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"Father to the Man" By Blackn’blue
Rating: PG Caveat Emptor: It's free. If narrow minded, politically incorrect propaganda offends you, then go away. Note: Vulcan terms used in this story were stolen wholesale either from the Vulcan Language Dictionary, or the novel Spock's World. Either that, or I made them up myself. A/N: T'Pau's ability as demonstrated in this section is canon, based on Spock's 'making a suggestion' in TOS (although he didn't do it exactly in the same way). I justify having T'Pau being willing to do it based on old T'Pau's attitude as displayed in Amok Time, and by her being described as 'utterly ruthless in the application of her logic' in VOY. Also by the way she made a cold blooded decision to allow T'Pol to be captured, in order to buy time for her and Archer to escape from the soldiers in the Forge. Part 5: Phlox went over the data once more. Remarkable. Kerlek had done a fine job of quantifying the percentage of drift. This would put the point at somewhere between 50-70,000 years. Phlox scratched his brow in puzzlement. That made no sense at all. None whatsoever. Unless... No. That was most unlikely. Wasn't it? He hummed to himself. This was turning out to be a remarkably engrossing bit of serendipity. This sort of thing happened occasionally during cross-species research, but the probability was statistically almost negligible. The 'what' started to become obvious once baby Elizabeth's genome map was completely documented. The supplemental samples that Kerlek had taken from T'Pol and Trip confirmed it beyond any reasonable doubt. However, the 'who', 'when', 'how' and 'why' remained a dark mystery and would likely remain so. The only evidence was no doubt long gone into the dust of millennia. “Bridge to Doctor Phlox. Please report to docking bay three.” “Ah,” he muttered to himself, “time to greet our passengers.” Phlox got up and ambled through the sickbay doors, still musing about the comparative genetic analysis. When they published this, it was going to send shock waves from Andoria to Kronos. How incredibly ironic that it was Terra Prime's own actions that brought about the discovery. The good doctor found Captain Archer waiting at the docking port, with Lieutenant Commander Reed and a formal honor guard in dress uniforms. At the captain's nod, Reed pushed the airlock button. The two Vulcan's on the other side wore the deep, concealing robes of mourning. Archer stepped into the gap between the double line of guards and offered the salute, accompanied by the proper words in flawless Vulcan. “Welcome aboard Enterprise,” Archer told them, “we grieve with you. I am Jonathan Archer. This is my second in command, Malcolm Reed, and my medical officer, Doctor Phlox.” The taller figure pulled his hood back to reveal an aged Vulcan male with thinning silver hair and a deeply lined face. He returned Archer's salute. “Live long and prosper, Captain Archer. I am Keval, son of Genner. My companion is Lady Selera, daughter of T'Prun.” “We have prepared quarters for both of you,” Archer told them. “Cargo bay two has been made ready to receive the body of Lady Selera's bond mate. Candles and incense have been provided, along with basins for the ceremonial cleansing. If anything else is required, someone will be available at all times. Simply make your needs known and it will be provided.” In compliance with tradition, Archer avoided speaking the name of the deceased in the presence of his wife when it could be avoided. “You and your crew honor us, Captain,” Keval bowed slightly. He turned and gestured. Two Vulcan crewmen pushed a coffin through the opening, gliding smoothly on a platform floating above the floor. As the platform came through the opening and entered Enterprise's artificial gravity field the neutralizers, set for Vulcan normal gravity, caused the sarcophagus to tip upward slightly. The first two members of the honor guard caught the hand grips smoothly and guided it reverently along, passing it gently to the next pair of MACOs, who in turn handed off to the third pair. Finally the intricately carved box leveled off in the corridor, flanked on each side by three MACOs standing at attention. Reed pressed the button to close the airlock, then did a sharp about face and snapped an order. The group started marching with slow steps, followed by Archer and Phlox escorting the two Vulcans. -&- Trip came drifting out of the fog slowly. A voice from a vast distance faintly said, “He will be fully conscious soon.” Trip wondered who they were talking about. A second voice, obviously male, asked gruffly, “Will he be coherent?” “Certainly,” the first replied, now identifiable as a young woman. “The only lingering effect from the stun should be a headache. I will go inform his wife that he is regaining consciousness.” “I will need to speak with him alone first,” the man ordered. Trip frowned. “I'm sorry sir, but regulations are clear. Next of kin are to be notified immediately when the patient is awakened. Now if you will excuse me.” There was a distant tapping that dissipated into the grayness of Trip's mind and silence for a while. Slowly the world started to brighten in front of his eyes, then took on shades of pastel color. Finally shadowy shapes started to form. Trip closed his eyes tightly and then blinked rapidly several times. The world cleared and showed him Vice-Admiral Constantine Jendaro standing at the foot of the bed. Trip groaned quietly to himself. It all came back to him