"The Thorn and the Rose" By Dinah Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: It all belongs to Paramount. No infringement intended. Genre: Action/Adventure, drama, romance Summary: What happens to Trip and T’Pol’s relationship after the events of “Terra Prime.” A/N: Many thanks to Distracted for her beta-ing skills. CHAPTER 6: T'POL People were watching her. She could feel their eyes on her, trying to break through her stoic façade and peer into her innermost soul. Curious judgmental strangers who only wanted to pick her life apart and publicly strip her of the last vestiges of privacy and anonymity. Commander T'Pol sat unmoving in the crowded courtroom. The only sounds she heard were the voice of Captain Jonathan Archer as he gave his testimony and the frantic pounding of her own heart. In the weeks following Terra Prime's aborted terrorist attack, she was painted by some as heroic, a devoted mother fighting for her doomed child. But to others, a very vocal and vitriolic group, she was that Vulcan whore, the mother of a half-breed monster, an alien siren who tried to lure a young Starfleet officer to his doom. She despised it all: the clamor, the intrusiveness, the publicity. Her only thought was to return to Enterprise and escape once again into the limitlessness of space. Four months to the day after the very public death of Susan Khouri, the senior officers of Enterprise were called to testify at the trial of John Frederick Paxton and the other leaders of Terra Prime. Because of the high-profile nature of the trial and the on-going threat of public unrest, Starfleet insisted that the crew of Enterprise would only be available to give testimony for two days. Since answers to any remaining questions would have to be obtained via subspace transmission, both the prosecutor and the attorneys for the defense made an effort to streamline their cases, but the intrusive nature of their inquiries still remained. The trial was held at the "new" Criminal Court Building in San Francisco. The structure, though almost 50 years old, was still imposing – six stories of glass, granite and steel. The main courtroom occupied the entire north end of the second floor. The judge's bench stood at the front of the room set against the backdrop of a magnificent curved green marble wall. A semicircular barrier separated the spectators from the tables for the prosecution and the defense, giving the room the look of a vast oval. The jury box occupied a place of prominence on the east end of the room. Yesterday, amid a swirl of media attention, Doctor Phlox, Lieutenant Reed, and Ensigns Mayweather and Sato had walked into the courtroom to take center stage. As was to be expected, they gave their testimony in a straightforward, professional manner. Phlox described the steps he took to unravel the mystery of the hair Susan Khouri had thrust into T'Pol's hands. He also explained how the results of Khouri's autopsy had led to the discovery of Terra Prime's activities at the Moon's Orpheus mining colony. Reed, Mayweather, and Sato recounted their roles in the mission to free their fellow crewmen and prevent the destruction of Starfleet Command by the verteron array. But through it all, there was no doubt in anybody's mind that this was just the warm up for the main event, when Archer, Tucker and T'Pol took the stand. When court convened on the second day, Commander Charles Tucker was the first officer called to testify. He gave his answers in a clipped, succinct manner, yet he somehow managed to paint a compelling picture of his capture, confinement and rescue. Through it all, he was the consummate Starfleet professional. He gave no hint of the inner torment that had plagued him over the past months until they flashed a picture of his infant daughter on the large viewscreen situated on the west wall of the courtroom. Instantly, all color drained from his face and his body sagged visibly. For a moment, T'Pol feared that he was going to break down, but he pulled himself together and finished answering their questions. His temper flared only once, when the lead defense attorney forced him to admit under oath that he and the Vulcan first officer had had an intimate relationship. When he stepped down from the witness stand his eyes met hers. The guilt and misery she saw there made her clench her hands and look away. She was afraid for him. Over the past few months he had become so emotionally brittle, withdrawing from life, working almost nonstop. For such a man, a man whose driving need for privacy came close to matching her own, this was an humiliating and painful experience. Keeping her head rigidly still, T'Pol peeked out of the corner of her eye to check on him. He sat hunched over with his forearms resting on his knees and his hands gripped tightly together in front of him. She wanted to reach out to him, but before she could find a discreet way to comfort him, she was called to testify. T'Pol took the stand with all of the dignity that her Vulcan heritage had instilled in her. The prosecutor began his questioning by asking her to recount her capture and confinement at the hands of Terra Prime. When she revealed that Paxton suffered from Taggart's Syndrome and that he was using Rigelian gene therapy, alien medical knowledge, to treat himself, it created such a furor that the judge threatened to clear the courtroom. As the judge pounded his gavel and resolutely called for order, she glanced over at Paxton. His lips were pulled back in a snarl that left no question as to the depth of his hatred for her. She found his malice strangely satisfying. T'Pol thought she was prepared to deal with the inevitable questions about her daughter, but she was not. It took all the self-control at her disposal to talk about Elizabeth's life. When the questioning forced her to relive her daughter's death, it was too much. Her head began to swim as emotion started to overcome reason. But just as her control began to disintegrate, he was there. When she felt Trip drop his mental shields, she looked toward him. His gentle smile, a smile meant for her alone, was a promise that everything would be all right. Regardless of his own distress, he was still able to send her the strength and support she needed to continue. After taking a deep, though shaky breath, she forged on, briefly describing Elizabeth's memorial service and the respect shown to the infant by the alien delegates to the conference. Unfortunately, when the prosecutor turned the questioning over to the defense, her ordeal began in earnest. Many of the questions were not only intrusive, but distasteful. Despite protests from the prosecution, the defense quizzed her relentlessly on her so-called affair with Commander Tucker. She answered each question carefully, revealing as little as possible, but it still left her feeling violated. Through it all she clung to Trip as though he were the last safe harbor in a storm-tossed sea. When she left the stand her legs felt wobbly. She knew that she couldn't allow herself to fall, not in front of Paxton and his henchmen. That resolve spurred her on. She focused all of her energy on moving forward, putting one foot in front of the other. She was relieved when she managed to reach her seat without incident. As she sat down, Trip scooted over slightly to give her a little extra room. His eyes searched her face, trying to gauge her condition. For a moment, she allowed her eyes to meet his, but then she quickly forced herself to look away. She wanted nothing more than to collapse into his arms, but they were on public display. Every look, every gesture was being scrutinized by an eager and insensitive audience. Instead, she turned her attention to Jonathan Archer, who was the last to take the stand. At first, the questioning was predictable. How did you learn about the existence of Terra Prime? What steps did you take when you discovered that Commanders T'Pol and Tucker were captured? Finally, the captain was asked about the attempted rescue of his crewmen, and his efforts to stop the firing of the verteron array. "Commander Tucker had started toward the control panel to disable the verteron array when he was shot," Archer said in a steady, authoritative voice. "In the ensuing fire fight, Lieutenant Reed was also incapacitated. Ensign Mayweather and Doctor Phlox managed to remove him from the room while I went to assist Commander Tucker. I was able to deactivate the array, but within moments Paxton activated it once again. Paxton and I struggled. A large window that had been damaged by weapons fire shattered, significantly reducing the level of oxygen in the room. I tried to stop the array from firing, but it was impossible." "What prevented the weapon from destroying Starfleet Command?" the prosecutor asked. "Commander Tucker regained consciousness. He couldn't prevent the weapon from firing, but he was able to change the coordinates so that the weapon discharged harmlessly into San Francisco Bay." "What did you do next, Captain?" "I ordered MACOs from Enterprise to transport down and secure the scene, taking the members of Terra Prime into custody. I personally made sure that Mr. Paxton was detained." "At this point, your men were able to free Commander T'Pol and the infant. Is that correct?" "Yes. Unfortunately, Commander T'Pol informed us that the baby was dying." Archer's voice remained firm, but he looked anxiously at his two senior officers. "Doctor Phlox quickly examined the baby and found some cause for concern. He immediately transported back to Enterprise to prepare sickbay for the infant's arrival. During the short trip back to Enterprise in Shuttlepod One, Commander T'Pol monitored the baby's condition and relayed reports to Doctor Phlox." When Archer mentioned the baby's weakened condition, T'Pol's anxiety level spiked. Sensing her distress, Trip impulsively offered his hand to her. She hesitated for only a split second before grasping it tightly. Their eyes did not meet, but T'Pol welcomed his touch. No matter how distant they became in their day-to-day lives, she knew he would always be there for her, and she for him. "Doctor Phlox testified yesterday that he was unable to save the infant's life because of a flaw in the genetic code employed by Terra Prime's scientists. Commander T'Pol testified today that Mr. Paxton implied that medical care for the infant would be useless. Did Mr. Paxton say anything which would lead you to believe that the baby might not survive?" Archer's eyes were riveted on T'Pol and Trip. "Mr. Paxton was returned to Enterprise under guard. I accompanied him. When we were in the shuttlepod, Mr. Paxton informed me that caring for the baby was a waste of time. To quote him, ‘No just God would allow a Vulcan-Human monstrosity to survive. That thing stands for the corruption of our culture by an alien influence that is working toward the total destruction of Earth.'" The captain, anger visibly swelling within him, leaned forward and, gripping the front of the witness stand, locked eyes with Paxton. "Having seen her, having seen the way her parents interacted with her, I find that impossible to believe. That poor, innocent child was the real victim in all of this." The cross-examination by the defense was surprisingly brief. As soon as Archer left the witness stand, the judge brought down his gavel and court was adjourned. Instantly there was chaos. People pressed forward trying to gain access to the three officers. Some wanted interviews, while others only wanted to hurl curses their way or enthusiastically offer them a pat on the back. The attention was clearly focused on Trip and T'Pol. Everyone wanted to touch, to get close to the couple that had produced a Vulcan-Human hybrid. In the face of the surging crowd, T'Pol shrank back against Trip. With no concern for public perception, he put his arms protectively around her, placing his body between her and the crowd. She heard him yelling at people, but the words no longer had any meaning. She thought she saw Captain Archer and Lieutenant Reed standing close-by trying to clear a path for them, but everything around her was beginning to blur. The smells, the noise, and the tumultuous emotions were intolerable. They'd managed to take only a few, halting steps forward when Starfleet Security arrived. They immediately surrounded the Enterprise officers and opened a path for them to a secondary door leading out of the courtroom. Trip put his arm firmly around T'Pol's waist and pulled her forward. As soon as they were away from prying eyes, he swept her into his arms and held her close. Overwhelmed, she numbly threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. A member of Starfleet Security led the group down a back stairway to the main floor. When they reached the door leading to the landing area outside the courthouse, the group came to a halt. The security officer, a willowy, brunette with deep blue eyes, turned toward Archer. "Lieutenant Renshaw, sir," she said in a clipped manner that left no doubt that she was very good at her job. "Please wait here. As soon as we've checked the area, I'll give you the all clear to board your shuttlepod." When Archer nodded she turned and headed out the door. Meanwhile, Phlox pressed a hypospray to T'Pol's neck. As soon as the medication entered her body, she began to feel some of the stress and anxiety melt away. While they waited, Malcolm found a chair and brought it over. "Here, Trip," he said, "maybe the commander would like to sit down." Instead of releasing T'Pol, however, Tucker only shook his head and tightened his grip. Archer walked over and stood in front of them. "Come on, Trip," he said quietly, "Phlox needs to check on T'Pol." When Tucker made no effort to move, the captain continued, "You can put her down now. It's