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"The Forgotten Time"
Rating: R Chapter 7
The shriek of the alarm clock tore the early morning silence. An arm emerged from the tumbled blankets and flailed at the bedside table, gropingly searching for the off button. Commander Charles Tucker sat up in bed, and then winced as his headache caught up with his skull. His mouth tasted sour and cottony. Easing his feet to the floor, Trip gingerly rose, eyes guarded against the feeble light from his reading lamp. He shuffled into the kitchen, started a pot of coffee brewing and made his way to the shower. Trip leaned headfirst against the wall of the shower stall, hoping the hot water would wash away what was starting to feel like one of the worst hangovers he’d ever had. Fragments of last night’s party ticked through his memory, sorting themselves into chronological order. The evening had begun as an informal celebration of the engineers who were working on the refit of Enterprise and the Teresh-Kah, the Vulcan ship. Current projections were estimating a top speed of warp 8.36… better than they’d first thought. Even through a killer headache, Trip couldn’t suppress a grin at the thought. 8.36. Even the Vulcans were impressed. And it took a lot to impress a Vulcan. But then again, Trip was beginning to realize that you couldn’t assume anything—even with Vulcans. Though most of their team had called it a night early on, two of the engineers had stuck it out, socializing with the human members of the team until the wee hours of the morning. Trip had even managed to get Tov, the Vulcan chief engineer, to join him in a pitcher of Guinness. By the end of the night, Trip had to help Tov into a cab, the older man sleeping blissfully in the arms of Bacchus. Toweling off, Trip reflected on his first impression of Tov. Cynical about the scientific collaboration, Trip had initially disbelieved the Vulcans’ earnest attitude in general and distrusted the team specifically. His face reddened now at the memory. He had been sure that the Vulcans were only trying to thwart their warp research yet again. But his partnership with Tov and the rest of the members of the two teams had taught him something about the real powers of cooperation and tolerance. Being part of a dynamic group, making scientific and engineering history by combining the considerable talents of each member… it had energized him in a way that nothing else had. For a long time. Trip dressed quickly and swallowed some coffee black. He had a ton of work to do to get his reports in to Starfleet and the Vulcan high command. At the rate they were going, they would be ready to test the prototype engines in another few weeks. His stomach twisted with a flutter of nervous excitement every time he thought about the anticipated test flight. Trip knew that this was to be the high spot of his career. The high spot of the careers of a lot of the people on his team. He was at the top of his game. It was almost perfect. There was just one thing missing. *** SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE
Vulcan Liaison Assassinated
"We cannot grow as a people unless we are willing to embrace new concepts. That which does not change...stagnates." Commander T'Pol Tucker delivered these compelling words at a state dinner given late Wednesday in honor of Enterprise's recent successful mission in the Expanse. Eighteen hours later, T'Pol was gunned down by militant activists as she made her way to a transport bound for Earth. Despite efforts from emergency paramedics, she died at the scene. She was 66. [Picture] Before joining the Vulcan consulate on Earth, a position that ultimately led to her posting as Science Officer aboard the USS Enterprise, T'Pol served under Captain Voris aboard the ill-fated Vulcan ship Seleya. However, it was her placement as a Vulcan observer—and later Science Officer—under Captain Jonathan Archer that put the soft- spoken but tenacious woman at the front and center of the fundamentalist debate currently simmering between various groups on Earth's closest inhabited neighbor. Supporters of the traditionalist culture that has endured for millennia on Vulcan are feeling friction from other more progressive factions, and tensions are rising. In a press conference held yesterday afternoon, Ambassador Soval made the following statement: "It was not felt that T'Pol's person was in any danger from these activists. Clearly, the situation has become more volatile in the last few weeks. We at the Vulcan High Command extend our sympathies to the family and friends of our fallen companion and pledge to leave no stone unturned in our