at once. Goodbye commission. Hello stockade. Assault and battery on Vulcan civilians. Conduct unbecoming an officer. Etcetera, etcetera, ad nauseum. The list of crimes he was charged with was probably as long as Malcolm's litany of complaints about the targeting sensors. The icing on the cake was having Jendaro himself show up to put the noose around his neck. The Vice-Admiral had never made a secret of his resentment at having Admiral Gardner usurp his authority, as he saw it, by putting Trip on detached assignment on Vulcan but leaving him under direct command of Starfleet HQ on Earth. Trip was certain that he detected a gleam of unholy joy in the old fart's eye as he stood there, while giving an otherwise flawless imitation of bitter disappointment. “I see that you have chosen to rejoin us, Commander Tucker,” Jendaro said flatly. “I trust that you had a restful sleep? Nothing like a good nap after some vigorous exercise to make a man feel energized, is there, Commander?” Trip slid up in bed to a sitting position. “Hello, Admiral. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” Trip glibly faked a nonchalant air of innocent curiosity. His attempt at levity fell flat with a dull and sodden thud. “I have come to inform you of your pending court martial, Commander,” Jendaro told him with relish. “I wanted you to be the first to know. Ambassador Trask himself insisted that the disgraceful attack you made on Administrator V'nal and his assistant be punished swiftly and decisively. Don't think your political cronies are going to pull your chestnuts out of the fire this time, Commander. I don't care how much pull Captain Archer has. It doesn't even matter what Admiral Gardner might want. This is coming directly from the Ambassador himself.” “I see,” Trip sighed. “Well, it could have been worse.” He finished the thought, “At least I didn't kill anyone.” Jendaro looked at him as if he had just grown brow ridges. “Could have been worse? You just destroyed your career, Tucker. You have disgraced yourself, your family, your name. You have caused an interspecies incident that may result in serious repercussions between Earth and Vulcan, and you say it could have been worse? How could it have been worse?” “You are exaggerating Vice-Admiral,” a new voice broke in. Both men turned to see T'Pau and T'Pol entering the embassy clinic, flanked by the Chief Minister's ubiquitous and huge bodyguards. T'Pau continued, “There will be no repercussions because there will be no interspecies incident. I have already spoken with Ambassador Trask. At my request, he has agreed to drop all charges against Commander Tucker. You should be receiving a message from him to that effect at any moment.” Jendaro swelled up and seemed about to burst from indignation. “You can't do that, Chief Minister. I don't understand why you would want to do that in the first place. But in any event, you can't. You don't have the right to interfere with an internal Starfleet disciplinary matter. Plus, Commander Tucker does not work for the diplomatic corps, he works for Starfleet. Ambassador Trask does not have authority to drop the charges.” “That is why he will be contacting you,” T'Pau pointed out. “So that you can take care of the formalities.” Jendaro clenched his teeth. “I cannot do that, madam. I am sorry, but my duty is clear. Commander Tucker has broken our laws and he must be punished. T'Pol walked over to Trip's bedside with extreme trepidation. He sat there and looked up at his wife, wondering what he could possibly say to her. “I threw her into a wall. First I scared T'Lissa. Then I went completely crazy and I threw T'Pol into a wall. I need to get away from both of them, to keep them safe. I can't be trusted anymore. Jendaro is right. At least in a stockade I won't be a danger to my own family.” T'Pol felt his guilt and impulsively reached for him. Trip flinched when she touched his hand, but didn't pull away. “I'm sorry, T'Pol,” he whispered. “I'm so sorry.” “Hush,” she told him. “Be still, Ashayam. All will be well.” T'Pau was regarding Vice-Admiral Jendaro with a calculating look. “You may attempt to hold your court martial if you wish. But you will be wasting your time. You will not convict Commander Tucker of any crime.” “I beg to differ, Chief Minister," Jendaro said smugly. "We have multiple eye witnesses. Two of your own people were his victims. T'Pau raised a sardonic eyebrow. “If I may paraphrase your own words, Administrator V'nal and Assistant Administrator Straan do not work for Starfleet, they work for me. They will not be pressing charges. They will not testify at any court martial you may choose to convene. No Vulcan who was present during the events in question will testify.” Jendaro started to steam. “I see. Well then Chief Minister, we still have multiple Human eye witnesses to Commander Tucker's reprehensible behavior.” “Indeed,” T'Pau responded blandly. “And if they were on the planet their testimony might prove damaging to Commander Tucker. However any Human who agrees to testify against Commander Tucker will be summarily deported from Vulcan without notice by unanimous emergency order of the High Council.” Jendaro's face slowly slackened and he fell backward a step. “You wouldn't?” He stared in disbelief. “Most assuredly we would. And we will.” T'Pau told him. “I submit that your most logical course of action would be to comply with the request of your own ambassador and drop the charges.” Jendaro stood and glared at her. “If necessary, I will arrange for Commander