand. The alligator, tooling along on stubby legs, paid the personable human no mind. Something furtive had caught its eye on the edge of the saw grass. As the huge fellow trundled past Trip with its long, broad tail lolling from side to side as he went, the sun-kissed blond toed it as a casual way of saying, “stop by anytime, just bring your own grub, bub.” The ‘gator meandered into the glade to disappear.

As Trip approached the porch’s deck, T’Pol voiced, “You are brave, but sometimes I can’t help but think you take too much for granted. The animal might have turned on you, taking a leg, even two, with it. I am unwilling to lose you so easily, or quickly, which is why I’m here with you in the first place.”

“Spoken like a true 'fraidy cat, sweetie,” Trip said, chortling before giving his disapproving wife a generous smooch on her cheek. He made no pretense that he was in any hurry to draw away. T’Pol gave no indication that despite the grimy, strong reek of him, she minded in the least. She clasped his hand, braiding her fingers with his, before raising his hand to her lips. “I realize you seem to have a mysterious way with these creatures indigenous to this unique region, but would it be a hardship for you to be more cautious? For my sake? Doctor Phlox isn’t a mere comm hail away.”

Nodding, Trip molded his hand to her face. “Anythin’ for your sake, babe, but I’m no fool.”

“I have never said you were,” T’Pol defended, and looked as close to having her feelings hurt as anyone human.

“Now, don’t go gettin’ all touchy, Misses Sensitive.”

“If being sensitive means not wanting to see you devoured by one of those flesh-eaters, then I suppose I am.”

“That makes two of us, babe. Only somebody with a trained eye would be able to tell that that ‘gator is some hatchlin’s’ grandpa. Not much fight in him left. Haven’t I ever told ya that I used to wrestle ‘gators for the tourists when I was a kid?”

“No, you never have,” T’Pol reliably insisted, looking at him as though he could swallow live bait.

“Well, remind me to sometime,” Trip said just as firmly. “What say we go for an airboat ride after supper? Show ya first hand what I used to do at Unkie Rick’s Okee’cho’bee Wildlife Habitat, summers; almost lost a thumb and a pinkie showin’ off once for a pretty girl in the audience.”

T’Pol just looked at him, her face a dramatic study in stoicism. “Jonathan’s waiting.”

“Oh, yeah, Jon. With all the messages I left he probably thinks we should’ve called out the Marines. Well, the MACOs, at least.”

“All he said was that he’s at a loss as to why we’re here. A true loss...”

As Trip went through the screen door with T’Pol on his heels, he said, “He better think again if he thinks we chose to honeymoon here on purpose. My heart’ll always have a soft spot for the swamp, but that doesn’t mean it’s my idea of paradise. I miss our hot tub...and our satin sheets, you, on ‘em loungin’ like a cat all set to pounce on me.”

“As do I,” T’Pol seconded, feeling a twinge of guilt for having gotten so used to the trappings of creature comforts and the bubbly, comforting person that went right along with them. She gave Trip’s rump a swat reminiscent of a certain MACO she had deliberately applied much too much pressure to her back when the woman had had the nerve to make her feelings about Trip known.

Trip, speaking with Jon via satcommlink, dumped himself on the slouchy sofa which T’Pol had scrubbed down, having made it nearly threadbare. The day they’d arrived at the old lodge she’d slaved to make the place spotless. Trip patted the spot next to him and his wife took the hint. “Yeah, Jon, we’re fine. How was the vacation?” During the brief pause, Trip began massaging T’Pol’s right knee. “Hell, we thought it was our best option at the time.”

Trip exhaled at length. “Okay...we flat out panicked. Soval and the huntin’ party he brought with him as backup was no joke. They had playin’ for keeps heavily goin’ on. I wasn’t about to let them take T’Pol, and she...” He squeezed her knee fiercely. “Wasn’t goin’ ANYWHERE with ‘em. We figured it was best, disappearin’ for the time bein’, lay low until the mission gets underway again. Any update on its status. Great!” Trip stopped talking and just listened.

“Oh, my folks are fine. We didn’t want to put ‘em at risk, so it’s why we came to ol’ Pahayokee, like when we were kids. Remember? I know you do. NO—-I haven’t wrestled any ‘gators lately.” Trip shot T’Pol a ‘squishy’ sort of look, and under his breath whispered to her, “See, told ya so.”

Trip continued, “Admiral Forrest? Really? So...it was ALL Soval. Neither the Consulate, nor the High Command, eh?” Trip snorted. “War’s not imminent over our nuptials?” he cracked with a sarcasm that bit. “Well, I’ll be dogged. Don’t that take the biscuit!”

T’Pol aligned her ear up with Trip’s, wanting to hear the captain’s voice.

