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"Father to the Man" By Blackn’blue
Rating: PG
Note: Vulcan terms used in this story were stolen wholesale either from the Vulcan Language Dictionary at A/N: Never will I yield! Political incorrectness is my birthright! Part 4: Koss bowed his head over his cup of tea in resignation. “I understand, Mother. You were trying to help. If the letter had worked it would certainly have expedited things, just as you intended.” V'Rald scowled at his sister-in-law. “It would have simplified matters had you bothered to inform someone else in the family of this letter, L'Sira.” He got up from his desk and paced over to the window. The view from his tenth story office was majestic. The entire city of Shi'kahr spread out before him, an elegantly logical arrangement of streets, buildings and parks all exquisitely planned for aesthetic balance. L'Sira bristled and leaned forward in her chair. “Betrothal arrangements are the responsibility of the parents, V'Rald. There is no custom that requires notifying the rest of the family when sending a letter to my son's intended wife.” V'Rald smoldered. Upon her husband's death, L'Sira had assumed control of his property. Among other things this included several critical manufacturing facilities. It was not feasible to simply have her removed. That would leave the factories in direct control of Koss and the boy was, if such be possible, an even greater fool than his mother. With no son of his own V'Rald had been compelled to designate Koss as his heir. The whole situation left V'Rald spending a significant amount of his lifespan cleaning up behind them. “It is, however, customary to notify the rest of the family,” V'Rald bit out the words, “when formally severing a betrothal. Which is what your letter amounted to.” “How was I to know that the girl was going to show it to anyone?” L'Sira protested indignantly. V'Rald closed his eyes in real pain. “One does not ordinarily go around proudly displaying evidence of one's dishonorable failure to live up to one's obligations.” V'Rald held tightly to his patience. “Did it not occur to you that even a Human starship crew would be competent enough to intercept clandestine messages beamed to their ship? Why did you not simply send it through normal channels? That way none of the Humans would have bothered with it. Only the fact that it was encrypted caught their attention in the first place.” “I still don't believe that they actually intercepted it themselves Uncle,” Koss objected. “Vanik would have been careful to mask it with another signal. And even if they did, it would have been impossible for them to decrypt the message without T'Pol's assistance. She must have deliberately showed it to Tucker. Beyond any doubt, they were lovers even then. Why else would she have refused me?” V'Rald shot him a disgusted look. “You are making the supremely foolish mistake of underestimating your opponent Koss. Humans have been using complex cryptography in their wars for centuries. And Archer, the captain of of the ship that T'Pol served aboard, is suspicious of Vulcans to the point of paranoia. He would certainly have ordered his communications officer to monitor all transmissions from the Ti'Mur very closely.” For the rest of it, privately V'Rald considered that refusing Koss merely proved the girl's intelligence. Both of his daughter's husbands already bore obligations for their own clans that required significant time commitments. Otherwise V'Rald would long since have washed his hands of his brother's mate and her offspring. “They can prove nothing,” Koss dissembled quickly, masking his discomfort and pouring himself and his mother another cup of tea. “All they have is the unsupported word of some Humans. T'Pol is involved as a principle, therefore her testimony is automatically suspect. It is her word against mine. Without the actual letter anything else they say is irrelevant.” V'Rald stared. Could it be possible that the boy was truly this stupid? Yes. It was. No matter. “The situation cannot be resolved through direct confrontation,” V'Rald pronounced. “If it progresses that far we have already lost. The fact that the questions have even been raised are already damaging us. We must either discredit Tucker, or refocus his attention away from this matter. Since he waited this long to seek revenge against Koss, it is probably not a high priority to him. We should be able to find some way to deflect him.” “Why do you care about this Human?” L'Sira waved a hand dismissively. “Aside from being married to T'Pol, what relevance can he have?” V'Rald seriously considered appointing a trustee to oversee his holdings until his grandsons came of age. That way he could rid himself of them both and have some peace in his life. “Wife of my departed brother,” V'Rald said condescendingly, “I will attempt to explain this in simple terms. First of all, the High Council credits this Human with almost single handedly preventing war between our people and the Andorians. In addition, his oldest and closest friend is Jonathon Archer, the Human who rumors tell was chosen by Syran himself to bear the katra of Surak across the Forge to the Sanctuary so that the Kirshara could be found. Do you begin to understand now?” “Ridiculous,” L'Sira snapped defensively. “The very idea that Surak's katra could be-” “Ridiculous it may be,” V'Rald talked over her. “But the facts remain that the Kirshara