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"Father to the Man" By Blackn’blue
Rating: G Note: Vulcan terms used in this story were stolen wholesale from the Vulcan Language Dictionary at http://www.starbase-10.de/vld/. Either that, or I made them up myself.
Part 2: “Look,” Trip put down his PADD and stood up from the desk. “I know you’re angry. Why won’t you just tell me what you are thinking and get it out in the open?” “I am not angry,” T’Pol snapped. She did not look up from the monitor as she continued to input calculations. Trip looked at her. “So much for the vaunted renewal of Vulcan’s dedication to truth,” he said sarcastically. “Your jaw muscles are tight enough to crack walnuts. They have been that way since we got back. Sure you are not angry. Maybe furious would be more accurate then.” He closed his eyes and deliberately concentrated on loosening his controls, trying to open the bond connection. She didn’t answer him. After a brief wait Trip added, “You will feel better if you just let it out. Go ahead and vent at me. I would rather have you purge the anger and get rid of it than carry it around like this.” “I have no logical reason to be angry at you,” T’Pol told him in clipped words. “Given the circumstances your reaction was completely predictable. I should certainly have expected that faced with the prospect of dealing with Koss under such conditions, you would lash out at him. The error was entirely mine for allowing the circumstances to arise in the first place.” “You couldn’t help it,” Trip told her. “You said there was no way to avoid going to the gathering.” “I have once again allowed my lack of emotional control to interfere with the well being of my family,” T’Pol looked down and struggled to smooth out her expression. Trip took a step in her direction and half raised his hand. She looked up and him and he stopped cold. “I allowed my fear of your reaction to prevent me from warning you that Koss might be present. As a result, you did not have sufficient time to prepare yourself for the ordeal. Also, I allowed my concern for your health to distract me. Had I paid more attention to our surroundings I might have seen Koss in time to avoid him.” She turned back to the terminal. Trip blinked and cocked his head. “But apparently the big problem is that Koss’s dirty little secret is out of the bag.” T’Pol stood up and slapped the side of the monitor. She turned to Trip with her eyes blazing and yelled at him, “The PROBLEM, Husband, is that we went to the gathering for the express purpose of building a good reputation among the family, so that we could use our connections to gain advantages for our daughter. Instead, we-” She stopped and clenched her teeth with nostrils flaring. Trip finally started getting some feedback through their connection. He began to rethink his decision to open up. His woman was righteously furious. “I, not we,” Trip told her with a trace of irritation. “I am the one who told the truth about what happened. Blame me, not yourself. You would have guarded Koss’s dishonor forever. It isn’t your fault that I didn’t know any better than to believe that bullshit propaganda Surak wrote about truth and honesty.” He turned and paced away, shaking his head. “HOW DARE YOU!” T’Pol side stepped around the end of their desks and came after Trip, who paused in the doorway of their home office to wait for her. She stalked up into his face, panting and seething. “How dare you insinuate that I was protecting Koss! After the way he treated me? He pretended to care for me until his family had their trading partnership. Then he threw me away, leaving me marked for life as a Discarded One? How can you think that I would protect him?” Trip’s eyes narrowed. “Sounds like there may have been a lot I was mistaken about.” T’Pol was too angry to pick up on his tone or expression. “My mother’s name, Trip. My mother’s name will be tarnished by this. She was an innocent victim. She did nothing wrong to anyone, certainly nothing to deserve to have her memory torn this way. She died for the sake of us all,” T’Pol choked and a tear escaped. “She died so that the Kirshara could be found. And because you could not hold your anger for a few minutes, because you could not control your desire for revenge, her memory will be stained by this.” T’Pol broke and started crying silently. Trip felt sick to his stomach. He reached for her, only to have his wife pull away from him. She passed through the doorway and went into the bedroom to check on the baby, leaving Trip to contemplate crawling under the nearest piece of furniture. Trip ran a hand through his hair and stepped into the hallway, just in time to meet T’Pol coming out of the bedroom with T’Lissa in her arms. “I’m sorry, T’Pol,” Trip told her sadly. “T’Les was a good woman. The best. I told them at the gathering, and I will tell anyone else who will listen, she tried to get me to stop it. No way was she in collusion with that scum sucker.” T’Pol stopped in the hall to listen to him. She stood holding their child with her eyes still wet. Before the conversation could become even more disturbing, the comm sounded a double chime to indicate an incoming call. T’Pol carried T’Lissa into the front living area to answer it, with Trip close behind. “T’Pol here,” she spoke into the microphone. “T’Para here. Are you and yours well child?” They looked at each other uneasily. “Yes Eldest Mother. We are all well here. I trust that the same is true for you.” “If it were not, I would have told you. Trip’s inefficient speech habits are influencing you girl. Come to my house tomorrow at midday. Bring