“Ya sure now...okay, sure thing. We’ll see ya soon then, and Jon, and this goes for T’Pol too, of course, thanks for stickin’ your neck out...as usual. Okay, ‘bye.”

“Yes, Captain. We are indebted.”

Severing the link with their commanding officer, whom they’d be serving under in less than a month’s time, Trip remained quiet, almost as if he were in deep meditation. His abrupt melancholia intrigued his mate, and her own mood enhanced the strength of their intimate bond. His hand traveled up the length of her elegant leg and when it reached her hip, he fanned his fingers out over it.

Even before he asked her, T’Pol replied, “Soval warned me not to select you as my bondmate. I refused to listen.”

Trip thought about that for a moment. “Warned you?”

“Yes.”

“Why warn ya? Did he think marryin’ me was a fate worse than death?”

T’Pol meditated on what to say, and just how to say it. In the end she chose to be vague. “He thought it ill-advised.”

“The colossal nerve of him is outta this world.” Like a leech, Trip latched onto a thought and refused to let it go. “Maybe he likes ya.”

“Likes me?” T’Pol said, sounding mystified. She fortified her shields, fully aware of how wrong it felt not to be more open about the subject of her and Soval. Uncommonly, she feared Trip would fail to understand the nature of the relationship she’d had with her former mentor. So much of Vulcan culture still remained alien to him.

“Ya know...LIKES ya. Like the way I love you.”

“Then he is a coward. He should have challenged you for me,” T’Pol stated forcefully.

“Challenge me?”

“Yes, challenge. A fight to the death for my ‘hand,’ as your people categorize it. One part of the ‘Kun-ut Kali Fi.’” T’Pol went on to flesh out the ritualistic practice. “Of course, none of what I’ve said might apply since you aren’t Vulcan, incapable of experiencing Pon Farr. We were never bonded as children.”

“Nope, that’s for sure. I would’ve remembered somethin’ like that.” Trip sighed, the image of Soval armed with a primitive weapon popped into his head. T’Pol gave him the shadow of a smile. “Can’t say as I blame the sorry bastard for bein’ totally obsessed. You’re no easy habit to break, so help me.” At the time of T’Pol’s failed abduction, Trip wanted to kill Soval, now, he only pitied the desperate man. T’Pol Tucker was worth starting a war over, a long, fierce one. “Ya never considered him in the runnin’, not even once, darlin’?” Trip asked as carefully as juggling raw eggs.

“He is old enough to be my paternal great grandfather.”

“That’s not exactly a ‘no,’ ya know.”

“NO. YOU are my bondmate, ‘t’hy’la’,’ and will be for as long as you live,” T’Pol murmured lenitively against his chin. She caressed his face before finally giving full expression to her feelings. Gently tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth, she was covered in as much grease and grime as her heart’s devotion was. “Let’s, as you are fond of saying, ‘skip’ the airboat ride tonight.” Suggestively, she purred, “Now...”

“What—-no dinner first? Just get right to it, eh? Know somethin’? We’re worse than rabbits, baby.” Snickering, Trip said as bluntly as she always did, “Sexual intercourse on demand, eh? The thought of bein’ fought over turns ya on. Don’t deny it.”

“Am I that obvious, ‘t’hy’la’?’”

“Always, but ya can’t help your insatiable self,” Trip confirmed, scooping her up in his arms. “Just like me. Like I said, you’re a hard habit to break...” Having the uncanny ability to immerse himself in her thoughts and vice versa was icing on the upside down cake, the kind didn’t matter, although his favorite was peach. “Shower first, though. You’re as dirty as I am, no thanks to me. Maybe dirtier...” He winked shamelessly, sticking his tongue out at her.

“You read my mind.”

“It’s addictive...”

Sleepily, above the eastern horizon, the sun was coming up.

T’Pol stirred herself slowly to consciousness to the sound of Trip’s steady, even breathing. Their legs were hopelessly entangled and Trip, lying on his left side, snored lightly in her ear. The sound was hypnotic. His right hand cupped her bosom possessively, as though welded to her bounteous mounds. If there were any doubt possibly remaining that T’Pol was his, and his alone, this recent nocturnal session of red-hot lovemaking would have finally put that baby to rest.

She was so in love, it was getting harder to think logically, but that didn’t disturb her as it once did. Whenever his thoughts meshed with hers it was then she was at the greatest peace.

He was always asking her if she was happy, and she thought back to the other day before Soval had come to spoil things. Happy? No words did the feeling justice. Her mercurial human, with his outlandish norms made her deliriously, passionately euphoric.

Whenever, and though she tried, she couldn’t help it, she thought about the end of his days. If it came before hers, due to circumstances beyond anyone’s control, could she bear the loss without going mad? Even a passing reflection on the inevitable numbed her, prematurely overcoming her with crushing grief.