was found, V'Las was overthrown, and the new High Council values Archer highly. In addition, the High Council wishes to tighten the alliance with Earth in order to preempt the Andorians. And Tucker, indeed also T'Pol and every other member of the Enterprise crew who went into the Expanse, are revered by the Humans as heroes who saved their planet. That is the reality we must deal with.” Koss brooded. “He is emotionally unstable and easily provoked. If he attacked me no one could justifiably complain if I defended myself.” He raised a significant eyebrow at his uncle, who shook his head wearily. “Again, Koss, you underestimate your opponent. He is a trained and experienced officer with sixteen years experience, who has spent most of the last year in combat conditions. You are an architect. He has fought for his life many times and prevailed, I have checked his service record and confirmed this. You have never seen battle. He grew up killing animals for meat. You have never killed anything. The only time you have ever held a weapon was during your ritual training. And of course during basic training for your term of service with the fleet, where you served planet-side as a design technician.” V'Rald declared with finality, “He would kill you.” “I have three times his strength, and twice his stamina!” Koss allowed irritation to appear on his face. “Strength is of no use to one who has no idea how to apply it effectively,” V'Rald sneered. “Otherwise how do you think that our primitive ancestors routinely managed to kill wild animals much stronger than they were, using nothing more than sharp rocks? “And your stamina will avail you nothing if you are dead. If you had any experience you would realize that most actual fights are not long drawn out affairs. A single blow delivered at the correct place and time can end a struggle very quickly. Nor does it necessarily need to be an especially powerful blow. Not if it is delivered to a vulnerable point.” V'Rald stepped close and suddenly thrust his fist under Koss' chin, stopping a millimeter short of his larynx. The younger man jumped backward in the chair, caught by surprise. “You see?” V'Rald said, and allowed himself to sigh. “Abandon any thought of facing a trained fighter in single combat.” He went back to his desk and sat down, rubbing his chin pensively. “I could easily train and practice,” Koss grumbled stubbornly, still stung over the way Trip had humiliated him at the gathering. V'Rald ran out of patience. “A lifetime of practice will not make you what Tucker is – a natural killer. A substantial portion of any fight is psychological. You have spent the last sixty years being conditioned to suppress and control your natural aggression, Koss. You are a Vulcan, bred to peace.” V'Rald was so irritated that he let his voice raise slightly. “I told you, boy, he grew up hunting animals for meat. Humans are predators, as we are. But unlike our people, they have not spent centuries working hard to suppress those instincts. When your father and I were young men, those savages were still in the midst of a planetary war as destructive as anything our ancestors engaged in prior to the Reformation.” “That just means that he lacks discipline and control,” Koss doggedly maintained. V'Rald eyed him coldly. “At the gathering, when he confronted you, do you remember his reaction?” “Yes, of course,” Koss replied stiffly. V'Rald's eye's narrowed. “But did you extrapolate what it implied? No sooner had you spoken than his hand was moving for his blade, Koss,” V'Rald intoned slowly and distinctly. “His first and most powerful reflex was to reach for a weapon. You are conditioned to automatically use logic and seek a peaceful solution. He is conditioned to seek battle. For the past four years he has been facing, over and over again, beings who were attempting to kill him. Blade or club, energy weapon or torpedo, the principle is the same. To win a fight to the death one must have the mindset that is ready and willing to strike without hesitating and without mercy. You are conditioned to value and cherish all life. The only life that he will cherish in a fight is his own.” “Are they really that dangerous?” L'Sira asked doubtfully. “You make them sound like Klingons, or Orion raiders.” V'Rald shot her a look from the corner of his eyes. “They are just as deadly. Why do you think the High Command kept such a tight rein on them for so many years, L'Sira? Three times Humans have faced Klingons in battle. Three times the Klingons have been defeated. Does that tell you anything, wife of my brother?” “Then what do you suggest, wisely arrogant one?” L'Sira demanded. She straightened her shawl to cover her uncertainty. V'Rald glanced back and forth between them with suddenly narrowed eyes as a memory came to him. “My operatives have been investigating Tucker, looking for weaknesses. There is something unexplained about this situation,” V'Rald said thoughtfully. “T'Pol came home and took up residence at her clan's mountain retreat, supposedly to seek solitude in mourning for the clone that the Human xenophobes crafted. Shortly afterward, Tucker joined her.” He paused. “Why then, did a large group from her clan assemble at the retreat only days later?” “Perhaps... a memorial?” L'Sira offered uncertainly. “For a clone?,” V'Rald demanded incredulously. “If it were a natural born child I might grant the possibility. But an unnatural abomination like a cross-species