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"THE BRIAR PATCH" By Dinah Rating: PG-13 Author’s note: I want to thank all of you for your reviews. I really appreciate it. I also want to extend my sincere thanks to Blacknblue for his sage advice. As usual, he was spot on. I’m sorry about the long delay between chapters. Real life has eaten into my writing time, and one of the characters simply refused to cooperate.
CHAPTER 4: TRIP When the door chimes sounded, Trip stuffed half a dozen pairs of clean socks into his duffle bag and shook his head. He was running on a tight schedule. He really didn’t need any interruptions right now. Four blue athletic shirts, six pairs of blue briefs, his desert uniform, and a pair of khaki shorts followed the socks into the duffle bag. But what if the person on the other side of the door only wanted to say a quick good-bye? It would be rude to ignore them. Damn. Finally, against his better judgment, he yelled, “Come in.” As soon as the invitation to enter was made, the door slid open and Lieutenant Reed stepped into Trip’s quarters. “Hey, Malcolm,” Trip said, glancing over his right shoulder. “What can I do for ya?” Instead of replying, Reed folded his arms across his chest and stared doubtfully at the commander. It didn’t take long for Trip to grow tired of the scrutiny. Straightening up, he tossed a stack of padds he was holding onto the bed and turned, hands on hips, toward Malcolm. “Look, I’m kinda busy right now. Why don’t you just tell me what you want?” Reed shifted his weight and then, dropping his arms, walked over to the foot of the bed and sat down. “I thought we were friends.” Caught off guard, Trip stared at Malcolm. “Now why would you say a dumb-ass thing like that? Of course we’re friends. What’s this all about?” “It’s clear that something’s going on. I waited for you to come and fill me in but…” Malcolm shrugged his shoulders sadly. Trip picked up the padds he’d tossed on the bed and, giving them a cursory glance, pulled one out and deposited the remainder in his duffle bag. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” “Oh, come on, Trip,” Malcolm scoffed. “It’s not every day that T’Pol comes to me and asks for protection.” “That was Soval’s idea.” “Because of Terra Prime?” “Yes.” Malcolm nodded his head. “I thought as much. I know they’ve claimed responsibility for destroying those two Vulcan ships. Do you think they did it?” “No. But that doesn’t mean that those bastards still can’t make trouble for us.” Sighing, Trip suddenly felt very tired. Just when he thought he was rid of Terra Prime, they began to tighten their grip on him once again. Shoving his duffle bag back against the bulkhead, he plopped down on the bed next to Malcolm. “I think Soval’s concerned that we might have another agent from Terra Prime on board. Last time they only stole our DNA. This time…well, I guess he just doesn’t want to take any chances.” “I’ve asked Starfleet to run some additional security checks. We gave everyone in the crew the once over several months ago when you and T’Pol received that anonymous hate mail, but we’ve taken on a few new people since then. It’s best to err on the side of caution.” “Thanks, Malcolm.” Reed dropped his head and appeared to be giving careful consideration to the deck plating. “Is that why the High Council asked to have you and T’Pol temporarily reassigned to our embassy on Vulcan? They don’t think that I…” Straightening his head, he took a deep breath. “…that we can protect you here on Enterprise?” “Hell, no! Your people are the best in Starfleet.” “Then why have you two been reassigned? What’s going on?” Trip got to his feet and walked over to his much-loved diving helmet. After brushing away a few specks of dust, he turned back toward Malcolm. “They want T’Pol and me to serve as liaisons with the High Council. Now you know as much as I do.” “And you can’t do that from Enterprise?” “Evidently not.” Trip leaned back against his wardrobe. “I can’t imagine why they asked for me. I’m sure as hell no diplomat.” “That’s something of an understatement.” When Trip started to protest, Malcolm waved him off. “How did the captain take it?” Trip winced as he recalled Archer’s response. “Not very well, I’m afraid. He could understand the Vulcans asking for T’Pol, but not me.” He rubbed his hand across the back of his neck to try and relieve some of the tension. “He practically accused me of shirking my duties. To his way of thinking, I’ve been spending a whole lot more time with the Vulcans than with my own people lately.” “Well…” Annoyed, Trip sent a scowl Malcolm’s way. “I told him there was no place I’d rather be than Enterprise, but I don’t think he believed me.” Trip shrugged his shoulders. “Then Admiral Gardner got into it. He made it plain that declining the Vulcans’ offer wasn’t an option. Starfleet’s grasping at any straw, no matter how flimsy, to keep our alliance with the Vulcans intact.” “Have you talked to Soval?” “Briefly.” “Did he give you an explanation?” “Soval seems to think that some of the members of the High Council trust me…as much as they’re willing to trust any human.” “And they don’t trust the captain?” Trip chewed on his lip as he searched for a way to phrase his response. “Not completely. They know he carried Surak’s katra,” he began slowly. “He gets points for that. But I’m afraid his reputation’s preceded him.” “Reputation?” Malcolm cocked his head, a look on incredulity on his face. “You must be joking. Hero of the Xindi War. Linchpin of the Coalition. What more does the man have to do to prove himself?” “This is Vulcan we’re talking about, Malcolm. A willingness to accept change isn’t exactly their strong suit.” “Point taken.” “Soval told me that some of the ministers still think the captain’s the same man who fought them tooth and nail to get Enterprise launched – the Jonathan Archer who made no secret of his dislike and distrust of Vulcans. They don’t realize how much he’s changed over the years.” Trip’s eyes drifted toward the viewport. “He has T’Pau and Vaaris on his side. And Soval, of course. Maybe they can bring the others around to their point of view.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “Then the captain can have my room in the embassy, and I can get back to my engines.” “Well, if it will ease your mind,” Malcolm said with a sympathetic smile on his lips, “until that time comes I’ve assigned Corporal McKenzie and Private Money to guard T’Pol. They’ll be staying in the commander’s room at the embassy, so she’ll have round-the-clock protection.” Trip’s head snapped up. Before he could consider the ramifications of what he was about to say, he blurted out, “And T’Pol agreed to that?” As soon as he saw the light come on in Reed’s eyes, he knew he’d made a big mistake. “You don’t think T’Pol would be willing to share a room with two MACOs?” “Well…” Trip knew he had to think fast. “She likes her privacy, ya know…to meditate.” That sounded good. It might even be true. “You don’t say,” Reed smirked. “I’ve noticed that you’ve been spending a lot of time with T’Pol lately. Just where do things stand with the two of you? Still just friends?” Inwardly cursing himself for his stupidity, Trip stepped into the bathroom and grabbed his shaving kit. This conversation was straying into dangerous territory. He needed to bring it to an end before Malcolm got any more ideas. “Of course T’Pol and I are friends,” Trip said as he headed back to the bed. “As for spending more time with her lately, you know she’s been helping me get ready for the joint maneuvers.” Reed looked at Trip innocently. “If you wanted to learn Vulcan, I’m sure Hoshi would have been happy to teach you. And Soval could have coached you on Vulcan culture and traditions.” “T’Pol offered.” Trip reached across the bed and grabbed his duffle bag. “It seemed to make sense. She is Vulcan, after all.” He jammed his shaving kit into the duffle bag and, after a taking a quick look around, zipped the bag shut. “I don’t have time for this. The captain’s pissed enough already without me bein’ late.” Pointing to a second duffle bag, which was propped against his desk, he said, “Grab that bag and come on.” Trip had the door open and was on his way to the launch bay before Reed could respond. Bag in hand, Malcolm quickly followed Trip out into the corridor and fell into step beside