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"Commander Tucker Proposes" Rating: R for sexual themes and bad language. Author's Note: Thanks to JustTripn for beta and moral support while I freak everybody out. You all know what happens in this chapter -- there's no way to make it happy and light. But tragedy can have unexpected results ... so I hope you'll hang on for the next chapter. Chapter 5 “It's not about who gets credit,” Hoshi said the next day, after Samuels’ opening speech. Trip still couldn’t believe Jon had actually ordered him to clap louder. “He could've at least mentioned Enterprise,” he said. “Who does he think got the Andorians and Tellarites talking?” “I'm sure history will reflect our contribution,” T’Pol said, using what Trip thought of as her patented “calm Trip down” tone. “Not if he's writing it,” he muttered. He was in no mood to be calmed down by anybody, least of all her. “That's enough,” Archer said. He headed down the stairs, and they followed. At least they wouldn’t have to stand there on the steps like posed action figures any longer. Samuels came up and proceeded to make love to them all. Trip tried not to let his disgust show. Malcolm tugged on his sleeve and led him away a distance. “What’s the matter with you?” he asked. “What do you mean?” “I haven’t seen you this cranky in a long time.” “I’m just tired, okay? Don’t tell me you enjoyed all that nonsense last night?” “Well, it was more interesting than a plain old reception would have been, you must admit.” Malcolm canted his head over and gave him a speculative look. “Hoshi told me you and T’Pol went off together yesterday afternoon. Was it not as much fun as you’d hoped?” Trip sighed. “Let’s just say our on-again-off-again relationship is officially off again – for three years, or forever. Whichever comes first.” “I’m sorry.” Malcolm said. “I’m also … confused.” “I know. It’s a long story.” “Tell me later, over a drink?” “That sounds good.” He snorted. Maybe he could get T’Pol drunk. “What the hell?” He turned, his attention drawn by T’Pol’s consternation at being grasped by a strange woman. Who promptly collapsed. Malcolm ran to help. Trip heard him say “phase pistol wound” and called emergency services even as he headed for the door. Maybe whoever had shot the woman was still around. Out in the courtyard, people passed at a normal pace. Nobody looked particularly suspicious. He went back inside. T’Pol was staring into a glass vial. “What is it?” he said. “Hair,” she said. She seemed transfixed. Trip felt a chill.
Phlox was clearly uncomfortable. “According to every analysis, this child is the offspring of Commander Tucker and Commander T'Pol.” Trip, reeling in disbelief, turned back to where T’Pol stood, looking somehow less surprised than he felt she ought to. “Commanders?” Archer said. “Don’t ask me!” Trip said. T’Pol turned calmly to the captain. “I can’t explain the existence of this child.” “But you and Trip…” Archer said, even as Malcolm said, “Then how is this possible?” Phlox said, “The child could have been cloned, though such procedures are banned on Earth. Or it could have simply been created in vitro, using genetic material from both Commander Tucker and Commander T’Pol … again, this would have been approximately six months ago, though I suppose it is also possible the embryo could have been frozen for some time before gestation occurred.” T’Pol said, “While Commander Tucker’s sperm may have been obtained fairly easily, a mature Vulcan egg is not so easily come by.” “What are you implying?” Trip said hotly. “And then there is the matter of Vulcan and Human incompatibility,” T’Pol added. No kidding. He glared at her. “But we already know that can be overcome,” Archer said. “We’ve met a child of yours before. Could this be the result of a temporal anomaly? A child from that other Enterprise somehow brought forward to this time?” They all stopped and stared at him for a moment, nonplussed. “Wherever it came from, why us?” Trip said. “Why our child?” “Any child of yours would be a hybrid,” Malcolm said. “Half Vulcan, half Human. That may be key.” Archer turned to Trip. “Are you absolutely certain this wasn’t anything you were aware of? That perhaps you wanted? One of you, if not both of you? It would be understandable.” He turned to T’Pol. It burst out of Trip: “Captain, we can’t even figure out how the hell to stay together for more than a few days at a time. We’re hardly going to try to make a baby!” The look T’Pol gave him could have frozen a pack of Andorian ice worms in their tracks. “T’Pol?” Archer said. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask.” “Commander Tucker is correct,” she said. “There would have been no logic in it.” Malcolm sighed. “You two may not have figured out how to pull this off, but the whole ship has considered you a couple for a long time now. So if somebody thought…” “What, that they’d do us a favor by creating a baby and not telling us?” Trip said, exasperated. “She said they were going to kill it,” T’Pol said. “I believe her. For whatever reason it was created, this child is in danger.”