binary clone? One that was not even viable? Hardly. Even if T'Pol and Tucker were grieving for it, the rest of her clan could not have been so lost to propriety.” “I was told at the gathering,” Koss said, “that the child they adopted was the only survivor of an air car crash by members of her clan. Perhaps the meeting was an examination to determine their fitness.” “Perhaps,” V'Rald looked surprised at hearing such a logical suggestion coming out of Koss' mouth. “Yet there are other questions. The personal information files for all three of them are sealed and classified as Top Secret - Eyes Only for High Council members. Their retreat is patrolled at all times by a full squad from the Security Directorate. Moreover, that adopted child of theirs is being subjected to a remarkably intense degree of medical attention, far more than is usual or logical. One of the Science Directorate's most distinguished Healers has been re-assigned by the High Council itself. I believe this bears more in-depth investigation. Perhaps we may find something in these matters to divert interest away from our business dealings entirely.” -&- T'Para tapped on the door lightly with her fingertips, then opened it and slipped inside the bedroom without waiting for an invitation. T'Pol was feeding the baby and looking woebegone. T'Para firmly squelched a desire to take them both in a comforting hug. Instead she briskly relieved T'Pol of her armload, reinserting the nipple with only a brief interruption. T'Lissa only had time to kick once and start a brief, “Wa-,” before the plug went back in. T'Para sat back down and looked at T'Pol sternly, while at the same time she surreptitiously extended her telepathic sense to keep the baby soothed. “Where is Trip now?” T'Para asked softly. T'Pol swallowed. “I believe that he is swimming, which would mean that he has gone to the Human compound. He frequently makes use of the facilities there.” T'Para nodded and stroked T'Lissa's temple with two fingers, putting her into a light trance and preventing any emotional disturbance from reaching her. “The others have left,” T'Para told her. “We must talk. Sit quietly and listen to me very carefully T'Pol.” The old lady's voice was like velvet wrapped around steel. T'Pol looked at her with wounded eyes and sat down beside her. T'Para took a deep breath and reminded herself that sometimes pain must be endured before healing could begin. Then she said in formal High Vulcan, {“Daughter of my Clan, thy logic has failed thee.”} T'Pol actually cringed. {“I hear Eldest Mother. I await thy judgment.”} T'Para regarded her. {“It is not my judgment that should concern thee. I am not the one that thou hast wronged.”} T'Pol brought both her hands up to cover her face. Her breathing sounded loud in the otherwise silent room for several seconds. Then she lowered her hands and faced the Eldest Mother with dignity. {“Eldest Mother. I beseech that thou speak plainly. What wrong have I committed? I have broken no oath. I have spoken no untruth. I have betrayed no trust. I have taken nothing that was not mine by right. How have I offended?”} T'Pol looked her in the eye. Wavering, but she did not look away. T'Para gave her credit for determination. {“Hast thou in truth betrayed no trust?”} T'Para asked her gently. She let the question hang in the air between them for a time. {“Dost not thine adun trust thee with his very life and katra? Hast thou cherished his heart and his mind in the bond of mates as is thy duty?”} {“I do and I have. Always and forever.”} T'Pol sat up defiantly. T'Para asked softly, {“Hast thou in truth? Then hast thou warned him of the danger that awaits him? Hast thou told him of the power of thine uncontrolled emotions because of the damage that thou hast inflicted upon thyself? Hast thou striven to give him all possible aid in dealing with this?”} She folded her arms across her belly and leaned forward. T'Para kept two fingers on the baby's face, carefully shielding the tiny mind and shunting aside her mother's pain. Relentlessly T'Para went on, {“Between mates there can be no secrets. For secrets spawn mistrust, and mistrust spawns discord. Thy duty was clear from the first, Daughter of my Clan. Yet thou hast evaded it and caused thine adun who trusted thee to suffer the consequences. This can no more be tolerated.”} T'Pol stopped breathing. “What do you mean?” She straightened up and stared wild-eyed at T'Para. The Eldest Mother considered the younger woman and noted her faint trembling. {“Thou must inform thy mate of the truth. Thou must henceforth and forever abandon the path of deception. To do less dishonors thy mate, thyself, thy House, and thy clan.”} “I cannot.” She stood up quickly and paced across the room. “You don't understand. I cannot tell him this. He will never forgive me. I will lose him, T'Lissa will lose her father. I cannot tell him this.” {“Lose him daughter? He is thy bonded mate. Thy katras are fused. Only death can separate thee. Thy logic hath fled thee utterly.”} T'Pol burst out, “I will lose his respect! I will lose his love!” She wrung her hands together uncertainly and paced back and forth across the room. “You do not understand. I failed him. I failed all of them. In the Delphic Expanse, at a time when they were fighting for the very survival of their world, I fell to weakness and allowed myself to become enslaved to a drug. They trusted me Eldest Mother. Trip trusted me and I failed him!” T'Para spoke sternly, {“Thy fear hath blinded thee daughter. Surak teaches us to cast out fear before all else. Nothing can be done until fear is cast out.”