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"The Thorn and the Rose"
Rating: PG-13 A/N: Many thanks to Distracted for her beta-ing skills. CHAPTER 26: TRIP The first thing Trip saw when he opened his eyes was the soft flicker of candlelight. Taking a deep breath, he blinked a couple of times to try to clear his vision and then slowly rolled over on his side. He groaned when the movement intensified the agonizing pounding in his head. Disoriented, he managed to pry his eyes open a little further, but nothing around him looked familiar. He started to sit up, but before he could get very far, two strong hands took hold of him. Startled, he looked back over one shoulder, catching his breath when he saw a figure looming over him. “Do not rise.” Reassured by the gentle tone of the voice, Trip squinted and gradually a female form came into focus. “T’Pol?” he asked huskily. “I’m here,” she murmured softly. “Everything will be all right.” Easing him back down, she gently began to massage his neck and shoulders. “Do you know where you are?” Trip looked around the dimly lit room. “No.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and noticed the full, embroidered sleeve of his robe. “Are we still on Vulcan?” “Yes. We’re in the meditation room of the wellhouse.” “The wellhouse?” Trip tried to sit up again, and this time T’Pol did not try to prevent it. Once he was seated comfortably on the low platform, she moved over to sit beside him. “I guess that explains the sound I’m hearin’,” he murmured hesitantly, “but this doesn’t look right.” He started to shake his head, but stopped abruptly when a sharp pain shot through his brain, leaving him feeling slightly nauseous. Wincing, he took another look around, trying to move his head as little as possible. Finally he mumbled, “Torok brought me down here to see the well.” “That is correct,” T’Pol said reassuringly, her voice soft and soothing. Trip slowly raised one hand and pointed towards the doorway. “But we went to the other side. He wanted to have tea and…” Without warning, Trip’s mind was brutally bombarded by memories of his grandparents’ final moments. He saw the ground rushing toward them, felt the plane hit and begin to flip. Shuddering, he threw his hands over his eyes in an attempt to block out the graphic images of their lifeless, mutilated bodies. “No!” he howled in agony as his grandmother’s dying scream reverberated over and over through his brain. Jumping to his feet, Trip stumbled toward the doorway. He could feel T’Pol’s hands on his arms, he could feel her mind desperately calling to him, but none of that seemed real. Reality was two battered bodies in a broken airplane. Reality was blood and destruction and intense pain. Reality was a blinding sense of guilt so great that it smothered all hope, all joy, even the will to go on living. He tore his trembling hands away from his face and stared at his palms. “There’s too much blood,” he whispered in an anguished tone. “I tried to wipe it off, but it won’t go away.” “Sit down, Trip.” T’Pol took his arm and tried to pull him back down onto the platform, but he remained rooted to the spot. His eyes were riveted on his hands as though they were a stage and his memories were a tragic drama unfolding. “I’m sorry,” he murmured frantically. “I love you so much. Please forgive me. It’s all my fault.” Suddenly, the dark cloth was pulled back from the window and light filled the room. Trip blinked as his eyes adjusted, but his memories still held him in their grip. T’Pol gently took his hands in hers and held them up for Trip to see. “Look at your hands in the light of day,” she entreated. “Any blood that might have been there was washed away long ago.” “I don’t understand.” Confusion was writ plainly across his face. “It was there. I saw it.” T’Pol pulled his arms apart and took a step back. “Do you see any blood?” she asked softly. His eyes darted from his hands to the front of his suit and the sleeves of his robe. He shook his head bewilderedly and looked at T’Pol. “Don’t allow your mind to play tricks on you.” Releasing his hands, she continued to hold his gaze. “Your grandparents would not want you to feel this way. They cared deeply for you.” “Sit down, young man. We have much to do.” Trip’s head snapped up and his eyes darted around the room, seeking the owner of that voice. He caught a glimpse of an unfamiliar woman standing by the window, but she held no interest for him. Looking beyond her, he spied Torok, sitting cross-legged on a platform at the far side of the room. One look at the high priest and Trip’s body went rigid. “Please don’t make me see anymore,” he begged in a hushed tone, eyes wide. “It shouldn’t have happened. They died and…” He swallowed hard. “…and it was my fault. I’m to blame. I couldn’t… I tried, but…” Suddenly, all of the grief and misery he’d kept bottled up for over two decades broke free, surging mercilessly through his heart and mind like a massive tidal wave. Crying out in anguish, Trip covered his face and began to sob inconsolably. Dimly, in the back of his mind, he knew that T’Pol was with him, stroking his back and whispering sympathetic words that only he could hear, but he was incapable of responding to her entreaties. Her words were a distant noise, nothing more. Finally, T’Pol grasped his shoulders and pulled him towards her. Trip hesitated for a split second and then threw his arms around her waist, burying his face in her neck. He’d loved his grandparents so much, and because of him, they’d died. How could he ever make the hurt go away? How could he ever atone for what he’d done? Gasping for breath between sobs, Trip felt T’Pol tightened her grip on him, as though she feared that his grief might sweep him away. Tears flowed freely from his previously untapped reservoir of grief and remorse. Finally, when he was totally spent, they began to abate. T’Pol, apparently sensing the change in him, loosened her grip and murmured, “Are you all right, Trip?” Reaching up, she brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Does your head hurt?” Sniffing, Trip scrubbed a shaky hand over his eyes and mumbled, “Yeah. It feels like somebody’s tryin’ to drive a spike into my brain.” T’Pol handed him a handkerchief and then looked toward the window. “Doctor.” Trip blew his nose and pocketed the handkerchief. He tried to relax, but he couldn’t prevent his body from tensing when the tall, willowy woman he’d noticed earlier approached him. “Trip, this is Doctor Marrek,” T’Pol said in calm, quiet voice. “She can ease your pain.” Marrek took a moment to study her patient, and then pointed her medical scanner in his direction. After quickly studying the results, she announced, “You are still experiencing some trauma from the mind meld. You will need a strong analgesic to dull the pain.” She pulled out a hypospray. “With your permission, Commander?” Trip glanced at T’Pol, who responded with a subtle nod. Reassured, he tilted his head slightly and Marrek pressed the hypospray against his neck. “Is that better?” Trip squeezed his eyes shut and pressed one hand firmly against his temple. Slowly, he began to feel the pain dissipate. Opening his eyes, he smiled weakly at the doctor. “Yeah. That’s a lot better.” “The analgesic should give you relief from your pain for twelve hours.” She handed a hypospray to Trip. “This contains another dose. If you are still troubled