Trip and the baby of course. “Of course Eldest Mother,” T’Pol answered meekly. “How may we serve?” “How did you think child? Ganlas will be here with some others to ask more questions. Expect to spend the entire afternoon. Will Trip require food and drink? “That would be agreeable, Eldest Mother,” T’Pol told her in resignation. “Especially drink. We will arrive shortly before midday. T’Pol out.” “T’Para out.” -&- “I am sorry, Captain,” Reed said unhappily. “None of my contacts work anymore. I tried every method I know. I sent a message through every channel, I attempted to call in every marker I have. Nothing worked. I absolutely failed to connect with Harris or anyone else at Section 31.” “Not your fault Malcolm,” Captain Archer told him. “They probably figured that the first thing we would do is try to get in touch with them directly. But it still makes to no sense to me that they won’t give us any more information than they did.” “Harris is up to something. That much is certain,” Malcolm affirmed. “There is no possible way that Section 31 knows about the Sleepers without at least having some idea of their identities. We are being used in a cat and mouse game, Sir. And frankly, I am about to get just a bit pissed off.” “Two minds with but a single thought, Lieutenant Commander Reed,” Archer told him. “But these mice have fangs. Let’s get busy and start hunting some cats, shall we?” -&- “T’Para is an old hand at this game,” Trip tried to comfort her as the air car settled down on the landing pad. “If anyone can fix this, she can.” T’Pol shut down the motors and locked the controls. “Whether she can or not, there is no escaping it now. Let us go and ‘face the music’ as Ensign Sato is fond of saying. Where did that phrase originate?” T’Pol turned to unstrap the baby. Trip told her, “It came from the custom of havin’ musicians play a dirge while a condemned man walked from his cell to the place where they were gonna kill him.” He stood up and opened the door. “After you, Wife.” T’Pol stepped outside into the subdued bustle of midtown Shi’Kahr. The public parking area was subdivided by tree lined walkways, and also equipped with several entrances to the underground public transport system. They descended and signaled for the next available car to stop at their station. A few minutes later the silver cube pulled up and stopped beside their platform. A door popped open and the family boarded the single compartment vehicle. T’Pol spoke rapidly in Vulcan. The the control panel lights flashed in a dizzying pattern and a machine voice said, “ETA 9.43 minutes.” There was no sensation of movement. Trip muttered, “Inertial dampers in a unit this small? I’d give my boots to have a look under that access hatch.” T’Pol wore an expression of longsuffering resignation. Before Trip had time to do more than peer hungrily at the controls, a buzzer and a click heralded the door opening. They exited onto a different underground platform. A spiral ramp led them up to street level half a block from T’Para’s home. Trip felt triumphant when he made it all the way to the front door without having to stop and rest even once. The triox, the daily walks, the morning workouts, they were all having an effect. Once a week he flew into the city for a visit to the Earth embassy to use the swimming pool for laps and submerged exercises. His muscles were becoming as hard as seasoned hickory, and Trip was sure that he could tell a real difference in the tightening of his shirts as his lung capacity expanded. T’Para’s house, like every other house in the neighborhood, was surrounded by a tall privacy wall of hewn native blocks. T’Pol pressed the sensor plate next to the front gate and identified the three of them. A faint snick as the lock disengaged was her cue to push the gate open. The Eldest Mother’s front garden was a sparsely vegetated arrangement of stoneware vases and urns holding a selection of exotic plants, all scattered amidst a small field of carefully raked gravel and artfully placed rocks. The flagstone path wound between several cactus-like plants on its way up to the front door. Ganlas met them at the door and led them inside, where the Eldest Mother waited for them. Also waiting were Chief Minister T’Pau and her primary advisor on the High Council, Minister Kuvak. Trip winced internally but fought hard not to show it. T’Pol put on her best Vulcan mask and offered the ta’al greeting. “Peace and long life to all.” “Welcome children,” T’Para told them kindly. “Sit. Drink.” She poured them each a cup of water from the traditional pitcher and they drank the customary welcoming sips. T’Pau noticed Trip looking around curiously and offered, “Our bodyguards are patrolling the exterior of the house, Trip. This meeting is confidential and classified.” T’Para stuck her arms out in the universal ‘gimme the baby’ gesture known to grandma’s of every humanoid race in the galaxy. T’Pol dutifully forked over, and T’Lissa immediately started grabbing at the tassels on the old lady’s stole, then her buttons, then the embroidery on her sleeve, kicking and cooing with excitement all the while. “So curious, aren’t you little one?” T’Para’s non-expression softened almost imperceptibly. “Like your parents. Always driven to explore, to learn about new things.” “I apologize Eldest Mother,” Trip said self-consciously. He shifted uncomfortably on the chair. “I wanted to say that up front, before we got started. I am sorry.” “For what, Trip?” T’Para pinned his butt to the seat with her glare. He swallowed an icy lump. “For...,” another gulp, “for losing control the way I did.” T’Para’s