him. Now that they were in a public place, Trip hoped that Reed was done needling him. It didn’t take long for him to realize that the lieutenant had only just begun. “You bruised your knuckles.” Unconsciously, Trip raised his right hand and flexed his fingers. “Yeah. So what?” “You’ve spent two days in the gym pummeling the punching bag. That’s a first for you. I think it only fair to tell you that some people have put that down to unresolved sexual tension.” Trip gritted his teeth and picked up the pace. “I just spent one very long day with a ship full of Vulcans. No matter how much I meditate, I can only choke down my emotions for so long before something’s got to give. I just figured that taking it out on the punching bag was preferable to beating the crap out of one of the crew.” “So you’re meditating now?” Trip’s head whipped around. “Yeah. It helps me relax. You wanna make something of it?” Malcolm held up his free hand in mock surrender. “Perish the thought. As a matter of fact, I think you could use a little meditation right now.” “Stuff it, Lieutenant.” “Look, the next time you need a sparring partner, I’d be more than happy to oblige.” “I’ll keep that in mind.” “Or maybe you’d prefer wrestling.” The smirk was back. “I’m sure that T’Pol would be happy to give you a workout. Best two out of three falls?” “This discussion is over.” Trying to keep a lid on his temper, Trip lifted his duffle bag up onto his right shoulder, effectively blocking his view of Malcolm. It was too damn bad that he couldn’t block out Reed’s annoying chuckles as easily. When they walked through the door to the launch bay, Trip saw T’Pol and the two female MACOs standing off to the left of Shuttlepod One, but the captain was nowhere in sight. “Stow this for me, will you, Malcolm?” Trip tossed his duffle bag to Reed and then headed over to join the ladies. T’Pol looked slightly out of place in her brown formal robes instead of her uniform, but to him, she had never looked lovelier. “The captain has been delayed,” T’Pol said when he came up to her. “He should be here momentarily.” “Is there a problem?” “Not to my knowledge. When I was preparing to leave the bridge, Ensign Sato put a call through to his ready room; that undoubtedly delayed him. He wants to see us before we leave. I’m sure that he would inform us if…” Heads turned in unison as the door to the launch bay opened and Archer entered. He was wearing the same tense expression that seemed to have become a permanent part of his face. “Is everyone ready to go?” “The gear is stowed away, sir,” Malcolm called from the open hatch of Shuttlepod One. “We’re prepped and ready.” Archer came to a halt in front of Trip and T’Pol. “Well…it’s official. The Andorians are pulling out of the Coalition. I just spoke with Ambassador Belliveau. He received formal notification of their decision thirty minutes ago.” T’Pol gave no outward sign that she was distressed by what the captain had just revealed, but Trip could see beneath the carefully controlled facade. He knew she was concerned about the impact this would have on her people. “It is regrettable,” she said softly, “I had hoped the intelligence reports were wrong.” “There’s more,” Archer said then pressed his lips together in a thin line. “The Andorians are closing their embassy on Vulcan. Starfleet’s agreed to transport the ambassador and the embassy staff back to their home world.” “Columbia?” Trip asked. “Yes, Columbia. She leaves tomorrow at 1400.” “The Andorians aren’t wasting any time.” “No, they aren’t,” Archer answered tightly. “Their other embassies will remain open…at least for the time being.” “I don’t think there will be any more closures,” T’Pol said, “at least for the foreseeable future. “Why not?” “The Andorians may be many things, Captain, but they are not fools. I seriously doubt that they trust the Romulans any more than we do. They will not want to run the risk of becoming completely isolated from the other Coalition powers.” “I hope you’re right,” Archer said before turning to the two MACOs. “Why don’t you join Lieutenant Reed in the shuttlepod? The commanders will be with you in a minute.” “Yes, sir,” McKenzie said and motioned to her subordinate. “Let’s go, Money.” When the three officers were alone, Archer said, “Just so there’s no misunderstanding, I want to make it clear that I don’t approve of this stunt. Now is not the time for my first officer and chief engineer to be off playing at being diplomats. I need you here on Enterprise.” Looking at Archer, Trip could see the anger in the captain’s eyes. But that didn’t exactly come as a big surprise. Each day, the news on all fronts – from Earth to Vulcan to the other members of the Coalition – was only going from bad to worse. Unfortunately, he could also see a glimmer of something else, something which disturbed Trip far more. If only he could put his finger on it. Hurt feelings, perhaps? Disillusionment? The dying embers of a friendship that had lasted for over fifteen years? No. Trip pushed the last thought quickly from his mind. He couldn’t afford to dwell on that now. “Please believe me, sir,” Trip said sincerely, “this is not our idea. We never asked to…” Archer cut him off. “My ship and my crew come first. I won’t allow them to suffer because you’ve been reassigned. If the political situation worsens and you aren’t back on board, I’ll have no choice but to replace you. Is that understood?” Trip was speechless. He knew the captain was upset, but to be replaced… That possibility had never occurred to him. This was only supposed to be a temporary assignment, an assignment he’d neither sought nor desired. There had to be something he could say to keep this from happening, but what? “Yes, sir,” T’Pol answered. “Commander Tucker and I will try to find a way to return to Enterprise as soon as possible. Perhaps Ambassador Soval can be of assistance.” “In case our Vulcan friends aren’t inclined to see things our way and return you to your regular duties, I want the names of at least three people who could step in and replace you on short notice. You’ve got two days to get the names to me.” Having delivered his ultimatum, the captain started to leave, but on an impulse, Trip grabbed Archer’s forearm, staying him. Archer looked down at Trip’s hand and then made eye contact. His glare made it clear that whatever Trip had to say, it better be good. “Cap’n, this is the only place I want to be. You know how I feel about Enterprise.” He glanced at his wife. “I think T’Pol feels the same way I do.” “I noticed you didn’t have any trouble transferring to Columbia.” “Okay, I made a mistake. But I came back. I don’t want this reassignment any more than you do.” Archer searched Trip’s face in an apparent attempt to gauge his sincerity. He must have been reasonably satisfied by what he saw there because his body relaxed a little, as he slowly pulled his arm from Trip’s grasp. “You may not have asked to be reassigned, Trip, but that doesn’t change the fact that you won’t be available for duty. If Enterprise has to go into action, I need officers who are here, not wiling away the time down on Vulcan. This isn’t easy for me either, but I have to do what’s best for this ship. I want those names.” He held up two fingers. “You’ve got two days.” With nothing left to say, Archer turned and walked out of the launch bay. When Trip didn’t move, T’Pol murmured, “It will be all right.” His eyes remained fixed on the launch bay door as it closed behind Archer. “I’m not so sure about that.” “You two have been at odds before and your friendship has survived.” “I hope you’re right,” Trip replied wistfully. “Come on. Let’s go.” Malcolm was waiting outside the shuttlepod for them. “Is everything all right?” He stepped aside to allow T’Pol and Trip to board. “Everything’s fine,” Trip said tersely, as Malcolm pulled the hatch closed and slid into the pilot’s seat. “Set a course for Mount Seleya.” Reed swiveled in his seat and stared at Trip, who was just settling in next to T’Pol on the bench across from the two MACOs. “I was told that your destination was our embassy.” “I said Mount Seleya, Lieutenant,” Trip snapped. He instantly felt T’Pol’s disapproval and knew she was right. He’d allowed the talk with Archer to get to him. He’d have to apologize to Malcolm later. “There’s been a change in plans,” he explained in a more