} “They died because of me! Because I made mistakes! Because my judgment was flawed, because I had lost control, because I was not strong enough, people under my command died needlessly Eldest Mother.” T'Pol anguish vibrated in her tone and shone out of her eyes. “The captain had been captured and the ship was under attack, and I could not think. My control was shattered and I could not function.” To her horror tears began to leak out of her eyes, right in front of the Eldest Mother herself. Could her humiliation be any more profound? {“Was he not there with thee child?”} T'Para tried to soothe her. {“Did he not also endure these things? He knows the burdens that thou bore. Together thee and thy adun have survived much. He will forgive thee.”} “He was with me, and he saw me. He saw what I became.” T'Pol choked and stopped pacing. She stood and gripped her hands tightly together, trying not to break down completely. “When I fled into hiding, Trip came to find me and remind me of my duty. When I tried to flee the ship, to escape from the crushing weight of the responsibility I could no longer carry, it was Trip who stopped me.” Her voice cracked. “He asked me, Eldest Mother,” her voice trailed away until it was almost inaudible, “he asked me what was wrong with me. I looked at him and I wanted to tell him, so that he would kill me for breaking faith with all of them.” Her tears began to trickle in steady streams. “But I could not.” T'Para closed her eyes and turned her head. When T'Pol's breathing finally steadied she looked back. The younger woman's eyes were green and her cheeks were irritated from rubbing. T'Para reverted to modern speech. “Do you have so little respect for him? Do you believe him to be stupid?” “Of course he is not stupid,” T'Pol sniffled. “He is as intelligent as any man I have ever known.” “Then how can you think that he does not already know you are hiding something from him?” T'Para shook her head. “It is your fear that has caused you to be the one who is acting stupidly child. You expect to drive him away with the truth? Yet you are withholding the truth, and where is he now? I do not see him here. Has not your deception already driven him away?” T'Pol's shoulders sagged. “I cannot face him. I cannot endure the look in his eyes when he learns what I did,” she whispered miserably. “There is no escaping this T'Pol,” T'Para sternly lectured her, “Trip must know this for his own safety. How can he judge his own behavior until he learns to determine how much of what he feels is coming from within himself, and how much is coming from you? Will you continue to hide this from him until one day his control snaps completely and he kills someone? What will you tell him then, as he awaits execution?” T'Pol stood like a statue carved from pale jade. “Will you permit T'Lissa to remain here while I seek my adun?” “Certainly daughter,” T'Para said matter-of-factly. “I am ancient, not deceased. Caring for an infant is not yet beyond my ability. Bring Trip back here so that the three of you can stay for a time. I will train your husband in reaching the more advanced levels of meditation. It should assist him.” “That will be helpful,” T'Pol told her gratefully. “I do not anticipate that Trip will permit me to offer further assistance once I have told him. It will be most agreeable to know that he has access to a skilled teacher who can help him.” “Do not anticipate difficulties that have not yet arisen, T'Pol,” T'Para chided her. “I suspect that your prediction is based almost entirely on your own fear, rather than a logical extrapolation of your adun's character. Cast out fear, daughter. Nothing can be done until you first cast out fear.” “I shall attempt to do so, Eldest Mother,” T'Pol inclined her head, hollow-eyed. “But the effort is proving quite challenging.” She turned and headed for the door. “Do not attempt to tell him until you have returned together T'Pol,” T'Para advised. “It will be best to deal with this in the privacy of family.” “Yes, Eldest Mother,” T'Pol said dully. Her eyes were far away. She opened the door and walked through, leaving the Eldest Mother looking down at the half asleep baby. “It is so simple for you, is it not?” she mused. “You love them, and you accept them as they are. If only your elders could remember the wisdom they held when they were your age.” -&- Captain Archer pressed the comm button. “Yes, Hoshi?” “Incoming secured transmission from Admiral Gardner, Sir.” “Thanks, I'll take it in here.” He switched on the monitor and watched Gardner's face coalesce. “Admiral, what can I do for you, Sir?” “Hello, Jon. Got a couple of jobs for you. I hope you are in the mood for another visit to Vulcan,” Gardner said. “Certainly, Sir,” Archer responded. “I hope it means we will have a chance to visit Trip and T'Pol while we are there. I am eager to get a peek at how they are coming on those warp six plans.” “You and me both, Captain,” Gardner told him. “And you most definitely will be seeing them. That is the primary reason for the visit. It seems that for some reason they want Doctor Phlox to take over as personal physician again for the Tucker child, at least temporarily.” “Is something wrong?” Archer leaned forward, suddenly worried. Gardner shook his head and held up a hand. “That was