investigation of this incident." Admiral Forrest at Starfleet Headquarters released this touching comment to the Associated Earth Press late yesterday evening: "Today we say goodbye to a hero. Commander T'Pol Tucker served aboard Starfleet's flagship for over three years. During that time, she performed her duties in an exemplary fashion. A courageous, loyal, and steadfast officer, T'Pol was a credit to her Captain and crewmates. We wish her the best as she embarks now on the greatest voyage of all. She will be deeply missed." T'Pol returned with Enterprise from the Expanse only a few weeks ago, part of the jubilant homecoming that marked Earth's victory over the Xindi and the prevention of another disaster worse than the one that killed so many millions in Florida and Cuba last year. Then, in an extremely unorthodox career move, T'Pol resigned her position with the Vulcan High Command and accepted Starfleet's offer of a permanent commission, becoming Starfleet's first Vulcan officer and sparking more disputes among her detractors regarding the state of human-Vulcan relations. Accompanied by colleague Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker, who lost his Florida hometown in the initial Xindi attack, T'Pol traveled to Vulcan last week to visit with her mother, T'Les. While in her home province, T'Pol and Commander Tucker were unexpectedly wed in a private ceremony conducted by prominent left-wing priest T'Saru. The family was unavailable for comment. The attack took place at 12:16 pm yesterday as T'Pol and Commander Tucker were entering the main transport station in the capital of Han'Tsu. Two shots were discharged from a phaser rifle at sniper range and struck T'Pol on the shoulder and torso. Her husband suffered a concussion after falling from the force of the shots. He was treated at a nearby hospital and released to the Earth consulate later the same day. Those responsible for the shooting have not yet been apprehended, though the Vulcan investigative team maintains they have several promising leads. A private service is to be held aboard Enterprise on Saturday. Donations may be made in memoriam to the Vulcan Science Academy. -30- *** Trip closed his eyes and breathed through the physical pain that squeezed in his chest every time he thought about his wife. His wife. He had tasted heaven, held it briefly in his hands, and then had it snatched away again in an explosion of heat and light that had broken her body before his eyes and left him unconscious on the ground. Temporarily overwhelmed by his emotions, Trip set his coffee on the counter and sank to the kitchen floor, grief and memory mixing with the hangover. His wife. It had happened so fast—been so brief and blinding—but so right. At some point during the Xindi conflict, she had suddenly changed her attitude toward him. And he didn’t need telling twice. Things progressed. ***
“To Vulcan?” “The transport leaves at 1100 hours.” T’Pol’s voice was matter-of-fact, but there was an anticipatory tension underlining her calm words. “Where would I stay?” Trip ventured, coming in to sit on the bed. “There's a guest room in my mother's home.” “Oh, your mom's house, huh?” Trip considered this. “What...what does she know about me?” A pause. “About us?” Efficiently crossing the room, T’Pol was evasive: “I've…never mentioned you.” “So you'd introduce me as...?” She turned bluntly. “Commander Charles Tucker III.” Her voice softened, becoming nearly persuasive. “You've told the Captain that you don't get to see as many alien cultures as you'd like. You've never been to Vulcan….” “1100 hours, huh?” Trip didn’t even have to think about it. “I'd better start packing.” The grin that lit his face as he left her quarters had remained fixed for a full fifteen minutes as he blithely crammed his clothes into a bag.…
Trip couldn’t help the tears that wet his cheeks. They had their whole lives shining in front of them. They thought they had all the time in the world. It had taken years…years… for them to resolve their differences enough simply to admit they wanted to spend time together. A heady kind of inevitability had overtaken him while sitting next to T’Pol on that transport to Vulcan. He felt inexplicably as if he were somehow going to his destiny. So at the lava fields, when T’Pol had dropped the bomb about her impending marriage to Koss, Trip realized it was finally time to tell her how he really felt about her, come hell or high water. ***