Tucker to be transported back to Earth for trial. Tucker is a citizen of Earth and a Starfleet officer, and he is required to comply with the standards inherent to those positions. This embassy is under the jurisdiction of Earth law. Would you allow one of your own people to break your laws with impunity?" “He's right T'Pau,” Trip broke in abruptly. Five heads turned to stare at him. “I did the crime, I should do the time. I was really out of control. It is nothing but sheer luck that I didn't kill anyone. I need to be put somewhere safe, so I don't hurt anyone else.” Jendaro was staggered for a second, but he recovered quickly. “I must say, Commander, that you have just redeemed a significant amount of respect in my eyes. That is the kind of statement that I would have expected from one of the heroes of the Xindi conflict. Since you are willing to confess we can dispense with the distasteful exposure of a public trial. I see no reason to put you through that type of humiliation now.” “You were not responsible for what happened, Trip,” T'Pol said urgently. “I told you what was happening. I explained it to you. Don't you remember?” “I remember throwing you into a wall,” Trip said bitterly, looking away. “I remember turning into a wild animal.” “It wasn't your fault!” T'Pol reached over and grabbed both of his hands tightly. “I did it to you. I was so upset that I lost control. When the two men came over and interrupted us, I became enraged that they would dare to intrude on our privacy. My rage fed on the anger you were already feeling and ignited it. It wasn't your fault,” she pleaded with him to understand. “I don't understand,” Jendaro said. “Are you saying that you instigated the attack Lady T'Pol?” “I am,” T'Pol told him. “My husband was not responsible for his actions. He was incapable of controlling himself.” “Why not?” Jendaro demanded. “Was he drugged?” The two women looked at each other. Trip broke in, “She is just trying to make excuses for me Admiral. Pay no attention. I am a big boy, and I can take responsibility for my own actions. Go ahead and bring me the paperwork. I will plead guilty and we can get this over with.” “No.” T'Pol said sharply. “Admiral, you are aware of Vulcan telepathic abilities?” “Of course,” Jendaro said warily. “You may not be aware that married Vulcan couples share a telepathic connection that we call a mating bond.” Jendaro's eyes widened. “Since my husband is Human, our mating bond is somewhat atypical. He is currently suffering from unanticipated side effects caused by the bond. One such side effect caused him to lose control in the coffee shop. It was entirely due to my influence, and completely beyond Trip's ability to resist.” Jendaro rubbed his chin. “I am afraid I can't simply take your word for something like this, Lady T'Pol. Unless you can offer proof, I don't believe that it will make any difference in this case.” “Really?” T'Pau looked bemused. “In that case,” she stepped forward, “we must provide proof.” Her hand flashed forward and landed on Jendaro's temple, fingertips spread across to the proper contact points while her eyes locked onto his. Jendaro's face became rigid, and he stared into T'Pau's eyes as her mind bored into his without remorse. “What are you doing?” Trip shouted. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and started to get up, ignoring the fact that he was in his underwear. T'Pol grabbed his shoulders and held him back. “Providing Admiral Jendaro with the proof he requires,” T'Pau muttered in a distracted voice. She did not look away or move a muscle. After a moment Jendaro's right hand twitched. Slowly it raised to shoulder height and flattened. Then his fingers spread out into the Vulcan salute and held steady. His lips writhed across his clenched teeth while his breath came hard and fast. Then he vented a strangled sob. Suddenly he whimpered, “Sochya Eh Dif” with his teeth bared in a snarl. T'Pau snatched her hand away and took a quick step backward. Her bodyguards took an equally quick step forward to stand at her shoulders, leaving Jendaro with no recourse but to take it and glare. “You see, Admiral?” T'Pau said with perfect aplomb, “An untrained Human mind is incapable of resisting the influence of telepathic manipulation. You made a powerful effort, and I am sure that with time and training you could learn to defend yourself. But without that time and training you were no more able to control your actions than Commander Tucker was.” Jendaro's eyes darted back and forth. “This is what she did to Tucker?” he demanded of T'Pau. “The same thing you just did to me?” “No,” T'Pau said with more than a trace of smugness. “The mating bond is inherently deeper and more intimate than the brief connection I made with your mind. The influence that she had over him was many times more powerful.” Jendaro stared at her, then he turned to look at T'Pol with horror. He shifted his gaze toward Trip and shook his head. A shadow of something like pity came into his eyes. “I see. In that case, I will comply with Ambassador Trask's request. The charges will be dropped.” He took a hesitant step toward the bed. “Commander, I... if you need... assistance. Do not hesitate to ask. We take care of our own. You know that.” Four sets of Vulcan eyebrows levitated as Trip looked taken aback. “Uh... thanks. I will keep that in mind, Admiral.” Jendaro nodded and turned to leave, not looking too steady. Trip looked dazed. “I can't believe you did that.” He stared at T'Pau. “I can NOT believe you did