Then, never more than a mental stroke away, her crazy mate would blast her out of the dismal mood by doing something absolutely, “loony,” as even he would say. She could never remain distraught for too long; her Trip had the innate knack for knowing and doing exactly what she needed. And ‘feeling the earth move’ sex was only the half.

Soval would never realize that T’Pol had him, the High Command, and even the Vulcan government, for that matter, to thank for bringing them together. Or, as Trip often said, “Hookin’ us up.” She reserved a special thanks for Starfleet. Through its auspices, they could be together, working side-by-side in the areas of expertise they loved, traversing the length and breadth of unexplored space.

She was hardly the blame for Soval’s obsession. When he’d made his intentions clear, she had rebuffed him. She’d been neither tactless, nor heartless of the fact, just forthright. She’d urged him to apply reason instead of violating it; bonding with him was never going to happen.

So, he’d turned to duress. His doing so reinforced the onus of how obsessed he truly was, how dangerous to himself he’d become.

About to turn into Trip again to snuggle closer with him, her sensitive ears caught the unexpected sound of hushed voices coming from beyond the open screened window. Alert, T’Pol began nudging Trip who was still sound asleep.

“‘t’hy’la’...’” She tried on one of his endearments, curious to hear how it would sound, coming from her mouth. “Sweetheart...” She cocked her head to the side, with a raise of her eyebrow, and repeated, “Sweetheart, we have visitors.” She nudged him some more, and a little more, until finally he began showing signs of life.

“H-h-huh? Wha’—-oh, hey, hiya, honey. Mornin’ all ready?”

“Yes it is, and we’re not alone. There are unknown persons outside...”

That newsflash woke him wide up. “Soval?” he blurted to her in a closeted voice. His heart was pounding; he half expected seeing its over-exertion against his chest.

“I’m not sure...”

From outside:

“Yeah, this is the place, I was tellin’ ya about. I came with my dad last week; our mower needed fixin’. The mechanic lives here with his greenish-skinned freak with pointed ears, way cracked. She is kinda pretty but she looks weird. My dad and me both think so. She offered us lemonade, but we said we didn’t want any...” There was a pause, and then the same voice continued: “They might be still sleepin’, since it’s early, or they might be... C’mon, maybe we could catch ‘em doin’ you know what. I bet the way they do it is sick.”

“I dunno, Nate, sneakin’ up on ‘em like this. It don’t seem right.”

Lifting the screen of the rear window to the bedroom up high, Trip stuck his head out in daylight, and boomed, “Ya dang right, it don’t seem right! You kids want a freak show, check out the local supermart’s mag racks. What? You delinquents never saw any ‘Star Wars’? Now get the hell off my property ‘fore I sic my pet ‘gator Snaggle on your asses!”

He started going through the window leg first. Leaving it hanging, Trip felt a deep-seated satisfaction seeing the teen curiosity-seekers streak to their old airboat, crank it up and tear off, churning the water dappled with lily pads like a washing machine gone haywire.

“Don’t bother comin’ here anymore, ‘cause we won’t be! We’re goin’ back to San Francisco where we should’ve stayed in the first place! HICKS--GOODBYE!!” He lifted his body and banged himself against the upraised window, good and hard. “OUCH, DAMMIT!!”

“Sweetheart,” T’Pol soothed, “return inside. You’ll hurt yourself further.”

“No I won’t,” he growled. “I’m too damned mad!” But, he obeyed, rubbing his back, then his butt, as he came back in. “Wanna know who the freaks are? I’ll tell ya who the freaks are,” he ranted. “THEY’RE the freaks! Pig-headed freaks who are so IGNORANT, it makes me wanna kick their stupid asses from here to MARS!”

“Come here, sweetheart,” T’Pol fairly cooed.

Trip perked up. “Sweetheart?” He pointed on his chest, indicating himself. “Who? Me?”

T’Pol nodded with a beautiful smile. A flooding of superlative warmth enveloped Trip. He was her prisoner of love, and he couldn’t get enough.

When he was all hugged up with her on the bed, she looked fondly into his crisp blue eyes. She draped the blanket over his naked behind, and wanting to know asked, “What’s ‘Star Wars?’”

Exhilaration lanced her through and through, all his.

Excitedly, Trip said, “In my opinion, some of the greatest movies ever made. A real education. We’ll have the whole gang over one night, way before we take off. Do a marathon; make a weekend out of it. Watch all nine of ‘em. We’ll supply the movies and popcorn...”

Teasing, and she found it something she enjoyed doing to her randy husband who easily lent himself to it, T’Pol said, “You know what I like...” She ran her hand up and down his thigh, then boldly reached for his profusely responsive, “instrument of mindless pleasure,” as she termed it.