nostrils flickered. “I will accept an apology for your unseemly public display of emotion. If you had apologized for revealing the truth about T’Pol’s wedding, I would have been forced to re-evaluate my approval of her choice of bondmate.” He shrank a little at her tone. She turned down the intensity a bit and spoke to both of them. “Do not repeat it, but I ask you both to remember what I said when the shrine was destroyed. Do you both remember?” Her words rang clear as crystal through Trip’s mind. “What is important is the blood, and the loyalty to the blood.” They replied in unison, “Yes.” T’Para told them. “Answer any question Ganlas may ask. Listen carefully to everything that the Ministers tell you. But most of all, remember that whatever happens, the family strands with you.” She turned to T’Pol and added, “Consider your priorities child. Your mother is dead, and you cannot help nor harm her. But your husband and your child are both here, and very much alive.” She settled back and waved at Ganlas to begin. “I have accessed my contacts at Starfleet command to obtain copies of the Enterprise logs for the period in question,” he began. “T’Pol told me that the ship which transmitted the letter to her from Koss’s family was the Ti’Mur, commanded by Captain Vanik I believe?” “Correct,” T’Pol replied stiffly. “Were you aware,” Ganlas asked carefully, “that Captain Vanik is Sub-Minister V’Rald’s sister’s husband’s cousin?” Trip slapped a hand over his face and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “No,” T’Pol said through her teeth, “I was not.” “You may not find it surprising that there is no record in the Ti’Mur’s log for any encrypted message being sent to Enterprise,” Ganlas noted. No one screamed or fainted. “However, the Enterprise log supports Trip’s account of events precisely, with the omission of the contents of the letter. Captain Archer’s log simply notes that the letter was reported to him as being private and personal. Therefore he declined to inquire further.” Ganlas paused, “He also notes in particular,” eyeing Trip, “that he specifically told his chief engineer that he was not required to notify Sub-Commander T’Pol of the breach of privacy, since it was done on his orders. However, Commander Tucker insisted that honor demanded she be informed regardless of the circumstances.” “Not surprising, given Commander Tucker’s subsequent behavior patterns,” T’Pau remarked. The Chief Minister leaned forward. “What I am about to tell you is strictly confidential, and is not to be revealed to anyone outside this room without the express authorization of the High Council itself. Is that understood?” They nodded. T’Pau reported soberly. “Sub-Minister V’Rald has been under investigation for corruption since the fall of the High Command. When Commander Ganlas started his inquiry, we were compelled to intervene.” Ganlas said ruefully, “I was chagrined to learn that our family was already under investigation. Trip’s revelation merely forced everything into the open.” “So you already knew about all of this?” Trip asked hopefully. “Indeed,” T’Pau confirmed. “I have known the entire story for quite some time Commander. Lady T’Les was my friend and confidant. In addition to that, we had shared our minds by melding. I was, and am, well aware that everything you reported at your clan gathering is quite true.” Trip slumped in relief and shivered with the sudden release of tension. He rubbed his face with both hands and felt alternating waves of cold and heat pass through him. Trip sat still and concentrated on holding himself in the chair until the dizziness passed. T’Pol sat and stared at T’Pau. Inwardly she raged at herself for blind stupidity. Of course the Chief Minister knew. How could she not know? Not only had T’Pau melded with T’Les, but she had also melded with T’Pol. It had been T’Pau herself who had cured T’Pol’s Pa’anar syndrome. She knew ever sordid detail about the situation. Even the things that Trip did not know. Kuvak picked up the thread. “Knowing something is one thing. Proving it is another. Our investigation has yet to generate any verifiable evidence. Trip’s revelation is the first time that someone has openly and publicly presented information that could ultimately lead to proving malfeasance on the part of major government officials.” “By itself all it proves is that Koss is an asshole,” Trip muttered. “Besides, if you already knew all of this, what difference did it make for me to say it out loud?” Ganlas told him. “Information obtained from a mind meld is not admissible in court. Under existing law, direct testimony is required. The accused must be provided the opportunity to challenge the evidence and perform cross-examination. That cannot be done with evidence obtained from a mind meld.” Minister Kuvak cleared his throat. “While the testimony you gave us does not allow for prosecution, it does give us a beginning point. Unfortunately V’Rald’s influence has been such that all traceable information on Vulcan that might assist our investigations has been eliminated. But V’Rald could not obtain access to Starfleet records. Nor could V’Rald’s clan use their influence to intimidate your shipmates into silence by threatening reprisals against their kin.” “And I didn’t know enough to realize the damage I was doing until it was too late.” Trip looked down at his clenched fists. No one spoke for a moment. “So how is he going to hit back?” “It is by no means certain that he will even try,” Kuvak said. “V’Rald did not rise to his current position by being stupid. He has long suspected that we are watching him. Now he is certain