The bottom dropped out of Trip’s stomach. “Marry him?” T’Pol didn’t meet his eye. Her voice took on a rationalizing tone. “If I join his family, my mother will regain her position at the Academy. His father is a senior administrator with a great deal of influence.” Trip shook his head in mystification and said, “I don't get it. Are they forcing you to do this?” “The decision is mine,” T’Pol assured him bleakly but firmly. “My mother resigned because of my actions.” For a supposedly unemotional species, Trip could’ve sworn it was guilt that was weighing her shoulders down and pinching her face. “You told me three years ago you didn't even love this guy,” he began accusingly, “So you're just going to leave Starfleet… move back to Vulcan?” T’Pol swiftly rejoined, “I've been negotiating with Koss’ family—” “‘Negotiating’?” Trip couldn’t keep the incredulity from creeping into his voice. “They've agreed,” T’Pol went on doggedly, as if trying to convince herself. “We won't have to reside together... not right away. I'll remain on Enterprise for the time being.” “That's real generous of you.” Trip’s voice went flat as he realized what a colossal fool he had been to assume she would wait around till he was good and ready to tell her how he felt. A curious sensation lit the back of his brain as he stood with the woman he loved on a barren lava field and listened to her lay plans for a life without him. A sense of stunning clarity highlighted every split second and he realized that this moment was his chance. He saw clearly the two paths before him and grasped the enormity of the outcome of the next few minutes. T’Pol, unaware of his epiphany, was continuing in a weary voice: “Trip, I have to do this. For many reasons.” “And how am I supposed to take this?” Trip stalled for a moment to compose himself. At his desolate tone, T’Pol’s face registered genuine pain. “I'm sorry.” This was it. Trip turned. “You're sorry. You brought me sixteen light years just to watch you get married to someone you barely know?” His stomach twisted, sick at the thought. He nearly walked away. But he didn’t. Instead, he stepped up close to T’Pol and took her elbows in his hands. “T’Pol, y’can’t marry Koss." Her chin trembled as she lifted it and replied, “Why not?” It was a challenge. Trip gathered all the adrenaline pouring through his veins and, falling into those bottomless eyes of hers, he surrendered. “Because— because I can’t live without you. Because I’m crazy about you. Because if you’re marrying anybody, it should be me.” Trip stopped and smoothed away a tear that had slipped down T’Pol’s cheek. He finished gently, “And because I’m pretty sure you feel exactly the same way.” T’Pol stood transfixed. Behind her eyes, a battle was being waged between her brain and her heart. Trip waited, breathless, for the outcome… and then thanked every power in the universe when she suddenly reached up and resolutely pulled him into a kiss that changed the universe.
There was Vulcan precedent for this type of situation. Rare, but they were willing to take what they could get. A ceremony was held to break the betrothal with the original fiancé and establish a commitment with the new one. Though Trip would cheerfully have wrung Koss’ skinny neck if he’d tried to coerce T’Pol into a loveless marriage, he couldn’t help but feel for the guy, being forced to go through a ceremonial dumping in front of witnesses. And at one point, the ritual offered the spurned husband-to-be a chance to fight to the death with the new guy. Trip breathed a mental sigh of relief when Koss declined the prerogative. Clearly he was finding T’Pol too much of a handful to make her worth his while; he seemed impatient to finish the matter up and leave. After the witnesses had departed and the priest had gathered up his things and followed after them with a disapproving sniff, T’Les disappeared to make tea. Finally alone, T’Pol put her arms around Trip and rested her head against his shoulder. They stood like that for a few minutes, savoring the peace. T’Les cleared her throat gently as she approached with a tray and cups. The three of them settled on the wide padded seats in the middle of the room and each sipped the tea thoughtfully for a few minutes in silence. Ultimately, T’Les broke the ice. Placing her cup deftly on the table, she regarded the two young people facing her. So impossibly young. She sighed inwardly and faced her daughter. “What are your plans?” T’Pol also set her cup down and met her mother’s gaze evenly. She wasted no time: “We want to be married as soon as possible.” Trip tried not to choke on his tea as the two women stared each other down, unmindful of his presence. He and T’Pol actually hadn’t discussed their plans beyond the ceremony to ditch Koss. But as he surreptitiously wiped the line of tea dripping down the outside of