Led along like a born follower, Trip sizzled in her command, and T’Pol couldn’t help but purr.

‘...If those young male humans only knew...’

As Trip’s mouth devoured T’Pol’s, with the mind-altering willingness he always experienced, he poured his soul into hers.

‘...Scar ‘em for life you sublime, saucy girl, you...’

T’Pol laughed out loud.

PART III

“I like ‘Star Wars.’”

“I like that you like ‘Star Wars.’”

“Ah, but you knew I would...”

“Yeah, but not at first. Our marathon was a great kick-off for movie night before actually bein’ in space.” Trip ate up the thoughts T’Pol was thinking especially for him. “Which movie did ya like best?” And he already knew which one too, before she actually spoke the title. He got such a charge out of the way her mind worked. It was one brilliant piece of magnificent work. Now, her logic was inextricably laced with the tinctures of emotion she derived from him.

“‘The Phantom Menace.’”

“Good choice.”

T’Pol popped another warm, partially-melted cube of Swiss cheese into Trip’s mouth.

“I knew you were gonna say that.”

“I knew you knew.”

“Why that one?”

“I admired the bravery and courage of the young Anakin. The scene in which he says farewell to his mother is quite moving.”

“That it is. The kid did have it tough, growin’ up without a father, and then losin’ his mom like that. He went to the dark side, true, but he had too much help gettin’ him there.”

T’Pol wrapped her arms around Trip’s neck as he settled himself more heavily against her. On pure impulse, she kissed the inviting area directly behind his ear. “Mitigating circumstances ultimately shaped his destiny. And, as the love for his son won out, that one selfless act redeemed him.”

Haphazardly, Trip reached across their fluffy comforter and grasped the wine decanter. He was about to uncork it, and imbibe when T’Pol daintily produced a fluted glass.

“Thanks, hon. When I get too laidback, any manners I pretend to have go flyin’ out the window.” He traded the bottle for his watching her pour the wine into the glass. “None for you?” He sipped some, the sangria couldn’t have been better, then answered his own question. “Guess not, I feel how you’ve had enough already.”

T’Pol actually giggled, the sound tinkled in Trip’s ears, he having never heard her do it quite like that before.

“Oh, man, that sounds sexy...”

T’Pol kissed him again behind his other ear. “The ‘Star Wars’ movies you hold in highest regard are tied. ‘The Empire Strikes Back...and ‘Attack of The Clones.’”

“There ya go readin’ my mind again.”

“It’s addictive...”

“Nobody in their right one would argue with that. What we have is easier than breathin’; it’s almost too much to handle sometimes. And, thanks for indulgin’ me...talkin’ out loud like this. Nothin’ compares with hearin’ the sound of your voice, love.” He reached for her hand, raised it to his mouth to kiss the back of it. “Glad you never thought I was too numbskulled to waste time on, though.”

T’Pol didn’t say a word, she only reflected; her thoughts and tender sentiments made Trip smile like a young boy.

They lifted their heads, raising their faces to the weakening rays of the late afternoon sun that would soon sag into the western horizon. This picture perfect day before their departure for deep space had been ideal for leisurely picnicking atop a favorite cliff near their home. T’Pol had prepared enough food for half the crew, but Trip never had a problem with too much chow being on hand.

“This is such a beautiful planet. I never truly appreciated that fact before, until... You.” Gently, she traced her fingers over the fine stitching of his light beige polo shirt. Her hand sensually traveled the length of his torso, down past his thigh until it settled over his bare right knee, liking the feel of his fine hairs against her skin. She poked her thumb in and out of the frayed hem of his cut-off jeans.

“You make it even more beautiful, darlin’, by just bein’ here.”

“I am happy,” T’Pol whispered, as though out of the blue, coaxing him to roll onto his back. “You are its cause.”

“And you’re mine, always will be, light of my life.”

An oddly amusing thought struck T’Pol while Trip leisurely began undoing the buttons of her gauzy sapphire blue blouse; the blue was reminiscent of her former fashion statement she’d worn aboard ENTERPRISE. Trip could hardly wait to see her in her Starfleet uniform. She knew every one of his fantasies along those lines.

Innocently, T’Pol asked, “Is that your lightsaber determined to pique my interest, or is your hand cramping?”

“Damn if you don’t have one hell of a spunky sense of humor.” Avidly aroused, Trip gushed into her irresistible ear, “I love you so very much.” His kisses burned fiery patches in her skin. An image of her butt-nude stormed his mind, and he said nothing more as they helped each other get that way, literally.