normal tone of voice. “We have an appointment at the Sanctuary on Mount Seleya. We just want to make a quick stop before we go to the embassy.” “My orders were very specific. I…” “You’re cleared to launch, Shuttlepod One.” The voice of the duty officer in the launch bay control room came through loud and clear over the comm. “If you’re worried, Malcolm, T’Pol and I will take full responsibility. You’ve got clearance, so let’s get a move on.” Without further comment, Malcolm turned back to the controls and got underway. Trip could tell by the rigid set of his shoulders that he was not happy about the change in plans. Oh well, it couldn’t be helped. As they sped toward their destination, an uneasy silence settled over the group. Leaning back in an effort to get comfortable, Trip’s thoughts turned to Archer and their now fragile friendship. They had once been so close. Jon had even called him “brother.” Now they barely spoke. He let his mind drift back over the years: late night drinks in the mess hall; evenings spent watching water polo games together; working on Enterprise before she launched; survival training in the outback; carousing at the 602 Club. Those were good times. He didn’t want to lose that. Trip knew that many of the reasons for their estrangement were his fault. T’Pol was in his life now; he wanted to spend his free time with her. There were also the Vulcans and the demands they were making on him. But how could he turn his back on them when they could be critical to the success of the Coalition? If only he could explain everything to the captain, Trip knew that Jon would understand. But there could be no explanations. He’d promised T’Pau to keep silent. “Commander Tucker.” Trip shook his head slightly as he brought his mind back to the business at hand. “Yeah, Malcolm, what is it?” “That’s Mount Seleya straight ahead.” Reed turned his head as though waiting for orders. “Head for the Sanctuary.” Trip walked over and, taking up a position behind Malcolm, looked out the front viewport. Haze had partially obscured the mountain, but he had no trouble locating the sacred retreat. He pointed off to the right. “Over there. See it?” “Yes.” “You can set down near the foot of the staircase.” Malcolm nodded. “If it isn’t too personal, would you mind if I asked why you’re stopping at the Sanctuary before going to our embassy?” “Not at all, Lieutenant,” T’Pol said. She looked at Trip, who motioned for her to go ahead. “When there is a death in the Vulcan fleet, especially when that death occurs in the line of duty, we do not have a memorial service in the same way humans do. Those who wish to honor the memory of the deceased journey to Mount Seleya to meditate. They remember the accomplishments of the deceased and ponder the paths their own lives are taking. Commander Tucker and I want to pay our respects to those who died on the Klomak and Psthan.” Reed was quiet for a moment then he said, “I would like to join you, if that would be possible.” “We would welcome your company, Lieutenant,” T’Pol replied. Looking out of the front viewport, Trip was surprised by the number of Vulcan shuttles parked at the foot of Mount Seleya. He made a quick count: eight, nine, ten…no, eleven. On his first visit, the area had been unoccupied except for Shuttlepod One. What a change. Malcolm set the shuttlepod down in an open area off to the right. Trip opened the hatch and was greeted by a blast of hot, dry air. Stepping aside, he let T’Pol exit first. He started to follow her, but stopped when he heard Malcolm call his name. Turning, he was surprised by the look of guilt on his friend’s face. “What’s wrong, Malcolm?” “Before we left Enterprise…the teasing. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known. I’m sorry.” “Don’t worry about it. Besides, I’m keeping score.” Smiling, Trip patted Malcolm on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t let my guard down, if I were you.” Returning the smile, Malcolm said a few words to the two MACOs before following Trip out of the shuttlepod. T’Pol immediately set off through the haze, wending her way through the other shuttles, with Malcolm and Trip close on her heels. When they reached the main staircase, she climbed the bottom four steps and stopped. Turning so that her back was to the Sanctuary, she answered Trip’s unspoken question. “Six of the shuttles are from ships of the fleet. Pointing to the shuttles, she reeled off, “Thorsh-yel, Kit’es, Tal’Kir, Tar’hana, Sas-a-shar, Ni’Var.” Pausing, she took a second look. “Five shuttles are unmarked. I believe two belong to the Ministry of Security. The other three are probably private vehicles used for transporting family members of the deceased.” She looked over at Trip. He could see the sadness in her face. “Traffic will continue to be heavy here for the next two to three months,” she continued quietly. ”It will take at least that long to accommodate everyone who wants to pay their respects.” Trip wished they were alone so that he could put his arm around her shoulders to comfort her. He hadn’t realized until now just how deeply the loss of the two crews had affected her. Discreetly slipping one hand under her elbow, he murmured, “Let’s go on up.” A priestess dressed in a white gown and light saffron yellow robe met them at the top of the stairs and ushered them across the large open landing that led to the Sanctuary. Entering through the arched doorway at the left, they walked down a dimly lit corridor with only the sound of their footsteps against the stone floor to break the silence. Trip was surprised to see several security officers stationed at evenly spaced intervals along the corridor. He supposed they could be here to protect the high priest and any high ranking fleet officers or government officials who might be visiting the site, but still…something didn’t seem quite right. Finally, the priestess stopped in front of an open door which led to a small candle-lit chamber and invited them to enter. Once they were inside, T’Pol exchanged a few words with the priestess while Trip took Malcolm aside and began to explain the basics of meditation. Malcolm looked hesitant at first, but he paid close attention to Trip’s instructions, even nodding occasionally to let Trip know he was following him. Soon after the priestess left, an attendant arrived. Trip immediately recognized her from his previous visit. He searched his mind for a name. T’Lahr. That was it. Head slightly bowed, she walked over to him. In her outstretched arms were two black robes, which she silently offered to him. “Thank you, T’Lahr,” he said softly as he took the robes from her. Her head popped up and two deep brown eyes searched his face as though trying to place him. He glanced over at T’Pol and, when her gaze followed his, he could see the light of recognition in her eyes. With a quick nod, she turned and left the room. Trip handed one of the robes to Malcolm. “Here, put this on.” As Malcolm slipped the lightweight robe over his uniform, he asked, “Is this customary?” “Yes. It’s a show of respect,” Trip said as he pulled on the robe and adjusted the way it sat on his shoulders. “Count your blessings. At least this time we get to keep our uniforms.” Ignoring Malcolm’s quizzical look, he pointed to a stone bench along the back wall. If you don’t want to get down on the floor, you can sit on that bench back there, but I can’t really recommend it.” “Understood.” Trip walked over to T’Pol and sat down next to her on one of the thick white mats that covered a portion of the floor. Following his example, Reed quickly assumed the same cross-legged position. Once they were situated, Malcolm had a few more questions which T’Pol promptly answered, freeing Trip to begin his meditation. Taking a deep breath, he drew in the delicately spicy scent of the candle wax and his muscles began to relax. He wouldn’t have believed it a year ago, but he actually enjoyed the time he spent in meditation. It was comforting, like wrapping himself in the blue and white stripped security blanket he’d had as a small child. Closing his eyes, he turned his thoughts to the ill-fated crews of Klomak and Psthan. Even though they’d been strangers, he felt a kinship with them. And he sincerely mourned their passing. As he slipped deeper into his meditative state, Trip took stock of himself. Slowly, he began to realize that, from that memorable day long ago when he first met Mister Velik, Vulcans had been catalysts for change in his life. When the Vulcans had tried to shut down the NX program, they set in motion the events which would lead Trip to an impromptu meeting with Jonathan Archer, a berth on Enterprise, and a life amid the stars. When Administrator V’Las sent the Vulcan fleet against the Andorians, it finally forced Trip to step out of Archer’s shadow and make the difficult command decisions which ultimately forestalled an interstellar war. That single event also strengthened his relationship with Soval…which led to an introduction to Torok…which gave him the tools to fight a serious bout of depression…which allowed him to regain control of both his personal life and his career. And then there was T’Pol: his best friend, his lover, his soulmate, his wife. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that an “unemotional” Vulcan would teach him what it truly meant to live and to love.