that!” “It was the only logical course of action, Trip,” T'Pau said with a poker face. “Bringing you to trial would have discredited our ongoing investigation into V'Rald's corruption. In addition it would have potentially caused lasting harm to both T'Pol and T'Lissa as well. The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the one.” “No,” he shook his head. “The logical course of action would be to have me incarcerated somewhere secure before I kill someone. That's the logical thing to do.” “You are not going to kill anyone, Trip,” T'Pol said, clutching both his hands tightly. “T'Para is going to train you in the advanced meditation disciplines, so that you can learn to block my destabilizing emotions. She is going to work with both of us to learn how to handle this.” “And what is T'Para going to do if I blow up while I am there?” Trip demanded. “What happens if I lose it sometime when I am alone with the old lady? She wouldn't have a chance. Shit, T'Pol!” His voice rose in volume and pitch, “I almost killed you! I threw you into a WALL!” “You did not throw me into a wall, Trip Tucker,” T'Pol chided him in exasperation. “I jumped on your back, and you twisted to fling me off. In the first place you had no way of knowing who had jumped on your back. All you knew was that suddenly, someone had jumped on you from behind. In the second place, you just wanted me to get off, you were not trying to hurt me. In the third place you did not harm me at all, I was completely uninjured.” “But you could have been,” Trip insisted. “It's not safe for me to be around you and the baby, T'Pol. It's not safe for me to be around anyone who can't defend themselves.” “I am certainly capable of defending myself,” T'Pol huffed. “Then why didn't you?” Trip retorted. “Why didn't you rabbit punch me, or nerve pinch me, or hit me upside the head with a mug?” T'Pol opened her mouth but nothing came out. Why hadn't she? The plain fact was, it never occurred to her. The very concept of using violence against her own mate was anathema to any Vulcan. It was literally unthinkable. “You see?” Trip said defiantly. “I need to be confined somewhere and watched.” “Agreed,” T'Pau unexpectedly cut in. T'Pol turned to glare at her, but softened when she went on to say, “I will arrange to have a bodyguard assigned to T'Para's residence at all times. Will that ease your concerns, Trip? He will keep watch. If you exhibit any signs of dangerous behavior, he will not hesitate to stun you immediately.” Trip paused with his mouth open. Then he closed it and nodded. “Maybe that would work,” he admitted. “IF he was trained and prepared.” “He will be an experienced operative from the Security Directorate,” T'Pau assured him. “Since it is standard practice for T'Lissa to be guarded in any case, I see no reason to change existing policy.” Trip flushed and realized he had been scammed. T'Pol felt a wicked impulse to smile. -&- Crewman Gonzales was sweating heavily. It wasn't because of Chicago's December wind, that was for sure. He turned yet another corner, ducked into the next alley, and waited with his heart pounding. There was no sign of the guy. Maybe he really was an innocent pedestrian who just happened to be heading in the same direction for a couple of blocks. Maybe. Louis tried to steady his breathing. This game was starting to get too nerve wracking. It was one thing to play James Bond aboard Enterprise when all he had to do was observe and make semi-regular reports. It was something else entirely now. It had been bad enough when the bosses started making noises about having Matty and him knock off Commander Tucker. Crap, that would have been almost impossible to get away with. But they lucked out of that one. This one was different. This one most likely was going to get them both killed. What was Moreno thinking? Crewman Louis Gonzales was not a coward by any means, but neither was he a man who took chances for the sheer joy of it. He liked to calculate his risks. He wanted to know in advance what he was going up against, so that he could plan and prepare. He didn't mind risks, but he did mind stupid risks. Gonzales suspected that Moreno was desperate for something, anything, that would impress people with Terra Prime's importance again. Ever since Cantrell's fortress got hit, and the whole top level of bosses got sliced, Moreno had been scrambling to hang onto his position. There was only one real reason that he was still the titular head of Terra Prime. The other candidates were still too busy killing each other off to bother with him. But the clock was ticking fast and Moreno knew it well. To stay alive, much less hang onto his position, Moreno needed something to establish himself. He needed something big, and he needed it fast. Gonzales admitted that knocking off the Vulcans on Enterprise, and desecrating the corpse they had with them, would certainly make a splash. A very large, red splash if Gonzales wasn't mistaken, with most of the red coming out of his and Ensign Matilda Wu's veins. Not that Moreno cared of course, Gonzales thought bitterly. He remembered with crystal clarity how he had objected, and Moreno's reply. “You have two brothers, a sister, a niece, two nephews, a grandfather, an aunt and an uncle. Which one do you want me to kill first?” He checked around the corner. Clear for now. Straightening his clothes, Gonzales stepped out into the stream of pedestrians and tried to look nonchalant. He still had to meet Matty and get her up to speed before they both reported back