the first thing I asked, too. Apparently not. For some reason Commander Tucker and Lady T'Pol made this a personal request, but it wasn't based on medical reasons. Naturally we expect you to find out why when you get there. Actually the official request came from Chief Minister T'Pau, but she made it plain that she was speaking on their behalf. Not that we have any objections to helping out, especially in a case like this. But I'm sure they wouldn't have requested detouring a starship without a good reason.” “I will certainly get with Trip as soon as we arrive, Admiral,” Archer promised. “Good enough,” Gardner told him. “The second matter is not as pleasant. Since you are going to Vulcan anyway, we want you to run back this way first to pick up a body for delivery to next of kin in the Vulcan city of Ka'Dahr. One of Ambassador Soval's staff was unfortunate enough...” Gardner stopped and looked queasy. “Admiral?” Archer said after a minute. “He ran into a hornet's nest and was stung to death,” Gardner said bluntly. Archer flinched and looked away. “About as horrible a way to die as I can imagine. Apparently Vulcans are especially susceptible to hornet venom, which I never knew before. His widow and their priest are accompanying the casket back to Vulcan. They will need strict isolation during the trip Jon. Quarters as close as possible to the place where the body will be stored, since as I understand it they will spend most of their waking hours sitting watch and meditating.” “Understood, Sir,” Archer told him sadly. “I believe we can provide the appropriate environment.” “Good,” Gardner sighed. “They specifically requested you, Jon, if you were available. It seemed to comfort the lady a little. I guess because of what happened on Vulcan when you helped find that copy of Surak's original writings.” Captain Archer exhaled slowly. It was probably never going to go away completely. He had carried the katra of Surak, and that was that. Sometimes even now he could feel faint tugs and tingles, especially when he was at the point just between waking and sleeping. And his dreams had never been the same since he left Vulcan. Lingering memories would pop into his head at the oddest times. Like just now. When Gardner mentioned sitting watch with the body, he had a flash vision of the proper arrangement for the candles and incense. “You are most likely right, Admiral,” Archer admitted. “I will try to help any way I can. We will set course for Earth immediately. From our current position,” he craned his neck to double check the last log notation, “our ETA is approximately two days.” “Good enough, Jon. We will see you then. Gardner out.” The screen went black. Archer sat back and started rubbing his chin. He considered several options. Then he keyed the comm button again. “Archer to Lieutenant Commander Reed. Report to my ready room.” -&- Trip pulled himself out of the water and sat on the edge of the pool, winded. It felt good. Ten laps of the Olympic sized pool as fast as he could chop through the water had done wonders for his mood. His arms and legs were totally numb and he could barely breathe now, but he felt better. The endorphins from violent exercise were better than most booze when it came to calming a man down, and not nearly as hard on the liver. After panting like a dog for a few minutes he staggered to his feet and went into the locker room in search of a towel. Trip wiped his face off, stripped and threw his trunks and towel into the recycle hamper on his way to the showers. A long, hot shower soothed even more of the aches away and he came out almost floating with weariness. His sand suit was finished with its cleaning cycle by the time he got himself air dried. Trip ordered a new set of disposable socks and underwear from the dispenser, slid into the suit, and yanked on his ankle high boots. Now what? He sat on the locker room bench and pondered the matter. T'Pol had stopped sending him calls to return shortly after he arrived at the compound. From then on, only intermittent flickers told him she was still keeping track of him. Feeling a touch guilty, Trip decided to call T'Para's home and let his wife know where he was and that he was feeling better. “Straighten up and act like a grown man, Charles Tucker,” he mocked himself. “It isn't like you have never been with other women before. She was married to the S.O.B. They had a right to be together, like it or not. It was none of your business then, and it is none of your business now. So get over it. They divorced, she is married to you now, and that is what counts.” He shook himself and straightened his shoulders. The public comm unit was just over there. The privacy booth was made from sound deadening transparent aluminum, just like the ports on Enterprise. He sat down in front of the unit. Then he slapped his forehead briskly. He had never bothered to memorize T'Para's code. No problem, that was what directories were for. He called up the listings and requested an English translation. The system spat and grumbled and finally popped up a grid map of the city, with house listings cross referenced to location. Okey dokey. Now where was her house located? Trip had no idea. This was starting to get embarrassing. He could always call the Starfleet liaison office and have them look it up and connect it, but he would feel like a fool. No, he would run a search by her name instead. There were a total of 2,457 T'Para's in the