“We’ve got to talk about this,” Trip said. He walked into her quarters and sat on her bunk. She rose from meditation and took a seat as far from him as possible. “It's difficult to talk about something that doesn't make sense.” “Phlox said DNA doesn't lie.” “Neither do I. I've never been pregnant, Trip.” But T’Pol had lied by omission. He knew that for a fact. And they’d had sex a number of times before her marriage, without taking precautions, because they’d assumed pregnancy was impossible. She’d even taken him home to meet her mother. What if, on Vulcan, she’d had a fetus removed? That would be just like her, to quietly take care of the problem without saying a word. “Then how do you explain all this?” “I can't.” She sounded frustrated. “Do you believe me?” No, but he also couldn’t bring himself to accuse her to her face. “Yeah. Phlox must be wrong, that's all there is to it. If you've never been pregnant, then you can't have a baby.” She sat down right in front of him. “Trip, the moment Phlox said that the child was ours, I knew it was true.” “But you said you'd never been…” “I haven't. “ “Then what are you saying?” “I can't explain how it exists, but I know it does. There's a child out there, and it's ours.” “How do you know that?” he demanded. “I'm Vulcan.” He scowled. “What does that mean? That you accept DNA evidence at face value?” “I can sense the child’s existence. I have been sensing it for some time; I just didn’t realize what it was.” He stared at her. He hadn’t sensed anything that even hinted at an infant presence. All he ever sensed was her. “We have to find it,” T’Pol said. “Quickly.” He nodded. “Well at least there’s something we agree on. Samuels is on his way up. They must have more information.” T’Pol suddenly seemed to realize how physically close she’d gotten to him. She got up and walked to the window. He watched her bleakly. “When we find the baby, what then? We can’t raise a baby on a starship.” She stared out the window. “I know.” “I hope you don’t you think I’m going to let you take off with my kid and leave me out of it.” She turned around and faced him. “I wouldn’t do that.” “Good,” he said brusquely, relieved that she hadn’t tried to argue it. He stood up, painfully aware of the physical and emotional distance between them. “Well, as long as that’s settled, I’d better let you get back to your meditation. I’m going to talk to Malcolm, see what we can do.”
Malcolm, it turned out, wasn’t on board. “He just went down to the surface,” Hoshi said. “Samuels still here?” Trip asked. “No, he just left too.” “The captain?” Trip said, pointing at his ready room. “He’s talking to Admiral Gardner.” Trip shook his head in frustration. Presumably they were all doing something to look for his child, but he – the father – the guy who was really supposed to be protecting it – had no idea where to start. But he knew someone else who might be able to answer a few questions for him.
A girl. A healthy blue-eyed baby girl with tiny pointed ears. Trip shook his head as he leaned on a biobed in sickbay, amazed that his life could have been so thoroughly redefined so quickly. Phlox had taken some pains to assure him T’Pol had never been pregnant. Trip supposed he was going to have to accept that, though he could just imagine T’Pol deciding it was something he didn’t need to know. But it was true she had finally told him her other secrets. Maybe she wouldn’t have held this back either. “She told me about the Trellium-D,” he said. “She said she hasn’t used any since Azati Prime.” He raised his eyebrows, leaving this question for the doctor unspoken. Phlox smiled stiffly. “Commander T’Pol is still subject to random testing from me, so I can confirm that. I’m sure your continuing support can only help.” “I don’t know how much support I can give,” Trip said. “She wants to try to let this bond fade away, which means I’m supposed to keep my distance.” “Perhaps that could change, now that you have a child together?” Trip’s throat tightened. He didn’t dare let himself dwell on that particular hope, even if it had immediately – insidiously – taken root in his heart.