to Enterprise. The ship was due to leave space dock in seven hours. Knowing that crazy woman, she was probably going to look at this as some kind of adventure. The broad was certifiably nuts, no question about it. But then, she didn't have any family to worry about either. Gonzales cursed under his breath as another blast of icy wind cut right down his collar. -&- Healer Kerlek sat down in front of the view screen and pressed the button. The face of Doctor Phlox appeared and the recorded message began. “Greetings my esteemed colleague Healer Kerlek. I have reviewed the data that you sent. I must concur with your conclusions. The numbers speak for themselves, don't they? The probability of so many points of similarity occurring by chance in two separate species is so low as to be effectively impossible.” Kerlek let out the breath that he had not been aware of holding and sat back in his chair. As he was alone and unobserved, he took a moment to rub his eyes and sigh in relief. Even being certain in his own mind of the results, it helped to have independent confirmation of something this controversial. “But if your calculations concerning the rate of drift are correct, and the point of intermix was somewhere between 50-70,000 years ago, then we are left with a mystery aren't we? Vulcans didn't have space flight that long ago. And Humans didn't even have cities as far as we know. It seems that we must postulate the intervention of a third party. I have taken the liberty of doing some research into the Human database, and I believe I have found some information that may be of interest to you.” Kerlek leaned forward again, intrigued. “I am attaching a summation of my results for you to review. It turns out that Humans actually did face a population bottleneck approximately 70,000 years ago. Incredibly, it seems that every Human alive today is descended from a base of approximately 10,000 survivors. Given the harsh environmental conditions of the time, this is an astonishingly small number. In any case, a complete copy is on its way along with my own very interested self. I am 'itching' as our Human colleagues would say, to get my hands and eyes on your work directly. I want to see those DNA base pair sequences for myself, curiosity is devouring me alive. Until then I will leave you with my respectful regards. Phlox out. Kerlek watched the image of Phlox fade, and be replaced by a text file. He began reading it, becoming more fascinated the more he read. It was entirely possible that Phlox might have discovered a logical explanation for the results that he, Kerlek, had obtained. If so, between them they had unearthed a truly epic story. His face alight with the glow of discovery, Kerlek started making notes and cross-referencing. -&- T'Para sat holding T'Lissa and watching blank faced as Trip shuffled through the door, closely followed by T'Pol. “Um. Good afternoon, Eldest Mother,” Trip ventured. “Is it?” She raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps. That remains to be determined, children. Do the two of you intend to continue tearing forward without a care, considering nothing, and leaving a trail of destruction in your wake?” Trip winced and T'Pol looked as if she wanted to sink into the floor. “We hope not, Eldest Mother,” Trip offered humbly. “Thank you for keeping T'Lissa for us. How has she been?” “Lonely and pining for both of you,” T'Para said mercilessly. T'Pol stepped forward and took the baby. T'Lissa roused groggily and realized that she was back in her mother's arms. A squeal of happiness punctuated by two wildly waving arms got her hugged up next to T'Pol's neck. Uh, I'm sorry... again,” Trip blushed. T'Para gave him a look that was not amused. “While you are here you will study, and you will learn, Trip. Is that clear?” Trip nodded nervously. “Yes, ma'am,” he squeaked. “You will not argue, complain, or cause me any further frustration. Is that clear?” the old woman snapped with fire in her eye. “Yes, ma'am.” “Satisfactory. Barely. T'Para told him. “Proceed down the hallway to the last doorway. Open it and find yourself in my meditation garden. Place yourself on my meditation bench and enter the first stage of meditation, just as T'Pol has taught you. Remain there until someone comes for you, or until your body's physical needs make it imperative for you to leave, whichever comes first. Is that understood?” “Yes, ma'am.” “Go.” Trip went. T'Para waited until she heard the door snick closed before pointing at the chair opposite her couch. {“Sit, Daughter of my Clan,”} she intoned in High Vulcan. T'Pol's expression showed that she had been waiting for this. She sat and looked at T'Para in resignation. {“Daughter of my Clan,”} the old woman spoke with her nostrils flared widely, making T'Pol very nervous, {“didst thou hear my abjuration to return here with thine adun before revealing thy condition to him, and the reason for it?”} {“Yes, Eldest Mother,”} T'Pol bowed her head. {“Why then, Daughter of my Clan, didst thou choose to wantonly disobey my express command?”} T'Para demanded. T'Pol knew she was in real trouble this time. {“I cannot answer thee, Eldest Mother,”} T'Pol admitted. {“I did not deliberately choose to disobey thee. When we began talking, the weight of my guilt overcame me and I told Trip what I had done. It was as if the words burst out of me under their own volition.”} T'Para glared at her. {“Burst out of you under their own volition? Were they sentient then? Did they have legs and arms as well, Daughter of my Clan? Did they leap out onto the floor and run about, making First Contact with the other customers, perhaps ordering cups of beverage for themselves?”