by any lingering effects from the meld after twenty-four hours, please send for me at once.” Trip turned the hypospray over in his hands and then slid it into an inner pocket in his robe. “Thanks.” With the successful completion of her duties, Marrek turned her attention to the high priest. “Do you want me to stay?” “That will not be necessary. You may resume your duties, Marrek.” The doctor bowed her head and quietly left the room. When T’Pol turned to follow the doctor out of the chamber, Trip’s hand whipped out and grabbed hold of her wrist. “Please don’t leave,” he said with a hint of desperation in his voice. “Are you sure you want me remain?” T’Pol asked quietly. “Perhaps it would be better if the two of you spoke in private.” Trip shook his head adamantly. “I think I’m gonna need your help to get through this.” He looked at her beseechingly. “Will you stay?” “Of course.” T’Pol reached up and smoothed a wrinkle from the front of his robe. “I know this will be difficult for you. Try to relax. It will be over soon.” “Come and sit down, young man,” Torok said from across the room. Reluctantly, Trip stepped around T’Pol and walked over to the meditation platform on which Torok was seated. He stood for a moment, looking down at the high priest. “I’m sorry about the cryin’,” he finally said in a guilty voice. “I know that must have made you pretty uncomfortable.” “You are not Vulcan,” Torok answered softy. “Your needs are not the same as ours.” “I know, but…” “It is illogical to apologize for meeting the needs of your body. Your species needs to vent emotions. We must suppress them. That is the way of things.” Somewhat relieved by Torok’s response, Trip sank down on the thick mats. He smiled weakly at T’Pol when she took her place beside him. When they were seated, Torok asked, “Are you ready to begin, young man?” Trip bit his lip and tried to remember all of the breathing exercises T’Pol had taught him. He was fighting desperately to stay calm, but he was afraid that it was a losing battle. He didn’t want to do this. A part of him wanted to get up and walk out, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the man who was trying to turn his world upside down. Digging up the past had brought him nothing but misery. Why couldn’t Torok leave him alone? All he wanted was a few moments of peace. Was that too much to ask? “Commander?” Against his better judgment, Trip looked up and focused on the high priest. “I suppose you want to talk about my…my grandparents,” he said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. “Yes. I regret that the mind meld was painful for you.” Folding his right hand around his left fist, Trip tightened his grip and tried to hold on. “That’s okay. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” “I never doubted that.” Torok shifted slightly. “Now that this traumatic event is out in the open, we can begin to lessen the impact it has your life. I will do all that I can to…” Trip didn’t hear anymore. Shaking his head, he squeezed his eyes shut in anguish. Torok was a good man, but he just didn’t understand. Lessen the impact on your life, he’d said. Didn’t he realize that that was impossible? This time the grief went too deep. In his mind’s eye, Trip could see himself standing at the edge of a bottomless black pit. He was leaning forward. Just a few more inches and gravity would take hold, pulling him down into the abyss. As much as he loved T’Pol, as much as he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, he didn’t honestly believe that even she could prevent his fall. He wanted to fight. He wanted to struggle against the coming darkness, but he no longer had the strength. “No, Trip!” T’Pol squeezed his hands so tightly that the sharp pain brought him instantly back to reality. He took a shuddering breath and tried to pull his hands away. “I will not allow that to happen,” she said sharply. “I will not lose you.” “You’ve gotta quit readin’ my mind,” he croaked under his breath. “Don’t allow yourself to become a victim. These memories do not have to ruin your life.” Anger suddenly sparked in Trip’s eyes. “That’s easy for you to say! You spout a few half-assed platitudes and that’s supposed to make everything all right.” He saw her shock clearly reflected in her eyes, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Well, it doesn’t work that way. This accident is gonna be with me everyday for the rest of my life. Nothing is ever gonna take the pain away. Nothing! Can’t you see that?” “Have you forgotten that I, too, know what it means to lose someone close?” T’Pol said in a firm yet gentle voice. “I understand your pain.” Seeing the sadness in her eyes, Trip knew that he had gone too far. Guiltily, he dropped his head as his anger began to slowly drain away. “I’m sorry, T’Pol,” he murmured. “I was out of line.” “Your apology is accepted.” Her words, though formal, were spoken in a warm, forgiving tone. “I know that the return of your memories has affected you deeply, but you cannot give in to despair. I may know of a way…” T’Pol hesitated and looked over at Torok. His brow creased in a frown, but he did not stop her from continuing. “There is a Vulcan ritual, the Fullara, which might help you with your grief.” “I think I’ve about had it with Vulcan rituals, T’Pol,” Trip replied warily. “Hear me out before you decide. That is all I ask.” “Okay. I’m listenin’.” “When a person undergoes the Fullara ritual, the memories of an event are repressed along with the emotions associated with it. You would not remember your grandparents’ deaths. It is possible that your nightmares would disappear. Grief and remorse would no longer fuel your depression. We could return to Enterprise, resume our careers and begin our life together.” Trip looked into T’Pol’s eyes and saw her concern for him. She was offering him a way out of purgatory. The mind meld had worked. Why wouldn’t this Fullara work just as effectively? “If that is what you want, young man, it can be arranged,” Torok said quietly. “When you were a child, your mind blocked all memories of the crash; however, recent events made it impossible for you to continue to suppress the latent emotions associated with the accident. The Fullara could feasibly bury those memories and emotions so deep that they will never bother you again.” Trip tore his eyes from T’Pol and looked at Torok. “Is that what you think I should do?” “It is a choice only you can make.” Trip gave the matter careful consideration, rubbing one hand absent-mindedly over the back of his neck. He knew that T’Pol desperately wanted to spare him any further pain. A part of him was elated that she wanted to spend her life with him. He’d waited so long to hear those words from her. But was he being fair – fair to her, to his grandparents or to himself? Should he run from the pain or slowly allow it to consume him until there was nothing left? What kind of a man was he? Or more to the point, what kind of a man did he want to be? Finally, Trip lifted his chin and shook his head. “I can’t do it.” When he felt T’Pol clutch his hand, he turned toward her. “Please try and understand, T’Pol,” he said quietly. “My grandparents died trying to protect me. I don’t want to forget that. I don’t want to forget them.” His voice wavered as he struggled with his emotions. “I loved them both so much. When they…” He swallowed hard. “When they died, I wiped