Someone was shaking his shoulder. Trip fought to push aside the distraction and continue with his meditation, but then he heard a voice softly calling his name. Quickly realizing that the other person had no intention of giving up, he took a deep breath and reluctantly opened his eyes. In the flickering candlelight, he saw Malcolm staring at him as though trying to ascertain if Trip was capable of comprehending what he had to say. When Reed seemed satisfied that the answer was yes, he murmured, “We’ve got company.” He motioned towards the arched doorway. Surprised, Trip turned his head. There, standing patiently in the shadows, were Major Luvan and Lieutenant Komas. Squinting slightly in the direction of the two Vulcans, Trip mumbled, “What is it?” “We do not wish to disturb you,” Luvan said softly. “Go on with your meditation. We will wait.” Trip glanced at Malcolm before turning to T’Pol. The look on her face told him that she was as puzzled by their arrival as he was. “That won’t be necessary,” Trip said as he scrambled to his feet. “We’re finished.” Leaning over, he offered T’Pol his hand to help her rise. “Are you here on business or did you just drop by to say hello?” “I thought that would be obvious, Commander,” Luvan replied. “You are, once again, on Vulcan. The High Council has assigned me to protect you while you are here.” “And Komas?” Trip jerked a thumb in the lieutenant’s direction. “Lieutenant Komas has been assigned to guard Commander T’Pol.” Trip glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw Malcolm stiffen. “That won’t be necessary,” Reed said icily. “We are providing twenty-four hour security for the commander.” “Starfleet is welcome to provide protection for Commander T’Pol while she is on Enterprise or in residence at your embassy,” Luvan countered, “but while she is on Vulcan soil, the Ministry of Security is responsible for her safety.” “Commander T’Pol is a member of Starfleet. We will ensure…” “Okay, time out,” Trip said, raising both hands to call a halt to the budding disagreement. Reed planted his hands on his hips and stuck his chin out defiantly. “The Vulcans have no authority when it comes to Starfleet personnel. When Commander T’Pol wanted protection, she came to me, not the Ministry of Security. It is my responsibility to see that no harm comes to her.” Trip sighed. “Malcolm, this isn’t the time or the place to get into a pissing match with the Vulcans.” “But…” “No buts. Sometimes it just makes sense to compromise. Corporal McKenzie and Private Money will stay with T’Pol while she’s at the embassy. When she leaves the embassy, Lieutenant Komas will guard her.” “I think you’re making a mistake, Commander.” “Duly noted, but my decision stands.” The awkward silence that followed was finally broken by Luvan. “Commander Tucker, the high priest would like to see you before you leave.” “In that case,” Malcolm said stiffly, “I think it would be best if I went back to the shuttlepod. It will give me time to brief the MACOs on this change in their assignment.” Without waiting for a response from Trip or T’Pol, Reed started across the chamber, removing his robe as he went. He stopped in front of the two Vulcans just long enough to fix them with a steely glare, then he shoved the robe into Komas’ hands and stalked out of the room. Sighing, Trip scrubbed a hand over his forehead. That hadn’t gone as well as he might have hoped. Malcolm was the best at what he did, but he still tended to be overly sensitive when he felt his authority was being usurped. He was going to have to take his friend aside and do a little damage control when he had a few minutes to spare. While Trip was mulling things over, Komas stepped out of the room and glanced quickly up and down the corridor. A female attendant – one unknown to Trip – came over and took Malcolm’s robe from his hand. A few moments later, when Trip saw Komas step to one side and bow his head respectfully, he knew they were about to receive a visitor. Trip straightened his stance as soon as Torok, sturdy cane in hand, entered the room. The high priest was dressed in his usual black floor-length tunic and unadorned russet robe. His rugged features bore the lines and wrinkles of almost two centuries of life, but Trip knew that he still had the mental acuity of someone half his age. “It is good to see you, young man, and you, T’Pol. I regret that it took a tragedy to bring us together again, but that seems to be indicative of the times in which we live.” “It’s good to see you, too, sir.” The smile on Trip’s face slowly began to fade. “But I have a feeling this isn’t a social call.” “You are perceptive, as always.” Torok walked over to the stone bench at the far end of the room and sat down. He planted his cane between his feet and rested both hands on the knob. “It is obvious that something is amiss,” T’Pol observed. “The presence of guards in the corridor is unprecedented. Has a threat been made against you or against the Sanctuary?” A frown creased Torok’s brow. “Not directly.” He waved a hand towards the corridor. “The Ministry of Security insisted on all of this. They said it was a logical precaution. I think it is intrusive, but perhaps it is best to err on the side of caution.” “This was not an arbitrary decision on the part of the Ministry,” Luvan stated. There was no defensiveness in his voice, but he straightened his shoulders and held his chin a fraction higher than usual. “It was a direct response to the disappearance of a fleet officer.” “Someone’s missing?” Trip motioned for T’Pol to take a seat next to Torok. “Who?” “Captain V’Lin.” “V’Lin? What happened?” The Vulcan captain didn’t impress Trip as the kind of person who’d be a threat to anyone. More than likely, he just got tired of being Kiran’s whipping boy and took off. “I will tell you what little we know.” Luvan clasped his hands behind his back and widened his stance. “Yesterday evening, V’Lin came to the Sanctuary to meditate. He was accompanied by three officers from the Tar’hana. An attendant escorted each of them to a chamber; the assignments were made strictly at random. This was V’Lin’s room.” Trip’s eyes immediately began to survey the chamber, even though he knew it was pointless. Luvan and Komas were both well-trained professionals; they would have removed any evidence long ago. “When the other officers had completed their meditations,” Luvan continued, “Lieutenant Calar entered this room to see if V’Lin was ready to return to their ship. He found the room empty. No one saw V’Lin leave; no one could account for his whereabouts.” “Do you think he was abducted?” Trip asked. “The room showed no signs of violence. I find it hard to believe that V’Lin would allow himself to be taken without a struggle.” “If he was involved in sabotaging our ships,” T’Pol suggested, “he might have slipped away, hoping to leave Vulcan before his guilt was discovered.” “That is, of course, a possibility, but the three officers with him informed us that he was discussing pending ship’s business on the journey here. He did not behave like a man who was preparing to walk away from his responsibilities.” “I have known V’Lin for over forty years,” Torok said. “It was obvious from our first meeting, that he was a follower, a man who seldom thought for himself. He was only given command of the Tar’hana because he slavishly hung