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"Green Ice"
Rating: PG-13 And no, I haven’t broken canon in either ENT universe (RU or AU) because Trip doesn’t know whom he’s with, and he makes an honest assumption based on what he already knows. And if the above doesn’t make sense, don’t worry. Answers are forthcoming. :) Thanks, Dinah! :) Three T’Pol shivered as she sat in her room and tried every mental discipline she knew to stem the confusion within her. After more than an hour, the tide ebbed enough for her to regain sufficient control. She forced herself to examine every scrap of memory with cold logic. T’Pol heard Soval again: Your emotions are clouding your judgment. Have a care, Cousin. Yes, Soval was right. She needed to set her emotions aside and be an observer, not a participant. She gazed inward and allowed the images to form, the same images that T’Phena had shown her. Sparks of green electricity, explosions in slow-motion, lights in her face, a gleaming tip of a hypospray, words in an unfamiliar language, gentle hands and rough voices... Then Koss appeared again, and this time, T’Pol watched him with clinical detachment. His dark eyes belied the surprising tenderness in his voice. She felt a surge of anger and disgust; her fiancé was a fraud, a liar with the smoothness of silk. She heard his poisoned words in her mind: T’Pol. Thy’la. Beloved. Listen to her. She speaks the truth. Have I ever lied to you, my beloved? Vulcan needs you, I need you. T’Phena knows of what I speak. Ask her. Only a few of us know the truth... Despite herself, T’Pol felt a thrill of triumph. So, Koss had finally revealed his true intentions! Was Koss himself a member of the V’tosh Ka’tur? She considered the possibility then dismissed it. No, it was more likely that Koss faked sympathy for their cause to gain their resources. So did that mean Koss aimed to destroy the rebels? It made sense, considering his fervent patriotism to Vulcan. She went on to the next memory, continuing in her role of dispassionate observer. She raised a hand to shield the abrupt flash in her eyes. When it cleared, she saw someone in front of her, but the person’s features were obscured by the glare. She gripped the modified Vulcan blaster in her hand and relied on her automatic targeting skills to guide her... Then a bomb exploded in her gut, sending painful pressure up her throat. The blaster flew out of her hand and the back of her head struck the smooth, glassy floor... Pain slammed into her stomach as her own body recalled that moment. T’Pol wanted to believe that it was a mere psychosomatic reaction, but no, the violent physical reaction convinced her of the truth. This was no fiction of T’Phena’s crazed imagination. This was real. It had actually happened. She found herself in some kind of sickbay, attached to machines with tubes running into her limbs and the side of her head. Suddenly she recalled another memory, this time more recent. Trip Tucker had told her about his harrowing experience on the Romulan vessel, during the time he’d been captured and brainwashed. Trip’s southern drawl echoed in her mind, “They had me in restraints and pumped me full of this...bubbly stuff. I couldn’t even move my head, T’Pol. They had tubes stuck in my head and in my arms. It hurt like hell, but I couldn’t do anythin’ about it.” Tubes running into her limbs and the side of her head. T’Pol’s breath caught within her throat. Had she undergone a similar procedure in her past? Did they deliberately erase her memory, so she would never remember? Did T’Phena know about this and wanted her to recall the ordeal? Why? Why? One of Surak’s tenets came back to her: The truth will set you free. She struggled to control another surge of anger and betrayal. This had been all an elaborate charade to get her to remember.The rational part of her mind prompted her to think with her logic and not react with her emotions. What will you do with this information now? Again, she turned the memory over in her mind and examined it like a gem cutter surveying a raw stone for flaws. No, this was no false memory implant. She allowed it to run to its end: a shadow fell over her and startled her. The shadow paid her no attention, but instead moved around a low examination table. She squinted into the harsh light and managed to make out a tall form, bipedal, two arms... It spoke in Vulcan. “Welcome back. I hope you have not been injured too badly.” Then it moved to the side, revealing a prone body on the