} T'Pol looked ill. {“No, Eldest Mother.”} {“Dost thou intend to accept such ill conceived excuses from thine own daughter when she becomes old enough to articulate them?”} T'Para demanded. {“Wilt thou permit her to thus evade responsibility for her choices? By simply disavowing understanding of her own motivations, wilt thou grant her absolution?”} {“No, Eldest Mother,”} T'Pol shrank into the chair. She had not felt this chastened since she was six years old, and got caught sneaking away from her studies to play with her pet sehlat. {“Dost thou have a care that thy choice to ignore my words nearly cost thy child her father's touch?”} T'Para continued to hammer her point home. {“Dost thy mind entertain the realization that if things had gone only slightly differently, the Human guard might well have chosen to use lethal force against thy bond mate? It is only by the intercession of Chief Minister T'Pau that thine adun has escaped spending years encaged like a wild beast. And all of it because of thine own childish refusal to face reality and cope with it.”} T'Pol started trembling. T'Lissa whimpered and suddenly her mother came back to awareness. She gently shushed the baby and soothed her, rocking slowly and humming until the little one drifted back to sleep. For a time both women were silent. Then T'Pol said, “Eldest Mother, I don't know what is happening to me. When Doctor Phlox arrives I intend to ask him to examine me. I fear that the neural damage had worsened. My control seems to be even weaker than before.” “There is another explanation, more logical,” T'Para said phlegmatically. “You are bonded to a Human, are you not? Did you arrogantly think that the effects of the bond moved strictly in one direction? I can assure you, daughter, they most definitely do not.” “What must I do?” T'Pol sounded very small and lost. T'Para reached over without thinking and patted her hand maternally. “You will do what Trip is doing. Learn. Both of you will stay here and learn together. It is long past time that the pair of you stopped hiding from each other. You are responsible for a new life now. Neither of you can be permitted to continue as you have up until now.” T'Para sat back and regarded her. “You will stop lying to him, T'Pol. You will stop lying to yourself. You will face your fears and cast them out. You will learn to seek out the truth and understand it, embrace it, and come to terms with it.” “I have never lied to him,” T'Pol doggedly maintained. “You are lying now,” T'Para said firmly. “Whenever one acts with the ultimate purpose of concealing the truth, one is lying. Whenever one's objective is to distort and present only a partial truth, one is lying. Whenever one's purpose is to present a false concept of reality to another, one is lying. It matters not whether one makes a statement that is directly false. What matters is the intent to deceive.” T'Pol did not reply. She held the baby close and leaned her head back against the chair, breathing deeply. -&- The Section 31 operative shook his head. Harris was trying to get too cute. Sure, there was nothing wrong with using this as a chance to get some free training for Reed, and even Archer. You use what you've got. But this situation was too convoluted. The more kinks you put into the plumbing, the easier it was to stop up the drain. He sat down with a sigh, rubbing his knee. Should he get the replacement joint or not? A quick trip back home, a few days to recuperate, then back here. It wasn't like the crew couldn't survive without him for a few days. Was it? Surely they could find someone to cover for him for just a few days. Maybe twenty days maximum. Couldn't they? He frowned. In twenty days what kind of damage could a stranger do in here? What would he return to find? He looked around. Everything meticulously arranged and organized. The last time he took off for just a couple of days, look what happened. Catastrophe, that's what happened. He growled. No way. He would put up with a stiff knee for a while longer. At his age a few aches and pains were to be expected. He had survived far worse. So Harris wanted to play Venus Fly Trap did he? Fine. But there was no way that he was going to let Harris have his little farce cause any real problems aboard Enterprise. It was not going to happen. This was his ship, his territory. This domain belonged to him, not Harris. Having made his decision, the operative stood up and began making preparations for a backup plan. Just in case. -&- Trip sat on a stone bench, beneath an arch wreathed with lourfi vines. A few native plants adorned pots against the wall and at each end of the bench. Otherwise the only decoration was the twisted stone fountain in the center of the garden. It was built of native stone, stacked in casual beauty. The fountain offered a tiny trickle of water that flowed from the top of the rocks, playing in tiny streams and waterfalls until it splashed into the small pool at the fountain's base. The sight and sound were mesmerizing. Trip was trying to clear his mind and failing. Ever since he woke up in the embassy clinic, he had been fighting not to think about what T'Pol had told him. He was losing the fight.
“Dismissed.” He remembered standing at the doorway of the captain's ready room, staring in shock. Her hands were shaking, he remembered. T'Pol's hands were trembling. The captain was gone and the ship was under attack. People were dying. But somehow, to see her with trembling hands was the most disturbing thing of all.