on Kiran’s every word. I don’t believe he is clever enough to vanish without a trace.” “You think he’s dead.” T’Pol’s voice was flat and emotionless. “Yes.” Trip ran a hand through his hair. “Well, if I was going to get rid of a body, I’d make a beeline for the wellhouse.” A spark of animation appeared in Luvan’s eyes. “We think alike, Commander. Lieutenant Komas and I found faint traces of blood on the floor near the well. There is no question that the blood belonged to V’Lin. Unfortunately, it does not prove that he was murdered.” “Have you checked out the officers who came with him? One of them could have lured V’Lin to the wellhouse or killed him here and then disposed of the body.” “We interrogated Subcommander Vasic, Lieutenant Calar and Sublieutenant V’Ret. Their stories were essentially the same: they neither saw nor heard anything amiss. While they do not appear to be involved, rest assured that the Ministry will continue to investigate.” “I was going to ask about other visitors, but I’m not sure there’s really any point. I know from personal experience that it’s easy for an assassin to slip in undetected, especially after dark.” It was obvious from the frown on Torok’s face that he was disturbed by Trip’s remark. “You are right, of course. The Sanctuary is rather isolated, but that isolation is necessary to allow people to distance themselves from the demands of their everyday lives. Because of the assault on you, Commander, and the disappearance of Captain V’Lin, I have acceded to the Ministry of Security’s request to place guards in the corridors – for now – but I will not allow this sacred place to be turned into a fortress. People must be free to come and go.” “That goes without saying,” Luvan replied quietly. “The Ministry only wants to do what we can to prevent further acts of violence. Visitors to the Sanctuary should not have to be concerned for their safety.” “As much as I dislike the intrusiveness, it is only logical to provide a safe environment for those who come here. But make no mistake, there must be no interference with the day-to-day activities of the priests and priestesses.” Torok gripped the knob on his cane a little tighter. “I look forward to the day when the presence of armed guards is no longer necessary.” Head lowered, T’Pol ran a hand across her lap, carefully smoothing several wrinkles from her gown. “I hesitate to mention this, but the attack on Commander Tucker was only one in a series of assassination attempts. Has this event followed a similar pattern?” “It appears so.” For the first time, Komas entered the conversation. “A minor official in the diplomatic service was killed in a shuttle accident on Earth three days ago. Yesterday, a crewman on the Tal’Kir did not report for duty; he has yet to be located. An aide to a high ranking officer in the Ministry of Security, a cargo hauler who delivers provisions to ships in the fleet, and a secretary to the High Council have been reported missing by their respective families. In time, of course, there could be more. We are monitoring the situation closely.” “Before the disappearance of Captain V’Lin, we saw these as isolated events,” Luvan added. “Now we believe they are connected.” Trip carefully considered Komas’ report. “It sounds like the Romulans are getting rid of the weak links.” “We do not have any solid proof that the Romulans are involved in these disappearances,” Torok observed. Trip folded his arms and cocked his head to one side. “Granted, we didn’t catch them red handed, but given the identities of the alleged victims, it sure looks like someone’s trying to do away with the folks who helped sabotage Kiran’s ships.” “And might talk, if pressed,” T’Pol interjected. “Yeah. You can bet your bottom dollar that it was Vulcans or people who could pass for Vulcans that swapped out those plasma injectors. Since recruiting Vulcans kinda goes against everything Terra Prime stands for, I seriously doubt they were involved. The Romulans, on the other hand, would have no trouble going unnoticed, and they have the most to gain.” “You are assuming that the missing people are dead,” T’Pol observed. “That might not be the case. They may, in fact, be Romulan agents who have spent decades in deep cover. It’s possible that they’ve simply slipped away after completing their assignments.” “And they’re on their way home loaded with information to pass along to their superiors.” That was something Trip hadn’t considered, but it made a lot of sense. “Yes. Given the pact with the Andorians and the weakened state of the Coalition, the Romulans may have decided that now is the time to move forward with their plans. I’m sure they would welcome any up-to-date intelligence on the state of our government or the Coalition.” “Unfortunately, your assessment of the situation agrees with mine.” Torok rose slowly from the bench with the help of his cane. “I will contact Vaaris in the morning. We may have only a short time to find answers to these disturbing questions.” “You may want to inform Minister Vaaris that Captain V’Lin made several clandestine transmissions while he was on board Enterprise,” T’Pol said. “Ensign Sato was finally able to break the code he used, but since she only had bits and pieces of the messages, they made little sense. At the time, we assumed that V’Lin was communicating with Admiral Kiran.” Her voice grew quiet. “Perhaps we were in error.” “I’m sure Hoshi would be willing to take another crack at those message fragments. It probably wouldn’t hurt to bring Lieutenant Reed in on this, either.” Trip hesitated. “But we’d have to tell him that V’Lin is missing. Captain Archer would probably have to be told, too, if we want Hoshi’s help.” Luvan started to protest, but Torok raised a hand, silencing him. “I do not believe that, in this instance, it is wise to remain silent. You have my permission to confide in Captain Archer and anyone else you deem absolutely necessary. I know we can rely on your discretion.” “I fear the High Council will not approve of your decision,” T’Pol said. Torok thumped his cane on the stone floor. “Let me deal with them. It is time they accept the reality of our situation. The Romulans have sent a clear message: no place on Vulcan is safe, not even our most sacred retreats. We must act and act now. We would be fools to turn away from the very people who may be able to provide the help we need.” “I hope you can convince them, sir,” Trip said sincerely. “Given the way the Andorian situation played out, it’s not going to take much for Earth to begin severing ties to Vulcan. In the long run, I think that will be disastrous for both our worlds.” Torok pointed to Trip and T’Pol. “I want the two of you to keep yourselves available. After I contact Vaaris, I think he will want to speak with you. “Why us?” “Vaaris told me that you once offered to help him sift through the data Speth had accumulated on the Romulans before he was killed. I believe he will now be ready to avail himself of your services.” “Is that why you had us reassigned to the United Earth embassy?” “I was not involved in that decision. To my knowledge, neither were Soval or Vaaris.” Torok grew thoughtful. “Perhaps T’Pau… It might be best if I made a few inquiries.” “Look, T’Pol and I need to be going. We have people waiting for us.” Trip started to remove his robe, but Torok stopped him. “Just a moment, young man. There is one more task I want you to undertake before you leave.” “Okay,” Trip said warily. “I guess a few more minutes couldn’t hurt. What have you got in mind?” “Admiral Kiran is meditating in a room down the corridor. I want you to speak with him.” Trip swallowed hard as he tried to remain calm. “I don’t think that’s a very good idea. I seriously doubt that he wants to be disturbed…especially by me.” “On the contrary, I think it would be beneficial for both of you. This would be a good time to approach him; his meditation period is almost over.” When Trip started to protest again, Torok added, “I ask this as a personal favor to me.” Groaning inwardly, Trip knew when he was beaten. He could fight against a lot of things, but not that. Reluctantly, he nodded his head. “I will wait for you in the shuttlepod,” T’Pol said quietly as she sent a wave of sympathy through their bond. “Okay.” Trip scrubbed a hand over his face. “See what you can do to get Malcolm