them from my mind as though they had never existed. I can’t do that again. I won’t do it. They gave me everything. It’s time for me to give something back to them.” “I am proud of you.” T’Pol reached up and lightly brushed his cheek. “You are, and always will be, an honorable man.” “I think you made the right decision, young man,” Torok said. “The time for running and hiding is over. You are destined for more than a life filled with sorrow.” The high priest leaned forward slightly. “Now perhaps you could answer a question that has been troubling me.” Trip took a deep breath, held it and then exhaled slowly. “I’ll try.” “Why do you blame yourself for your grandparents’ deaths?” Gritting his teeth, Trip was determined to keep his emotions in check. “You know what happened,” he stated bluntly. “I was flying the plane.” “Yes, I know what happened. I also know what your father told Soval. The plane malfunctioned. You were not responsible.” “The only reason we went out flying that day was because of me. I insisted.” “Your grandfather not only took pleasure in flying, but enjoyed sharing the experience with you. Isn’t that true?” “Well…” “Speak up, young man. Did your grandfather offer to take you flying that day?” Trip shifted restlessly. “Yeah. But he knew it was what I wanted.” “It was a special day, and he wanted to give you something you desired. You, in turn, wanted to spend some time with two people you cared for and respected.” “You don’t understand,” Trip blurted out. “Tell me, Commander, if that ten year old boy had been your son, what would you have said to him? Would you have allowed him to blame himself for this tragedy?” “No,” Trip said in exasperation. “Of course not.” “Why then,” Torok pressed, “would your son be exempt from blame, but you are not?” Trip looked anxiously at T’Pol. “It is a logical question,” she observed. “I know that you would do everything in your power to ensure that our son knew he was blameless. Is it so difficult to accept that their deaths were an accident – beyond anyone’s control?” “Yes!” Trip jumped to his feet and began to pace, agitatedly raking his fingers through his hair. “Trip, please sit down.” T’Pol tried to grab his hand as he passed by, but he remained just beyond her reach. “You must calm yourself.” “Maybe I don’t want to stay calm!” Trip shot back, immediately regretting his sharp tone. He knew T’Pol was right. His emotions were quickly gaining the upper hand. Before long they would completely overwhelm him, robbing him of his ability to reason. He took a few more steps, finally coming to a halt in front of the window. As he struggled to get himself under control, he gazed out at the Vulcan landscape. Where he’d once seen beauty he now saw only utter desolation: all life, all hope sucked dry by the relentless sun. Squeezing his eyes shut against the glare, he shifted to the right so that he could lean against the rugged stone framing the window. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the overpowering feeling that everything was suddenly falling apart, and he was powerless to stop it. “I’ll say this one more time,” Trip began in a tightly controlled voice. “I was flying the plane, and it crashed. My grandparents were only there because of me. How hard is that to understand?” “You were just a boy,” T’Pol countered, her voice a soothing balm on his raw emotions. “That’s no excuse. I should have been able to…” “…do what, Trip?” T’Pol pleaded. “Prevent the plane from falling from the sky? Mend a severed artery? Bring the dead back to life? Can’t you see that there was nothing you could have done?” Shaking his head, Trip tried to swallow the growing lump in his throat. “I know you’re only tryin’ to help, T’Pol, but this isn’t doin’ any good. All the talk in the world can’t change what happened.” “You were not to blame. You shouldn’t have to suffer for…” “No!” Trip shouted in anguish as he spun around to face her. “Don’t feel sorry for me! They’re the ones who suffered! They didn’t deserve to die!” “Look at me,” Torok commanded. Breathing heavily, Trip hesitated for a moment before reluctantly turning toward the high priest. Torok took a few moments to study Trip’s face before continuing. “It is time to speak plainly. I can see in your eyes that you are still keeping something back. Why do you feel such remorse?” “I don’t think I can make it any plainer,” Trip replied vociferously, biting off each word as if he’d somehow determined that enunciation was the key to understanding. “What happened was my fault. They didn’t deserve to die!” “And what about you? What did you deserve?” Completely caught off guard, Trip stared blankly at the high priest. “Speak up, young man.” “I…” “Tell me,” Torok pressed relentlessly. “What did you deserve? You were there. You tried to help, but you couldn’t prevent what happened. You walked away and they did not. No one deserves to die, especially people close to us, but they did die. Now you cannot forgive yourself. Why? What was your crime?” “I don’t know!” Trip yelled. “Why can’t you leave me alone?” “You have not answered my question, young man. What was your crime? For months now, you have allowed guilt to poison your life and threaten your career? Why? What have you done that is so unpardonable? Why do you continue to blame yourself for an accident that was clearly beyond your control? Is it because your grandparents didn’t deserve to die? Or because you didn’t deserve to live?” “Stop!” Trip cried out, reeling as the full impact of Torok’s words hit home. Suddenly he knew it was true. It was all true. He’d made the mistakes, but it was always other people who had to pay the ultimate price. He was the one who should be dead, not them. Completely bereft, he threw his hands over his face and slowly sank to the floor. Drawing his knees to his chest, he cringed as a series of horrific images flashed through his mind. Vince, his grandparents, his shipmates – none of them should have died – not while he went on living. Lizzie should still be safe at home. He was the one who’d headed out into the great unknown. He was the one who should be dead not her. And Sim. Sim had died because of him. He wasn’t worthy of such a sacrifice …” “Trip.” He felt T’Pol’s fingers dig into his shoulder. When he didn’t respond, she pulled his hands away from his face and held on to them with an iron grip. “You have every right to live. Do you hear me?” “Leave me alone, T’Pol,” he managed to choke out. With a blink of his eyes, one tear broke free, blazing a trail down his cheek for others to follow. “I will not allow you to push me away,” she exclaimed. “You must be made to see how wrong you are. Your life has great value.” He tried to pull away from her, to break their connection, but she held fast. Finally, he quit struggling and looked at her beseechingly. “I was nothing. My grandma and grandpa were everything.” “Trip…” “They were smart and compassionate and successful. Everybody loved them. They were everything I wanted to be. Their lives were worth a whole lot more than mine.” “Of course their lives were important,” Torok replied softly, “but do not underestimate your own worth.” Trip shook his head. “You still don’t understand.” He looked into T’Pol’s eyes, willing her to see the burden that fate had placed on his shoulders. “I’ve cheated death time and time again. Why am I the only one who gets another chance at life?” “We have