directory. Great. “Eeeny Meeeny Miney Moe. Which old granny do I know?” Aside from location, the names were also cross-listed by spouse and clan affiliation. Aha! He knew T'Pol's clan name, she had told it to him the morning of the gathering. It was... Sh'...something. Trip scratched his head. He set his chin stubbornly. There was more than one way to skin a gerbil. Trip input a search request for 'Tucker, Charles' and immediately got his own listing. Then he did a reverse lookup for his code and got both his and T'Pol's I.D.'s. There it was. Her clan name was actually Sh’hiran’lin’iijyliunh’rei’iy’iukn’hy’wen’lhia’ehrm’n. He sat and looked at it for a few seconds, shaking his head in disbelief. Hearing it was intimidating enough. But seeing it like that in black and white was almost staggering. Oh well, he shrugged. He keyed in a request for T'Para, Eldest Mother of clan You-can't-be-serious. In seconds the comm signal was going through. “T'Para here.” “Eldest Mother?” Trip cleared his throat. “This is Trip. Is T'Pol there?” “Trip. I am surprised to find you employing such a mundane option for communication. I have been keeping watch on the windows, roof, and drainage pipes ever since you left, expecting that you might appear at any moment.” Trip felt his face turning crimson. “I... uh... I hope I... mean I... is T'Pol there?” he asked desperately. “Not yet.” Trip was puzzled. “Not yet? You mean she left?” “Trip, how much less ambiguous could my answer have been? I said, not yet. Therefore the only logical conclusion that you could have reached would be that she has left and not yet returned.” Trip pinched the bridge of his nose. “When I said that, I was really asking where she went, T'Para.” Silence on the line for a moment. Then, “That may well be the most remarkably illogical way of asking that question that I have ever heard in my long life. To answer it, she has gone seeking you.” Trip hung his head. “Figures. Is T'Lissa still there?” “Affirmative.” “Thank you for watching her. I apologize again. In fact, I should just print up a sheaf of standard apologies and keep them with me at all times. That way whenever I see you I can just pass out the appropriate number for whatever I may have done since the last time we saw each other. It will make life simpler.” “A logical and efficient suggestion. But it would deprive me of the satisfaction of hearing your voice quaver. I suggest that you go meet your wife. Then bring her back here. She has something to tell you. The three of you will be spending the next several nights here.” “We will? Why?” Trip asked uneasily. “Because I said you will young man. I have already had a difficult day because of you two, don't even consider making it any more so. Talk to T'Pol and get her calmed down. Then come back here to eat something and begin your training. And don't give me any argument. T'Para out.” A click sounded, and the connection went dead. Trip pursed his lips and nodded. He remembered his father's sage advice from years gone by, after returning from a family reunion. “Mother-in-laws are tough enough. Don't even think about arguing with a granny-in-law.” Trip raised himself tiredly and walked over to the ever popular coffee shop to wait for T'Pol. -&- He was propped in a corner at a table somewhere. The impression faded, but T'Pol managed to detect the bitter taste of coffee. She knew where to find him. She also knew he was expecting her, that much had come through the connection. He was waiting. His emotions were sealed from her. She concentrated on her breathing exercises. The embassy guard met her and politely requested identification. She complied, providing her documentation and submitting to scans without comment. “Welcome, Ma'am,” the young man said respectfully. “Please come in.” T'Pol passed into the interior of the Human compound's enclosed mall, automatically adjusting her metabolic rate to compensate for the temperature drop. Humans and Vulcans passed in both directions, some walking briskly, some dawdling. The coffee shop was 500 meters ahead. She could see Trip sitting at a corner table, watching through the wide doorway as she approached. Each step was harder to take than the last. It did not matter what the Eldest Mother said, T'Pol was convinced in her own mind that this conversation would destroy her adun's love for her. Even if he chose to remain with them for T'Lissa's sake, nothing would ever be the same again. Terror more pure than anything she had ever known filled her veins with ice, settled into her bones, coated her skin like slime. It took her fifteen minutes to walk the 500 meters. When she got to the coffee shop doorway Trip stood up and offered a smile. “I got you some tea, hun.” He waved at the table. T'Pol sat down solemnly, as stiff as a machine. Trip looked wary and resumed his chair. “I'm sorry about the way I reacted. I really am. There is no excuse for it, I know that. I am going to try to put more effort into the meditation you taught me-” “Trip. Stop.” She was trembling. “Don't.” He shut up and looked down at the table, nodding. “I understand. You are too mad at me right now.” T'Pol wanted to die. She literally wished to end her life then and there. “It was my fault,” she rasped out. “I am the cause.” The steel mug bent between her fingers. Trip sighed and put a hand on hers. The touch of her adun's skin energized the bond tenfold. Trip's emotional blockade shredded and T'Pol could feel his sorrow