his cup, it hit him. He wanted to be married as soon as possible. It was crazy, but it felt exactly right. He put his teacup down next to T’Pol’s and took her hand in a show of solidarity. T’Les arched her eyebrow and addressed him. “And what are your thoughts?” T’Pol tensed slightly, and he felt her eyes on him, waiting to hear his response. He squeezed T’Pol’s hand briefly and then met T’Les’ authoritative gaze. “Ma’am,” he began respectfully, “I'm in love with love your daughter. I would be honored to join your family. And I agree with T’Pol… we want to be married as soon as possible.” The last words came out almost incredulous and he laughed as he looked down into T’Pol’s glad face. And he wasn’t imagining it either. Right now, she was happier than he’d ever seen her; he could sense the exhilaration in her heart, in the way she was crushing his hand in hers. T’Les watched the two of them with something almost like a glimmer of envy, but neither of them caught it, so wrapped up were they in each other’s eyes. She logically reconciled herself to what clearly could not be prevented. She rose. Trip and T’Pol followed suit. T’Les stood straight as an arrow before the resolute young lovers… a rare sight on her world. After a moment, she reached out and took one of each of their hands, and joining them together with hers, said a few words in Vulcan. A blessing. “I will contact T’Saru in the morning,” she said, “She’s the only priest I can think of who may not object.” *** T’Saru did not object. Neither did she applaud. She simply performed the ceremony, mixing English with Vulcan in her low, pleasing voice. Trip’s heart didn’t stop pounding for even a moment as he pressed his fingertips against T’Pol’s and lost himself in the strength and passion in her eyes. Neither had yet expressed any reservation over the strangeness of this turn of events. Once their feelings were officially named, neither could give any reason to wait any longer than they already had. Anything else would have been unnatural. After the ceremony, T’Les bid them good journey, and the two of them had set out to explore the hidden wonders of Vulcan with one another. Two weeks of perfection. T’Pol had opened up. Had told him things he had never imagined of her. Trellium? His heart ached at the thought. She had held herself so close, been so alone for so long. But as they tested the waters of their sudden new relationship, each bloomed in the acceptance of the other. They talked more in those two weeks than they ever had during the last three years. Trip was astonished to find T’Pol transforming before his eyes as she finally yielded to the emotions that had always run so close under the surface of her smooth control. In permitting herself to experience the love she had been fostering for Trip, she opened the door to other feelings which glowed diffidently in her eyes. A couple of times, she even surprised him without an outward display he never before would have dreamed seeing on his solemn Vulcan friend. Like the time on the monorail back to the capital city. The day before it happened. Exhausted from their hiking tour of one of Vulcan’s few coastal trails, they were each silently absorbed by the scenery flashing past and their own thoughts. Suddenly, Trip was startled out of his reverie by a strange choking noise. He turned from the window to find T’Pol…laughing. Holding her stomach as kinks of laughter lightly floated over the heads of their fellow passengers. Some turned and glared disapprovingly, but this only made T’Pol laugh harder, as did the look of utter disbelief on Trip’s face. After a minute, she got herself under control and breathed deeply. Trip couldn’t wait any longer. “What was that about?” he asked in an undertone. T'Pol cleared her throat. “I don’t really know,” she replied, bemused. “I was thinking about our dinner with Captain Archer in a couple of days. He’s going to ask us how we spent our time on Vulcan. And I suddenly realized that he’s not going to believe us. None of them will.” Trip grinned and took one of her hands. T’Pol continued. “And I just couldn’t help myself. A queer sensation.” “Y’got a case of the giggles," Trip explained. "It happens to everyone. Worst is during a staff meeting. You can’t look at Hoshi during a staff meeting. Or Travis. They’re both terrible.” Trip smiled, thinking of the reaction of their crewmates. T’Pol was right. It would be nothing short of pandemonium at the rumor mill. But looking at his wife, hearing her laugh for the first time, Trip knew that no matter what Malcolm put him through, it would be more than worth it. Their last day on Vulcan started out