“What the hell's wrong with you!” She fought to break free of his grip. She was going to take a shuttle pod out and follow Jon. At the time he thought she was so upset because of the captain. He used to wonder if she had feelings for Jon. He thought that might explain the way she treated him, because maybe she couldn't make up her mind. Hot and cold. Tender and hard. One minute sympathetic and genuinely concerned about him. The next minute she would be as walled off and disdainful as she had been that first day when she refused to shake his hand. Back and forth, up and down until he thought he was going to get whiplash. There were a lot of things he didn't understand about that time. Some of them he still wondered about. Like that trip she took with Jon and Travis. They came back and none of them ever said a word about it. Even now, she wouldn't tell him where they went, or what they did while they were away. Another secret. Always secrets with her. Always something else to hide. She hadn't told him about the Pa'anar until she knew they were bonded. Even then, she explained that she wanted Phlox to check him out and make sure that there was no chance of any residual effect from the Pa'anar causing harm to him. Otherwise she probably wouldn't have told him even then. She never told him about spending a wedding night with Koss. She never would have either, he was certain of it. She would have taken that secret to her grave, except Ganlas spilled the beans. Why burden hubby with an inconvenient truth after all? He had tried to ask her about the other T'Pol, the one they met aboard Daniel's ship. He knew that they had met privately and spoken about the alternate time line. Trip had asked her to tell him what T'Pol's alternate self had revealed. Even a general idea of how things had gone. But she refused, saying that since the other time line never happened and never would, there was no point discussing it. And then she clammed up tight on the subject. She hadn't told him about the trellium until it started messing with his head. Another thing that she held back until she had no other choice. Trip doubted that she was ever going to tell him anything that he did not absolutely need to know. How much of that was the drug? All of it? Part of it? What about the two of them? She could lie until she was bronze in the face, he knew perfectly well that she had seduced him that first night because she was so jealous of Amanda that she couldn't see straight. Was that the drug too? Did he owe his family to a drug addiction? A stab of pain like a hot knife ripped through Trip's guts and doubled him over. He gasped and tried to hold in the moan, breathing in shallow sips until the agony passed. Nerves. Phlox told him that this was going to keep happening unless he learned to relax. Trip choked out what would have been a laugh if he had been able to breathe properly. Relax. Right. He remembered Azati Prime again. The engine room was full of smoke from burning components. People were shouting and running, trying to stave off the inevitable.
“Martin!” The grieving wail had echoed through the room. Trip buried his face his hands and dug fingernails into his scalp until blood ran. How many people died because of her? There would never be any way to know. But now, he would always wonder. How could he live with that? “...Do you, Charles Tucker III, take this woman... for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, for so long as you both shall live?” He threw back his head and shouted at the sky in frustration. “How much more am I supposed to take? You give me a son, and then you take him away. You give me a daughter and a wife, and now you are trying to take them away too. What about all this mercy you are supposed to have, huh? Where is it?” He bowed his head in pain and shook it. “...for better or worse...” It wasn't like she went looking for it. Nobody knew the trellium worked on Vulcans like that until they found the Seleya. Even then, she didn't start deliberately using it until after the second exposure, when they ran into her in the corridor. After she was exposed a second time because HE wasn't careful enough. “...in sickness and in health...” Why didn't Phlox do something? Why didn't he see what was happening to her? Did she try to get help? Couldn't he have done something to help her fight it? “...for better or worse...for so long as you both shall live.” That was the long and the short of it, wasn't it? So long as you both shall live. There wasn't any loophole in it. Trip dropped his hands and stared at the fountain again. His eyes blurred from fatigue and sun glare. The reflections from the pool at the base of the fountain rippled and waved. In Trip's unfocused gaze they started to look like dancing candle flames. He started the deep breathing exercises again. A timeless interval passed. Trip blinked several times and shifted his eyes when he heard the garden door open. The atmosphere in T'Para's meditation garden was almost completely silent, thanks to a sound deadening field that surrounded this closed off corner of the privacy wall. Only the stirring breeze and the tinkle of her tiny fountain broke the stillness. The click of the door latch, which would have been almost imperceptible under normal conditions, seemed remarkably loud in this holy place. T'Para stood looking at him, weighing and measuring. Trip devoutly hoped that it