T’Pol relished the voluptuous imagery Trip infused her with; it was raw, primal, everything she’d been trained to shun like plague. Quite frankly, he astounded her, never seeming to run out of ways to blast her out of control. And, his energy was boundless, even when she was exhausted, Trip never ran out of steam first. When sexually stimulated, he was a dynamo. For having not been born Vulcan, he was phenomenal. She was proud of the way he had mastered the techniques she’d taken painstaking care to teach him.

And the things he’d taught her...

Thrashing about upon the blanket which they’d heatedly converted into a hotbed of unbridled passion, Trip and T’Pol thoroughly immersed themselves in the gossamer predilections and carnality of their love and devotion. If Trip had ever thought that whatever previous girlfriends he’d had, might have prepared him for what T’Pol gave him, those ideas had been blown away right after that very first kiss aboard ENTERPRISE, what now felt as though it had taken place eons ago.

He entered T’Pol not uttering a sound; through their bond, the fervid vigor of physically uniting resonated through their moist bodies. As was usually the case, neither of them perceived themselves as existing as distinct, separate entities when joined as one. With them, uniting physically was the natural precursor to psychical solidarity, although T’Pol had once explained that with Vulcan coupling, the mental dynamic took precedence.

In their minds’ eyes, for the actual moment in time, they were one, in every sense of context. Post-coital bliss was splendor in the grass, and Trip blurted, “You drive me bananas...I’ll never get enough...” He followed that up by uttering even crazier amatory talk, wooing still his prime intent. He pressed his lips to her breasts, smooching and licking them.

‘...T’hy’la...’

After a delirious pause, which seemed to last forever, Trip turned his thoughts over to her, ‘...I’m up for it, if you are, sugar...you know me...’

‘Indeed...’

Trip had to laugh as he wedged his nose into her neck.

‘...All which you are, and lavish upon our bond strengthens it...’

‘...Let’s do a little more cementin’...’

He glued his tongue to hers, feeling himself harden yet again, as predictably as ducks take to water. As was his concerted practice, he reintroduced himself to T’Pol slowly and surely, the way she knew he liked to treat her best. It was never ‘wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am’ with her considerate mate; the human expression of dialectal American English origin intrigued her. She stroked his back and sang to him an ancient song of love that transcended time and place. He thought-told her she’d have to teach it to him, and she promised she would.

Her strong muscles gripped his weeping organ as though they’d never let go. Trip pealed out good and loud, but silently upon the cliff, the figment, their minds shared that they were falling from, hand clutched to hand. Every emotion he felt, taut on his face. T’Pol thanked him, as was her norm, and Trip sucked the words clean from her mouth.

“Sweet,” he susurrated.

She prevented words that would halt his reluctant withdrawal from her dewy sanctum as he angled his playful tongue against her mouth. He knew she wanted him to stay, and he would have if it wasn’t getting so late. The air wasn’t as warm as it had been. They were bathed in sweat, and could both catch cold. Knowing what he was thinking, reporting for duty with bad colds was illogical, T’Pol could do nothing but agree, their doctor’s exotic remedies, notwithstanding. Stroking her exceptional lips with his tongue, Trip concentrated his full attention on her lower one, never as an afterthought.

And they clung to one another, clinging as though they were the only two souls left on Earth...

“We’ve got big days ahead of us,” he finally advised, kissing her cheek with a smile. “There’s the briefin’ tomorrow, and the goin’ away bash Starfleet’s givin’ the crew the same night.”

T’Pol nodded, her forehead lightly tapping his glistening shoulder which she kissed several times. “And I’m to be issued my uniform before the briefing...”

“Which I’ll be more than happy helpin’ ya out of once I get ya home.”

“You ARE insatiable, it is no understatement.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Trip confided. “Takes one to know one.”

“It is your doing,” T’Pol defended, cupping her hands to the sides of his face.

“Do ya ever complain, huh?”

She held out for as long as she could, with a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, before owning up. “It would be grossly illogical to ever do so.”

As though the sight of them, lying naked, the human lewdly sprawled atop the only woman he had ever thought twice about beneath him—-T’Pol--was the flame to his being the moth, Soval was incapable of tearing his eyes away. Seeing them like that was so much worse than he had ever imagined, but despite his iron-clad discipline, he just could not stop looking, as though if he stared long and hard enough, the sight would fade to black.

But there was no such fading, and an unaccustomed feeling of shame assailed him. T’Pol overwhelmingly merited happiness. Happiness, he contemplated, in and of itself, was nothing to eschew. Seeing her happy with the human male of her voluntary choice had been her choice to make; he had no right, no right in any way, shape or form, to oppose that.