of it. If he strikes it will be indirectly.” “Healer Kerlek!” T’Pol sat up in panic. “He works for the Science Directorate!” Trip snapped to his feet and Ganlas barely managed to catch him by the shoulders. “Easy, Trip” Ganlas said softly. “We will take care of it.” He held Trip’s eyes until the Human finally got his breathing under control and nodded. They sat back down and Trip turned to his wife, who had re appropriated her baby and was holding her tightly, looking back at her husband with a frightened gaze. “Kerlek’s background has been thoroughly investigated,” T’Pau assured them both. “He is not affiliated with V’Rald or his clan in any way that we have been able to detect. His record is clean.” “I don’t care,” Trip said stubbornly. “I want Phlox back. I know Phlox doesn’t have any irons in this fire. In fact, Phlox is the only doctor I am absolutely sure doesn’t have any interest in Terra Prime, or this clan feud, or anything else except T’Lissa’s health. Phlox is her doctor, and from here on out Phlox is her only doctor. That’s final.” “While Doctor Phlox is certainly capable,” T’Pau said tentatively, “it is unlikely that he can come here indefinitely. It is equally unlikely that Starfleet will assign Enterprise to maintain permanent orbit around Vulcan.” “It wouldn’t have to be permanent,” T’Pol suggested. “In fact, it is entirely possible that Doctor Phlox may have contacts through the Interspecies Medical Exchange that he can recommend as alternative physicians for T’Lissa. I agree completely with my adun’s opinion that a non-Vulcan physician would be best for the present, simply as a precaution.” “I agree,” T’Para said abruptly, settling the matter. “Contact your Doctor Phlox as soon as you can to arrange the matter. If you require logistical assistance, notify me and it shall be forthcoming.” “Yes, Eldest Mother,” Trip inclined his head respectfully. “Very well,” T’Pau acquiesced. “I will make a request to Starfleet for Enterprise to visit Vulcan as soon as possible. Meanwhile the Security forces guarding your home will be advised to watch for Vulcan, as well as Human, intruders.” “Maybe we should get the MACOs back too,” Trip considered. “I think not,” T’Pau said with finality. “I was never comfortable with allowing armed Human forces to be involved in this situation to begin with. However since you are Human, and T’Lissa is your daughter, I felt obligated. But after you were attacked in your own home by Starfleet personnel, I am not willing to take any further risks in this matter. The Security Directorate will handle all matters of security on the surface of Vulcan henceforth.” “Understood Minister,” T’Pol replied. “I am certain that the matter is well in hand,” she added with a warning look to her husband. “You’re a Senior Commander, Ganlas? Are you in charge of the security for our house?” Trip asked. “I am now,” Ganlas told him. “I took over direct supervision after the gathering.” “Good enough then,” Trip leaned back, satisfied. “As long as family is handling it, I will trust the Vulcan forces.” “I am gratified,” Ganlas inclined his head, a touch ironically. The conversation was punctuated by a sharp complaint from T’Lissa. T’Pol made a rapid mental calculation and realized, “She is probably hungry again. And of course she needs changing.” “At any given point in time, probability strongly favors a baby needing changing,” T’Para pointed out. “I will show you a spare bedchamber to use. Then I will bring refreshments. I note that Trip is showing signs of incipient dehydration.” “That would be most agreeable Eldest Mother,” T’Pol told her gratefully as she stood up. “I’m all right,” Trip half hearted protested. “Your lips are cracking, Husband,” T’Pol told him. “Your breathing has changed in tone to indicate that your nasal passages are drying out. The rims of your eyes are showing signs of irritation caused by moisture deficiency.” Trip held up his hand. “I surrender. I am thirsty. I confess. Guilty as charged.” He shook his head. “I know better. Why do I even try anymore?” he asked rhetorically. “Irrepressible Human stubbornness no doubt,” T’Pau replied as she also stood. “If you will permit, I would enjoy assisting you with the child.” “Certainly Chief Minister,” T’Pol told her. They trooped out of the room on T’Para’s heels, leaving the males to sit in contemplative silence. Typically, it was Trip who first broke the pause. “I don’t understand the attraction. All the Human women on Enterprise were like that too. I can understand wanting to see her and play with her and hold her. But what’s with this eagerness to help change her? It’s not like they have never seen poop before.” Ganlas pursed his lips. “I am at a loss to answer you Trip. Not yet having become a father, I am ill equipped to speculate.” Kuvak offered, “I believe it to be simply one of those inexplicable inherent differences between the genders that cannot be bridged. When my son Kov was a baby, younger female relatives who happened to be visiting would actually arrange to take turns for the privilege of changing him.” “Say what?” Trip’s head snapped around and he stared. Kuvak raised an eyebrow. “I said that younger female relatives-” “No,” Trip shook his head violently. “Kov. You said Kov is your son? Kov as in the Kov that we met on Enterprise? The Kov that was with the V’Tosh Katur?” Kuvak closed his eyes briefly and winced. Then he expelled a puff of breath and nodded. “I thought you knew that he was my son Commander. Kov told me that your logic was influential in persuading him to contact me.” Trip settled back with a broad smile. “Well I’ll be. No, I