calmed down. We’ll fill him in on V’Lin’s disappearance when we reach the embassy.” With a sinking heart, Trip watched T’Pol walk out of the room. He’d give a lot to be going with her. “Admiral Kiran is waiting, young man.” Torok motioned toward the door. “Go.” Resigned to his fate, Trip dipped his head respectfully and left the room. Luvan was waiting for him in the hall. It only took a moment for the major to direct him to the chamber where he could find the admiral. When Trip reached his destination, he found the door open. Kiran was standing in a far corner of the room with his back to the door. Instead of his customary uniform, the admiral was dressed in a burgundy robe edged with a wide band of ornately embroidered trim. Gathering his courage, Trip called softly, “Admiral, it’s Commander Tucker. I’d like to talk to you?” “Go away, human,” Kiran growled. “But…” “Leave.” Feeling more uncomfortable by the minute, Trip decided that this situation called for a strategic withdrawal. The admiral clearly wasn’t interested in a heart-to-heart talk. He took a step back, but before he could get any further, he heard the thump of a sturdy cane striking the stone floor. Sneaking a peek over his right shoulder, Trip saw Torok standing in the corridor, watching his every move. Damn. Sighing, Trip figured he’d better try again. “Admiral, I don’t want to disturb you, but Torok wanted me to speak with you.” “Torok is a meddling old man. He should mind his own business and leave me alone.” Suddenly Kiran turned and glared at Trip. “Why are you really here, human?” Trip tilted his head in confusion. “I just told you. Torok wants me to…” “Don’t be obtuse. Why are you here at the Sanctuary?” “I came to pay my respects to the crews of Klomak and Psthan.” “You do not belong here. Go back to your ship.” “I’m sorry you don’t approve, but I had to come. I couldn’t just ignore their deaths.” “Your presence here is a mockery. You think by feigning interest in my people I will save your Coalition.” “That’s not true.” “Don’t insult my intelligence. Why else would you be here? The lives of Vulcan crewmen mean nothing to you.” “I watched them die!” Trip took a deep breath, swallowing his anger. He knew he had to get himself under control or this conversation was going to over in record time. Lowering his voice, he continued, “I don’t know about you, Admiral, but I can’t watch two ships explode right before my eyes and not feel a deep sense of loss. I don’t have to be on speaking terms with people to care whether they live or die.” Kiran stiffened. “I do not have time for this,” he said tightly. Pivoting on his left foot, he turned back to face the wall. “Leave me.” Before Trip could respond, he heard the sound of footsteps on the stone floor. A priestess, with an elderly couple in tow, was coming down the corridor towards him. As they passed on their way to one of the chambers, the three Vulcans gave him a wide berth. It was clear from the looks of disapproval on their faces that they’d heard his outburst. He had to be more careful. Trip waited until the three Vulcans were out of earshot then he said, “Admiral, I don’t think we should be carrying on this conversation in a public place. May I come in?” “No.” In frustration, Trip threw his hands in the air. This was getting him exactly nowhere. He’d tried; he’d failed; his conscience was clear. Torok would just have to face the fact that Kiran didn’t… “Come with me.” At first, Trip wasn’t sure he’d heard right. He started to ask Kiran to repeat himself, but the admiral was already on the move. Under full sail, he brushed past Trip without giving the surprised commander a second glance and headed down the corridor. Trip briefly entertained the idea of staying put, but he knew down deep that that really wasn’t an option. He couldn’t bring himself to disappoint the high priest. Not only did he owe Torok a great deal, but he also respected the elderly Vulcan as he did few others. And besides, he had to admit that he was just a little curious. What did Kiran have in mind? If he didn’t go now, he’d always wonder what he’d missed. Moving quickly to catch up, he followed the admiral out of the Sanctuary…across the landing…down the main staircase…through the area where the shuttles were parked…and out into the rugged valley which lay at the foot of Mount Seleya. Even with only a lightweight robe covering his uniform, Trip immediately began to sweat. The heat hugged the ground around him like a heavy blanket. Opening the top button of his black shirt, he looked skyward hoping to find a breeze. For the moment, he was out of luck, but it looked as though the situation was about to change. Through the haze, he could see a bank of dark clouds rolling in from the west. Evidently, there was a storm on the way. The admiral, silent as one of the great stone figures that towered over the Fire Plains, strode ahead, seemingly oblivious to the reluctant human trailing along in his wake. For the moment, though, Trip was more than happy to let him go. Glancing at the sky again, Trip wondered what kind of storm they could expect. There would probably be wind, but would there be thunder and lightning? Did it rain here on Vulcan? Surely it must, but judging by the parched ground he saw in all directions, it didn’t happen very often. He made a guess that low humidity ruled out tornadoes and with only small scattered seas, he doubted that hurricanes would pose much of a threat. But maybe that was just as well. There was enough death and destruction in these people’s lives already. When the admiral finally slackened his pace, Trip caught up and the two men walked side by side across the uneven ground. In unspoken agreement, they both focused their attention straight ahead on the mountain peaks in the distance. “Why is it, human, that you are always around when there is trouble?” Trip winced. This conversation was getting off to a rocky start. “Just unlucky I guess.” “Vulcans do not believe in luck,” Kiran scoffed. “We chart our own course in life. Only a species that is weak would refuse to accept responsibility for their actions.” “I don’t make a habit of running from responsibility, but sometimes…” Trip shrugged his shoulders. “Sometimes things just happen. People get sick. Equipment breaks down. The weather turns bad. We can’t control everything, no matter how hard we try. That goes for Vulcans as well as humans.” “Luck played no part in the destruction of my ships.” “No, sir. That was sabotage pure and simple.” Trip reached down and grabbed a handful of stones. As he walked along, he took aim at what appeared to be a half-dead plant off in the distance and let fly. The stone fell just short of the mark. “I’d give a lot to get my hands on the bastards who switched those plasma injectors.” “That is no concern of yours. We will see that the guilty are punished.” “Maybe.” Trip threw another stone. This one had the distance, but sailed off to the left. “Maybe not. These guys seem to be pretty good at covering their tracks.” “The Ministry of Security will deal with them. It is only a matter of time.” “I don’t know.” Trip jiggled the remaining stones in his hand one last time and then dropped them on the ground. Reaching inside his robe, he wiped his hand on his pant leg. “The Romulans have had a lotta years to infiltrate your society.” “There is no evidence that the Romulans were behind the attack. Vulcans require proof before they make an accusation. Evidently humans do not.” “Those plasma injectors didn’t switch themselves. Somebody gained access to your ships. That’s a fact.” Trip raised one hand and began ticking his points off on his fingers. “It wasn’t the Andorians. There’s no way they could have sneaked past your security; you’ve been expecting them to attack for years. It wasn’t the Tellarites; I think you’d have noticed a crewman with a snout. It sure wasn’t humans; those delicate Vulcan noses would have sniffed us out like bloodhounds tracking a slab of bacon. It wasn’t the Klingons or the Rigelians.” Having made his point – all five fingers splayed – he dropped his hand to his side. “I could go on, but what it all boils down to is this: the only people who could have had free access to your starships – bring in the defective injectors, switch them out, remove the good ones – had to be able to blend in. That means it was a Vulcan, which