and tired sympathy. “I think we both overreacted a little maybe. But I had no business bolting out of there the way I did. That was childish and stupid. I am so sorry honey. I never wanted to hurt T'Lissa,” he stopped and swallowed hard. “Is she ok now?” T'Pol nodded quickly. “She is fine. She was almost asleep when I left.” Buying time, she lifted the mug to take a sip. Hot tea caressed her throat, but did not thaw the icy fear in her katra. “Trip, I must confess something to you.” “Can I go first? Please?” Trip interrupted with quiet urgency. “I need to say this before I lose my nerve.” T'Pol stopped, at a loss for how to respond. Taking her silence for assent, he continued. “I have been acting like a stupid teenager about Koss. I realize that. I can't undo what happened at the gathering, I wish I could. Looking back I can't believe I really pulled a knife on the sonuvabitch. I haven't been that hot headed since I was fifteen.” He flushed and looked away for a second. Then he turned his eyes back to hers again. “And today was absolutely inexcusable. I had no right to get upset, T'Pol. You were lawfully married. What you did together with your husband was none of my business. What matters is here and now. And that's all that matters to me. You, me, and T'Lissa. Please don't give up on me. I am trying my best to adjust to things here, and I will keep on trying to learn how to do it better.” Trip stopped and waited hopefully. T'Pol felt his sincerity through the bond. He truly believed that he was at fault for everything that had happened, and feared that she would judge him harshly. The bitter irony of it would have made her laugh and cry at the same time, if only she dared. She stared at him weakly and managed, “You were reacting to my emotions Trip.” “I know,” he told her, “but you wouldn't have been so upset if I hadn't reacted like a jealous adolescent.” Her steel tea mug crumpled in her hand like styrofoam. “Will you listen?” she whispered shrilly. Trip drew back in surprise and nodded. T'Pol swallowed several times and wet her lips. “Trip, I am damaged.” She took half a dozen fast breaths. “I told you about the Pa'anar, and that T'Pau used things she had learned from the ancient teachings to cure me.” “Yeah, I remember,” he replied, carefully watching her. “But I did not tell you,” she stopped and fought back a whimper, “I did not tell you that,” she looked down at the table, “that I am still damaged from the trellium exposure in the Expanse. And I always will be. Phlox says that the neural degradation is permanent.” She waited, still looking down at the table. Suddenly she felt his hands pressing against her cheeks, and he lifted her face to look at him. Trip's eyes were brimming with pain and grieving love. “Why didn't you tell me honey? Why? You have been dealing with this alone for all this time? This hurts that you didn't tell me this. No wonder you have been shaky. Let me help you, that's what I am here for. Don't you trust me?” T'Pol closed her eyes and fled into the refuge of the deepest kohlinar disciplines she could reach without prior meditation. Trip watched her breathing patterns change and waited while she steadied herself, knowing that she needed a few minutes before she could answer him. A lot was coming clear to him now. Her mood swings, her flashes of uncharacteristic anger, her brooding silences. Many things started making sense all of a sudden. Then it hit him, what she had been trying to tell him. Her emotions were leaking across the bond and firing him up. That was why he got so riled up at Koss. He wanted to scalp the goat humping son of a coyote anyway. With T'Pol's Vulcan emotions running amok, his Human adrenaline had activated the fight or flight mode and he almost went for blood right then and there. Uh-oh. This was maybe not looking real good. T'Para said something about training? Trip hoped she meant that she could help them out with this. T'Pol pulled herself back out of the darkness. Trip was still holding her face in his hands, ignoring the looks they were getting. Humans customers glancing across the room looked curious, Vulcans were scandalized. She ignored them both. It would probably be the last time he willingly touched her and she desperately wanted to prolong the moment. T'Pol put her hands over her husband's, holding his contact against her face for just a few seconds longer. It was time. Her anguish crept across the bond and caused him to lean forward, looking worried. “Trip, I did not tell you because I was ashamed. I did it to myself.” There. It was done. She waited for him to shove her away. Instead he looked mightily puzzled, as if she had just declared her intention to plant dandelions in her boots. “Say what?” Trip blurted. “You did what to yourself? The trellium? How?” T'Pol had to push out each individual word by sheer force of will. “After the Seleya, when Phlox released me from sickbay, for a few days there was a residual effect. It took almost three days for the last of the trellium to flush itself out of my system.” Trip blinked. “OK. But you didn't do that to yourself. I still don't follow.” T'Pol wanted to scream in frustration. “Just listen, Trip. Please. I can only say this once. It is too hard for me. I have wanted to tell you this for a year, and I will never have the courage to say it again. Please, just listen?” He nodded. “For those days I noticed a strange difference in the way my mind operated. My emotions