didn’t know who you were, Sir. Kov never got around to telling me your name. It’s great to meet you. How is Kov doing now?” Kuvak looked wistful. “Kov is still traveling with the V’Tosh Katur, although we have managed to settle some of our differences. I continue to attempt to persuade him to return home. I believe that much has changed, for both of us, since he left.” “Kov is a good man,” Trip told the Minister seriously. “A fine man, and a fantastic engineer. He probably feels responsible. Without his magic touch, that bucket of bolts they are flying would collapse under its own weight in two days.” “A loss that our people could bear with perfect equanimity,” Kuvak said coldly. Then he sighed. “But I am grateful that at least we are speaking to each other again.” “Give him my regards and best wishes next time you talk to him, willya?” Trip requested. “I will do so, Commander,” Kuvak promised. “I am frankly becoming concerned about Kov’s unbonded condition. It is time, and past time, that he returns home and arranges to rectify this situation.” Kuvak looked worried. “Although with his previous record it will be challenging to find someone willing to consider him as an appropriate mate.” Trip looked thoughtful. “Would you consider letting a Human into the family? I overheard some of the ladies on Enterprise talking about the Vulcan men on the Vahklas. When Kov and I were working together in engineering, a couple of the women in my section told me they thought he was cute,” Trip grinned. Kuvak seemed taken aback. “I... confess that the thought had not occurred to me, Commander. I can find no logical reason to object in principle to the idea however. Certainly your bonding to Lady T’Pol has been propitious. And your child is healthy and intelligent.” “It hasn’t always been easy, by a long shot,” Trip said. “There’s a lot of adjusting to be made.” “The same can be said for any marriage Trip,” Ganlas told him. “Could you arrange something for him?” Trip shrugged. “All I could do is introduce him around to some available ladies and see what developed. We don’t do the arranged marriage thing you know. When we think two people would be a good match, what we do is try to set up occasions for them to end up together. Invite them to the same parties. Take them out to the same group events, like sports games or picnics. Give them a chance to spend time together.” “Do you have someone in mind?” Kuvak asked. Trip pulled on his lower lip. “I might. I just might. Let me have a few days to get in touch with my former second on Enterprise. She took over my department when I left. She and Kov really seemed to hit it off well when they visited us. After he left, I remember her mentioning that she would like to see him again sometime. Maybe we could get them started corresponding with each other. Who knows? Something might take off, or it might not.” Kuvak’s eyebrows rose. “A most agreeable suggestion, Commander. I will gladly expedite any messages between them.” “Let me check and see if she is still interested first,” Trip rubbed his hands together thoughtfully. “At least they have things in common to talk about, since they are both starship engineers. It gives them a starting point. To tell the truth, it’s not easy for Hess to find someone either. It’s not easy for anyone to hook up when you are on a ship in deep space.” “An understatement,” T’Para remarked dryly, carrying in a tray full of moisture. She set down the drinks and invited the men to help themselves. Trip gratefully grabbed a mug and discovered that it contained root beer. “I don’t believe it,” his face split in a huge grin. “Where did you find root beer?” Trip stuck the mug to his mouth and started pouring it down his throat. The Vulcans paused to watch in disbelief as he drained the entire mug in a rapid series of deep gulps. “Oh that’s good,” he gasped happily. “I am gratified that you enjoyed it,” T’Para murmured. “Would you like another?” Trip smiled through a foam moustache and nodded. -&- Malcolm Reed could not remember the last time he had been this angry. Not even during the interrogation of Massaro. Massaro had not been one of his men. He strode down the corridor hanging onto his self-control with both hands and locked jaws. At least Captain Archer was taking this threat seriously. The last four years had finally begun to make a dent into that man’s incurable optimism. It was about time, in Malcolm’s disgruntled opinion. After finishing his regular twice daily check on Phlox, which he refused to delegate, Malcolm proceeded to the gym. Lieutenant Tran already had the MACO’s present, just as he had expected. She was putting them through a few warm up routines to kill time until the assembly convened. The remaining security forces were due to arrive in three minutes. Malcolm had publicly announced that anyone who was late by as much as thirty seconds would rue the day they were born. His people took one look at his face and believed it. The last two stragglers made it with nine seconds to spare. They slid through the door under Reed’s glaring eye and slunk over to join their cohorts uneasily. “Attention! Form ranks!” The MACOs and Security forces leaped into two separate groups and lined up for inspection. Malcolm stood and inspected them silently, examining each person with suspicious distaste. One of them was a traitor, and because of that every single person would have to bear the weight. He closed his eyes for a few seconds as a wave of almost intolerable rage swept through him. One of his own people. Now he began to understand how Trip must have felt about Massaro. This was too much. Malcolm