isn’t too likely, or a Romulan. Kiran came to an abrupt halt, ready to take exception to Trip’s analysis of the situation. Nostrils flaring, he looked down his nose and glared at Tucker. “Empty words from an empty mind. You do not know what you’re talking about, human.” Turning to stand face to face with the admiral, Trip took a deep breath. “I’m afraid I do. The last time I was here at the Sanctuary one of those Romulan bastards tried to kill me. At first glance I thought he was Vulcan, but that didn’t make any sense. Eventually I put two and two together. Torok filled me in on the rest.” “Torok had no business confiding in you. He has put all of us in danger.” Trip rolled his tongue slowly around the inside of one cheek. He didn’t think what he was about to say was going to go down too well. “Actually…you were the one who helped me figure things out, Admiral. I remembered your comment about the Romulans being your brothers. That, plus the physical resemblance…well, it kinda sealed the deal.” As he looked at the scowl on Kiran’s face, the image of a gigantic grey bear ready to tear its prey to shreds suddenly popped into Trip’s mind. Fighting the impulse to take a step back, he steeled himself for the explosion he knew was coming. Much to his surprise, the admiral only jammed his hands up his sleeves and, turning on his heel, headed in the opposite direction. Kiran had only taken a couple of steps before he stopped and called over his shoulder, “Have you told anyone else?” Realizing the sensitive nature of the conversation, Trip took a quick look around while he covered the few yards that separated him from the admiral. “No…well except for T’Pol; she was with me. Please believe me, both of us understand how damaging this information could be if it got out.” Kiran studied Tucker’s face, apparently trying to gauge his sincerity. Finally he grunted and motioned for Trip to follow him. “You know about Captain V’Lin?” “Yes.” “Do you think he is a victim or a traitor?” “I don’t know enough to make a decision one way or the other.” “I know what Torok thinks…and the Ministry of Security.” Head to toe, the admiral’s body seemed to tense. “They think V’Lin betrayed us. They think I was duped into trusting a man who helped destroy my ships.” “And they could be wrong. Captain V’Lin might be completely innocent.” “Then where is he? Vulcan officers do not abandon their posts.” “Maybe he met with foul play.” “Murder?” Kiran immediately dismissed that idea. “Random acts of violence may be common occurrences on Earth, but not on Vulcan.” “If V’Lin’s dead, I doubt there was anything random about the act. My guess is that it was very carefully planned. He was a threat to someone, so he was eliminated.” Trip thought about passing along T’Pol’s supposition that V’Lin might be happily ensconced on a Romulan ship headed for home, but he didn’t think the admiral would welcome the idea. Trip had barely finished the thought when the next words out of Kiran’s mouth proved him right. “First V’Las and now this… Is there no one I can trust?” Without warning the admiral quickened his pace. Evidently, this wasn’t a subject he wanted to pursue any further. Trip immediately lengthened his stride to keep up, even though he much preferred the idea of heading back to Shuttlepod One and his wife. He still wasn’t sure why he was here. He could understand Kiran’s distress. After all, it wasn’t logical for captains of Vulcan ships to simply vanish without a trace. But surely Torok was far better qualified to deal with whatever was bothering Kiran. The minutes passed as the two men walked along in silence. Feeling the effects of the oppressive heat, Trip tugged at his collar, trying to let in a little air. It irked him that rivulets of perspiration continued to run slowly down his back while the admiral – a man far older than himself – hadn’t even broken a sweat. If Kiran ever discovered the full extent of Tucker’s soggy state, it would only give him further proof of Vulcan superiority. Looking for something – anything – to divert his attention from his physical discomfort, Trip was relieved to see a shuttle lift off, bank sharply to starboard and climb over the towering mountain directly to his left. While he was idly wondering where it was headed, he saw another shuttle on its final approach. T’Pol was right; this was a busy place. A quick glance toward the main staircase told him that a priestess was waiting for the new arrivals, ready to show them to... “This is intolerable.” Startled, Trip scrambled mentally to catch up as he focused his attention once again on the admiral. “I’m sorry. What…?” “I told you once before that I will not be indebted to any man.” “Indebted?” Trip responded incredulously. “To me?” “Yes.” “I don’t see how you figure that. What I did, I did for everyone on those ships, including myself. You don’t owe me a thing.” “Nonsense. After you opened my eyes to V’Las’ treachery, I gave you access to the Tar’hana to repay any obligation I might have incurred.” Kiran pursed his lips sourly. “Now I find myself even more in your debt. That is unacceptable.” “I’ll say it once again.” Tucker took great pains to clearly enunciate each word. “You don’t owe me a thing. I was acting for the good of the many. It’s as simple as that.” The admiral waved his hand, brushing away Trip’s protests. “You saved my ships. I will not forget that.” “Okay. Fine.” A smile played at the corners of Trip’s mouth. This was just too good an opportunity to pass up. “If you’re looking for a way to say thanks, I wouldn’t mind taking another look at that engine of yours.” “One look was more than enough, human.” “If you say so.” Puffing out his chest, Kiran drew himself up to his full height. “I am, however, willing to make another concession. Tomorrow, Sulin and Herac intend to ask the High Council to sever our ties to the Coalition. I was going to vote with them. Instead, I have decided to throw my support to T’Pau and Kuvak. Minister Tel will undoubtedly follow my lead, as will T’Lan. Your Coalition will remain intact…at least for the moment. That should settle my obligation to you once and for all.” Trip let his breath out in a slow, soundless whistle. Another shuttle took off, but this time it barely registered with him. When he finally found his voice, he murmured, “Thank you, sir. I’d say that marks your tab paid in full.” He didn’t have to be a trained diplomat to realize that the Coalition, and Earth for the matter, had just dodged one very big, very destructive bullet. The secession of both the Andorians and the Vulcans would signal the death knell for the struggling Coalition. That, in turn, would be tantamount to giving the Romulans the green light to move into this sector. A sudden gust of wind set Trip’s robe swirling about his legs. Looking up, he realized that the storm front was moving in faster than he’d anticipated. They should probably get inside. Evidently the admiral felt the same way because he quickened his pace. Before they parted company, Trip decided to take the opportunity to ask a question that had been bothering him. “T’Pol and I have been reassigned to our embassy here on Vulcan. I don’t suppose you had anything to do with that?” “Certainly not,” Kiran answered haughtily. “There are too many humans littering our planet as it is. Go back to your ship. You have no business meddling in Vulcan affairs.” “I’d like nothing better, but I have my orders.” ”I will have my aide speak to Admiral Gardner. It would simplify my life considerably if I was finally rid of you.” “I’d appreciate the help.” Stifling a grin, Trip wondered if this cranky, opinionated man, who had once spoken out so viciously against a Vulcan-Human union, fully realized that his intervention might actually enable Trip and T’Pol to live together, once again, as husband and wife: one soft, warm bed on Enterprise instead of separate rooms at the embassy. Somehow, he didn’t think the admiral would appreciate the irony. As the two men approached the Sanctuary, a plump, raven-haired young woman in the uniform of the Vulcan fleet stepped out of a large shuttle directly in front of them. Kiran stopped and motioned for her to stay where she was. Brushing her wind-whipped hair out of her eyes, she nodded and stood at parade rest. Frowning, Kiran scanned the blood-red sky. He seemed to pay special attention