badly. It was hotter than either of them could stand comfortably. News of their marriage had leaked over the last couple of days, likely the work of a careless employee at the statistics bureau where the union had been registered. The media were all scrambling for an interview, a statement, a wedding picture, anything. Trip winced when he thought of his parents receiving the news via the internet instead of from him as they should have. Not that he regretted it for a second. They were just going to have a lot of explaining to do before everything blew over. Late for the transport back to Earth, they had been short with one another while hurrying to the station. It was the closest they had come to an argument in days. But then... Here Trip’s memory slowed. Stretched like toffee. The heat first. The sickening smell of seared flesh. The light. The impact. The blackness. No sound though. Silence only. And then the paramedics holding him down. And then the sounds. The screams. His screams. He knew even then. Even before they told him, he knew. Then the thickening of reality as an efficient Vulcan paramedic injected him full of sedative. The relief of dreamless sleep. The last peace he would ever know. *** Feeling sick, Trip pushed himself to his feet. Enough reminiscing. He switched the lights out in the kitchen and put his jacket on in the front hall. These bouts of excruciating recollection still haunted him, even a year later. He never knew when they would strike. Which part of his heart they would tear at. He was learning to push the pain away, to guard himself more closely. He couldn’t stand the intensity of yearning for something he could never have back. He was learning to bury his longing. But sometimes, it still came rushing back as clear as water. And he then he held on for dear life as he relived the worst moment of his existence. And afterward, you just had to get up and keep going. These days, life was an uphill battle. Trip locked the door. The morning was cool and overcast, unusual for July. As he emerged into the early world, he felt a strange sensation buzzing in the back of his head. Briefly, powerfully, he felt T’Pol’s presence everywhere. He closed his eyes, the wind tickling the raised hairs on the back of his neck. The moment passed. Trip put it down to his memories that morning, and zipped his jacket up against the cool breeze. He descended the long flight of steps from his front door to the sidewalk. The wind lifted his hair and ran its cool fingers along his scalp. Trip turned and stepped toward the seawall, breathing the brisk briny air. He tipped his head back and let the sun lance into his eyes for a second, temporarily branding his retinas with dark spots that followed his gaze. Someone approached on his left. Trip turned, blinking, the dark afterimage of the dazzling sun still speckling his view. The someone stopped in front of him. She lowered her hood. Trip’s vision was clearing, but he could not believe what he saw. T’Pol. Alive. Standing there as calmly as you please, regarding him with her beautiful coffee brown eyes. Trip swallowed. His heart stopped and filled with the incredulity of a man whose fondest and most hopeless wish has just been inexplicably fulfilled. He crept forward hesitantly as if she would disappear and reached out with both hands. T’Pol’s strong warm fingers closed around his own, confirming her reality. “How…how?” Trip’s voice was hoarse. T’Pol seemed puzzled. She pressed his hand and asked, “What is the matter, Commander?” Trip didn’t know what to say, so he simply said the first true thing that came to hand. “You died.” *** T’Pol startled visibly for an instant and then regained her composure. She looked this Trip straight in the eye and steadied her voice before explaining. “I know this is hard for you to understand,” she began, “But I am not from this timeline. I am working with crewman Daniels. But I did not realize that my counterpart in this timeframe was…deceased. I apologize if I have upset you.” “Daniels?” Trip couldn’t take his eyes off her face. “Yes. He needs our help. The temporal cold war is not over, and there are issues regarding Enterprise in this time period.” T’Pol warily assessed his face. She could sense the other Trip—her Trip—waiting in the shadows, their telepathic tie as strong as ever. But a foreign cast was creeping over the link. T’Pol tried to pin down the difference, but it was vaguely imperceptible. Suddenly, she realized. The meld. She was tuned to Trip’s mind. To his pattern of brainwaves. This future Trip’s mind was nearly identical, and so the meld was functioning in a limited way with him as well. But