talked about this before, young man,” Torok interposed commiseratively. “We have no control over who lives or dies.” “That’s not good enough!” Trip cried heartbrokenly. He pulled free of T’Pol’s grasp and, turning, focused all of his attention on the high priest. “My grandparents wanted to live. So did Lizzie and Vince and the eighteen crewmen who died on Enterprise. They all deserved a second chance, but they didn’t get it. Why? What makes my life worth more than their lives? Why am I still here?” “You ask a question which has no answer,” Torok responded bluntly. “Man cannot control the whims of fate anymore than he can fathom the secrets of the universe. Some people are taken; some remain. You must accept that and move on.” “But Elizabeth never even had the chance to reach her first birthday. She had her whole life ahead of her.” “It is unfortunate when one so young perishes, but her death was not your fault. She was doomed by the people who created her. There was never any possibility that she would survive.” “You tell me I shouldn’t feel guilty, but I do. They were cheated out of their chance to live. I only wanted to protect them – to keep them safe – but I couldn’t do it. Can’t you understand that? I watched them die. I…” Trip gulped, choking back a sob. “I watched them die and…” “What, young man?” Torok asked when Tucker was unable to continue. “You were sad? Bereft? Shocked and dismayed? Those, of course, would be normal reactions for a human. Or did you feel something more?” “No,” Trip whispered. “It is time for you to be completely honest with yourself. What did you feel as your family and friends slipped away? There is no question that you were grief-stricken, but when you realized that you were still alive what did you feel? Relief, perhaps? Were you thankful that your life had been spared?” Overcome by guilt, Trip bit down hard on his lower lip and looked away. That was something he’d never wanted to admit, even to himself. When confronted with the sudden tragic deaths of people he’d loved, a part of him, deep in the recesses of his mind, had rejoiced that he was still alive. That was wrong. His thoughts should have been focused solely on them: their needs, their suffering, their loss. No decent man would be inclined to feel even a modicum of joy in the face of such tragedy. What kind of unfeeling, self-absorbed bastard was he? As though he could read Tucker’s thoughts, Torok responded sincerely, “Self-preservation is a powerful force. You should not reproach yourself. It is not a crime to continue living when others around us die. I, too, have survived when my comrades fell by the wayside. You can only be found wanting if you fail to make the best use of the extra time fate has given you. You have lived an exemplary life. You should feel pride, not remorse.” “Pride?” Trip could barely contain his feeling of revulsion. “Yes. You have been given a rare gift, young man, not once but several times over. You have been granted life in the face of almost certain death. Treat this as a blessing, not an unbearable burden. You must focus on the countless lives you have saved. The people of an entire world are alive because of your efforts.” “No.” Trip shook his head stubbornly. “Yes, Trip,” T’Pol countered. “If you hadn’t kept Enterprise going, we would have failed in our mission. Earth would have been destroyed. Captain Archer could not have accomplished all he did without you. He understood that from the very beginning. That is why he gave the order for Sim to be created.” “There are difficult times ahead, young man,” Torok said softly. “The Romulans will not stand idly by and allow the Coalition to flourish. It is to their advantage to foment unrest in this sector of space. You will be needed, not just as an engineer, but as a leader and a bridge between our two worlds. There was nothing you could have done to save your grandparents, your child, or any of the others. But, if you are strong, if you can learn to handle your grief and guilt, I believe that someday you may be called upon to save many more innocent lives.” “How do you know that I won’t fail them too, just like I failed my grandma and grandpa?” “Commander Tucker,” Torok said forcefully. Against his better judgment, Trip slowly raised his eyes until he was looking squarely at the high priest. “The time for self-pity and self-flagellation is over, young man. You have been doing penance for a quarter of a century. That is long enough. Over the years you have forgiven a great many people for a great many things. Now it is time to forgive yourself.” Trip pressed his lips together, fighting to hold on to what little composure he still possessed. “For some reason fate has chosen you to survive. That is not something that can be explained; it must simply be accepted. Now, given all that you have learned and experienced since you crawled out of that broken plane, do you still believe that you failed your grandparents?” “I know what you want me to say,” Trip murmured in a raspy voice, “but I can’t…” “Do not look away,” Torok commanded. “You are no longer a child who must seek solace in oblivion. Look me in the eye and tell me what you believe in your heart of hearts. Are you are responsible for the deaths of your grandparents?” The word, “no,” was on the tip of his tongue, but Trip couldn’t bring himself to say it. He owed them a debt – their lives for his – and now payment had come due. He couldn’t just walk away. “Trip, you must let go.” T’Pol first brushed the tears from his cheeks and then took his face in her hands. He could feel her channeling her strength and support to him. “Your grandparents cared for you deeply. Must their memory always be tainted by pain and guilt?” “Please, T’Pol,” he begged. “They sacrificed themselves in the hope that your life would be spared. It is the greatest gift one being can give to another. Would you now diminish that gift by placing so little value on the life they saved?” Keeping her eyes locked on his, she began to gently brush one thumb over his cheekbone. “You have so much to offer, so much to give. Don’t condemn yourself to a life of loneliness and misery. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me and for everyone who cares for you.” “I ask you once again, young man,” Torok pressed. “Do you honestly believe that you are responsible for the deaths of your grandparents?” In his mind’s eye, Trip suddenly saw his grandparents’ smiling faces. He heard the sound of laughter as they lovingly pulled him into a warm embrace. These were the people he wanted to remember, not the broken, battered bodies in a shattered plane. Deep down, he knew the truth. Perhaps he’d always known. There was nothing he could have done to save them. Unfortunately, knowledge and acceptance do not always go hand in hand. It was going to take a long time for him to come to grips with the part he’d played in their last moments. But maybe T’Pol was right. Maybe it was time to take the first step. Trip took hold of T’Pol’s hands and clutched them to his chest. Turning toward the high priest, he took a deep, ragged breath and whispered, “No.” Torok nodded his approval. “Was there anything more you could have done to save the lives of your fellow crewmen when your ship was attacked?” Trip gripped T’Pol’s hands a little tighter. “No.” “Could you have prevented the deaths of your sister or your infant daughter?” Trip