all right. No one is going to hurt her." "They've already hurt her," Trip said huskily. "She's fine where she is." Just as Archer was preparing to argue with the commander, T'Pol whispered, "Trip." When he continued to stare at Archer, she reached up and touched his cheek, turning his face towards her. "Trip, I'm feeling better. Please put me down." Tucker stared at her for a moment with an intensity that she had never seen before. Finally, he reluctantly leaned over and placed her on the chair. He immediately took up a position directly behind her. As he pressed the neural nodes in her neck and shoulders to help her relax, she leaned her head back against his body. Such blatant physical contact in a public place would generally be unthinkable, but under the circumstances, with all she'd just endured, she found his touch very comforting. The doctor wasted no time pointing his medical scanner at T'Pol. "The medication I gave you should allow you to relax, Commander, but it also might make you sleepy." T'Pol nodded. "Thank you, Doctor. I am feeling calmer, more…in control." Phlox smiled then turned the scanner in Commander Tucker's direction. Frowning, he said, "You are both off duty until further notice." T'Pol felt Trip's fingers dig into her shoulders. "This is non-negotiable," Phlox said firmly. "When we reach Enterprise, you will both make a brief stop at sickbay so that I can perform a more thorough examination. Then you will return to your quarters." "Now wait just a minute…" Tucker started to argue. "No work. No sneaking down to engineering. No 24-hour days spent working on reports and simulations. You will rest." "But…" "Is that understood," Phlox looked back and forth from Trip to T'Pol, "by both of you?" "Yes," T'Pol whispered, but Trip was not convinced. When Trip started to argue again, the captain grabbed his arm and turned him so that they stood face to face. "Is there a problem, Commander?" Trip looked away sullenly. His jaw muscles worked furiously as he tried to control his anger. "I don't need to rest," he said shakily. "I need to work. Why won't you let me do my job?" "You can go back to work as soon as Doctor Phlox gives you the go ahead," Archer said firmly. "The sooner you relax and get some rest the sooner you'll be back in engineering." When Trip didn't respond he continued, "I'll order you to sickbay and strap you down, if I have to. Now are you going to do what Phlox tells you?" Trip refused to make eye contact, but nodded resentfully. "I need to hear you say it, Trip," Archer said quietly. For a moment, T'Pol thought he would continue to be recalcitrant, but finally Tucker spat out, "Okay, I'll take it easy," then he jerked his arm out of Archer's grasp. T'Pol noticed the captain tense. He compressed his lips as he fought to control his temper, but he managed to remain silent. Just then Lieutenant Renshaw slipped back into the waiting area and said, "Captain Archer, you and your officers may proceed to your shuttlepod. We have everything secured." "Thank you, Lieutenant," Archer said wearily. Almost before the words were out of his mouth, Lieutenant Reed marched through the door and out onto the tarmac. Ever dutiful, he wanted to check the security measures before any of his fellow crewmen left the relative safety of the building. After a quick, yet thorough, look around he turned back to the captain and nodded. "You have immediate clearance to depart for Enterprise," Renshaw said. "Have a safe journey." As Trip offered T'Pol his hand to help her rise, Hoshi took the lead and headed out the door. In moments, they had all boarded the shuttlepod. Travis took the controls and had them headed back to the ship in near-record time. T'Pol took a seat at the rear of the shuttlepod. If she could have put more distance between herself and her fellow crewmen, she would have done so. Her emotional control was stretched to the limit. Whereas Trip had kicked and scratched to get out of taking some time off, she secretly welcomed the doctor's ultimatum. She needed to meditate. She looked up and saw Trip watching her. She knew that he was concerned about her, but she couldn't handle the chaos that perpetually seemed to swirl about him of late. Wincing from the intensity of his emotions, she quickly dropped her eyes. Her physical discomfort was short-lived, though. She immediately felt Trip pull away as he shielded his thoughts from her. Since Elizabeth's death, T'Pol had learned a lot about herself and about reestablishing her emotional control, but she still yearned to lock herself away with Trip, giving them both some much needed time to heal. This time, however, that would not be possible. When she looked up again he was leaning back against the shuttlepod's hull with his eyes pressed tightly shut. This time he would not be there to help her. She would have to do it on her own. * * * * * * The doors of the turbolift swished open. T'Pol stepped onto the bridge and came to an abrupt halt. She was all alone. Where was the bridge crew? In the distance she could hear weeping. Quickly, she headed toward her science station, but nothing was working. Internal and external sensors were both down. She moved to the communication station and activated the viewscreen. Instead of a star-filled sky, cold black water surrounded Enterprise. Surprisingly, she could hear the waves lapping against the side of the ship. In spite of her vaunted Vulcan composure, she jumped when a voice behind her said, "I've given the order to close the watertight doors, but it won't do any good. We're sinking." She whipped around and stood face to face with Captain Jonathan Archer. "The warp and impulse engines are both offline," he said. He appeared to be composed, but there was an underlying tension in his voice that disturbed her. "We're loading the lifeboats. You should get to your station, Commander." T'Pol stared at him. He wore a hip-length coat over his Starfleet uniform, and he clutched an antiquated lifejacket in his hands. "Did you hear me, Commander? You need to get to your lifeboat station. We have to save as many as we can. I only wish we had lifeboats for everyone." Shaking his head impatiently when she didn't respond, he quickly turned his attention to his communications officer. "Keep sending the distress call, Ensign." "Aye, sir," Ensign Sato said. There was a slight tremor in her voice, but she remained firmly at her post. T'Pol could still hear weeping, but now it was intermingled with screams and the melodious strains of distant music. The air was thick with tension and, against all reason, she felt very afraid. Suddenly a phase pistol was thrust into her hand. "We must not have any panic," Lieutenant Reed said quietly. "You must do your duty if there is trouble." When she felt the bridge shudder, she grabbed for her console to help maintain her balance. The deck was no longer level and the screams were getting louder. "Get to your station," the captain barked at her. Immediately responding to the urgency in his voice, T'Pol struggled toward the turbolift. When the doors swished open, she was momentarily stunned. Instead of the turbolift cabin, an empty corridor stretched before her. "Hurry!" Spurred forward by the sounds of hundreds of frantic, unseen people, she started to run. When she reached the end of the corridor, she became disoriented. The layout of the ship was not as it should be. Which way was engineering? She closed her eyes and tried desperately to find Trip through their bond. Suddenly she knew and quickly turned to the left. She'd only gone a few steps when she was forced to come to a halt. Her mother and Soval stood side-by-side awaiting her. Her mother's robes were drenched with water, and T'Pol could she her shiver against the cold. Soval's robes were dry, but they were all of a single color, blending with his complexion to make one virtually indistinguishable from the other. The color was so like that of the surrounding corridor that he was all but invisible. In true Vulcan fashion, T'Les and Soval were both unmoved by the chaos swirling about them. "Why are you hesitating, daughter?" T'Les asked. "I have to get to engineering," T'Pol replied. Although she was trying to maintain her composure, there was a hint of desperation in her voice. "The engines are offline. I can be of assistance." "You know where your duty lies, T'Pol, and it is not in engineering. There is nothing you can do there. It is a lost cause." With a sympathetic look that spoke volumes as to the depth of her affection and understanding, T'Les reached out to stroke her daughter's cheek. T'Pol flinched. Her mother's hand was shriveled and icy cold. "The collapsible lifeboats are your responsibility," Soval said patiently. "All the other boats are away. You must save as many lives as you can. You must save yourself." "Commander Tucker requires my assistance…" "Enterprise is sinking, T'Pol. Engineering is flooded." Soval took a step towards her. "We could have stayed afloat with four compartments flooded, but when five were breached the situation became hopeless. Commander Tucker did all he could, but he cannot hold the water back any longer." Suddenly, she felt a biting wind against her face. When she looked around, she realized that she was standing on Enterprise's outer hull. Half a dozen sober-faced crewmen were clustered about her. Soval and her mother were gone, sucked into the inky black of the night. "Here, Commander, you forgot your lifejacket," Ensign Mayweather said. He was forced to raise his voice in order to be heard over the tumult. "This collapsible is the last lifeboat. If we can't get it launched soon it will be too late." "Have you seen Commander Tucker?" she shouted. "No, ma'am. Most of the engineering crew didn't make it out. We need your help. You're the only one who knows how to fix this boat, but you have to hurry." T'Pol looked down and saw that water lapped around her ankles. Spurred to action, she mobilized the six crewmen and the lifeboat was made serviceable in record time. When they were all aboard, Ensign Mayweather and Crewman Ellard took the oars, and they moved away from the dying starship. Ensign Sato sat in the bow, her teeth chattering with the cold. "The Ti'Mur is coming. It will be here soon," she mumbled. "Columbia is coming, too, but she won't get here until tomorrow. There's no one else. Everyone's too far away. I tried. I…" "Ensign," T'Pol said soothingly, "we know you did your best." "Did you hear that, Commander?" Travis asked urgently. "There's someone in the water – ten degrees to port." As soon as the words were out of Mayweather's mouth, T'Pol could hear the shouting. The voice was unmistakable. It was Commander Tucker. She fought to control the panic she felt building inside her. She could just make him out in the distance. He was swimming towards her. Mayweather and Ellard put their backs into each stroke of the oars, but the boat made no headway. Since there were no other oars, T'Pol was forced to sit helplessly in the stern and listen to Tucker's cries for help. She could see that he was tiring. The water was so cold. "T'Pol!" Tucker shouted frantically. "Please, T'Pol, help me!" Sensing his terror, she jumped up and started to dive into the water, but Doctor Phlox grabbed her and refused to let her go. "I have to try and save him," she yelled as she tried to squirm out of the doctor's grasp. "Don't be foolish," Phlox shouted. "If you try to save him, you'll both perish. If he can just hold out for a little longer, we'll reach him. You must trust us." "T'Pol…please." Tucker's voice was becoming faint. Suddenly, the lifeboat began to close the gap between them. They had to hurry. Trip was no longer swimming smoothly. His strokes had become slow and clumsy as he fought against the numbing effects of the frigid sea. She could barely hear his cries for help. A few more strokes of the oars and he was almost within arm's reach. She leaned over the side of the lifeboat and extended her hand towards him. For one agonizing moment their fingers touched…then, as he whispered her name one last time, he disappeared below the surface of the icy water. "No!" T'Pol shot upright in bed. Her body trembled as she searched the darkness for him. Her heart racing, she fought to keep the panic she felt under control. As her eyes began to focus, she saw the stars streaming past her window. She could feel the gentle pulse of the warp engine. She was on Enterprise and he was alive. It had only been a dream. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms tightly around them. She had to rein in her emotions. Her diminished control had opened the door to the world of dreams, and it was a frightening place. She thought about calling Doctor Phlox, but no…she had to do this by herself. Meditation and a life dedicated to logic and stoicism would be her sword and shield against the chaos that threatened to engulf her. She was Vulcan. She would prevail. Alone and tired, she was powerless to prevent her thoughts from returning to Trip. She closed her eyes and shuddered as she tried to push thoughts of his death out of her mind. They were far too painful to contemplate, especially now. She knew he was struggling, yet she did nothing. What if by pushing him away, she caused his destruction, the very thing she had hoped to avoid? But if she didn't push him away… "Someone please help me," she whispered tremulously, "I don't know what to do." CHAPTER 7: PHLOX "You'll be happy to know that it's nothing more than the common cold." Ensign Kelly looked anything but happy as she sniffled in response to the doctor's pronouncement. "Brazil is a remarkable place," the doctor stated enthusiastically. "What a stroke of luck for the crew that we were given one week of shore leave there before the start of the trial in San Francisco. And how fortunate for us that Ensign Sato is such a wonderful tour guide. I had no idea that we would have the chance to see so many marvels: exotic floral and fauna, magnificent sunsets, and endless scenic vistas. How delightful! A little cold is a small price to pay, don't you think?" A monumental sneeze erupted from the petite ensign forcing the doctor to take a step backwards. As he pressed a handful of tissues into the young woman's hand, he stated categorically, "You're on sick leave for the next three days." Kelly looked up at him with reddened eyes and blew her nose. "Unfortunately, you've managed to contract one of the few things that I cannot cure." Phlox pressed a hypospray against Kelly's neck. "All I can give you at this point is vitamins and a mild decongestant. Get some sleep, increase your fluid intake, and I'll stop by your quarters tomorrow morning to check on you." Kelly nodded her head miserably then sneezed again into the wad of tissues. "Sato to Dr. Phlox" "Off with you now," he said, then stood back as the young woman slid lethargically off the biobed and headed for the door. "And remember to stay in your cabin. We don't want to have an epidemic on our hands." Phlox shook his head and smiled as the door closed behind Kelly, then he strolled over to the companel. "Good morning, Ensign," he said with a lilt in his voice. "What can I do for you?" "I have a call from Mr. & Mrs. Tucker. They would like to speak with you." Phlox scrunched his features into a pensive frown. "Commander Tucker's parents?" "Yes, sir." "Are you sure they want to talk to me?" "Well…um…they did ask for Commander Tucker, but he was…unable to take the call." The Doctor snorted indignantly. "Unable or unwilling." When Hoshi started to mumble a response he cut her off. "It's all right, Ensign. No explanation is necessary. Put the call through. I'd be happy to speak with them." By the time he walked over to the monitor, the image of Trip's parents filled the screen. "Good morning, Mr. & Mrs. Tucker. How can I help you?" Mr. Tucker squinted apprehensively then got straight to the point. "I want to know what's wrong with my boy." "Mr. Tucker…," Phlox murmured but was immediately cut off. "I don't want to hear that everything's fine. We watched the broadcast of the trial. He looks like hell." "I think that is something you should take up with your son, Mr. Tucker," Phlox said quietly. "As his physician, I cannot discuss his medical condition with you. It's privileged information." Mr. Tucker ran his hand through his hair in frustration. Like father, like son, Phlox mused. "We've tried to talk to him! He won't take our calls." Mr. Tucker swallowed hard and cast a worried glance at his wife. When she reached up and gently rubbed his shoulder reassuringly, he turned back to face Phlox. "Look, I know that I've made a lot of mistakes lately. I wish to heaven that I'd never heard of Terra Prime or that idiot Paxton. I can't expect my son to ever forgive me for what I've done, but we…we need to know if he's sick. He doesn't have to know that you talked to us." Phlox sighed deeply as he looked at the distraught couple. "You must understand that you son has been under a great deal of stress over the last few years. The responsibility for keeping this ship together is a heavy burden. So much has happened to him, so many senseless tragedies. He's tried to run away from his feelings for far too long. I'm afraid that it all may finally be catching up with him." "Is there anything you can do to help him?" Mrs. Tucker asked. A woman in her late fifties with a face closer to cute than pretty, there was nothing fragile about her. She was clearly the emotional anchor for her family. In her deep blue eyes, Phlox saw the commander. The rest of Trip's facial features quite clearly came from his father. "I'm sure that when he's ready for help, he'll ask for it. Your son is a strong man, both physically and mentally. He'll weather this storm just as he has all of the others in his life. You should be very proud of him. He's a fine young man." Phlox tried to smile reassuringly. It was hard to sound confident when he was clearly troubled himself. He wanted to ease their minds, but without being intentionally misleading. Mr. Tucker stirred restlessly. He looked again toward his wife who gave him an almost imperceptible nod. "About this little Vulcan gal…" Phlox stiffened. "Mr. Tucker you know that I cannot…" "Now just wait a minute. Don't get all het up. When it comes to the ladies, my son's always been as easy to read as a toddler's picture book. He's clearly smitten with her. T'Pol…isn't that her name?" Phlox nodded his assent, but kept his lips pressed tightly together. "We just want to know a little more about her. We watched her at the trial…saw her holdin' Trip's hand." Mr. Tucker paused and scrubbed his hand across the back of his neck. "I guess I owe her an apology, lumpin' her together with those bastard Xindis the way I did. That wasn't right." He tilted his head and looked at Phlox. "Speakin' of aliens, Doc, what are you?" "I am Denobulan," Phlox said with a hint of a smile. "Denobulan," Mr. Tucker shook his head in amazement and turned to his wife. "Imagine that." "Charlie, you know that he's a Denobulan," Mrs. Tucker whispered, as she looked apologetically at Phlox. "Trip has often mentioned you in his letters, Doctor. I know that he thinks of you as a friend. That's why we asked to speak with you." She stuck an elbow forcefully into her husband's ribs and whispered, "Now apologize to the man." "Keep your shirt on, woman," Charlie grumbled as he rubbed his left side. Finally, he took a deep breath and continued, "I want to apologize, Doc, for seein' you as an alien instead of a man…an honorable man. I was wrong. But you gotta understand, when those alien vermin killed our Elizabeth – left us with nothin' but our memories – well I haven't been able to see straight since then. Don't get me wrong, we love all our children…would do anything for ‘em, but Lizzie was our baby. She was kinda special." His voice faded to a whisper as he finished his thought. Phlox found it impossible not to feel pity for this man. He was obviously trying to come to grips with his prejudices. The doctor had seen firsthand the effect that Lizzie's death had on the commander. The loss of Elizabeth Tucker had obviously devastated her entire family. "I accept your apology, Mr. Tucker, but it really isn't necessary." Phlox favored them with one of his expansive smiles. "As for Commander T'Pol, I can tell you that she is extremely intelligent and brave. She was the first Vulcan to serve for any length of time on a human vessel. That alone should give you some idea as to her tolerance and courage. I seriously doubt that we could have survived the perils of the Delphic Expanse and stopped the Xindi weapon without her. She was and is that important to all of us." Phlox carefully considered how to proceed. "I know that she cares deeply for your son even though they are no longer together as a couple." He paused as the Tuckers exchanged glances. Phlox was hoping to gauge their reaction to this news, but they gave away very little. He was finally forced to continue. "Perhaps the death of their child placed too great a strain on their relationship." That statement definitely struck a chord. Mr. Tucker looked away while Mrs. Tucker crossed her arms and nervously brought her left hand up to grip the base of her throat. "But the child was…well…she was manufactured. She wasn't really Trip's baby," Mrs. Tucker said softly. "Not really." "Ah, now there you are wrong, Mrs. Tucker," Phlox said sadly. "That darling little girl may not have come into the world in the traditional way, but she was unquestionably their daughter." "During the trial we heard Trip refer to the baby as Elizabeth," Mr. Tucker said quietly. "I guess it's not surprising, though. He was always pretty close to his little sister." "Actually the name was T'Pol's idea," Phlox said firmly. He was heartened by the surprised looks on their faces. "She wanted to honor the memory of the commander's sister. She, above all people, understood the depth of his grief. He went to her for help in dealing with his insomnia, and she was able to work miracles. I seriously doubt that he would have had the strength and focus to hold this ship together without her support." Warming to his subject Phlox forged ahead. "Not long after we discovered the existence of the baby, Commander Tucker came to see me. He wanted to know if the infant was healthy and asked after its gender. When I told him that it was a little girl, he was so pleased. He could hardly wait to tell you that you had a granddaughter. He said that it was something that his father had always wanted." Phlox watched intently as Mr. Tucker dropped his eyes and shook his head. "Yeah I did say that." After a moment, he looked up again. "And I meant it." "Please believe me when I tell you that even though they had Elizabeth for only a short while, both her parents cared for her deeply. Her loss was every bit as devastating for them as your daughter's loss was for you. Until you can accept that she was your granddaughter and that T'Pol was her mother, I seriously doubt that you can ever find common ground with your son." Phlox was distressed to see tears begin to form in Mrs. Tucker's eyes. "I don't say this to hurt you. It's simply the truth, and you should be aware of it." Mr. Tucker straightened his back and cleared his throat. "My wife and I are grateful for your honesty, Doc. I'd appreciate it if you'd tell my son you talked to us. Tell him that we're tryin' to understand. If he thinks he can handle a Vulcan, then more power to him. This woman here's almost more that I can manage and she's just a human." "Ouch!" he yelped as his wife's elbow connected once again with his rib cage. "Now cut that out, woman. What's the doctor gonna think with you assaultin' me the way you are?" "You just never mind," Mrs. Tucker said, sniffing back the tears. He handed her a neatly folded handkerchief and put his arm around her. "You know you'll always be my best girl," he said quietly. While she dabbed at her eyes, he leaned over and gave her a gentle peck on the cheek. With a final reassuring pat on his wife's shoulder, Mr. Tucker raised his chin and turned his attention back to Phlox. "You tell that son of mine that we'll welcome any woman he takes to wife, but he needs to bring her home for a visit. That's only decent. We promise to be on our best behavior. You tell him that. Please." "And tell Trip to take better care of himself," Mrs. Tucker added. There was no mistaking the tension in her voice. "It makes me feel so helpless when I see him like this. If only that boy could learn how to grieve. We've tried to teach him how to deal with the anger…the hurt, but he just bottles everything up inside. He doesn't eat right. He doesn't sleep. We've seen this so many times since…" With a look of supreme sadness, Mr. Tucker laid a restraining hand on her arm. When she turned to him with anguish-filled eyes, he shook his head. "Now, now, darlin'. You don't have to worry. Doctor Phlox will take good care of our boy." "We've already lost Elizabeth. If anything happened to Trip, I don't…" "That's not gonna happen," Mr. Tucker said firmly. "Trip's got a whole starship full of people lookin' after him. He's gonna be fine." Phlox knew that, above all, this couple needed reassurance. He was determined to do his best to ease their minds. "You don't have to be concerned. I'll speak with the commander. And I'll talk to Chef about the commander's diet. We'll see if we can't…um…fatten him up a bit." Phlox smiled engagingly. "I'll do everything I can to get your son back on the road to good health." "Thanks for takin' the time to talk to us, Doc," Mr. Tucker said sincerely. "Next time you're back on Earth, look us up. I'll take ya fishin'." "I'll do that, Mr. Tucker," Phlox said. "And please don't worry. I'll contact you regularly to let you know how your son is doing. Good-bye now." Mrs. Tucker raised her hand as she murmured, "Good-bye." Then the screen went dark. Interesting people, Phlox thought. He always enjoyed meeting the parents of his fellow crewmen. It gave him fresh insights into the personalities of his friends. He just wished that this meeting had been under happier circumstances. The doctor shook his head and sighed. Now the real work began. He had to deliver Mr. & Mrs. Tucker's message to their son. He could only hope that the commander would try to be a little understanding, but Phlox wasn't foolish enough to be overly optimistic. Of late, Commander Tucker wore his anger like a suit of armor. His unreasoning rage kept him going when life dealt him blow after blow and served to discourage others from getting too close. Now Phlox had to try to breech his defenses and bring parents and child back together again. He brought his hands down on his knees in resignation then got to his feet. Halfway to the door he paused. It never hurt to be prepared. Turning, he moved over to the counter on the left side of sickbay and picked up a hypospray. After checking it, he put it in his pocket. Now ready to do battle, he headed for Tucker's quarters. * * * * * * As soon as Phlox pressed the door chime his worst fears were confirmed when a voice inside growled, "Go away." Oh well, he thought philosophically, things worthwhile are seldom easy. "Commander, it's Doctor Phlox." The door immediately swished open and a disheveled young man stood before him. There was a wild look of desperation in the engineer's blue eyes that Phlox had never seen before, and he found it very disturbing. "Are you here to let me out of this damn prison?" Trip asked in a stress-filled voice. "Now, now, Commander," Phlox said