Technically, T’Pol had not been free, but Soval had rationalized that she should have been his. Despite the huge age difference, they shared a number of similarities, the foremost being the pride they took in being Vulcan. Whose fault was it, hers or his, that he hadn’t made his feelings known, blatantly transparent to her? Instead, he’d hidden behind the cobwebs of diplomacy and the venerable, but prohibitive dictates of Surak, believing that somehow she would get the message.

Yes, T’Pol was like him in many ways; she’d always been all business. It had left no room for anything personal developing between them. He’d been dead wrong about the depth of her affections and to whom they ultimately belonged once she had gotten involved in ENTERPRISE’s misson. It hadn’t been Archer, after all...

Now, T’Pol would never be his. From what he’d observed, and not heard, there was irrefutable proof that, indeed, she and her human mate were bondmates in every sense of the word from the Vulcan perspective. Never in a million years would he have ever thought it possible. Observing a human engage in sexual intercourse, for as many times as they had, without screaming his, in the chief engineer’s case, irrational head off. And yet, here he was, an eyewitness of such a fantastic presentiment. Perhaps there was more to this particular human than taking his incult behavior at face value.

T’Pol must have thought so. Why else would she have chosen him, aside from the obvious reason which any female would appreciate? The size of his genitalia was impressive. Soval lingered in this vein of thought, unable to prevent himself from making a comparison, and again examined the focal reason why he’d decided to see them again.

His neophyte, the lovely young woman he’d practically taught at his knee, had schooled her chosen one inestimably well; Soval couldn’t help feeling awash in carefully regulated pride. T’Pol was magnificent, and having seen her lose all abandon did not devalue her in his estimation. She would forever remain the ideal he had played a major role in patterning to the extent she’d allowed him to.

What he’d witnessed was of salient value.

They possessed THE BOND. They truly did. Soval’s mind reeled again for as many times. No matter how much he wished he could deny it, it couldn’t be denied, regardless of how supernatural it seemed. These people, despite the sum total of their differences, were wed when it came right down to it. From whatever standpoint either of the species involved cared to claim mattered little. This Charles, ‘Trip,’ as he was commonly referred to as, Tucker and T’Pol shared the unprecedented. Only a myopic fool blinded himself to reality in all its starkness. That had never been his way, Soval considered, throwing himself into deep assessment on the spot. There had been numerous times where turning a blind eye to truth would have been child’s play, but he’d striven hard to resist the inclination.

He might never possess T’Pol, but cleaving to what was fair and just, the veracity of things, he vowed he must never surrender.

Soval nodded, and stepped clear of his bushy covert. He began to approach, fully aware that the human might kill him...and have every right to end his life. No doubt it would be in a fit of manic rage. Would he do any less if it had been Tucker attempting to steal his wife from him? The answer was as plain, and as big as the lump in his throat.

He kept advancing, and still they took no note of his steady approach, until Trip glanced up from T’Pol’s face. The sight of Soval coming their way made his blood run cold. Animosity, like he’d never felt before, welled up in him; the desire to strangle Soval with his bare hands his only intention, which T’Pol felt as soon as Trip conceived the idea.

She conjectured about Soval’s sudden appearance. What reason could he possibly have for disgracing himself further? Hadn’t he done so enough for all their people?

‘...Please, t’hy’la, don’t harm him...I sense something changed in him...and, he appears to be alone...’

‘...Oh, yeah, sure...just like the last time until his goon squad burst in to rip me off by takin’ you...’

Naked as the day they were born, Trip shielded T’Pol from Soval’s intense view. She handed Trip his shirt as he finished zipping up. Turning his back on Soval, he made thoroughly sure T’Pol slipped back into her frilly underclothes, blouse and Capri pants before stepping aside. Soval had gotten the showstopper of a free show already.

Speaking first, T’Pol said, “Good afternoon, Ambassador...”

Regarding her primarily, then her mate somberly, Soval responded, “I have been relieved of that position, perhaps temporarily, but perhaps not. The High Command will decide, and I will abide by its dictates.”

T’Pol felt exaltation course through her; the emotion was her husband’s as he thought:

‘...GOOD serves the stupid bastard right...’

Trip had taken note of the aged Vulcan’s contrite tone, tried to downplay it, but found overtones of tolerance and restraint were suddenly sown in him; he knew where such feelings were coming from. He tempered T’Pol with a look, amazed that she understood it was important she had not tried diluting much of his anger.

“What do you want?” Trip bit off, clasping his wife’s hand tenaciously, his ire spiking crazily, once more. ‘Over my dead body,’ he vowed silently, as he’d done the last time, only at the top of his lungs. He ground out wordlessly, ‘Like I said before, I don’t care if you’ve got Vulcan’s entire population hidin’ in those bushes you jumped from, buster. You and yours’ll have to take me out first.’