examination table. T’Pol gasped as she recognized the man who was strapped to the table. "Injured too badly, yeah right,” Trip Tucker muttered. He didn’t seem to notice T’Pol standing in the corner. “You snarky, son of a—“ Why was Trip in her memory? This happened before she'd ever met him, long before the Enterprise. He hadn't been with her and T'Lydya, fifteen years before. She hadn't been there on the Romulan ship, when he underwent his traumatic ordeal. Were their memories overlapping, becoming one? How was that even possible? She snapped back into the present time, but the sense of unease remained, and she knew its source. Trip, Trip was in danger, but he wasn’t on Earth. She felt a twinge of irritation. Why had he deemed it necessary to follow her here? She didn’t need his “babysitting,” as he would have put it. Trip had the tendency of putting himself in harm’s way. It didn’t matter. He was a friend and a fellow officer and he needed her help. She delved deep within herself, to that thin thread that she’d tried to ignore for months. It was there, almost imperceptible, only a faint whisper in her mind...but then Trip was no Vulcan. Koss, on the other hand, was a full-blooded Vulcan, and her sense of him was far less than what she now felt with Trip. T’Pol didn’t have the time to ponder the implications of her betrothal bond with Koss. Trip was among enemies; he’d gotten himself in trouble once again. Her mouth quirked as she remembered Soval’s astute observation: How can a man who is so well-versed in security protocols be so prone to misfortune? She, of course, knew the answer. Trip had the maddening habit of stumbling into events which were not within his control. T’Pol mentally filtered out the background chatter, zeroing in on Trip’s presence within her mind. He was conscious, he was calm, he was unaware of the danger he was in... Trip! You are in danger! Trip glanced over his shoulder, but no one was there. Damn, he could have sworn he’d felt her presence right behind him. Vaeben sat across from him; his lieutenant, Mnheia i-Latasalaem t’Khnialmnae sat at Trip’s right. The vibe he felt from her definitely did not feel friendly, but she seemed to accept him because Vaeben had. “What is it, Nveid?” Vaeben asked sharply. “What—“ Trip shook his head. “Nothin’. I thought I heard somethin’, but I guess it’s only the wind.” He shrugged and turned his attention to the list of Vulcans on Mnheia’s PADD. There were several names he recognized: Minister T’Pau, Major T’Lydya and Doctor T’Marui among them. Trip felt a pang of loss when he saw T’Lydya’s picture. They’d started on the wrong foot, ten years before, at the Vulcan Consulate in San Francisco. Later, they’d become good friends, and kept in touch until she’d died. He came to the end of the listing and shook his head. “I don’t see T’Phena anywhere, but she could be using an alias.” Frowning, Mnheia looked over his shoulder. “She has assumed many names and many guises over the years. When I encountered her, she posed as an information broker for the Vulcan Trade Commission. At that time, her name was Ariennye.” Vaeben scowled and muttered, “How appropriate.” “Huh?” Trip blurted out. He glanced at Trip. “In Old Vulcan, ariennie is the word for ‘hell’.” “And she was a member of the Vulcan Trade Commission, with a name like that?” “I said she was an information broker, not a member,” Mnheia said stiffly. Her dark eyes flashed, as if she considered Trip’s question to be a personal insult. “If the Vulcan Trade Commission knew of her, they would have launched an investigation. As it was, she vanished with valuable information, when they realized her intentions.” “She’s a smooth operator,” Trip muttered under his breath. At the blank looks, he stifled a laugh and rephrased it. “She knows what to do and how to do it without anyone being the wiser.” “Ah.” Vaeben nodded in understanding. “Yours is a colorful language, Nveid. I wish I spoke it as well as you do.” His remark earned him a scorching glare from Mnheia, but he ignored it. Trip raised an eyebrow, Vulcan style. “You speak Standard English well.” “I speak it, but without much idiom. I find your language so fascinating.” Vaeben sighed and reluctantly brought up another picture, with T’Phena in the more familiar guise of a Vulcan Security Ministry officer. “We must find Sub-Commander T’Pol before she does.” His matter-of-fact tone threw Trip off guard. “What? ‘Sub-Commander?’ She isn’t a Sub-Commander. She’s an Ensign in Starfleet.” Vaeben chuckled and shook his head. “She was in the Vulcan Security Ministry for eighteen months, and at that time, she held the rank of Sub-Commander. T’Pol was working with Major T’Lydya, whom I understand was an old friend of yours. At the time, I was a supervisor at the Security Ministry. T’Phena led her squad into an ambush...and T’Pol was the only one who survived.” Trip’s eyes widened in realization. The dreams he was having...they weren’t just dreams, but memories. T’Pol’s memories. How the hell is that possible? How’m I gettin’ her memories? I’ve never mind-melded with her. He managed to close his mouth. “But why did T’Phena do that? Why did she betray her own Security squad?” Vaeben seemed to be arguing with himself on how much to actually reveal. Mnheia seemed to be watching him like a hawk. Trip thought, She’s more Vulcan than Vulcan; it seems like she’s acting like his keeper. I bet she’s with the Vulcan High Command or somethin’. Finally, Vaeben replied, “Because T’Phena...is not your typical Vulcan.” “She’s—“ “She was a member of the V’tosh Ka’tur, but her views are extremely radical, even for a group of radicals. The Security Ministry has tried to find her, but she has managed to elude capture, until she tried to murder you at Starfleet Headquarters.” “She’s using me to get T’Pol to come after her.” Trip tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, as he recalled the close call on the skybridge. T'Phena had lured him there, using T'Pol's voice. “I’m only the bait; T’Pol’s her real target.” Vaeben nodded. “We have to assist T’Pol, before T’Phena causes her irreparable harm. This woman is a wanted criminal; she must be apprehended before it is too late.” The sudden passion in his voice surprised Trip. As Vaeben visibly brought himself under control, Trip quietly said, “You have a lot of stake in this, don’t you?” “Both T’Pol and T’Phena are like family to me, Nveid,” Vaeben said, his voice once more calm. “It is my duty—“ A chime interrupted him, and he touched the comm next to him. “Vaeben.” “Ie, Enarrain,” came the reply. Then Vaeben launched into a conversation in an unfamiliar language. Trip thought, What Vulcan dialect is he speakin’? Then he added, Vaeben i-Mhiessan tr’Jaihen. Mnheia i-Latasalaem t’Khnialmnae. Sheesh, I’m not even sure I even pronounced ‘em right. I know that Vulcan names can be impossible to pronounce, but those don’t sound like any Vulcan names I ever heard of. Suddenly, he felt a prickle of fear. Whoever they are, they looked like Vulcans, but were they? The only logical answer flashed in front of his eyes in glowing red letters: V’tosh Ka’tur. These people were part of the same group that had sheltered T’Phena, and they wanted to get their compatriot back. But Vaeben had said he’d also been with the Vulcan Security Ministry, and he seemed genuinely concerned about T’Pol’s safety. Trip heard the genuine emotion in the man’s voice – which was, again, strange for a Vulcan – but it sounded as if Vaeben was under a lot of pressure. Trip knew that Vulcans had emotions, but only controlled them. What was the truth? He needed to know, and fast. Suddenly, Mnheia got to her feet and slid her blaster out of her side holster. “She is here.” “She?” Trip repeated in a low voice. All of his senses were on high alert. “T’Phena?” “It does not feel like T’Phena.” “T’Pol then?” “Use your senses, Nveid.” I’m not a Vulcan, Trip wanted to retort, but he decided to humor her. He closed his eyes and tried to block out everything else, as T’Pol and Soval had taught him. There was a faint presence, very faint, but he couldn’t make out exactly who it was or what the subject was feeling... What a lovesick fool. Your emotions will be your downfall. His eyes snapped open. The thought hadn’t been directed at him, but at...T’Pol? He shot to his feet and followed the mental echo, ignoring both Mnheia and Vaeben’s shouts. His phase pistol leaped into his hands of its own accord and he gripped it as he ran through the twists and turns of the corridors, not consciously knowing just where he was going. “Fvadt!” Vaeben cursed as he took off after Trip. “Kholairlh-a deleth mnevher!” A sharp crack was Trip's only warning; he reacted without conscious thought. He turned and tackled Vaeben to the ground a split second before the ceiling gave way. Tons of snow and rubble flooded the hall behind them, spreading like a miniature avalanche and knocked them aside in its wake. |
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