calmly, "you're supposed to be resting." "I can't just be sittin' on my backside all day doing nothin'," Tucker said as he ran a hand anxiously through his hair. "They need me in engineering. I have to get to work." "The corridor is not the place for this," the doctor said quietly as he took a step forward. "Why don't we go inside, and I can check on your progress." Trip stood still for a moment, his eyes locked on the doctor's. Finally, he stepped aside and allowed Phlox to enter. "Have a seat, Mr. Tucker," Phlox said pointing to the unmade bed. If the covers' disarray was any indication, the engineer had not had a peaceful night's sleep. After another brief staring match, Trip warily sat down. Quickly Phlox pulled out his medical scanner and set to work. He tried to keep his face neutral, but something in his expression must have alerted Tucker that the results were not good, because Trip suddenly jumped up and put as much distance as possible between himself and the doctor. Heaving a mighty sigh, Phlox walked over to the computer, brought up a program he'd prepared in advance and stepped back. "At the risk of understatement, I must tell you, Commander, that your health, at present, is deplorable." He pointed to the screen. "This report – which I will be submitting to the captain, by the way – summarizes your present physical condition and outlines what you have to do to, as you say, get out of jail." Behind Tucker's head, the stars streamed by the viewport in stark contrast to his motionless stance. Slowly, Trip's eyes moved from the monitor to the doctor and back again. He ran his tongue nervously over his lips. Finally, his curiosity got the better of him, and he cautiously moved over to look at the information on the monitor. As the commander scanned the data, Phlox stood off to the side with his hands folded in front of him. "I don't believe I'm asking too much," the doctor said, referring to his program for the commander's recovery. "It says here you want to give me a shot once a day," Trip muttered, jabbing a finger at the screen. He looked over his shoulder and glared at the doctor. "What kind of shot?" "An anti-depressant," Phlox answered quietly. Trip jerked upright and planted his hands on his hips. "You think I'm depressed?" he spat out incredulously. "Yes," Phlox replied calmly. "But then I'm not telling you anything that you don't already know." For a split second, Trip's belligerent mask slipped, allowing the doctor to see the stark terror in the young man's eyes. Before Phlox could learn more, the commander, once again, retreated behind the mask. Taking a step toward the troubled human, Phlox said softly, "I only want to help you, Commander. Please let me do my job." "No shots," Trip murmured in a husky voice. "But, Commander, you need…" "No!" Trip turned back toward the monitor. Lowering his head, he said quietly, "I'll follow your damn plan, but…no shots." "You aren't making this easy, Mr. Tucker," Phlox scolded softly. "What am I supposed to tell your parents? Your mother is concerned that you don't look well." "You leave my parents out of this. They…" Suddenly the doctor's words hit home. Trip spun around and stared wide-eyed at the doctor. "You talked to my mother?" "Yes." There was a look of genuine look of bewilderment on Trip's face. "Why would you want to do that?" "I spoke to your father as well." "Dad?" Phlox nodded. "When they called, their son refused to speak with them. I was their second choice." He looked pointedly at the commander. "They're worried about you, you know. They watched the trial." "Oh." The Doctor shifted his weight and clasped his hands behind his back. "They asked about T'Pol and the baby." Tucker paled. "I'm thrilled to death that you and my parents got on so well," he sneered uneasily, "but I really don't want to talk about this right now." "They've already lost a daughter. They don't want to lose a son as well," Phlox said quietly. "Why don't you give them another chance? They know they've made a serious mistake, but they're trying to make amends. As a matter of fact, they'd like you to bring T'Pol home for a visit." "Now wouldn't that be special," Tucker jeered. "A Vulcan ought to fit right in with those bastards from Terra Prime." Trip ran his hand anxiously through his hair again. "T'Pol's life is difficult enough right now without throwing her to the wolves. I won't do it." "Your father is trying to move past his prejudices," the doctor pleaded. "He was deeply wounded by your sister's death. By lashing out at all aliens, he felt he was doing something to avenge her and keep the rest of his family safe." "Don't try to excuse what he did," Tucker shouted. "I grieved for Lizzie, too, but I didn't take up with a bunch of fascists who want to destroy everything we were taught to value and believe in." Phlox raised his hands in mollification. "Your father said, and I quote, ‘I wish I'd never heard of Terra Prime.' He referred to Paxton as an idiot." "Hmph," Tucker snorted. "Even the rats are jumpin' ship." "Commander…" Torn between love and hate, Tucker shook his head furiously. "They killed my baby," he hissed. "I can never forgive that." "Don't you see, Commander, that's exactly the way your parents felt? They're trying to deal with their pain and move on. You can, too. Just try talking to them." "My parents and I have nothing to say to each other." Trip was adamant. "End of conversation." Phlox watched helplessly as Tucker returned to the monitor. The commander tried to appear calm as he reviewed his medical data, but he couldn't hide the fact that his hands were shaking. Finally, he raised his head and said, "Please, Doc, I have to work this out for myself. I know my parents love me…but what they did…I just can't forgive them. Not yet." The words came out tinged with a weariness that seemed to go right down to the bone. Concerned, Phlox walked up behind the young man and murmured, "Come with me to sickbay, Commander. Let me help you." Tucker shook his head and leaned forward again, gripping the desk with his both hands. "You don't have to feel this way. If you won't let me help you, I know other doctors who are very good at helping people work through their problems." "No!" Holding his hands out in front of his body, palms forward, Tucker backed away from Phlox. "I don't need to go to sickbay, and I sure as hell don't want to see a psychiatrist. I can take care of myself. Please…just leave me alone." Before Phlox had a chance to respond, Trip disappeared into the bathroom and slammed the door. * * * * * * * Late that evening, Phlox stood outside Captain Archer's quarters. As soon as he pressed the door chime, he heard the muted shout, "Come in." The door swished open, and he stepped inside. He was immediately greeted by an ecstatic little beagle. Porthos stretched full length up Phlox's leg, putting his head within easy scratching range of the doctor's hand. "Evening, Doctor," Archer said genially. "I was just about to indulge myself. Would you care for a drink?" He held up a decanter filled two-thirds full of a golden brown liquid. "May I ask what you're drinking?" "Kentucky bourbon. Have you ever tried it?" Archer motioned toward his desk chair, inviting the doctor to take a seat. "Denobulans aren't known for their tolerance for spirits," Phlox responded with a huge smile as he sat down, "but I promised myself when I signed on Enterprise that I would open myself to as many new experiences as possible. I can now add Kentucky bourbon to my list." He accepted a glass from the captain and took a sip. "Mmm," he said as he held the glass up to the light. "This is rather refreshing. I can see why you'd welcome a glass at the end of the day." Archer smiled. "I must admit that I've never thought of bourbon as refreshing, but to each his own. I'm glad you like it." With the amenities over, the doctor got down to business. "I had a call today from Commander's Tucker's parents." "Really," Archer said, the surprise clear in his voice. "I didn't think you knew them." "I don't. It seems they watched the trial. They're concerned about the commander." "Aren't we all," Archer murmured under his breath. "They seem like very nice people. I look forward to getting to know them better. As a matter of fact, Mr. Tucker told me to…um…look them up the next time we return to Earth. He said he'd take me fishing." Smiling, Archer walked over and sat down on the bed. With his back against the headboard he stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankles. He patted the bed and Porthos immediately jumped up, curling into a ball within easy petting distance of his master's left hand. The captain took a drink and leaned his head back. "I suppose I ought to warn you," Archer said, raising one eyebrow good-naturedly, "Trip's parents don't just entertain their guests, they adopt them. Once you've met the Tuckers, you're friends for life. There are times when it can be rather overwhelming." Phlox smiled broadly, took another sip and settled himself comfortably in his chair. "It's certainly easy to see where the commander gets his outgoing personality. What can you tell me about his parents?" Archer nodded. "Well, let's see…depending on whom you talk to, Charlie Tucker is colorful, eccentric, brilliant, a clown, or out-and-out crazy. Take your pick. His family wanted him to go college, but he had other ideas. He decided that the best way to learn about the world was to take odd jobs. So he was a fishing guide for a while. Then he got into construction work. He collected trash, worked on a chicken farm…you get the idea. Phlox watched as the captain raised his glass and took another sip. "Anyway, it turned out that Charlie had a real head for business. He got a job in a small boatyard down in Florida. Within three years he was part owner. A year later he owned it all. Today his company is one of the largest manufacturers of pleasure boats on Earth. Yachts, rowboats, catamarans, you name it." "And Mrs. Tucker," Phlox prompted. "Ellie was researching a paper for a college class when she paid a visit to the boatyard. According to her, Charlie Tucker is the only man who can turn scraping barnacles off a hull into a sensual experience. He made such an impression on her that she dropped out of school and married him. Over the next ten years, she produced four kids and kept the company's books. She's one tough lady. "The kids helped around the boatyard when they were old enough. Of course, Trip headed for the motors right away." It was obvious from the smile on Archer's face that he was still very fond of the commander. "Charlie told me that, at first, Trip was a whole lot better at taking things apart than he was at putting them back together, but it wasn't long before they realized that they had a prodigy on their hands. Trip could do things with machines that most adults couldn't begin to conceptualize. "Since then, Ellie's gone back to school. She's got a number of degrees to her credit, including a doctorate. Last time I talked to her, she was thinking about taking up landscape architecture. It's something Lizzie got her interested in." Finally, Archer leaned forward and looked searchingly at Phlox. "But you didn't really come here to talk about Trip's parents, did you?" The doctor took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "No, Captain. I only wish that was the reason for my visit." "I'm not going to like this, am I?" Archer asked wearily. When Phlox shook his head, Jon tossed back the rest of his drink and refilled his glass. "I guess you better get on with it." "I'm afraid that Mr. Tucker is unwell," he said quietly. "He's suffering from depression." It was obvious that Archer was deeply distressed, but he didn't interrupt. "I spoke with the commander earlier today. I outlined my conditions for his return to duty. He promised that he would begin to take better care of himself." "But you have your doubts." "Let's just say that I'm not overly optimistic." Archer shifted restlessly on his bed. "I can order him to sickbay, if you think that would help." A frown creased the doctor's brow. "I'm not sure that would be wise. Commander Tucker is frightened of something. I can see it in his eyes. He is adamant that he doesn't want to go to sickbay. For the moment, I think it would be best if we don't push too hard. I'll watch him closely for the next few days." "Isn't there anything you can do for him?" "I offered to start him on antidepressants, but he refused treatment. If he comes to me for help, I will do everything I can for him. You know that, Captain. Until then, however, my hands are effectively tied. He has to admit that he has a problem. I can treat his symptoms, but it is vital that we identify and treat the underlying cause of his depression." Archer finished his drink and slapped the empty glass down on his nightstand. He stood up abruptly and started to pace. "Can he still be trusted to run engineering?" After taking a moment to consider Phlox replied, "As far as I can determine, yes. Every time he forces himself to go to work – and I'm sure that on many days it is a struggle - he's trying to prove to you and to himself that he can still do his job. He's dedicated to Enterprise and to the crew. He would never do anything to endanger either one." "But he's willing to endanger his own health." "Captain, depression is an insidious disease. It makes you feel powerless to control any aspect of your life. It can totally disrupt your eating and sleeping patterns. You don't eat, you eat too much, you can't sleep, or you can't force yourself to get out of bed in the morning. Fear and insecurity are your constant companions. The deeper it sucks you down the more hopeless and pointless your life becomes. That's why, if depression is left untreated, suicide can offer a welcome