“I only wish the opportunity to extend my sincerest apologies,” Soval dignified with unstinting legitimacy, watching the human closely, able to see the scorn his face exuded. Soval had anticipated his having to endure being humiliated at the hands of this man, but it was at this precise moment he fully realized the direst extent of such humiliation. Tucker, without batting an eye, might rip away his pride well before killing him. Soval knew he deserved nothing less; he’d acted abominably. It was a wonder he hadn’t been stripped of all dignity by order of the High Command, and although their final decision was pending, he’d had no indication that they’d wrench citizenship away from him, yet no guarantee they wouldn’t.

They very well could. By one impulse-driven action, he had jeopardized what had taken years to forge between Vulcans and humans.

If the inconceivable happened, where would he go? Where could he? Vulcan culture was all he knew. The judicial body would be kinder if they ordered execution following the cut and dry trial, if there even was one.

“What makes you think we’ll accept anythin’ from you, after what you pulled?” It was so hard, even with T’Pol’s stoical intervention, to remain rational; he hated this man with a hatred that defied the combined logic of Vulcan and human. He saw himself wringing the life out of Soval, not before stomping the snooty out of him, feeling reborn in the acts. “If you’re as wise as you think you are, you’ll take my advice and leave before I forget my wife’s the only one I answer to!”

‘...May he speak, my husband, my truest heart? ...I know he deserves only your profoundest, cruelest contempt—‘

‘...He was one of my mentors...one of the wisest...’

Trip returned the gentle squeeze of her hand.

‘...I should have told you this before...’

‘Now what?’ Trip couldn’t help think, as if her addiction to Trell’-D and its repercussions hadn’t been bombshells enough.

‘...Told me what, sweetheart?’

T’Pol nearly sighed aloud.

‘...He desired me as a mate, I made it clear I wasn’t a suitable choice, as you know, I was promised to another...when the High Command authorized my service aboard ENTERPRISE it merely postponed my having to face him...it resolved nothing...until my affections for you made it clear to me I would have a true t’hy’la in my life...’

‘...Your judgment binds us...no matter what you decide, I obey you...’

Trip’s demeanor softened in a matter of moments; T’Pol’s revelation gave the trying circumstance a whole new dimension. Her submissive way about her would never get old for him, but he was in the habit of assuring her time and time again that he’d never treat her like a piece of property, regardless of the Vulcan mindset. “You’re my wife, dammit—-not some doormat. When I get beside myself, you’d better not think twice ‘bout puttin’ me in my place. Lord knows you’ve had lots of practice before we got hitched...”

Remembering his having said those words brought a tight smile to his lips.

As much as he still wouldn’t mind taking Soval down several pegs, even apart for that matter, the stuffy, old pompous pain in the butt would probably die a lonely man. Trip knew how he would have felt if T’Pol had decided there could never be a ‘them.’ When she’d said, ‘yes,’ it had been as though his life had taken on immortality.

‘...Okay, if he walks the walk, we’ll hear him out...I’ll let him talk the talk...’

‘...I trust you and your equity, sweetheart...’

Trip dragged his mind from T’Pol’s, never an easy thing to do, especially when he would have liked nothing better than stay forever. With a gruffness she knew he was affecting, he said, “You mentioned somethin’ about apologies...” And as an afterthought he blustered, “If this is some kind of trick, to catch us off guard, Mister, you can kiss your ass goodbye for keeps. You’ve got T’Pol to thank for your bein’ in one piece so far.”

“This I know, Sir...”

Soval, following his slight bow from the waist, upon rising ameliorated, “I assure you this is no subterfuge. I am here because I wish to humbly request expiation. I acted as one without logic, for which there can be no excuse, and the bleakest retribution. I stand before you as one irresponsible, aggrieved...shamed.” The conscience-stricken soul implored with eyes that sought absolution, but did not expect any.

T’Pol, still not thoroughly over what he’d been responsible for orchestrating, couldn’t help but be taken aback. Her mentor wasn’t quite that Rock of Gibraltar he plumed himself on being, the molder, her personal pedagogue, with barely a shred of response under his tutelage. Until that fateful day, however, with the bold declaration of his feelings for her. The disconcert alone had nearly driven her from the compound, and his unwanted interest.

How had it been possible for him to have evidenced such deplorable weakness? Was he still as desperate, despite his assurances of how repentant he was?

And yet, as Soval continued with his plea of contrition, her fazing gave way to a deeper respect; the eminence of the Vulcan engendered it as simply as pathos did empathy.

“And now, I am even more ashamed, knowing what I now know.”

“That bonding with this man, as I have, is a reality.”

“Yes...” Soval looked as though he swayed upon his feet although his gaze on T’Pol was as steady as it had always been in former days. “You have accomplished what was once considered a scientific impossibility by the most respected authorities.”