Trip walked into the captain’s ready room and found Malcolm already there. “Do you have news?” “Samuels agreed to share the case file. It should be arriving any minute,” Archer said. “Good,” Trip said grimly. Archer gave Malcolm a look, and Malcolm coughed. “I’ll be at my station,” he said. “I’ll let you know as soon as it arrives,” Archer said in parting. He turned back to Trip. “How are you holding up?” Trip frowned. “Well, let’s see, all of a sudden I’m a daddy, but I’ve never even met my kid, who’s probably in mortal danger, and all I can do right now is wait around.” “It’s frustrating for all of us, Trip, but I’m sure we’ll make progress soon. Anything else going on I should know about?” “Like what?” “You two didn’t exactly look like you were playing on the same team in sickbay.” Trip slumped down in the chair. “T’Pol wants us to try to go our separate ways. But not too separate, because we’ve got this weird Vulcan bond thing.” He folded his arms. “Three years. That’s how long it takes to break up with a Vulcan. Except we can’t be sure it will even work until we’ve tried it. I sure know how to pick ’em, don’t I?” Archer looked confused. “Having a child together wouldn’t make a difference?” Trip sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe. But in any case we’d have to find her first, wouldn’t we?” He jumped up and started pacing in the small space. “Her?” Archer said. “It’s a girl?” “That’s what Phlox said. My eyes, T’Pol’s ears.” Archer smiled. “She’ll be a heartbreaker.” He gave Trip an appraising look. “Are you going to be okay working together on this, or should I take you two off it? Technically, I should. You’re both too close to it.” “You can’t do this without us,” Trip said. “We’re the best you’ve got.” “I know. But this time you have a lot more at stake. I’m not sure you even realize how much, yet.” “I can’t speak for T’Pol, but I can do this. Please, Cap’n. I need to do this.” Archer sighed and looked even grimmer. “I know.”
Great. Now he not only needed to save his daughter, he had to save T’Pol, himself, the city of San Francisco, Starfleet, Utopia Colony and possibly Enterprise as well. Which meant that what he needed to do was destroy Paxton’s ability to fire the Verteron Array. That was the only thing that would prevent Starfleet from blowing them off the planet before Paxton’s deadline. But the result of that would be pretty obvious, and he couldn’t count on Paxton’s guys being unable to get it back in operation – though if they were really that sharp he figured they would have been doing this themselves rather than relying on him. So for insurance, Trip recalibrated the aiming mechanism. The tiny degree of error that would throw it a few kilometers to the northwest shouldn’t be too noticeable to Paxton’s goons and should, at least in theory, save Starfleet and environs; he just hoped he wouldn’t end up destroying the Golden Gate Bridge in the process, because he was a little fuzzy about just how far out it went. He also needed to narrow the beam, which he proceeded to do, though it irked him that this was exactly what Paxton wanted. Then came the part that would be far too easy for even a novice to notice: disabling the whole mechanism. For that, he needed a distraction. He sneaked a look at Josiah. Bigger, taller, self-righteous, and armed. Damn. On the other hand, he’d know they considered their hostages valuable if he survived the next twenty minutes without too much damage. He just hoped that pistol to the back of T’Pol’s head had been a bluff. Well, he was just going to have to take that chance. If he didn’t manage to knock that array out, he was pretty sure they’d all end up dead anyway.
“Hold still!” Phlox demanded. He was trying to examine Trip’s shoulder. Trip kept twisting to look at his daughter, who was being walked back and forth across sickbay by T’Pol. Apparently that little jiggle parents used to calm a child was a constant across the galaxy. Not that the baby seemed frightened. She was unnervingly calm for a six-month-old, staring placidly at the new world of sickbay, tracking lights and people with interest. Maybe that jiggle was actually for the benefit of her mother. T’Pol looked profoundly tense, although Trip couldn’t feel a thing coming from her, just a big blank wall. “Shouldn’t you be taking care of the baby?” Trip complained to the doctor. “I already looked at her. She’s suffering a low grade fever, but nothing we can’t handle. You, on the other hand, have somehow managed to obtain a hairline fracture of the scapula.” That explained why supporting Archer when he collapsed had made him want to scream. When T’Pol had put the baby in his arms he hadn’t trusted himself to hold her for long. “T’Pol said her white blood cell count was high.” “Yes, it is, but again I don’t see any particular cause for alarm. Of course, the sooner you let me finish here, the sooner I can get back to your daughter.” Trip immediately stilled. “That’s better,” Phlox said. “We’re going to have to immobilize the arm for a few days. Here.” He helped Trip get into a sling. “No lifting, Commander. No exertion. The fracture will heal fully within a few days, then we’ll start physical therapy. See me for more pain medication as needed.” “No worries there,” Trip said. He was already immensely grateful for that first hypospray. “Okay then,” Phlox said. “Let’s do a complete scan of this little one. And then, hopefully, it will simply be a matter of treating her symptoms.” T’Pol’s voice was tight. “I told you what Paxton said.” “Paxton is not a doctor, is he, hmm?” Phlox said, taking the baby and laying her in a temporary cradle on the scanning bed. “She’s made