walked over to the intercom. “We are ready down here, Sir. At your convenience.” “I will be right there, Commander,” the captain replied. Captain Archer walked into the gym a few moments later looking calm and in control. Reed could only envy his aplomb, even though he knew it was as fake as a Nausican’s smile. “Captain on deck!” The crew stiffened even more, if that were possible. The MACOs in particular gave a sterling imitation of granite statues. Archer stopped next to Malcolm and gave him a nod. “Ladies and Gentlemen, if I may have your attention please.” “A redundant request if there ever was one,” Malcolm reflected, since every eye in the room had been fixed on the captain since his first toe had crossed the threshold. “At ease.” They loosened up a trace. “I don’t have to remind any of you about recent attacks by xenophobic extremists.” Captain Archer let his bland expression darken. “What you all do not know,” he paused for effect and looked over the assembled fighters, “is that recently Commander Tucker and Lady T’Pol were attacked in their own home on Vulcan by Terra Prime sympathizers.” He waited for ten seconds and then delivered the punch line. “They were members of Starfleet.” Malcolm swore until the day he died that he could actually hear teeth grinding across the gym. Archer turned and walked back toward Malcolm, giving him a significant look that told him to take over. Reed stepped up and started talking. “After this latest debacle, Chief Minister T’Pau saw fit to relieve all Human personnel of security duty on Vulcan except for areas inside the Earth embassy only. They no longer consider us trustworthy. Not even to guard our own people.” The carefully watching captain expected to see visible heat waves start rising off the assembled collars. Reed started pacing up and down the line. “Twice now. TWICE Starfleet has been infiltrated. It is not going to happen again.” He stopped and glared. His people glared right back at him, which secretly brightened his heart. “The captain and I have been working on counter measures to prevent anything like a repeat of the Ensign Massaro incident. To start with, we have developed a new training program for detecting and neutralizing infiltrators. That’s why you are all here today. This program will be intense, and believe me. You WILL take it very seriously indeed.” Malcolm walked back to stand beside Archer, who smiled to leaven the tension. “In essence,” Captain Archer began, “we are going to hold an ongoing game of capture the flag. But there will be several modifications. To begin with, you will be broken into small teams of mixed MACO and Security personnel. Each team assignment will be temporary and will shift at random intervals without warning.” He looked at Reed. Malcolm picked up, “The captain and I will select five members of the crew at large. The selections will be at our discretion and will be known only to the two of us and the principals involved. These five people will be the designated infiltrators. Each of the five will be given a different assignment to carry out. Some might be assigned to ‘sabotage’ a critical ship’s system. In which case we will provide them with a distinctive item that they will be required to place in a critical point to signify the planting of a bomb.” Archer stepped in, “Other assigned infiltrators might be told to assassinate someone. In that case, they will be required to stalk and mark their target in such a way that no one else becomes aware of it.” “Still others,” Malcolm went on, “will be given the task of attempting to obtain confidential information. They will be required to bypass security measures and obtain information from specific files. Others might be assigned to steal something.” “Your job,” Reed went on, “will be to detect and stop the five infiltrators before they can complete their assignments. This will be complicated by several factors. First, we will be changing the identity of the infiltrators at random intervals. You will never be sure of who they are, so you will have to constantly be on guard. Second, we are not going to exempt our own people here. In fact, we insist on making sure that at least two members of Security and/or MACOs are included as part of the group of five at all times.” That got a reaction. If Malcolm was judging them right, sparks of gleaming interest were shining across the board. The training exercise had suddenly become much more interesting to them. He nodded. “Questions? Yes, Lieutenant.” Tran stepped forward. “Sir. Will the infiltrators be aware of each other’s identities?” “Sometimes,” was the ambiguous reply. “Will they be permitted to coordinate their activities?” “Yes, they will.” Tran nodded and stepped back. “Any further questions?” Malcolm surveyed the room. “All right then. You will receive your team assignments this morning. Each team leader will be responsible for his or her own people. The exercise will be conducted in addition to your regular duties. Or I should say, in conjunction with your regular duties. The exercise will be ongoing 24/7. At any time, day or night, you might see something suspicious. Do not hesitate. A real infiltrator is not going to be considerate enough to confine their actions to alpha shift, so we can’t lay around and restrict ourselves to only watching for them during convenient times either.” Captain Archer announced, “The five mock infiltrators have already been briefed and given their assignments. As of 0900 hours this morning, you are officially notified that this ship has been penetrated by intruders with hostile intent. Find them. Stop them. We can’t tell