were still unstable. But as the trellium subsided I gradually began to gain control over them. After a time, just before the last of the trellium left my system, I found that I was able to experience the full range of emotions. But they did not cause me to lose control.” She looked helplessly at him. “Do you understand what I am saying, Trip? I could feel them, but I could still think. I could still control myself. The trellium let me operate the way you do, the way Humans do. I could feel my emotions and still retain control of myself.” Trip started to understand. She could feel understanding begin to seep into the bond, and feel it start to darken his eyes. She could feel his anger kindle. Just as she had known it would. “Weeks later, when you tried to experiment with methods for coating one of the shuttle pods with trellium, do you remember how I was accidentally exposed at one point?” T'Pol saw him run through his memory of that time period. “Yeah,” he finally said. “We were coming out of the shuttle bay and heading for decon, and for some reason you had been down to engineering talking to Hess. We didn't know you were down there, and nobody had warned you that we were working with the stuff. Everybody was so punch drunk from pulling triple shifts that it just got overlooked I guess.” He pulled his hands back and T'Pol felt her heart wrench, although she offered no objection. Trip rubbed his forehead and finished recalling, “We walked around a corner and ran right into you. The dust on our uniforms flew up in a cloud and you started coughing. Scared the shit out of all of us.” “Doctor Phlox put me through decontamination procedures in sickbay in time to avoid serious exposure,” T'Pol told him. “But there was some slight residue that entered my lungs and eyes. Only microscopic traces, but it was enough to replicate the sensations I had experienced previously. Once again, I could experience emotions without losing control.” “And you liked it so well that you decided it was worth frying your brain to get that way again,” he said between tightly clenched teeth. “Yes.” They sat and looked at each other. “How long did you keep it up?” He finally asked her. “Until Azati Prime,” she confessed. “You stopped after that?” “Not by choice.” T'Pol wrung her hands and looked down. “When the ship was attacked, the cargo bay where the trellium was kept became damaged. I could not reach it and went into withdrawal. I ordered-” She stopped talking when Trip's fist hit the table like a sledgehammer. T'Pol looked up in panic to see his face almost purple with blood and pulsing with anger. Her worst fears had come true. “So that's why you were acting crazy,” he growled. “The ship was falling apart around our ears, the Xindi were howling up our asses, half the crew was bleeding to death, the captain was captured and being tortured, and you were shaking yourself to pieces because you needed your fix.” Trip's voice gradually rose and coarsened as he leaned forward over the table into T'Pol's face. She shuddered but didn't run. “Is there some problem?” The two Vulcan men stood politely, but implacably, beside the table. From their clothing they were probably some type of government bureaucrats. Ordinarily not the type to barge in on a private conversation under any circumstances. But protecting a Vulcan woman from an obviously out of control Human took priority over custom any day. Unfortunately for them, out of all the days they could have chosen to be knights in shining armor, this was the worst one they could possibly have picked. Trip was in the mood to break something, and those two looked just about perfect. T'Pol didn't even have time to shout a warning. Trip exploded out of his chair and landed a powerful right cross directly into the pit of the shorter Vulcan's belly. Three months of daily weight training under Vulcan gravity had put steel into Trip's already solid muscles, and the blow sent the astonished civil servant reeling backward into an adjacent table. The second man stepped forward quickly and reached for Trip's shoulder to apply a nerve pinch. Trip blocked his arm and squatted, sweeping his leg around behind his opponent's knee and depositing him neatly on the floor. Then he bellowed like a bull and leaped. The Vulcan rolled frantically, barely managing to dodge in time. Trip's boots slammed hard on the floor, directly on the spot where the Vulcan's ribcage had been two seconds ago. T'Pol sprang like a cat and landed on her husband's back. She grabbed his temples and poured everything she had into the bond, urgently trying to compel Trip to stop. Instead, he twisted and flung her off with one arm and sent her flying through the air, knocking over their table and slamming into the wall hard enough to leave her breathless. His mind was dark, and hot, and completely beyond her reach. Her news had pushed him into fury, and the onset of battle had driven him past fury, into berserker madness. “Halt!” The security guard at the entrance to the shop held a phase pistol steady on Trip. “Commander. Stop it right now. Don't make me stun you.” Trip looked up at this new enemy and skinned his teeth. Then he charged. The guard pressed the stud and a beam stabbed Trip in the center of the torso, sending him staggering to his knees. For a moment more he tried to crawl forward, then finally collapsed onto his face into unconsciousness. |
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