the trauma of the intervening year had twisted his natural mental environment slightly—changed it—and this was the discordance she sensed. T’Pol calmed her thoughts to avoid transmitting any anxiety. Then she silently summoned her Trip from his waiting place while addressing his older self aloud, “There is someone else you need to meet.” She turned slightly to indicate the approaching man. “Trip, I’d like you to meet… Trip.” The younger Trip blanched slightly at the sight of his future self’s haggard face. He recognised that face. It was the same one he had seen in the mirror every day in the weeks following Lizzie’s death. But this grief went deeper. This was permanent. Trip did not want to know what had happened to stamp his double’s features with such misery, but he stepped up anyway and offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you,” he said, with only a hint of irony at the odd scenario. The older man surveyed his twin for a moment before grasping the proffered hand firmly. “Uh, likewise,” he affirmed. “But I go by Charles now.” “But I…we always hated that name,” Trip said in surprise. Charles regarded him patiently for a moment and then said simply, “I’m not the same person I used to be, Trip.” The unlikely trio stood uncomfortably for a moment next to the cloudy summer ocean. Finally, Charles jerked his thumb in the direction of his front door. “Well, y’may as well come inside and tell me what this is all about.” Simultaneously, both noticed the only three photographs in the room. All were framed in dark red wood and were grouped together on top of a low bookshelf. One was an outside view of Enterprise against a backdrop of dewy stars. The middle picture showed a red-earthed desert scene. Trip and T’Pol were sitting side by side on a rocky outcropping, arms around one another and both smiling for the camera. Trip’s grin was wide and glad, while T’Pol’s lips were closed and curved into a soft smile that looked no less blissful for its subtlety. The third photo was a black and white close-up of T’Pol’s face. She was looking to the side, her expression serious and intense. Her features filled the frame. It was an intimate photograph, meant to be displayed by someone who cared deeply for the face it portrayed. Trip and T’Pol exchanged glances, but neither ventured comment either aloud or mentally. Both could sense the other’s curiosity and dread. Neither wanted the details of this timeline. Neither could figure out why Daniels hadn’t mentioned anything about her death. They waited for the other Trip—this ‘Charles’—to return to the living room with the tea. He entered, carrying a tray. Each of them took a cup and held onto it, but nobody was very interested in the contents. Trip decided to open the floor. “So. Where do we start?” Charles hadn’t taken his eyes off of T’Pol’s face since he sat down. He pulled his gaze to the steaming tea in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he faltered, “it’s just uh…it's hard to get used to.” T’Pol swallowed against the faint horror of the question she had to ask and managed to say in a neutral voice, “How did she die?” Charles looked up swiftly at T’Pol’s candid inquiry and then just as quickly dropped his eyes again. He gestured toward Trip and said quietly, “Y'asked him to come with you yet?” Trip looked at Charles and then T’Pol. “Come where?” T’Pol shook her head and said, “I’m sorry, Charles. I don’t understand the question.” Charles looked up at the ceiling and sighed, a grim smile on his face. “After the Xindi conflict. She’s gonna ask you to come to Vulcan with her. I mean, where else are you gonna go on leave? Hometown’s not quite what it used to be, y’know. So you go to Vulcan together and then this Koss guy shows up again. T’Pol reacted to the mention of her old fiancé’s name. “Koss.” Charles voice took on a slightly hardened edge. “Yeah. Koss.” He stood up to pace the room. “Anyway, long story short, this slimeball tells you that he’ll get your mom’s job back at the Academy if you’ll marry him. And you decide to go ahead and do it since you’re the reason she was forced to retire in the first place.” Trip glanced at T’Pol. “I didn’t know your mom was taking heat at the Academy.” T’Pol’s face was rather white. “Neither did I. Please, go on.” Charles sat down again. “Well, like I said, you were all set to do it. You didn’t want to, but you were thinking about T’Les.” “So what happened...after I married him?” T’Pol asked stoically. Charles met and held her eyes for a long time before replying. “Y’didn’t marry Koss,” he finally said, softly. “Y’married me.” |
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