you anything more than that they are here. We don’t know who they are, what department they are in, or what their objectives are. Except we do know that at least two of them are in this room. They could be anyone of any rank. Not even the senior officers are above suspicion.” Malcolm added, “There will be no negative consequences of any kind for false positives. If one of you accidentally embarrasses a senior officer by mistakenly fingering them as an infiltrator, don’t worry about it. We will make sure they get over it. We want you to be hyper vigilant, so feel free to get paranoid. However, any team who does nail one of the infiltrators will think they have hit the mother lode. Prizes include movie night selection privilege, extra shore leave, extra gym privileges, and ultimately a commendation. The grand prize, for anyone who manages to nail ten infiltrators during the course of the exercise, will be a recommendation for early promotion.” Broad grins flashed all over the room, like the bared fangs of a hunting pack. -&- T’Pol peeled T’Lissa like a squirming onion, deftly forestalling her constant efforts at escape. T’Pau looked perilously close to smiling at the baby’s antics. “She is quite active.” “Yes,” T’Pol agreed with satisfaction. “Her energy levels are most satisfactory. Also, her balance is above average for a Vulcan child at her stage of development.” “What is her intelligence rating?” T’Pau inquired, handing her a new diaper. “She tests out at the upper end of the curve in all categories for both races,” T’Pol announced. She didn’t even bother to attempt to hide her pride. “She also exhibits Vulcan normal telepathic ability.” “So it seems that far from being incompatible, Vulcan and Human DNA complement each other remarkably well,” T’Pau mused. “It is not surprising that V’Las wished to suppress this knowledge.” T’Pol turned to reach for talcum powder and T’Lissa snatched her opportunity. She rolled swiftly to her belly and started backing butt first toward the edge of the bed, intent on making a break for it. Her mother reached out without bothering to look and intercepted her before she could get more than her feet over the edge. The thwarted little fugitive burst out in frustrated cursing to the limits of her vocabulary. “Sa-Da! Sa-Da! Sa-Da!” she demanded imperiously while T’Pol, undeterred by any trace of sympathy for her nudist yearnings, placed her back on the pad and proceeded to reconfine her in the hated diaper. T’Pau’s eyebrows took off like rockets. “She is attempting to verbalize already?” “Indeed she is. Human children attempt to use sounds to communicate within a few months of birth,” T’Pol informed her. “Sa-Da is what she says when she wants her father. We believe it is a composite of Sa-Mekh and the Human word Daddy.” “I confess to curiosity about Human paternal behavior,” T’Pau wondered. “How has your adun adapted?” “He is quite devoted to her,” T’Pol reported. “Fiercely protective, and absolutely dedicated to providing for her needs. If there is anything she needs, anything at all, Trip will not rest until he has obtained it for her. He is nearly obsessive about it. However when it comes to hands-on nurturing like feeding and changing he is less adept. He is always willing to make the attempt, but the results have often proven unfortunate.” T’Pol’s mind flashed back to the ‘unfortunate’ incident of Trip’s attempt at feeding T’Lissa pudding. She winced internally and forcibly shoved the memory aside. “May I ask a question that involves a personal matter?” T’Pau waited while T’Pol took several deep breaths and settled her expression. “Certainly Chief Minister,” she replied formally. “You may ask any question you see fit.” T’Pau inclined her head. “I conclude from your adun’s reaction earlier that you did not inform him of our mind meld. Is this correct?” T’Pol’s ear tips darkened slightly. “No. I mean, yes. You are correct. I have not informed him.” “Was he aware of your Pa’anar syndrome, or the reason for it?” T’Pau waited. T’Pol’s hands continued moving automatically, sliding a clean shirt over the baby’s head, wrapping her, replacing the supplies. But her expression was light years away. “No,” T’Pol finally said simply. T’Pau waited but nothing more came out. “I see,” T’Pau said. “Is he aware of your trellium induced neural damage?” T’Pol froze for 2.1 seconds. “No.” She finished putting things away and picked up T’Lissa. Turning to face T’Pau, she mustered the fortitude to look her in the eye. “I have not informed him of my condition.” “I am quite certain that your adun’s involvement in this matter is far from finished,” T’Pau told her. “It is not unlikely that he will be required to make decisions, and perhaps take action, on his own behalf as well as on behalf of you and your child. As Head of your House, he cannot make logically supportable decisions without complete information.” “Why do you bring these matters up now?” T’Pol asked with a touch of heat. “You informed Koss before the wedding that you were ill,” T’Pau reminded her, “but you did not specify the nature of your illness. You did not even tell your own mother. Had you done so, it is quite possible that the wedding would not have taken place. If this information is revealed during the investigation, it may weaken the argument that you were forced into the marriage unwillingly. Do you not think that your adun has the right to be warned of this?” T’Pol looked at the floor. “I find myself reluctant to discuss this with him. The event that brought about my illness was the result of a grave error in judgment on my part. I would prefer to avoid lowering