bit his lip against the pain. Why did Torok have to keep pushing? He’d given him what he wanted. This was too much. Too much, too fast. “What is your answer, young man?” Feeling a growing tightness in his throat, Trip swallowed hard. “I would have gladly traded my life for theirs.” “That sentiment is admirable, but it does not answer my question. Could you have prevented their deaths? Were you responsible?” “No!” Trip shouted in a choked voice. “God help me, I couldn’t save them! I…couldn’t…save them!” Suddenly, Trip’s mind was permeated by a warmth and understanding far more profound than anything he’d ever experienced before. Taking in his breath sharply, he slowly turned to look at T’Pol. As his gaze traveled over her face, he realized what a truly remarkable person she was. In a completely selfless act, she had opened her mind to him, offering him her strength and providing indisputable proof of her deep, abiding affection for him. Trip’s lips moved soundlessly in a message meant only for her: “Thank you for not giving up on me.” Moments passed. Finally Torok said, “Young man, you have made great strides today, but you still have a long journey ahead of you. T’Pol was correct when she observed that humans are complex beings. Guilt such as yours cannot be overcome in a single day. You will have to work diligently to regain your peace of mind, but it can be done. Your life is in your hands. Make of it what you will.” Completely drained, Trip murmured, “I don’t know what to say, sir.” Stretching his legs out from in front of him, he slowly released his grip on T’Pol’s hands and leaned his head back against the wall. “I appreciate your help, but…well…I wish there’d been another way.” “I know that this has not been easy for you, but you would never have been convinced by words alone. You had to be shown the truth.” Trip dipped his head sadly. “I guess you’re right. I can be pretty stubborn sometimes.” Before Torok could respond, a soft feminine voice said, “Excuse me, sir.” The high priest looked over toward the doorway and said, “Yes, T’Lahr. What is it?” The dutiful young attendant took a step into the wellhouse chamber and folded her arms, both hands slipping inconspicuously up the sleeves of her unadorned white robe. “Ambassador Soval would like you to join him, sir. A situation has arisen which requires your immediate attention.” “Tell Soval that I will come at once.” “Ambassador Soval also asked that Commanders T’Pol and Tucker accompany you…” T’Lahr paused, looking skeptically at Tucker sprawled on the floor with T’Pol huddled beside him. “…if possible.” “Thank you, T’Lahr.” With her message delivered, the young attendant glanced one more time at the two commanders, then bowed and quickly left the room. “I regret the interruption,” Torok said, taking his cane firmly in hand, “but duty calls.” Trip took a deep breath and scrubbed a trembling hand over his face. “Yeah. I guess we better find out what’s goin’ on.” He started to rise, but T’Pol quickly placed a hand on his shoulder, staying him. “I will take care of this. Go to our room and rest.” “But Soval wants to see both of us.” “He does not fully understand the situation. If he could see your face – see how tired you are – he would understand. I will brief you as soon as I know why he wishes to see us.” Trip shook his head. “I know you’re only tryin’ to protect me, but if you want me to get my life back to normal then I have to do this. I can’t take the easy way out.” He gently trailed one finger down the side of her face and along her chin. “Besides, if there’s a problem, maybe there’s something I can do to help.” T’Pol took a moment to study his face. Evidently she realized that any further attempts at persuasion would be futile because she finally murmured, “We will go together.” Trip slowly got to his feet, taking care not to step on his robes. When he was standing, he offered his hand to T’Pol who trustingly placed her hand in his. Upon rising, she stepped over to the window and loosened the heavy, dark cloth so that it dropped down, once again completely covering the window. While she was tending to the curtain, Trip, who had been scrupulously trained by his mother to help his elders, briefly entertained the idea of offering Torok a hand when the old man started to rise, but he quickly thought better of it. He had a pretty good idea that Torok wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. With the high priest leading the way, the three of them moved through the candlelit room. Upon exiting the wellhouse, Trip was immediately struck by how much hotter it was outside. Squinting, he glanced skyward, shading his eyes against the sun. The blood-red sky immediately reminded him of his grandparents, and he looked away. Matching his pace to that of the high priest, Trip tried to gain some measure of control his chaotic thoughts. He had to pull himself together. People were depending on him. This time he was determined not to let them down. When they approached the main staircase, Trip could see Soval standing on the top step waiting for them. It was impossible to miss the ambassador’s rigid stance and tense features. Trip glanced over at T’Pol and saw his concern mirrored in her eyes. Something was seriously wrong. “What is it, Soval?” Torok asked as he climbed the last few steps to the top. “The Ti’Mur has been attacked.” Stunned, Trip looked from T’Pol to the ambassador. “Attacked? By whom? What’s the damage?” Torok held up one hand, silencing him, and then led the small group over to a shaded area on the far side of the landing where their discussion would not be overheard. “Start at the beginning, Soval,” the high priest said grimly. “Forty-three minutes ago Captain Vanik reported that the Ti’Mur was under attack. All attempts to make contact with the other ship had failed, but the power signature was Romulan.” “Why was I not told of this at once?” Trip noticed that Soval glanced his way before answering the high priest. “I did not wish to disturb you unless it was absolutely necessary.” Torok pressed his lips together. “Continue.” “As soon as Admiral Kiran received word of the attack, he ordered the Sas-a-shar, the Sh’Raan and the Tar’hana to break orbit immediately and proceed at maximum warp to aid the Ti’Mur.” Torok nodded his approval. “Do we know the current status of Captain Vanik and his crew?” “Admiral Kiran forwarded the most recent update to me five minutes ago. The contents of that message convinced me that it was time to make you aware of the situation.” Torok furrowed his brow, but he didn’t interrupt Soval. “Vanik reported that the Ti’Mur had disabled her attacker, but long range sensors indicated that there are four more ships on an intercept course.” “Of course it is possible that those ships are only coming in answer to the distress call,” Soval posed. “Yeah, and pigs fly,” Trip muttered darkly under his breath. Torok glanced doubtfully at Tucker before responding to Soval’s observation. “That is a possibility, but you don’t believe it and neither do I. It is logical to assume that the four ships comprising this new threat are also Romulan.” “Can our ships reach the Ti’Mur in time?” T’Pol asked. Although her speech was carefully controlled, Trip could still hear the tension in her voice. “There seems to be some question as to who will reach the Ti’Mur first,” Soval replied. “The Ti’Mur’s warp engine