wasn't for a shroud. He uncrossed his legs and swung them off the bench, working his toes to get some feeling back in them. For some reason he felt disinclined to speak, he had no idea why. She waited until Trip stood up before walking around the fountain to join him. “Do you feel better, Trip?” T'Para searched his face analytically. “Yeah. I do actually.” T'Para noted that Trip's face looked more relaxed than she had ever seen it. Although realistically, she had never seen him when he wasn't either surrounded by large numbers of his wife's kin, or being interrogated by law enforcement officials. “Satisfactory,” T'Para told him. “You will come here each morning and spend two hours meditating before sunrise. Then you will eat your morning meal. You and T'Pol will join me for joint lessons until midday. At midday you will pause for a meal, while I continue lessons alone with T'Pol. After your midday meal you will return here to resume meditation until time for the evening meal. After the evening meal, you and T'Pol may have free time together with T'Lissa until you retire at 0800. Do you have any questions?” Trip swallowed. “No, ma'am.” “Now,” T'Para said briskly, “since the two of you have spent the entire day brawling, it is time for the evening meal. Come and cleanse yourself. T'Pol is waiting for you inside. When you are ready, she will show you to the dining area.” He followed her meekly back into the house. -&- V'Rald put his fingertips together and considered the report in front of him carefully. Kerlek's junior assistant was betrothed to a distant cousin of V'Rald's eldest daughter's husband's niece. Obtaining a copy of the medical records for T'Pol's adopted child had been a simple matter, albeit quite expensive. Except that the child wasn't adopted. The report left no doubt about the matter. The clone did not die, as the official reports insisted. Kerlek was even conducting some type of research project on the creature, in conjunction with the Denobulan doctor aboard Enterprise. The Sub-Minister leaned back in his chair and swiveled to look out his office window at the waning sunlight. Surely this information could be useful. But it was imperative to move with extreme caution. The High Council itself was responsible for disseminating the campaign of false information. Therefore, anyone deliberately flouting the wishes of the High Council by revealing the clone's existence was committing professional suicide. If not even, perhaps, actual suicide. Tucker was not likely to submit to such an attack without responding. But something would have to be done, and soon. The family had already been removed from consideration for three different projects, based solely on Tucker's unproven accusation. V'Rald himself had seen a significant decrease in attempts to contact him for favorable arrangements with the Science Directorate. Even his daughters were reporting that their husband's business activities had experienced damage from this situation. All because of L'Sira and her ridiculous letter. V'Rald rubbed his tired eyes. He had not slept in four days, and it was beginning to take a toll on him. The logical thing for him to do would be to close off this report and go home. After a long night's sleep and a good meal, his thought processes would undoubtedly move more clearly. He shut down the monitor and put the data cartridge in his pocket. As he moved toward the door he contemplated the circumstances of the clone's creation. It was surprising that the Humans were capable of achieving a viable result, especially considering their moratorium on genetic research following the Eugenics wars. That xenophobic organization, Terra Prime, must possess unexpected resources. He stopped suddenly, just a few steps short of the door. They had already made one attempt on Tucker's life here, and nearly succeeded. The fact that they had also come close to killing T'Pol did not concern V'Rald. If she chose to bond herself to a Human, then she must expect to become involved in Human savagery. And of course the clone was a nonentity as far as V'Rald was concerned. It was merely a scientific curiosity, at most. Removing Tucker would not wipe out the accusation regarding Koss' marriage, but it would prevent any further damage. It would also help discredit the original charge by demonstrating the utter savagery of Humans. Even if Tucker survived, killing the clone would effectively disable both Tucker and T'Pol for an indefinite period, while leaving the family completely free of suspicion. All he had to do was arrange for Terra Prime to be notified that the clone survived, and make sure that they were provided with the resources needed to carry out a successful assassination. Extreme caution in the highest degree was called for. Most certainly no word of it could be allowed to reach L'Sira or Koss. Either of those two would be certain to let something slip and induce disaster. V'Rald turned around and went back to his desk. Reaching down, he unlocked a secret compartment and withdrew an encrypted PADD containing a list of contacts. The names on the PADD were not the kind of people that a Sub-Minister had any business knowing. They were not the kind of people that any law abiding citizen had any business knowing. But they all owed V'Rald their lives and/or their freedom. And each of them knew that he still retained the power to repossess both at his option. He scanned the list patiently, looking for the most appropriate name. |
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