it this far. You’re quite a good-natured little one, aren’t you? Just like your father was at your age.” Trip stared in confusion at Phlox until he realized he must be talking about Sim. He exchanged a glance with T’Pol, but they both immediately turned back to the scanning table as it slid inside with their girl. “If he thought she was doomed, why worry so much about the species mixing?” Trip muttered. “I suspect he may have been more concerned about alien alliances than alien-human hybrids,” T’Pol said. “I believe his primary goal was to prevent the coalition of planets from forming. He may have seen the child as a convenient tool to mobilize public sentiment.” “Right,” Trip said. “An adorable little baby. The whole planet must have just peed their pants in terror when they saw her.” T’Pol blinked in confusion. Trip shrugged apologetically – only to hiss in pain as he realized that shrugging was a very bad idea. Phlox’s head was tilted back, reading scans as they were taken. T’Pol was looking up at them too. “Her oxygen count is too low,” T’Pol said. “Yes,” Phlox said, finally sounding a touch concerned. “We’ll put her in an oxygen chamber. That should help.” The table slid out and T’Pol immediately scooped the baby up possessively. “What’s the matter with her?” Trip said. “I need more time to study those scans,” Phlox said. “Remember, Commander, she’s made it this far, and that was in enemy hands. Here, she has a whole ship full of people rooting for her.” He disappeared into one of his storage bays for a moment and returned wheeling a small contained chamber. Trip couldn’t help feeling that Phlox’s reassurance suddenly seemed a little forced. He looked at T’Pol, who had the baby grasped tightly in her arms, her head dipped against the child’s head, her nose against the fine blonde hair. “We’d better get her in,” Phlox said to T’Pol. She didn’t move. “T’Pol?” Trip said. “Baby needs the oxygen.” Her hold on the baby tightened. Trip hesitated, unsure what to do; T’Pol suddenly didn’t seem entirely rational. The baby seemed to sense a change too, and began to whimper slightly. He approached slowly, carefully. “T’Pol?” He watched her close her eyes and take a deep breath. Then her face returned to something he recognized. She held the baby out to him. He ran his hand over the infant’s fine wispy hair and leaned down and inhaled, as he’d seen her mother do. Such a sweet smell. The child’s whimpers ceased and she gazed back at him with her calm blue eyes. Trip said softly, “We’re going to put you in the big box now, sweetheart, so you can breathe a little better.” He turned to Phlox, since he couldn’t safely take the baby himself with only one arm. After another moment’s hesitation, T’Pol gave the baby up to Phlox, who gently placed her in the chamber and closed it up. “There you go,” he said. He checked her readings and smiled tightly. “I want to spend some time with those scans. Don’t worry. I’m very hopeful that whatever this is can be treated.” Trip smiled reassuringly at T’Pol, who was back to her usual calm inscrutability, then turned to watch the baby, who stared back at them both. He tapped the plexiglass, enchanted as her eyes followed his fingers. “My daddy always wanted a granddaughter,” he said. T’Pol looked solemnly at him and turned back to the baby. They watched her and she watched them. “Do Vulcan babies have interesting things hanging in their cribs?” he asked. “Human babies usually do. Mobiles for them to watch as they lie there. I think they’re supposed to help babies build visual tracking skills and stuff like that, or maybe just keep them from getting bored. I don’t know. Maybe we could get something like that for her.” T’Pol lifted her eyebrow, then pulled a chain out from under her uniform. She removed it from around her neck and hung it on the oxygen chamber. Trip was surprised to see her wearing a piece of jewelry. As baby entertainment it seemed a little underwhelming, but he supposed it would do for now; at any rate, it wasn’t as if this child seemed restless or bored. She really was remarkably calm. “I guess we shouldn't keep calling her she,” he said. “Elizabeth,” T’Pol said. He looked at her in wonder. She had taken his breath away. “My sister would’ve liked that.”
It was an obscenity. A delicious little baby girl was not supposed to have to struggle for breath and turn blue. A beautiful little baby girl was not supposed to develop a death-rattle as she lay in front of two perfectly healthy parents who knew how to do so much, yet couldn’t save her. And parents were not supposed to have to watch in appalled disbelief as the warm, glowing little being they had only just met gave up her last breath mere hours later. There she lay, an inert object in the shape of a dream he and T’Pol had never even dared to share with each other. Until there she was, their beautiful daughter. And then there she wasn’t. Trip couldn’t believe this nightmare was really happening. It was all he could do to just stand there calmly and not start screaming his fury and indignation at Paxton for his cold calculations and at the universe for being so cruel and at his grandmother’s God for not saving this child and at Phlox for being so wrong and even at T’Pol for just standing there, not quite touching him as she had not quite touched him throughout their vigil, coping with her own grief in her self-contained Vulcan way, behind her blank wall. And surely, surely as lost to him forever as this baby was. For in a universe that had allowed this to happen, Trip could not believe that anything would ever work out in his favor ever again. |
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