was damaged in the attack, leaving her with a top speed of warp 2.1. This will seriously limit her ability to outrun her pursuers and rendezvous with our ships.” “And Ambassador V’Lar?” T’Pol asked softly. “Is she unharmed?” Soval took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. “The ambassador was not hurt. However, three members of the Ti’Mur’s crew were killed in the attack. Eleven more were injured.” “If I remember right, the Ti’Mur was en route from Lorillia,” Trip said, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing two fingers firmly against the bridge of his nose. Soval cast a slightly puzzled look at the commander. “That is correct.” “Damn,” Trip muttered under his breath before turning away from the three Vulcans and heading over to the wall at the edge of the landing. He leaned forward, bracing his arms against the top of the wall, and dropped his head. “Trip?” T’Pol murmured. “What is it?” He felt her gently grasp his left arm. He knew she wanted him to turn towards her, but he only raised his head and stared out at the mountains in the distance. “I should have seen it coming, T’Pol,” he said dejectedly. “I’m sorry.” “Stop apologizing and speak plainly.” Torok walked over to stand next to Tucker. Clearing his throat, Trip straightened up and turned around so that his lower back rested against the wall. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to project an air of confidence he did not feel. “Why attack now?” he asked pointedly. “If I wanted to destroy the Ti’Mur, I sure as hell wouldn’t wait until the ship was less than twenty-four hours from Vulcan. I’d jump them when they were all alone in deep space, far away from any reinforcements. The only way it makes sense…” Trip hesitated. What if he was wrong? What right did he have to make such wild accusations? “Finish your thought, young man,” Torok urged. “I believe you and I are thinking along a similar path.” “Suppose the Romulans were tipped off that their little game with Admiral Kiran didn’t work. If they wanted to disrupt the strategic talks, they’d have to find another way. This attack could be their backup plan.” “It is a logical deduction,” T’Pol said gravely. “But would the Romulans be willing to risk a war with our people?” Soval glanced at Torok who gave him a barely perceptible nod. “Our fleet has been seriously weakened, and V’Las’ tenure as Administrator did far more damage to our government than most people realize. The Romulans are no doubt aware that we are…vulnerable. This attack could just be the beginning.” Soval looked pointedly at Tucker. “If the worst does happen and we are forced to go to war, we will need the support of Earth and the other Coalition partners.” Trip was fairly certain that Soval was trying to send him a message, but right now he really wasn’t interested. If the ambassador needed help with the Coalition, Jonathan Archer was his man, not a battered and bruised chief engineer. “We have been complacent for far too long,” Torok said grimly. “Although it is impossible to predict what the Romulans will do next, somehow we must be prepared. We can no longer allow them to manipulate us. I must speak with T’Pau.” Pushing away from the wall, Trip caught T’Pol’s eye. “We should be getting back to Enterprise. If things start to heat up, the captain may need us.” “That will not be possible,” Soval said gravely. “Why not?” Trip stared at the ambassador in bewilderment. “I can come and go as I please, can’t I?” “Of course, Commander, but Enterprise is no longer in orbit.” Trip’s eyes widened. “Where’d they go?” “Admiral Uhlani was delayed and did not arrive yesterday with Admiral Gardner and Mr. Samuels. The admiral’s revised schedule called for him to arrive later today on the Intrepid. Given the circumstances, it was deemed wise to send Enterprise and the Yarahla to rendezvous with the Intrepid and provide an escort to Vulcan.” “Has the Intrepid been threatened?” T’Pol asked. “No. The escort was strictly precautionary.” “Since Enterprise left without us, there must be something we can do to help.” Trip locked eyes with Soval, hoping desperately that the ambassador would understand that he needed to stay busy. He couldn’t bear the thought of going back to an empty room to do nothing but sit and wait. He needed a problem to occupy his mind, not time alone to think. His hopes were dashed when Soval replied, “I’m afraid there is nothing any of us can do at the moment, Commander. Officials at the United Earth Embassy have already been notified of the attack and T’Pau is in the process of contacting the other members of the Coalition.” The ambassador turned his attention to the high priest. “Surprisingly, Andoria has offered to assist us. As you might expect, Admiral Kiran was not pleased.” Trip ran his hand nervously through his hair. “I can’t just sit here and…” “Perhaps we could contact Enterprise,” T’Pol interrupted soothingly. “Captain Archer may have a task for us.” “But we should be with them, T’Pol. It’s my fault we’re stuck here twiddlin’ our thumbs while Enterprise is out there tryin’ to keep people safe.” “This visit was necessary,” Torok said matter-of-factly. “It is pointless to second guess yourself, young man. You are here and not on your ship; that fact cannot be changed.” Trip knew that Torok was right. He just didn’t like feeling so helpless. “T’Pol’s suggestion has merit,” Torok continued. “Contact your ship and then spend some time in meditation.” Trip rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. He knew when he was beaten. Arguing with three Vulcans was worse than trying to make his mama see the light. “I guess you’re right. We should let Captain Archer know that we’re here if he needs us.” Trip took a deep breath. “If we hear anything new, we’ll let you know.” Trip nodded to Torok and Soval, and then discreetly taking T’Pol’s elbow, led her down the stairs and into the shuttlepod. * * * * * * Trip, the Intrepid arrived safely at 20:47 along with Enterprise and the Yarhala. The journey was without incident. Captain Archer sends his regards and wishes you a speedy recovery. I have gone to inform Torok and Soval that all is well. I know that you will be upset that I did not wake you, but you needed to sleep. Trip glanced at the message one more time then tossed the padd back on the shuttlepod bench where he’d found it a few moments ago when he’d awakened. While he appreciated the fact that T’Pol had dimmed the lights and covered him with a blanket before she left, he would have preferred to awaken with her there beside him. Yawning, he stretched half-heartedly and then slumped back against the side of the shuttlepod. He felt like crap. Instead of being restorative, his nap had dulled his senses, leaving him feeling listless and lethargic. Trip looked around and, noticing that T’Pol had left a water pouch out for him, reached over and picked it up. He popped open the top and took a drink, sloshing the water around in his mouth before swallowing it. His headache was back, but so far the pain was manageable. That was just as well since it was too soon to use the hypospray that the doctor had given him. He took another drink, then capped the pouch and tossed it over on the bench next to the padd. He knew he ought to get up and do something, but his body simply refused to move. Though he fought against it, his head still buzzed with the fragmented images