“Is he callin’ us a scientific experiment?” Trip burbled, not realizing that he’d spoken aloud what he’d thought to himself. And then more for his benefit, he muttered, “The reference to bein’ an experiment is gettin’ mighty old.” Loudly, he vouched, “We’re NOT an experiment. It’s called happily-wedded bliss, wife and husband lookin’ forward to lots and lots of anniversaries and renewin’ vows, in both languages, whenever the spirit hits us. If that’s too hard to wrap your mind around, leave. Leave now!”

‘...T’hy’la, dearest, it isn’t what he meant...he means he is in awe of the accomplishment...he honors us through his increased enlightenment...trust
me—-‘

‘...Hey, ya know I do and ONLY YOU...it’s him I’d never turn my back on in a room full of mirrors... What can I say...I’d like to trust him, but I guess it’ll take some time...’

Intuitively knowing, Soval waited until he judged the misunderstanding had been cleared up before resuming. “I realize your departure for space is imminent. Providing no misfortune befalls your resumed mission, perhaps coming to Vulcan, presenting yourselves to the High Command, is something you’d consider doing, in future.”

“Now what would give ya the idea we’d wanna do that?” Trip punched up. Cues from T’Pol, however, remained a grey area; a part of him, the part his wife was working on, was chiefly flattered that what they’d achieved had garnered a degree of reverence from Soval. Trip was amazed; somehow, through T’Pol, wisps of their visitor’s mental nuances were filtering to him, and what the southerner picked up on was positive. ‘If ever this was a time for not lettin’ preconceptions run me,’ he reviewed, ‘this is the lulu.’

His voice fairly quavering, Soval maintained, “Think of the importance, the significance, the—-“

“All right all ready, I get it. We’ve succeeded doin’ what nobody on Vulcan thought could happen between a Vulcan and a human, ever,” Trip summarized with a smart-alecky edge. Trip did a double take, imagining he saw the guarded Vulcan congratulate him with a smile. Soval, smile? Oh, yeah, sure, and Earth’s moon was made of blue cheese, moldy to the max.

“Think of the solidarity between our two cultures, the fact that you and T’Pol are bonded, would create. T’Pol and you bonded in like manner as Vulcan couples. The ramifications are staggering, to say the least.”

‘...So what do YOU say, darlin’? ...Has anythin’ he’s said make you care one way or the other?...’

‘...Tell him after the mission, we’ll talk...’

‘...The man did say we’re bonded...couldn’t ask for better than that... When was the last time I told ya I loved ya?’

‘...If you have to ask, ‘as’m’th’ai,’ it’s been too long a while...’

She tried not to roll her eyes, but the temptation was far too great.

Kissing T’Pol’s forehead, Trip posed as deferentially as he could muster, which to his surprise, wasn’t a strain, “The misses and I both agree. We’ll get back to ya.” T’Pol asked, and to her pleasant surprise, Trip said, “We’ve got enough food left here for an army. If ya don’t mind helpin’ us move this moveable feast indoors, stay for dinner? Not everythin’s suited to my tastes. There’s fruit salad, a tasty pasta one too, that’ll knock your socks off. Uh...that is if ya wear ‘em.”

Bowled over, but stolidly so, Soval graciously accepted. Having succeeded this far betokened a greater success in days to come.

End...

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A whole mess of folks have made comments

Great story and as much as I'd like to take credit for it...

How come my names on the link?

LOL

;-)

I did chuckle through quite a lot of this and can only admire Trip's stamina the more. Soval seemed to change his abrasive and disrespectful approach quite quickly after the aborted attempt to snatch T'Pol which seemed a little out of synch but this was very well done, thanks! Ali D :~)

Great story. Love the internal dialogue. Very entertaining!

Great! I loved it!

Great story! Well written and alot of fun to read!

Fantastic, got to agree, I thought the dialog was just brilliant, loved the whole thing, really hoping you add to the ending, perhaps a follow up, Trip & T'Pol paying a visit to Vulcan maybe, thanks for the superb fic anyway, enjoyed reading it immensely

I pretty much agree with everyone else. Great story! Well written, and very entertaining. I'd love to see a follow up visit to Vulcan.

Everyone else has it pegged. Great story, good writing, delight to read........yeah, I think it's all covered.

Soval's turnaround was excellent. Great job! I thoroughly enjoyed it!

That was good fun. I almost regret that the Vulcans didn't suceed in kidnapping T'Pol, so that we could have had more of her telling Soval where to get off.

Sequal! Sequal! Sequal!

Love the story! Hope you expand on it. You could go more in depth with the Soval/ T'pol thing.

I loved it
I loved it
I loved it
(times infinity)
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