release." "Then treat him," Archer snapped. "I'm not going to stand by and let him destroy himself." "You have to understand how difficult it is for Commander Tucker to admit that he's ill. I've heard you describe him on occasion as tough as nails." Archer nodded grudgingly. "A man whose self-image is based on being tough as nails will see this affliction as a personal failure. He wants to be strong, but he's too weak to control his emotions. He wants to feel good, but he can't. He thinks he can bend this disease to his will just as easily as he controls his warp engine, and it can't be done. He's going to fight and fight against acknowledging that he has a problem until it brutally brings him to his knees. When that happens, he's going to need all of his friends to help him put the pieces back together again." Archer sank down on the bed. Porthos, sensing his master's distress, came over and lay down, resting his head on Archer's thigh. "How could this have happened?" the captain asked, as he stroked the dog's soft fur. "He dealt with his sister's death and the hell we experienced in the Expanse…" "I think he's just now coming to grips with those events," the doctor said quietly. "I know the Expanse took a heavy toll on every member of the crew, especially you, Captain, but for the commander, the losses seem to be more…well…personal. He buried the pain for several years, and then everything began to come apart." Phlox shrugged. "We will probably never know what triggered this emotional upheaval. It could have been the death of the baby, the problems with his parents, or…" Phlox reached into his left pocket and pulled out a padd. He rose and handed it to Archer. "Do you recognize this?" The captain took the padd and looked at it. "This is the suicide note Ensign Masaro left for Trip." "Did you read it?" "No. It wasn't meant for me." "Even though it was intended to be private, as the commander's doctor, I felt it was necessary to see what was so distressing for him. I think you should read it." Reluctantly, Archer brought up the message and started to read. I am so sorry! Please forgive me, sir. I would never hurt you. You're the best CO I've ever had. I joined Terra Prime because I hated the Xindi for what they did to Earth. When the Xindi attacked Florida, they killed my two best friends. I knew you'd understand how I feel, sir, because they killed your sister, too. They're all butchers and Starfleet was treating them like they were our friends. I couldn't stand for that. I didn't know about the baby. The people at Terra Prime told me they were going to use Commander T'Pol's DNA to prove just how alien the Vulcans are. I guess I should have asked a few more questions when they wanted your DNA, too, but I didn't. For that, I'm sorry. You know better than anyone that the Vulcans aren't like us. They don't know what it means to love or hate or grieve over the loss of family and friends. They have no business trying to tell us how to run Earth. It would be best if they went back to Vulcan and allowed us to live in peace. I know that my career is over. It won't take Lieutenant Reed very long to figure out that I was the one who stole the DNA. I betrayed you, sir. I know you probably won't be able to forgive me, but I'd like to try and make things right. If I kill myself, you won't have to be constantly reminded of what I did. There won't have to be another trial. You are an important man, sir. Compared to you, I know that my life doesn't mean much, but it's all I have to give. I hope that my death can in some small way make up for what I've done. "Oh, no," Archer groaned after reading the note. "I'm sure that the ensign didn't realize how devastating this would be for Commander Tucker." "No wonder Trip was so upset." Phlox took the padd from Archer and put it back in his pocket. "Even the strongest man has his limits, Captain. Guilt and grief can break down the staunchest defenses. I want you to know that I'll do everything I can for Mr. Tucker. Somehow we'll get him through this." "Let me know if there is anything I can do to help," Archer said soberly. "You know I'd do anything for Trip." "I will, Captain." The doctor started to make his way to the door, but after taking only a couple of steps, he stopped and a smile crept across his face. "And thank you for the introduction to Kentucky bourbon." Archer rose from the bed and accompanied the doctor to the door. "Stop by for a drink anytime. You're good company, Phlox. Sometimes being the captain can be a pretty lonely job." "I'm here anytime you need me," the doctor said as he gave a farewell pat to Porthos. The door swished open. "Goodnight, Captain. And don't worry." Archer remained standing in the doorway as the door closed, concern still etched clearly on his face. Phlox walked back to sickbay deep in thought. Fortunately, because of the late hour, he didn't have to worry about dodging other crewmen. He had the corridors all to himself. Mentally sifting through his knowledge of human psychology, he tried to find some way to reach Commander Tucker. The young man's natural stubbornness, mixed with the desperation that now seemed to seep from every pore, made him a particularly difficult patient. As the doors swished open and he entered sickbay, Phlox unaccountably felt his spirits rise. He just had to keep trying and eventually he would find a way to succeed. "Optimism," he said vigorously, "and a little bit of luck." CHAPTER 8: ARCHER The captain had barely arrived back on Enterprise following his appearance at Paxton's trial when Hoshi alerted him that Admiral Gardner wanted to talk to him. "Thank you, Ensign," Archer said wearily. "I'll take it in my ready room." He left the bridge, walked over and plopped down in his desk chair. He paused then reached over and activated his monitor. Gardner's image immediately appeared. "Sorry to bother you, Jon," the admiral said sincerely. "I know you must be tired. This trial has been an ugly affair. I hope it won't drag on too much longer. How are your people?" "As well as can be expected," Archer said. "It's been especially difficult for Commanders Tucker and T'Pol. I'm giving them both some time off to recuperate." "They made the best of a bad situation." The admiral paused and looked intently at the captain. "Did you know about their relationship?" "No," Archer shifted restlessly in his chair. "Not really. I knew they'd become close friends, but beyond that…" "If they want to continue their relationship, Jon, we may have to talk about it. It might not be wise to keep them on the same ship. I know that Captain Hernandez would love to have Commander Tucker back on Columbia." "I bet she would," Archer said under his breath. The idea of losing one of his two best friends did not appeal to Archer. Besides, there was no way that he could let Trip go in his present condition. He needed to change the subject. "Do we have any idea how many more Terra Prime operatives are still out there?" "I doubt we'll ever know for sure; some of them are dug in pretty deep. We know now that we have all the leaders. The organization may continue to pose a small threat, but nothing that we can't handle." "That's good to know." "If it's any consolation," the admiral continued, "it appears as though Paxton seriously miscalculated. It's been hard for the vast majority of people to see that angelic little baby as the devil incarnate. If anything, people's eyes have been opened to the possibilities of improved interspecies relations." The admiral's mouth opened then snapped shut again. His face quickly took on a rosy hue. "Er, that's relations of a non-intimate nature, of course." Archer had to struggle manfully to hide his smile. Gardner quickly recovered his poise. "Ambassador Soval has informed me that public opinion seems to be shifting away from the xenophobic demonstrations we've seen since the Xindi attack. I think if the commanders were able to get out and talk to the average people, they'd find that they have a lot of sympathy and support." The admiral shifted in his chair. "Oh, and Jon, I assume that Commander Tucker knows about his parents involvement with Terra Prime." Archer gritted his teeth. He didn't think he'd ever forget the betrayal and rage on Trip's face when he'd made that discovery. "Yes, sir. I'm afraid that he didn't take it very well." "I guess that's not really too surprising. Well, tell him that from the evidence we've been able to compile, his parents were Terra Prime members in name only. I intend to have words with Starfleet Intelligence. That report should never have been forwarded to you before it was confirmed. Their actions were completely irresponsible." "Thank you, Admiral. I'll pass the word along. I'm sure that it will make things easier for Commander Tucker." When Gardner paused, Archer said, "Is there something else, sir?" "Even though the xenophobic feelings are not as strong as they were a few months ago, there are still some fanatics out there. I'd feel better if Enterprise stayed away from Earth for awhile longer. Ambassador Gral and the Tellarite delegation are ready to return to their home world. I want you to give them a ride. They know you, and they're comfortable on Enterprise…at least as comfortable as it's possible for them to be." Archer's groan was audible. "I know Gral's antics could make the Pope swear, but it's a job that has to be done. The Tellarites have to ratify the coalition agreement as soon as possible. Gral can get that done for us. Unfortunately, the participation of the Tellarites is vital for the long-term stability of the coalition." "Yes, sir." Archer knew that his response lacked enthusiasm. "Do this, Jon, and we'll talk about sending Enterprise out to do a little exploring." "When does the ambassador want to leave?" "Send a shuttlepod down to Starfleet Command at 0900 tomorrow morning. Ambassador Gral is very eager to leave. He thinks the coalition is just what he needs to make him a very important man back home. He's likely to be a bit of a handful." "He's always been a handful," Archer said resignedly, "but we'll manage. If that's all, sir, I need to get my people started on making preparations for the ambassador and his party." "Tell your officers that Starfleet appreciates their professionalism during the trial. As far as the Tellarites are concerned, they're your problem. Good luck, Captain." The admiral flashed a smug grin before his image faded from the screen. Why is it always the Tellarites? Archer thought as he slumped back into his chair. Oh well, moaning and groaning isn't going to make the problem go away. He reached for the comm button then paused. T'Pol was off duty as per Doctor Phlox's edict. He needed a combination baby sitter and social director. After giving the matter some thought, he pressed the button. "Ensign Sato here, sir." "Hoshi, send in Lieutenant Reed." * * * * * * "It's a pretty sorry day when a captain has to hide out on his own ship," Archer mumbled grumpily. He opened the gymnasium door and peeked out into the corridor. This is absolutely ridiculous, he thought angrily. Enterprise was his ship. He ought to be able to come and go as he pleased. But just to be on the safe side… Jon quickly took a look both ways before striding out into the corridor. For weeks, he'd managed to make the best of a bad situation, conscientiously performing his duties as a host, but dining with the Tellarite ambassador night after night had finally driven Archer underground. He didn't think it was possible, but he was running out of ways to verbally abuse the ambassador. Thank goodness Lieutenant Reed had stepped in to take up the slack. When this was over, he would have to find some way to repay Malcolm. In the mean time, though, he had to find a way to stay out of sight without alienating the Tellarite delegation. Maybe he could get Phlox to write a note for him. Something simple and straight forward like, "Please excuse Captain Jonathan Archer from any further meals with Ambassador Gral. He's suffering from a chronic pain in the neck." By now, it was almost midnight. Time had certainly gotten away from him. He'd asked T'Pol if he could stop by to check on her, but the hour agreed upon for that visit had long since past. He paused outside her door. He knew that he should probably return to his quarters, but perhaps she was still awake. Throwing caution to the wind, he pressed the door chime. He was only left standing for a moment when the door slid open. Commander T'Pol stood there, swathed in her light blue pajamas and robe. The room behind her was illuminated by her mediation candles. She did not look happy. "I was under the impression that the time agreed upon for your visit was 2200 hours," she said with steely calm. "I apologize, T'Pol." Archer said sincerely. "I was…well…I was working out and I guess I just lost track of the time." T'Pol sniffed delicately and her brow wrinkled. Suddenly aware of his sweat stained shorts and t-shirt, Archer mentally chided himself. He should have showered before he stopped by. "It's late. Why don't I come back tomorrow," he said, taking a step backwards. "Why did you wish to see me? Is there a problem?" "Not a problem exactly…" Archer nervously looked up and down the corridor. "Do you think we could go inside? I promise to make this short." T'Pol nodded and stepped back allowing the captain to enter. She motioned to the bench then walked over to her bed and sat down. Archer took a moment to study her face. "How are you feeling?" "I am well," T'Pol said calmly. Apparently she had no interest in polite conversation because she proceeded to get right to the point. "Does your visit have something to do with our distinguished guests?" Archer smiled ruefully. "Malcolm's been spending a lot of time with the Tellarites. I'd like