of long-repressed memories. His eyes strayed to the front viewport. While he’d slept, night had fallen. Somehow that seemed fitting. Ghosts were always more comfortable in the dark. Exhausted, Trip lay back down on the shuttlepod bench, plopping his left forearm across his brow. Here he was in the middle of an intergalactic crisis and was he on his ship ready to lend a hand? No. Instead of being an active participant, he was cooped up in a Vulcan religious sanctuary, of all places, waiting for news. The sorry truth, though, was that he was too burned out to really give a damn. After leaving Torok and Soval earlier in the day, he and T’Pol had checked in with Enterprise. Captain Archer had quickly briefed them on the situation and then signed off. There had been no assignments, no problems to solve. At a loss to know what to do with themselves, the two commanders had simply stared at one another. Finally, T’Pol had suggested that it might be a good time to talk. The subjects had been many and varied; however, the salient feature had been their commitment to be completely open and honest with one another. T’Pol had started the ball rolling by telling Trip about her father and the close relationship she’d shared with him. That had lead to a sometimes halting explanation of how the uneasy relationship with her mother had evolved. At Trip’s urging, she’d explained some important aspects of Vulcan culture and even taught him a couple of Vulcan phrases. He could now ask for a cup of tea or the location of the nearest bathroom in two languages. Trip had begun by telling her more about his childhood. When T’Pol asked about his recent estrangement from his parents, he’d told her the whole story, even though it had been painful for both of them. On a happier note, he’d expounded at length on the glories of Tahitian beaches, the Great Barrier Reef, and other exotic locales on Earth he wanted to share with her some day. When he began to tire, T’Pol had instructed him to lie down on the bench beside her. Cradling his head in her lap, she’d gently run her fingers through his hair while he’d told her about his early experiences with Vulcans, including his biology teacher, Mr. Velik. Finally, secure in the arms of the woman he loved, he’d drifted off to sleep. A smile played across Trip’s lips. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply, savoring the memory of their conversation. Finally, after years of disappointment and false hopes, he’d allowed himself to believe that T’Pol actually wanted to be with him, not just for a few days, but for the rest of his life. Through their bond, T’Pol had instantly sensed this change in him and had reinforced it a hundredfold. Even in the best of times, they had never been so close, so completely in tune with one another. It had been all he’d ever imagined it would be. It had been more than he deserved. Trip’s eyes popped open and he rolled restlessly over on his side, his back plastered firmly against the wall of the shuttlepod. Although those few precious hours with T’Pol had been a welcome respite from the emotional turmoil of the past couple of days, his mind refused to give him the peace he craved. It was impossible for him to deny that the journey into his past had left him shaken and confused. He still felt like the same man, but how could he be when everything had changed? He’d completely blocked out one of the most important events of his childhood. He’d reduced his grandparents, whom he loved dearly, to nonentities. His every thought, every action from the time of the accident had been based on a self-imposed lie. That was tough to take. Instead of bedrock, he’d built his life on quicksand, and it had come damn close to destroying him. Trip pressed one hand against his right temple as his head began to throb again. He had to pull himself together. Things weren’t going to get any easier, and people were counting on him. Somehow he had to turn the quicksand into bedrock, and he had to be quick about it. The Romulans weren’t going to back off just because he was under the weather. Taking a deep breath, he reached out to T’Pol, hoping to find some solace from his mate. He could immediately sense that she knew he was awake. The tension he’d felt in her a few hours ago was gone. That could only mean that Ambassador V’Lar was safe and on her way home. “Come to me, husband.” Even with his headache, T’Pol’s message came through loud and clear. Taking care to reassure T’Pol that he was all right, Trip took a moment to bask in the warmth of her affection before gingerly swinging his legs over the edge of the bench and sitting up. It was time to go. He knew that T’Pol was on her way to their quarters. She would be there waiting for him by the time he got there. As soon as Trip lifted the shuttlepod’s hatch, he noticed that the temperature had dropped. A stiff breeze now swept around Mount Seleya and across the arid valley floor, occasionally kicking up the red dust into small swirling clouds. Trip climbed out, shutting the hatch securely behind him. Looking up toward the Sanctuary, he saw flames dancing in the eight large stone urns arrayed along the sides of the main staircase. Dropping his head against a sudden gust of wind, he strode quickly across the tarmac and started up the stairs. Suddenly sharing a nice warm bed with T’Pol sounded like a pretty good idea. When he’d climbed halfway up, Trip saw a Vulcan start down on the far side of the staircase. Since he was dressed in a black suit and russet robe similar to Torok’s, Trip surmised that he was probably another priest. For an instant, the two men made eye contact before continuing on their separate ways. “Things are looking up,” Trip thought idly. “At least this guy didn’t look away from me. Maybe T’Pol and I can make a life for ourselves here on Vulcan if we aren’t welcome on Earth. I can be flexible. I can learn to adapt. T’Pol would probably be real…” Without warning something slammed into Trip throwing him hard against one of the urns. Before he could recover, two strong hands grabbed him from behind and slammed him once again against the unyielding stone, sending a sharp pain through his lower rib cage. The wind whipped the flames in his direction and, instinctively, Trip recoiled, only to be felled by a blow to the back of his head. Groggily, Trip tried to defend himself, but before he could get his body under control, he felt himself being dragged upwards. Breathing in short, pain-filled gasps, he tried to fight back, but his assailant had the upper hand. As they neared the landing, his attacker suddenly stumbled on the hem of Trip’s robe. When Trip felt the iron grip loosen momentarily he realized that this might be his last chance. Throwing an elbow hard into his assailant’s midsection, Trip heard a satisfying “oof.” Spinning to his left, Trip caught a glimpse of his assailant’s face mere seconds before the Vulcan priest’s right fist crashed into the side of Trip’s head. As Trip crumpled to the ground, the only fight left in him was the struggle to remain conscious. Before Trip could clear the fog from his brain, the priest hauled him to his feet and began to drag his unresponsive body over toward the edge of the steps. Dimly, Trip was aware of the danger he faced. There was no wall or railing along the sides of the staircase. Patchy images of the jagged rocks at the base of the mountain swam