to the dark, menacing clouds, which were moving steadily closer. “Humans are ill-equipped to handle the severity of Vulcan weather. You have only a few minutes to seek shelter, no more.” Pulling his robe closer to his body to keep the skirt from flapping in the stiff breeze, Kiran motioned to the young woman again, and she immediately stepped through the shuttle’s hatch. A moment later, the engine powered up. “I have wasted too much time already in idle conversation. The High Council is waiting for me to make a report on V’Lin. Since it is possible that our security has been breached, we must begin to develop a contingency plan. I will not be caught unawares again.” “That’s one plan I hope you’ll never have to use.” Without further comment, the admiral headed for the shuttle. Trip raised his left hand and, parting his fingers in the now familiar “V,” said, “Live long and prosper, sir.” Kiran didn’t return the gesture, but Trip thought he heard the Vulcan mutter, “Peace and long life,” as he stepped through the hatch. He was forced to admit, however, that given the howling wind, that might have just been wishful thinking on his part. The shuttle took off as soon as the admiral was safely on board. Taking Kiran’s warning to seek shelter to heart, Trip didn’t waste any time watching the shuttle receded into the distance. He set off immediately for Shuttlepod One. When he cleared the area where the Vulcan shuttles were parked, he pulled up short. Shuttlepod One wasn’t there. Looking around in confusion, he was sure this was where they’d parked. T’Pol wouldn’t leave without him. He spun around once in place, searching desperately for the shuttlepod, before common sense told him he had to get inside before the storm got any worse. He’d just started to make his way back to the Sanctuary when he realized he knew where to find his wife. Homing in on the message she was sending through their bond, Trip made a beeline for a small, sleek shuttle near the foot of the main staircase. Forced to lean into the wind, he was relieved to see the hatch pop open when he drew close. He was barely inside before Private Money slammed the hatch shut and the shuttle took off, with Major Luvan at the controls. Still on his feet, Trip grabbed the back of the pilot’s seat to maintain his balance while the shuttle climbed rapidly, slicing through the storm. When they broke free of the roiling clouds, he turned toward his wife. “Where’s Shuttlepod One? Why’d it leave without us?” T’Pol patted the burnished metal bench and Trip sat down beside her. “We received a call from Captain Archer, notifying us that Starfleet has put all ships on alert. He ordered Lieutenant Reed and Corporal McKenzie to return to Enterprise immediately.” “What now? Don’t tell me the Romulans have finally made their move.” “Starfleet has received word through unofficial channels that the Tellarites intend to deliver an ultimatum to the Andorians sometime this week. They are apparently ready to go to war.” “Great.” Leaning back against the hull, Trip scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “So what’s got the Tellarites all stirred up?” “It seems that a number of their cargo ships have been attacked over the past several weeks. Starfleet doesn’t know the specifics, but apparently most, if not all, were lost. Yesterday, the situation escalated when one of their cruisers was attacked by three hostile vessels. The captain was able to send a distress call, but the ship was destroyed before help could arrive. There were no survivors.” “And the Tellarites think the Andorians are the perpetrators?” “Yes. Before they lost contact, the Tellarite captain identified the enemy ships as Andorian.” “Was it a positive identification?” “I cannot answer that.” Deep in thought, Trip chewed on his lower lip. “This has a real familiar ring to it, don’t you think?” “You are speaking of the attack on the Ti’Mur?” “Yeah…and the destruction of the Kumari. With everything that’s been goin’ on, the Tellarites should know better than to make a snap judgment. They’re playing right into the Romulans’ hands.” “Has it occurred to you, Commander,” Major Luvan interjected, from his position at the helm, “that the Tellarites might be correct in their assessment of the situation, and you are the one whose conclusions are flawed?” Folding his arms across his chest, Trip wrinkled his brow in perplexity. “How do you figure?” “The Andorians have been at odds with the Tellarites for many years. With the non-aggression pact with the Romulans in place, they may finally feel free to move against their enemies.” Trip had to admit that that thought had never occurred to him. Maybe he’d been so fixated on the Romulans that he was seeing pointy-eared boogiemen under every bed. Turning toward T’Pol, he asked, “Do you agree with the major?” Hesitating, she carefully weighed her response. “Yes. His supposition is logical.” “So you really think the Andorians are capable of being the aggressors?” “Your contact with that species has been somewhat limited. I think you will discover that most Andorians are not as honorable as Shran.” Trip figured it was probably best to change the subject. “Did you tell Malcolm about V’Lin?” “Yes,” T’Pol replied. “Lieutenant Reed said he would inform Captain Archer of V’Lin’s disappearance as soon as he reaches Enterprise. If the current situation with the Tellarites does not escalate, they will undoubtedly begin to examine the transmissions more closely…” “…while we sit in the embassy, twiddling our thumbs.” When he saw T’Pol raise an eyebrow at his unexpected comment, Trip shifted uneasily. That thought had come out of nowhere. He snuck a quick look at Private Money to see if she’d noticed his imprudent remark, but her attention appeared to be focused on the front viewport. That was probably just as well. The truth was finally beginning to sink in. Once again, they were going to be stranded on Vulcan while important events played out somewhere else. Oh, he felt fairly certain that Kiran would petition Starfleet to have him transferred back to Enterprise; the admiral was probably counting the minutes until a certain human was finally out of his hair. Unfortunately, Trip was also reasonably sure that Admiral Gardner would ignore the request. Kiran hadn’t exactly endeared himself to the Starfleet brass over the past couple of months. This transfer made absolutely no sense. Why would someone want them out of the way? Was somebody planning something on Enterprise – an act of sabotage that only Trip or T’Pol might catch? Or maybe Terra Prime had somehow managed to get them reassigned? They would definitely be more vulnerable in the embassy than on a starship. Or maybe he was looking too far from home. It was possible that someone in Starfleet wanted them out of the way. As soon as Archer assigned two other officers to fill their positions on Enterprise, Commanders T’Pol and Tucker would become expendable. They could be quietly shunted aside and eventually forgotten. As an added bonus, any public relations nightmares involving their supposed relationship would simply disappear. Before he could conjure up any more disturbing thoughts, Trip felt T’Pol’s hand brush his thigh. She didn’t speak, but words were unnecessary. He knew what she was thinking: negative thoughts are counterproductive. Taking a deep breath, he leaned his head back against the hull and tried to get comfortable. T’Pol was probably right. He was looking for trouble where none existed. The request for their reassignment could have come from T’Pau or Kuvak. Ambassador Belliveau could be looking for some help. Or maybe Soval or Ambassador V’Lar honestly believed the two commanders could do some good here on Vulcan. In the final analysis, though, one inescapable fact remained: Captain Archer needed a full crew complement, including a first officer and a chief engineer. It didn’t really matter a lick that Trip didn’t want to be replaced or that he felt completely out of his depth in the cutthroat world of interstellar diplomacy. Somebody wanted them on Vulcan, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. “I guess we better not waste any time getting those names to the captain,” he murmured to T’Pol. “I have a feeling that his patience is gonna be wearin’ pretty thin.” To be continued
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