to give him a bit of a breather. Could you give him a hand?" "Consider it done, Captain. I will meet with Lieutenant Reed tomorrow, and we can set up a schedule." T'Pol rose and took a few steps toward the door, but the captain remained seated, his head down, deep in thought. "Is there something else?" she asked softly. Archer stood and looked her in the eye. "I have something I'd like you to work on, but this would just be between you and me." She raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "During one of my interminable meals with Ambassador Gral, he spoke of a small uninhabited planet located about three days journey from Tellar." "Uninhabited?" "Yes. Evidently the weather can be vicious and unpredictable, it isn't arable, and it appears to have no valuable natural resources." "And you wish to go there?" Archer nodded. "May I ask why?" "I need to get Trip off the ship." T'Pol's eyes widened, but she didn't interrupt. "He refused to take shore leave when we were in Brazil. And the trial…well, you saw him after the adjournment. He's hurt and he's angry. I want to take him somewhere where he can relax and get away from engineering, even if it's only for a few days." "And you believe that a planet deemed to be worthless is the proper place to do that," she said skeptically. Archer turned away from her and began to pace. "I know it sounds crazy, but I don't have a lot of options right now. Phlox is worried about Trip, and so am I." He swung around to face her. "Right now this is the best option available to me. I need an excuse to go down there. I don't care if it's some kind of a survey, a mapping expedition, or a search for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Trip's so close to the edge. I have to get him through this. Will you help me?" T'Pol pressed her lips together and turned away from him. Archer hated to be the bearer of bad tidings, but he knew that T'Pol was fond of Trip and would want to help him. After a moment she said, "I will find something. I will start on it first thing tomorrow morning." "Thank you, T'Pol." Relieved, Archer headed for the door. "I'll have one of the Tellarites pass along any information they have. As soon as you have something worked up, let me know." Forgetting his earlier attempts at caution, Archer slapped the panel and the door swished open. He stepped out into the corridor and ran smack into Commander Tucker. As the captain extended his hand to steady the younger man, he noticed Trip's eyes dart to the open door to T'Pol's quarters. The Vulcan was only visible for a second before the door slid shut again. The two men stood side by side in utter silence, the commander's gaze riveted on the door. Realizing that the circumstances were a bit unusual, Archer felt the need to explain. "I stopped by to ask T'Pol to help me with a project I'm working on." "Good…that's good…I guess," Tucker muttered. "Are you sure she's not tryin' to do too much?" "She's fine, Trip," Archer said good-naturedly. "Quit worrying. As a matter of fact, I think she's been meditating. Her room's lit up like a cathedral on Easter Sunday." "That's good," Trip said wistfully. "I've been kinda worried." Archer was struggling to keep Trip in the conversation. "Are you headed back to your quarters?" Trip nodded absent-mindedly. "Mind if I walk along?" When he didn't get a response Archer waved his hand in front of his friend's face. "Trip?" "Sorry." Tucker cleared his throat and finally focused his attention on the captain. "What did you say?" "I asked if you'd mind if I walked you back to your quarters. How about it?" Trip bristled slightly. "I don't need a keeper, ya know." "I know that." Archer was trying desperately to say the right words. "I just haven't seen much of you lately. I've missed you, Trip." Tucker looked at Archer and forced a smile. "Sure, why not. Just don't get any ideas about tuckin' me in. I don't even let my mama do that anymore." "No problem." Archer smiled. He threw he arm around Trip's shoulders and headed him toward his quarters. "You wouldn't be interested in a little football and a couple of beers tomorrow night, would you?" Trip threw a puzzled look his way. "It isn't football season." "I know that. I picked up some archival footage of some of the early Super Bowls. I thought you might enjoy it." "No kidding?" "Yep. And as long as we're relaxing, there's this water polo match I've been meaning to watch." For the first time in months Archer heard Trip laugh. It was a very good sound. CHAPTER 9: MALCOLM I could really learn to hate the Tellarites, Malcolm thought as he and two of his security men rushed to engineering. It seemed as though he'd done nothing for the last couple of weeks but put out one fire after another. It was as though the three delegates seemed to make it their personal quest to piss off every member of the crew. So far they'd been inordinately successful. Their presence could empty a room faster than the threat of depressurization. After observing the diplomatic niceties, Captain Archer had managed to make himself scarce. When he wasn't on duty, he kept to his quarters. He entertained the delegates in the captain's mess only when propriety demanded it, and propriety was counting for less and less all the time. T'Pol was back on duty, but the burden of riding herd on the Tellarites still fell to Malcolm, and they were insufferable. The problems had escalated to the point where a self-inflicted wound no longer sounded like a dishonorable act. What was an odd toe here or there when one's sanity was at stake. Malcolm opened the door and entered engineering. His security men followed and took up positions on either side of him. The sight that greeted him caused Reed to shake his head. Commander Tucker and Ambassador Gral were standing nose to snout. Arms flailing, voices raised, they were in the midst of one whale of an argument. The other two members of the Tellarite delegation stood close behind the ambassador, seemingly offering moral support. Reed walked over to Lieutenant Hess. "What is it this time?" he asked wearily. "The Tellarites insulted the warp engine," she replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "The engine." Reed was incredulous. "You can't insult an inanimate object." "According to Commander Tucker you can and they did." "Trip realizes that insults are mother's milk to these Tellarites, doesn't he?" "I suppose he does, but he's been a little sensitive lately." "A little sensitive. That's rather a monumental understatement, don't you think? He seems to take offense almost as quickly as our distinguished guests." Reed took one more look at the two combatants. Surprisingly, they appeared to be pretty evenly matched. "I guess I'd better break this up," he muttered with a much put-upon sigh. Hess looked at him sympathetically. "Break a leg." "Don't tempt me." He idly fingered his phase pistol. "If I had any sense at all I'd just shoot them both and be done with it." With a silent plea for patience and divine guidance, Malcolm headed into the fray. "I'm not surprised that you're sensitive about your engines, Commander," Ambassador Gral sneered. "I wouldn't want anyone to see this disgusting pile of junk either. It must be very difficult for you to hide your incompetence from Captain Archer." "Incompetence!" shouted Tucker. "I'll have you know that this engine is the pride of Starfleet! Your problem is that you're used to that second-rate crap they use to power Tellarite ships!" "Second-rate!" "Yeah, second-rate! If your ships are so damn great how come you're hitchin' a ride home with us! Your ships probably can't go this far without breakin' down!" Ambassador Gral shoved his face even closer. "We should never have lowered ourselves to mingle with an inferior species such as…" Before the ambassador could finish his thought, Reed unceremoniously grabbed the commander's arm and pulled him aside. "What in the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed. "I've had about all I can take of that pompous old fart!" Tucker yelled. "Keep your voice down, Commander," Malcolm said testily. "I've been trying to keep the peace around here, and you're not making my job any easier. You get the ambassador all wound up, and then I'm stuck for the rest of the afternoon trying to calm him down again. For two cents I'd lock you both in a room for the rest of our voyage and let you go at each other. It would serve you right." "Lieutenant Reed!" Gral bellowed. Trip's eyes narrowed belligerently, and he took a step toward the Tellarite. Malcolm quickly stepped in front of Tucker and planted his hand firmly on the commander's chest, halting his forward progress. "Do you see those two security men over there?" Malcolm asked. He motioned with his head in their general direction. Trip looked, nodded, and immediately turned back to glare at the ambassador. "They're going to escort you to the Jefferies tube of your choice. You are to stay there until you calm down." Malcolm pulled himself up to his full height and stuck his hands on his hips. "And in the future, I expect you to exert a little self control when it comes to dealing with our exalted guests." Tucker snorted disdainfully. "This is no joke, Trip," Malcolm said seriously. "I can't have you stirring things up." Looking down at the deck, Trip took a moment to process Malcolm's words. When he looked up again, his anger was gone. Reed found this rather sudden transformation a little unsettling. Moments ago Trip looked like he could take on the world. Now he looked utterly defeated. "I'm sorry, Malcolm," Trip said wearily. "It won't happen again. The ambassador just gets under my skin." "Unfortunately you're not alone in that regard," Malcolm said ruefully. "There have been numerous occasions when I wanted to personally shove His Excellency out of the airlock. Just count your blessings that you don't have to spend all day with him. If things don't improve I may be forced to take to drink." Tucker smiled wanly. "Anytime you want to get drunk just let me know. I've got a bottle and a couple of glasses." "I may take you up on that." Reed motioned to his men and they came forward. "Try to stay out of trouble, Commander." With a nod, Trip glanced once more time at Ambassador Gral and headed out of engineering. His escort kept a respectful two paces behind him. Taking a deep breath, Reed turned back to the Tellarite. "If you've seen enough of engineering, Ambassador, may I suggest that we adjourn to the mess hall? I believe luncheon is being served." "That garbage your chef serves is ruining my digestion," Ambassador Gral bellowed. "I intend to lodge a formal complaint with Starfleet!" Malcolm fought hard to keep from rolling his eyes in exasperation. He'd heard it all before. Even the Tellarites were having a difficult time finding new things to gripe about. Then the ambassador growled unexpectedly, "Commander Tucker is the only member of this useless crew who knows how to treat a guest." For a split second Malcolm felt his world tilt on its axis. Any moment now he expected to awake from this nightmare, and his life would begin to make sense once again. * * * * * * The next morning, Reed was called to the captain's ready room. Normally he would have been anxious about such a summons, but this time he was too tired to care. "Come on in, Malcolm, and have a seat," the captain said. He pointed to a chair to the right of the door. Reed straightened his back and stood at parade rest. "I'd prefer to stand, sir," he stated firmly. Even though he was completely exhausted, Malcolm somehow couldn't bring himself to relax in front of the captain. "Suit yourself," Archer said with a hint of a smile. "I just wanted you to know that I appreciate all you've done to keep our distinguished guests happy. The Tellarites are a difficult people. You're to be commended, Malcolm." "Thank you, sir," Reed replied, smiling. "It's always nice to know that one's efforts are appreciated." Archer ducked his head under a ceiling beam and began to pace. "I understand there was a problem in engineering yesterday." Now we get down to it, Reed thought. "Commander Tucker and Ambassador Gral had words. I packed the commander off to a remote area of the ship and took the ambassador to lunch. It was no worse than any number of other arguments I've broken up over the past weeks." The captain nodded then stopped by the window and looked out at the stars. "Was Trip out of control?" he asked quietly. Malcolm shifted uneasily. "I wouldn't say he was out of control. He was vociferous in the defense of his engines. There's a difference." It was easy to see that the captain was worried. Reed felt it was necessary to say something to relieve his mind. "For what it's worth, sir, the ambassador thinks the world of the commander." Archer spun around and stared at Malcolm with a surprised look on his face. "Apparently Ambassador Gral thoroughly enjoyed his little set-to with Mr. Tucker. He maintains that Trip is the only one who truly understands him." Archer smiled, but the sadness in his eyes remained. "I don't know how he does it, but Trip always finds a way make friends with people, even when he isn't really trying." Reed returned the smile, but knew there was more to come. He didn't have long to wait. "Malcolm, I'd like you to find Trip and bring him here. I want to see him," Archer said quietly. Reed started over to the companel. "I'll just give him a quick call," he said uneasily. "I've commed him. So has Hoshi. He doesn't answer." "Maybe there's something wrong." "I doubt it. I think he's trying to avoid everyone, and it's not going to work this time," Archer said. "This talk is long overdue. I'm counting on you to get him here, Lieutenant." "But he really hasn't done anything wrong, sir," Reed said in a hushed tone. Archer