briefly through Trip’s head. Slowly, he came to the realization that this wasn’t just some ticked off Vulcan who didn’t like humans. This guy was trying to kill him. Gathering his remaining strength, Trip made one final attempt to fight off his attacker. For a moment he thought he had the priest off balance, but he soon found out how wrong he was when the priest threw his left arm across Trip’s throat and squeezed. Desperately, Trip clawed at the arm that was cutting off his air, but it was no good. “Prepare to die, human,” a harsh voice hissed in his ear. As the world began to dim, Trip’s only thought was that he hadn’t had a chance to say good-bye to T’Pol. Suddenly, a bright light sliced through the darkness. Trip was just conscious enough to feel the priest jerk once before releasing him. Collapsing under the weight of his assailant’s body, Trip tried to break his fall, but his outstretched arms found only air. For a moment his torso hung over the edge of the steps; the only thing holding him in place was the pressure of his assailant’s body on his legs. Twisting slightly to the left, Trip tried to find something to grab onto, but he only succeeded in dislodging the body that held him in place. With nothing left to anchor him, he slid over the edge, head first. For a split second, Trip experienced the sheer panic of free fall before he felt something grab his left ankle. Like a giant pendulum, his body swung back toward the staircase, smashing into the stone and bruising his shoulder. As he hung helplessly upside down, he could feel strong fingers digging into his ankle. Overhead, he could hear voices calling his name. He wanted to answer them, to try to reassure whoever was up there that he was okay, but that took energy and right now he didn’t have any of that to spare. Moments later, he felt two more hands clamp onto his leg, and he was slowly pulled upward. Feeling a bit like a side of beef, he was hauled up and unceremoniously dumped on the steps. Once again, he felt a strong arm encircle his neck, but this time he didn’t feel threatened. He knew instantly that it was T’Pol. “Are you all right, Trip?” she asked uneasily from her place on the step beside him. Quickly, she ran one hand over the side of his face and down his chest as though she was trying to take inventory. He tried to speak, but somehow the words just wouldn’t come out. Finally, all he could manage was a simple nod of the head. “T’Pol, we need to get him off the stairs. Doctor Marrek is on the way.” Soval was here, too, Trip noted light-headedly as he struggled to bring things into focus. By blinking his eyes a few more times, he was finally able to see T’Pol’s face clearly. She was trying to maintain an unemotional facade, but he could see the look of anguish in her eyes. “Release him, T’Pol,” Soval instructed softly. Once again Trip felt his body being lifted up, only this time the hands holding him were gentle. When he’d been deposited on the landing, Trip, with T’Pol assistance, slowly managed to pull himself into a sitting position and leaned back against the wall. T’Pol immediately gripped his hand and held on tight. He fixed his eyes on her. With the wind whipping through her hair, she had never looked lovelier. “It’s okay, darlin’,” he whispered weakly. “Trouble seems to follow you, young man.” Reluctantly Trip tore his eyes away from T’Pol. Looking up, he saw Torok standing over him. There was an unmistakable frown on the high priest’s face. “Who grabbed my ankle?” Trip shifted uncomfortably. His body had begun to shake, and that wasn’t helping the pain in his side. He was finding it difficult to take a deep breath. “You owe your life to Major Luvan,” Torok answered, motioning toward the tall, aloof man standing next to Soval. “It is fortunate that he was able to keep you from falling when Lieutenant Komas disabled your attacker.” Turning back to Torok, Trip asked, “I know I’m not real popular around here, but why would a Vulcan priest want to kill me?” “You saw his face?” Soval asked with a trace of wariness in his voice. “Yeah. We passed each other on the stairs. Who is he?” “He is a stranger,” Soval answered. “We do not know his identity.” “Ambassador.” Soval looked to his right in time to see Lieutenant Komas climb the top step and snap to attention. “The assassin is dead, Ambassador.” “I thought your weapon was set on stun,” Torok replied brusquely. “It was,” Komas answered without a hint of defensiveness. “The assassin took his own life. I was unable to prevent it.” Doctor Marrek, her deep blue robes flapping in the breeze, pushed past the lieutenant and went over to Trip. Kneeling down beside him, she pulled out her scanner. Trip was so focused on the lieutenant’s choice of words that he paid no attention to the doctor. “Assassin?” Trip queried, looking from Komas to Soval, and then over to Torok. “If he was an assassin, I think he needed a few more lessons. He had plenty of chances to kill me. Why’d he try to push me off the stairs?” When no one else responded, T’Pol finally said, “I would imagine that he wanted your death to look like an accident.” “I don’t buy that.” Trip shook his head resolutely. “There’s no way I’d accidentally fall over the edge of that staircase. For that to happen, I’d either have to be drunk or…” Trip swallowed hard. He could feel the anger beginning to build inside him. “Everybody was supposed to think that I was crazy. Is that it?” T’Pol laid a restraining hand on his arm as his body stiffened. “Just another unstable human who was so weak he committed suicide!” “Trip, you must remain calm.” T’Pol ran one hand soothingly up and down his arm. “I’m sick of stayin’ calm!” Trip wanted to jump to his feet, but the sharp pain in his ribs kept him seated. Wrapping one arm protectively around his midsection, Trip looked belligerently at Torok. “That guy was a Vulcan priest.” “He most certainly was not.” “He was dressed just like you.” Trip motioned toward Torok’s robes. “I assure you, young man, he was not a priest.” “Okay, so he’s not a priest, but he was a Vulcan.” Trip’s breath was coming now in short, angry gasps. “Why would a Vulcan want to kill me?” When there was no reply, Trip pressed ahead, “I know you all think I’m some sort of half-wit…” “That is not true,” Torok interjected. “…but I know a Vulcan when I see one. That guy’s ears were just as pointed as…” Stunned by the thought that popped into his head, Trip abruptly snapped his mouth shut. His eyes darted from Torok to Soval. It couldn’t be true. Grimacing, Trip sat up a little straighter. It was about time for everybody to stop playing games and give him a straight answer. “He was a Romulan, wasn’t he?” “Commander Tucker, you must not jump to conclusions,” Soval said tightly. “That filthy son of a bitch was a Romulan!” Trip shouted defiantly only dimly aware that Dr. Marrek had pressed a hypospray against his neck. “Why won’t you answer me? What are ya tryin’ to hide?” He felt T’Pol’s grip on his arm tighten as the world around him began to blur. He knew he was fighting a losing battle, but he was determined to get at the truth. “Was Romulan…wasn’t he?” His voice was now barely above a whisper. “Pointed…ears.” Trip couldn’t hold back the darkness any longer. Slumping against T’Pol, he closed his eyes and let the drug transport him to a peaceful, pain-free world. |
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