his opinion of me if it can be avoided.” T’Pau regarded her. “Do you truly believe that he will judge you harshly? I have gained the impression that Humans are remarkably broad minded people. In some ways perhaps too broad minded.” “I have never,” T’Pol stopped for a moment. “I have never shared a mind meld with my adun. I fear that he may resent the fact that I have shared with another male something that I have never shared with him.” “Then meld with him,” T’Pau tilted her head. “Why not? You are already bonded. A meld would simply shift the connection from the instinctive, primal centers of the brain to the upper, cognitive portions. And then only temporarily.” “If I did that he would learn...” T’Pol turned away. “Of your trellium addiction,” T’Pau finished for her. “That is your true fear. You think that if he discovered your former addiction to trellium he would turn from you in disgust. Perhaps even disown you as Koss did, leaving you to raise your child without a father. Or even, worst of all, leave and take your child with him.” T’Pol clenched her teeth. “I cannot take the risk.” “He is not your father T’Pol,” T’Pau said softly. T’Pol whipped around to stare at her. “What do you mean by that?” she demanded. T’Pau looked kindly at her distressed face. “T’Les and I used to talk much as we searched the ruins together,” T’Pau remembered. “She spoke of you, of her hopes and concerns for you. One thing I remember was how your father died when you were very young. T’Les was concerned because she detected signs that this had affected you more deeply than you were willing to acknowledge. You fear abandonment T’Pol. You fear the loss of those you love. Now, since T’Les has died, your fear has only grown.” “Should I not?” T’Pol’s voice rose slightly. “He and my child are all I have left now. I will not risk losing them. Not for any reason.” T’Pau insisted. “But you should seriously consider the advantage of truth over deception.” “I am not lying to him,” T’Pol snapped. “You are operating with the intent of concealing the truth from him. That is the definition of deception,” T’Pau pointed out implacably. “This is a private matter,” T’Pol said sharply, cutting the conversation off at the knees. “Acknowledged, I will say no more.” T’Pau bowed her head. “We should rejoin the others.” -&- The Section 31 operative assigned permanently to Enterprise paid only cursory attention to his monitor. An occasional glace was plenty to keep him apprised of the comings and goings. Far more interesting were the transcribed recordings that flowed past his fingers on the PADD he held. It just proved once again, there was no more lucrative spot on any ship for scooping up information by the shovel full than the mess hall. A few scattered cameras, a microphone at each table, and he was in business. There was no difficulty in obtaining massive mountains of muck. The problem lay in painstakingly poking through the pile to pick out the precious pebbles of pure platinum that were embedded in it. But treasure was most definitely to be found. Like that nifty little scheme that Jon and Malcolm had just hatched. He grinned. That pair was so cute sometimes. It was actually not a bad attempt either. Logically, if you wanted to mobilize the entire security and MACO staff to hunt down two Terra Prime Sleepers, while not tipping them off that you knew they were on board, how better to do it? It was going to keep the bloodhounds on the track. Meanwhile, it would make the real Sleepers nervous and prone to possible mistakes. They had to be wondering now. Were they suspected? But the cover story about Massaro and the attack on the Tucker house was good enough for an excuse. So they would be left guessing. And uncertain. And confused. If nothing else, they would not dare to actually initiate trouble. Neatly done. Use your enemy’s own momentum against him. Not bad for amateur work. Of course, Malcolm wasn’t strictly an amateur. A beginner, but not an actual amateur. The lad had potential. Too bad he was cluttered with so many scruples. He scowled as one of the targets stepped into view of the entrance camera. Offended pride still burned him when he thought of how Harris had forbidden him to eliminate the two of them unless no other option was available. As if he couldn’t take care of those two without leaving tracks. He sniffed in disdain. But Harris wanted to avoid any possibility of blowing his cover. Besides, the Section 31 brass thought it would be a good learning opportunity for Reed. The next time they needed to twist his arm, he would be that much better prepared to cope with the mission. Time to get back to work. He put down the PADD and replaced the camera view with a standard inventory list, just in case someone wandered in. Not much chance of that anyway, but he was too old and wily to take anything for granted. Then he stood up and pasted on his trademark expression. Couldn’t disappoint his public after all. With a high profile position like his, he had to be constantly aware of appearances. A janitor could afford to look distracted, or disappear into his supply closet for half a shift. Not him. He had to be out front and available when called for. So get with it soldier. He grimaced. How many years had it been? No matter. As he opened the door to his tiny office he idly wondered what would happen if his cover ever did get blown. Not a good idea, he decided. There would no doubt be mass heart failure, and there were only three defib units on the whole ship. He was supposed to be here to prevent carnage, not cause it. |
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