looked up at the beam over his head and took a deep breath. "Consider what might have happened if our guests had been members of a different species. Not everyone appreciates a good argument." Archer fixed his eyes on Malcolm. "Do you still think Trip did nothing wrong?" Reed pressed his lips together and looked away. "I expect more of my senior officers, Lieutenant. And I certainly expect more of my chief engineer." As much as it hurt, Reed knew that the captain was right. "Just get him, Malcolm," Archer said tightly. With a look of sadness on his face, the captain turned back to the viewport and his contemplation of the distant stars. * * * * * * Malcolm quickly discovered that finding the commander was almost as difficult as dealing with the Tellarites. According to the read-outs from the internal sensors, Tucker was not on board. "Damn it, Trip," Malcolm muttered under his breath as he sat hunched over his console on the bridge. "How did you manage to mask your biosigns?" "Mr. Reed?" Malcolm looked up and saw T'Pol staring at him. "I'm having trouble locating Mr. Tucker," he said, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice. T'Pol ran her fingers over her console then shifted uneasily in her chair. She was outwardly calm, but Reed had worked with her long enough to tell that she was upset. "I think we should try to recalibrate the internal sensors," she said softly. Working together, they were finally able to pinpoint the position of the elusive chief engineer, and Reed headed down into the bowels of the ship. Striding down a little-used corridor, Malcolm turned a corner and caught sight of a pair of legs. The engineer lay on his back with the upper part of his body crammed into a narrow space behind one of the ship's access panels. While Reed slowly walked over to Tucker, he pondered how best to handle the situation. He had to follow orders, but he wanted to do it in a way that wouldn't further alienate his friend. Suddenly from below he heard, "I know you're there, Malcolm. I can see your feet." "I can't put anything over on you." Malcolm allowed a crooked grin to play over his features. "How about coming out of there? I've never felt particularly comfortable conversing with a disembodied voice." A hand appeared and tossed aside a pair of pliers then the engineer pushed himself out from beneath the circuits and relays. Glaring up at Malcolm, Tucker scrambled to his feet. After brushing himself off, Trip planted his hands firmly on his hips. He was dirty and disheveled and his body language screamed aggression. "So what's so important that you had to pull me away from my work?" Taken aback, Reed bristled, "Is that how you greet your friends? I think I rate at least a ‘good to see you.' Or how about asking after my health? If I wanted belligerence my time could be better spent with Ambassador Gral." Somewhat chastened Tucker dropped his hands to his side and said, "Okay, how are you? I'll decide if it's good to see you when you get around to tellin' me why you're here." "I don't suppose you'd believe that I was just out for a stroll and happened across a pair of legs that looked vaguely familiar?" Tucker laughed derisively then sobered. "Cut the crap, Lieutenant, and tell me what you want." "I don't want anything," Reed said quietly, "but the captain does. Your presence is requested in his ready room, ASAP." A shadow passed over the commander's face. "Do you know why he wants to see me?" "I believe it has something to do with your disagreement with the ambassador yesterday." Tucker nodded then bent over to collect his tools. Wanting to lighten the mood a little Reed observed, "Isn't it amazing that the only communicator on this ship that consistently malfunctions lately belongs to our chief engineer? It doesn't exactly instill confidence in your technical abilities, now does it?" Trip tossed the last of his tools into his kit and plopped down on the deck. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Malcolm watched him for a moment then walked over and sat down beside him. "Seriously, is there anything I can do, Trip? I hate to see you like this." Sighing, Tucker turned his head and looked over at his friend. "There‘s nothing you can do, Malcolm, but thanks for askin'." He smiled weakly. "I just have to sort some things out, and I'll be back to my old self again. So much has happened this year. I just need a little time to come to grips with it all. Okay?" Malcolm looked into his friend's eyes and clearly saw the anguish, but there was something more, something deeper that scared him. He thought for a moment. Resignation – yes, that was it. Trip really didn't believe that he would ever feel normal or happy or fulfilled again. He seemed to be resigned to the misery and loneliness that currently colored his life. Trip's demeanor reminded Malcolm of someone who felt obligated to do penance for some despicable crime. What in the world could he have done? What could make him believe that he deserved this empty, tormented life? Tucker nudged Reed and said, "You're driftin' on me, Malcolm." Reed quickly regained his composure. "Sorry. I was just thinking." "Well," Trip said resignedly, "the captain's waiting." He turned to Malcolm. "I don't suppose you could tell him that you couldn't find me?" "Emphatically no," Malcolm said firmly. "Besides, he'd just send T'Pol after you." "Yeah," Trip sighed, "I guess that would be worse." He gathered his tools then slowly rose to his feet. "Thanks for comin' to get me, Malcolm, and for bein' my friend. I appreciate it." Reed stood and patted the engineer's shoulder reassuringly. "Anytime you want to talk…" "I know," Trip said before Malcolm could finish his thought. "Just remember to bring the liquor," Reed said jokingly. "I have to be slightly drunk before your twisted logic begins to make sense." Trip's gentle smile was all the reward Reed required. "Come on, let's go," Malcolm said. We'll swing by your quarters. I think we can take five minutes to give you a chance to get cleaned up." CHAPTER 10: ARCHER "Come in," Archer called when he heard the door chime. Tucker walked into the ready room and stood nervously wiping his hands up and down his pant legs. "You wanted to see me, Captain." "Do you know why I sent for you, Commander?" Archer tone of voice left no doubt that this wasn't a social visit. Trip swallowed hard. His hands moved behind his back and he stood erect. "I guess you heard about my argument with Ambassador Gral." Archer locked eyes with the commander. He'd been so worried about his friend that he'd allowed Trip's behavior to go unchecked. Now he had to regain some measure of control. The welfare of Enterprise and her crew required it. But he had to do this the right way. Trip was already fragile emotionally. He didn't want to harm him any further. "I realize that the ambassador is not an easy man to get along with, but I expect my senior officers to behave in a professional manner. That doesn't include picking fights or berating our guests in full view of the engineering staff." Tucker dropped his head and compressed his lips. "You need to get your anger under control. If you can't manage it by yourself, I want you to set aside time to see Doctor Phlox." Trip jerked his head up and took a step forward. "Captain, I don't need…" Archer raised one hand silencing Tucker. "I don't want to make it an order, but I will. I have a responsibility to Earth, to Starfleet and to the rest of this crew to ensure that nothing and no one casts a negative light on Enterprise. You've been through a great deal in the last few months and I've cut you a lot of slack, but things are getting out of hand." "Please, Captain…" "Don't interrupt, Commander," Archer snapped. "What if our guests hadn't been Tellarites? What would the Vulcans or the Andorians or, heaven help us, an even more sensitive species think of your confrontational attitude? As the chief engineer, you're supposed to set an example for the rest of the crew to follow. Your behavior lately had been unacceptable and it cannot…it will not continue." Tucker stood silently, but his clenched jaw and the heightened color in his face clearly showed that he was barely keeping his emotions in check. Archer lowered his voice, but continued with the same steely determination. "Do I make myself clear, Commander?" "Yes, sir," Trip said tightly. "Good." With Trip's affirmative reply, Archer wanted to relax, to deal with the young engineer as a friend, but he knew that was unwise. Trip needed structure. He needed discipline and a clear directive to seek help. Only the captain could do that. "From here I want you to go directly to sickbay," Archer continued. "Doctor Phlox is expecting you. You will do whatever he tells you to do. Then you will report to the situation room at 1600 hours for a staff briefing. Are there any questions?" Trip's features contorted as he bellowed, "You have no right…" Archer quickly moved forward to confront him. "I have every right!" he barked. "This crew's welfare is my responsibility. Since you seem to want to do things the hard way, you leave me no choice but to make this an order, Commander, and I expect my orders to be obeyed." The emotions that played across Trip's face quickly ran the gamut from intense rage to mind-numbing fear. Finally, in a choked voice he pleaded, "Why are you doing this to me? If you want me to apologize to the ambassador, I'll do it, but I don't need to see Phlox. There's nothing wrong with me that can't be cured by puttin' some distance between us and those damned Tellarites. I keep tellin' ya I'm fine. Why won't you believe me?" "Because you're not fine!" Archer shouted. He grabbed both of Trip's shoulders firmly. He wanted to shake some sense into him, but figured that it would only be a waste of energy. "You aren't sleeping or eating. You've pulled away from everyone who cares for you. You're out of control, and your work has suffered because of it!" "My work hasn't suffered," Tucker spat back. "This ship's in better shape now than it's ever been." "Enterprise is in good shape because of your engineering crew not because of you. You can't concentrate. You're making mistakes." Archer's hand shot out and grabbed Tucker's left wrist. He forced it up until it was in the engineer's line of sight. "These burns didn't just happen. You're getting careless! I'm not going to let other people get hurt because you're too stubborn to get the help you need!" Tucker finally managed to yank his wrist out of Archer's grasp. He quickly hid his shaking hand with its three red, blistered patches of skin behind his back. "The members of your crew don't even know how to communicate with you anymore," Archer stated. "You're so irritable all the time that it's easier for them to just avoid you. If they want something, they go Lieutenant Hess. I've been down to engineering several times in the last couple of days. I've seen it for myself." He allowed his voice to soften slightly. "That's not the kind of man you are." The commander tried to take a step back toward the door, but Archer only held onto his right shoulder more tightly. "Just give me a little more time," Trip whispered. "I…" "I'm sorry," the captain stated unequivocably, "time's up." He reached over and hit the comm button. "Archer to Lieutenant Reed." "Reed here, sir." "I want you to escort Commander Tucker to sickbay." "No," Trip said in a strangled voice. "Use all the men you need to get the job done. If he gives you too much trouble, put him in the brig and have Phlox see him there. Do you understand, Lieutenant?" "Yes, sir," Malcolm said after a moment's hesitation. "Reed out." "You're dismissed, Commander," Archer said quietly. He was struggling to keep the strong emotions he was feeling out of his voice. "I expect you in the situation room at 1600." "Aye, sir," Tucker replied bitterly. The look of betrayal on his face was almost more than Jon could bear. The door slid open. Malcolm stood uneasily in the doorway with his hands behind his back. "Commander, if you please." Without another word, Trip turned and stormed out of the door. "Damn," Jon muttered under his breath, then he hit the comm button. "Archer to sickbay." "Yes, Captain." "He's on the way, Doctor." "Did things go well?" "Not really," Archer said sadly. "I think you're going to have your hands full. Just do what you can for him." "I understand. We'll just have to hope for the best. I'll keep you informed. Phlox out." Jon found himself staring blankly at the door before him. It was no less a barrier than the ones Trip had erected to shut people out. The press of a button opened this door. What buttons could he press to break through Trip's defenses and reach his friend? He fervently hoped that he'd done the right thing. No, Archer thought. He couldn't afford to second guess himself. He was the captain. He'd only done what was required of him. Anxious and upset, he began to pace back and forth across his ready room. Everything he'd said, everything he'd done had been for Trip's own good. Now it was up to Phlox. He was an excellent doctor. He would know what to do. And with T'Pol's help, in a few hours they would be ready to take the next step. CHAPTER 11: T'POL Human males defy all logic, T'Pol thought as she read through the data from the external sensors. She found it incomprehensible that the captain could honestly believe that a visit to a desolate planet would help solve Mr. Tucker's problems. The commander needed to be confined to sickbay, not taken on a camping excursion. She looked up and saw the captain watching her. When their eyes met he eagerly rose from his chair and quickly traversed the few steps to her science station. "How are you coming, T'Pol?" he asked quietly. "It's almost 1600." "I believe I have all the information you require," she responded coolly. "However, I must reiterate that I do not believe that your decision is sound. Removing Commander Tucker from Enterprise will serve no useful purpose." Archer glanced over at Hoshi. "This isn't the place for this conversation," he said quietly to his first officer. "Let's head back to the situation room," With a nod, T'Pol rose gracefully and followed the captain. When they reached the far end of the situation room Archer turned to her and said, "I know you think this won't work, but I have to try something. Trip is one of my oldest friends. I can't just stand by and do nothing." "He needs medical help." Archer nodded emphatically. "I agree with you, but he doesn't see it that way. Phlox and I have tried – and we'll keep on trying – but Trip has to want to get better. He has to accept the help that we're offering him." "And removing him from Enterprise will convince him to seek help?" she asked skeptically. "Maybe it will, maybe it won't. I don't know," Archer continued forcefully. "I do know that he needs a change of scene, something that will get him away from engineering. He needs fresh air and exercise, and I'm going to see that he gets it." T'Pol tried to keep her displeasure from showing on her face. "From what little I have been able to discern, this planet," she said, motioning to the wall monitor behind her, "will provide you with all of the exercise you seek, but you may have to look elsewhere for the fresh air." Archer tilted his head and looked at her questioningly. "EV suits will not be required, but the air on the planet barely meets minimal standards for sustaining human life. You may find breathing difficult." She could tell that this was not what the captain wanted to hear. He gripped the edge of the table in the center of the room and lowered his head dejectedly. "I have to do this, T'Pol. I can't just stand by and…" "Sickbay to Captain Archer." Archer raised his head and took a deep breath. He reached over and pressed the button on the companel. "Yes, Doctor." "Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed are on their way to the situation room. I've done all I can for the moment." "Did he agree to cooperate?" Archer asked hopefully. "He agreed to allow me to treat him today, but made no promises about returning at some future time. I'm afraid I'm not overly optimistic. I'm sorry, Captain." T'Pol crossed her arms and hugged her body. At least the captain was trying to do something to help his friend. She was doing nothing. Was she willing to stand idly by while a good man destroyed himself? There had to be something she could do. "I understand. Thank you, Doctor," the captain said quietly. "We'll talk again later. Archer out." He turned to T'Pol. The anxiety she felt must have been obvious because his expression softened. "Are you ready, Commander?" She forced herself to lower her arms and nod her head. "Good," he said sincerely. "We'll get through this, T'Pol. All of us. We've come too far together to let it end this way." End. The word echoed through her mind. She could lose him. She gave her head a tiny shake trying to drive the thought away. What would her life be like without him? The turbolift door swished open and Commander Tucker stepped out, followed by Lieutenant Reed. Judging by the scowl on the commander's face, he had not enjoyed his visit to sickbay. When she reached over to adjust the resolution on the star chart displayed on the viewscreen at the center of the table, she was disturbed to see that her hand was trembling. She needed to meditate, but there was no time for that now. Besides, she knew that she would find it difficult to discipline her mind. Her thoughts would only return to him. Trip took his place at the far end of the table, but he sullenly kept his eyes downcast. Reed moved forward to stand next to him. When Archer directed a questioning look at the lieutenant, Malcolm frowned and shook his head. The tension in the air was palpable as Travis and Hoshi quietly took their places around the table. When everyone was present Archer began, "We're very close to a planet which is largely a mystery. You can see it here on the Vulcan star charts." He pointed to an insignificant dot. "Because of its proximity to the Tellarite home world it may at some point have some strategic value for an enemy of the coalition. I think we should go down and take a look around." He looked over at Trip, but the commander stubbornly refused to meet his eyes. Sighing, he continued, "T'Pol, would you fill us in on what you've discovered so far." T'Pol stood erect, gripping her hands tightly behind her back. "The planet appears to be in a formative stage. At present, over 98% of its surface is covered by water." She brought up a schematic of the planet. "There are three primary land masses: one near the northern pole at 15 degrees north latitude; one just below the equator; and one on the far side of the planet at about 40 degrees north latitude. The climate, in all but the pole location, is very warm and humid. The pull of gravity is slightly stronger than that to which we are accustomed and the air, while breathable, is far from optimal. As far as I am able to determine there are no lifeforms." Malcolm looked pensive. "If it's so close to the Tellarites, why haven't they colonized it? You would think that they would want to at least set up an outpost for security purposes." T'Pol shifted nervously. "The Tellarites feel that the planet has no strategic value. It also appears to offer little in the way of mineral deposits or other natural resources." "Basically, it's a worthless, waterlogged hunk of rock," Trip growled. "That is essentially correct." T'Pol glanced quickly over to Archer. "But that does not mean that it might not become important at some time in the future." "I think we should go down and take a look around," Archer said. "It's always wise to be well informed. Are you up for a little survey mission, Commander Tucker?" Trip's head shot up. He was clearly surprised by the suggestion. "Why me?" he asked bewilderedly. "T'Pol's the science officer. Why not take her?" "I thought you joined Starfleet to see new worlds," Archer said. "Here's your chance." "This isn't exactly what I had in mind," Tucker shot back. "Besides we've been having trouble with the EPS grid. I need to stay on board until we find the problem." "Your staff can take care of that," Archer said firmly. "But…" "We should be able to launch the shuttlepod in twenty minutes," T'Pol interjected quietly. Archer nodded his head decisively. "You have twenty minutes to collect your gear." When Trip failed to move, he barked, "Is there a problem, Commander?" "No, sir," Tucker grumbled, "but I want to go on record that explorin' this planet is a waste of time. Even the Tellarites think it's a piece of junk." "So noted," Archer said with a frown. "Now go get ready." "Well…" Tucker clearly didn't want to do this. He looked from Archer to T'Pol to Reed, but, finding no support, he turned and stalked toward the turbolift. As the turbolift door closed behind the commander, Malcolm couldn't help but smile. He looked over at the captain. "A little R and R, sir?" he asked innocently. Archer tried to stifle a grin, but wasn't completely successful. "I only wish it was Risa," he observed good-naturedly before turning his attention to T'Pol. "Drop off the ambassador and his party, then come back and pick us up. There and back should take a little over five days." He looked over to Mayweather for confirmation. "Five days would be about right, sir," Travis said. "Hoshi, we'll check in once a day at noon." Ensign Sato nodded. "Are there any questions?" Archer looked quickly from one face to another. "Good. Dismissed." Hoshi and Travis immediately returned to their stations, but Malcolm lingered. "Doctor Phlox wanted me to give this to you," he said as he handed Archer a pocket-sized case. "The doctor's instructions are inside. He thinks this should take care of all of the commander's needs." Archer gripped the case and nodded grimly. "Doctor Phlox asks that you contact him immediately if you have any…concerns. He wishes you luck, sir," Malcolm said softly, "as do I." "Thank you, Malcolm, and please thank Doctor Phlox." "Well," Archer said as he pocketed the case, "I guess I should be getting ready, too. I'll just stop by and say a few quick words of farewell to Ambassador Gral." He paused and a smile spread wickedly across his lips. He looked pointedly at Malcolm and T'Pol. "It's a real pity that I won't be able to see him back to Tellar in person. I guess I'll just have to leave the Tellarite delegation in your capable hands." The smile turned into a broad grin, and Archer headed for the turbolift. With the meeting at an end, T'Pol started back toward her station. As she left the situation room, she overheard Lieutenant Reed's whispered plea. "Please let this work." * * * * * * T'Pol questioned a great many things, but she knew one thing indubitably. She had to see Commander Tucker before he left. With his departure fast approaching, for once she didn't have time to worry about what was right or what was wrong. There was only her driving need. She hurried to his quarters and, without a second thought, pressed the door chime. When he hollered, "Come in," she entered. Now what could she say to him? Dressed in his beige desert shirt and khaki pants, Trip looked up from his packing. He seemed to be surprised to see her, but only said, "Hi," before stuffing a phase pistol and an extra pair of shoes into his duffle bag. She shifted nervously while she tried to collect her thoughts. Finally, she asked, "Do you have everything you need?" "Yeah." He grabbed a couple of padds off the bed and tossed them in the bag. "Were you in on that little charade?" She raised an eyebrow questioningly. "I don't know what you mean." "Come off it," Trip said bitterly as he turned to confront her. "You and I both know why I'm going on this fool's errand. The captain just wants to get me off the ship before I permanently mess up our relations with the Tellarites. I'm kinda surprised that he isn't sending me down to that godforsaken planet by myself. Maybe he doesn't trust me to stay put." "I don't believe that is the case," T'Pol said tightly. "As a matter of fact, I think the captain welcomes the opportunity to distance himself from the Tellarites. They try his patience." As he finished stowing his gear, T'Pol's mind drifted back to the last time she'd stood by and watched him pack. On that long ago day, he was transferring to Columbia. This time he would at least be coming back to her. As she moved forward to stand next to him, her shoulder gently brushed against his upper arm. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked softly. He stayed focused on the task at hand, refusing to meet her eyes. "All done," he said huskily as he finished closing the bag. He grabbed the duffle, but instead of leaving, he hesitated. After a moment, he angrily threw the bag back onto the bed and spun around to face her. "What are you doin' here, T'Pol? And don't tell me you want to help me pack!" She gripped her hands behind her back as she willed herself to maintain her composure. He was standing so close. She could feel his breath against her cheek. "I just wanted to say good-bye. I trust you will be careful." "I always am," he said softly. She expected him to sneer at her, but instead, he looked deeply into her eyes as though he was trying to figure her out. He must not have come to any conclusions because he finally said, "You'll have to excuse me now. The captain's waiting." She looked up at him. There was so much she wanted to say, but the words that might bring him back to her died on her lips. Instead she murmured, "Maybe something good will come from this. It will give you a chance to relax." "Not you, too!" Trip cried in exasperation. "Everybody keeps tellin' me to relax! I'm just fine, thank you very much. You're the one with the board up your back, Missy. Maybe you need to practice what you preach!" Against her better judgment, T'Pol bristled. "Monitoring the welfare of this crew is my responsibility. Since you play a key role in the running of this ship, it is important that you remain at peak efficiency, yet you continually neglect your health. You must see that this cannot continue. Your friends and crewmates have offered to assist you, and you have rebuffed them. At some point, you must accept the fact that your behavior may bring about consequences which you will not find appealing." "Don't worry, Commander," he said bitterly as he grabbed his duffle bag. "I get the message loud and clear. Shape up or ship out. Believe me, the thought has occurred to me more than once in the last few weeks. I suppose you and the captain will be real glad to get rid of me." She was shocked. "Why would you say such a thing?" she whispered. He shrugged, but obviously his last statement had rattled him as well. "I've been nothing but trouble to everybody lately. You'd both be better off without me." He took a couple steps around her. "Look, I gotta go." In an instant he was out the door. She, however, stood riveted to the spot. Why hadn't she told him how she felt about him? And why did every discussion have to end in a fight? She sat down on his bed. Distractedly, she reached over, grabbed Trip's pillow, and held it close to her. She breathed in his scent and relived the moment when her arm had brushed against his. Both of them were miserable. They needed each other just as they needed sustenance and the air they breathed. When he returned to Enterprise, she would tell him everything. Maybe he could find it in his heart to forgive her, and they could start over. Back to Part 1 Continue to Part 3

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