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"The Logic of Emotion" by Lady Rainbow Rating: PG-13 Thanks for reading, but please leave a review! I’d like to know what you all think of this story. Like the others in the Switcheroo Series, this helps set some of the groundwork for the rest of the series. What’s going to happen at the Consulate? Lots of maneuvering and planning behind the scenes, on both sides, and Trip's stuck in the middle. BTW, I “borrowed” and modified a line from “Shuttlepod One”. Can you find it? And Captain Britain is an actual comic book character, like Superman. Thanks, Pesterfield:) Twelve Trip deliberately shoved the bottle of bourbon further away from him. Malcolm helped by claiming it and shoving the cork back in the top of the bottle. Then Phlox took it with a grimace and stashed it behind him, where Trip couldn’t see it. Jon reached over and put a hand on Trip’s arm. “If this is difficult for you, you don’t have to finish the story,” he said kindly. There were nods all around, and even Malcolm wore a sympathetic look on his face. “It’s late, and I know that some of us have the early shift tomorrow.” Trip shrugged and made a gesture with his hand. “If any of ya’ll are tired, ya can leave any time you want to. I promised T’Pol I’d tell her the story of how I met Soval; it’s just pretty complicated. ‘Sides, I want to set the story straight: none of ya have to worry about my loyalty to Starfleet and Earth...or Matt Hayes’s. We got caught in this mess and had to get ourselves out of it...and Soval and Jon helped us.” Travis shook his head. “I want to hear the end of this one. This is another side of Matt I never even imagined he had. And besides, if it involves Terra Prime—“ “Yes,” Phlox added, “it will be prudent to know about them, considering there are still remnants of that splinter group that exist, even a decade later.” “I would be gratified to hear how you and ‘Jeremiah’ managed to save Soval and Lieutenant Archer from Terra Prime,” T’Pol echoed. Her brows came together in confusion. “Though if you might explain one small detail, Trip?” “Which detail?” “Who is this ‘Lex Luthor’? And this ‘Superman’?” Laughter erupted around the room and broke the tension. T’Pol wore a nonplussed look on her face and Phlox seemed just as confused. Trip said, “Superman is a comic book character, T’Pol. Comic books are like...well, adventure stories, drawn and inked. Lex Luthor was one of Superman’s nemeses, and Luthor was always trying to take over the world. Of course, he was never successful.” T’Pol’s mouth quirked upwards in distaste. “An infantile form of entertainment for teenaged Human males?” “Hey!” Trip objected. “I’ll have you know there are layers upon layers of subtext in comic books, especially Superman! They are not infantile!” Travis howled in laughter at Trip’s protest. Hoshi clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes merry. Malcolm was about to make a snarky remark, but Hoshi elbowed him in the ribs just as he was opening his mouth. The doctor glared at her, but held his peace. “Like you’ve never read anything about Captain Britain, Malcolm?” Hoshi asked in a low voice. He quirked an eyebrow. “Captain Britain is considered a patriotic figure among the young. Not like Nelson, mind you, but—“ “Well, Superman is considered a patriotic figure in North America. Give Trip a break.” Malcolm rolled his eyes. Travis finally stopped laughing enough to take a deep breath and Jon pounded him on the back. T’Pol, whose remark had sparked this humorous interlude, only said, “I would be interested in perusing one of your ‘comic books’, Trip, in the interest of cultural exchange.” “If you’ll trade Surak for Superman, ya got a deal,” Trip said with a grin. “Well, if ya’ll are stayin’ till the end, let me warn ya—“ and here, his expression sobered, “—I don’t consider myself a hero, just someone who just happened to be at the right place at the right time.” Vulcan Consulate, San Francisco, the evening of March 18, 2145 Trip sighed and tried not to fidget with the collar of his formal uniform. He waited at the Consulate gates with Third Officer Somek. Somek scanned the street beyond with a sharp eye. Somek, like the rest of the Vulcan contingent of the Consulate, had been briefed by Captain Ramirez and Major T’Lydya about the assassination attempt. “May I be so bold as to compliment you?” Somek said in a low voice. “Huh?” Trip blurted out. Real intelligent, Tucker. You sound really intelligent right now. “For volunteering for such a difficult assignment. Please know that no matter what the outcome, I will have no doubts as to your intentions.” He chuckled, embarrassed at the praise. He didn’t feel worthy of the young Vulcan’s words. “I didn’t exactly volunteer.” Jeremiah appeared at the gate. He was dressed in a normal Starfleet uniform, with red piping and two solid pips with one empty pip added to the collar. Lieutenant Commander? Trip thought the man fit a Starfleet uniform well, even if he technically wasn’t in active service anymore. Jeremiah handed his clearance tag to Somek through the gate bars, who swiped it through his PADD. The screen showed green. Trip nodded again and Somek opened the gate for Jeremiah. “Thank you,” Jeremiah said abruptly. Somek only inclined his head in response. “C’mon, show’s startin’ in an hour,” Trip said. “Told Diplomat Archer ‘bout you. He’s pretty impressed, even with some of the misunderstandin’s on your record.” “Well, I hope you didn’t exaggerate some of my finer points,” Jeremiah said dryly. “Nah. Just some of the blunter ones.” Trip’s offhand remark actually brought a startled laugh from the older man. “We’re all ready; I just need to make one more round before Ambassador Soval and Diplomat Archer arrives. If you’ll follow me, I can take ya to a place that’s kinda comfy.” Trip led Jeremiah to a walled garden near the center of the Consulate. The main fountain threw up sprays of water, only to fall gently back into its basin. Butter-colored flowers floated on its surface. Neat plots of flowers were concentrated in pleasing patterns, and vines crept up the adobe walls. Three members of the Security team were stationed along the walls. They nodded as Trip approached. “All in order?” Trip asked in his best command tone. They snapped to attention. “Yes, sir.” “Good.” Trip paused and asked, “Has Corporal Kemper come back from USC Berkley yet?” “No, sir,” replied Corporal Trebarre. “They had trouble catching the shuttle back to San Fran. Diplomat Archer sent alternative transport for them.” “So, he won’t be back until after the meeting?” “I assume so, sir.” Trip nodded. “And Kemper promised me a couple of drinks tonight. Ah, well. I suppose I’ll just have to take a rain check.” Trebarre grinned. “Andorian ale, sir?” Trip noticed the hard glint to Jeremiah’s eyes as he replied, “You kiddin’? Good old Glenfiddich from the old country. I’ll check with you later, Corporal.” “Yes, sir.” Trip quietly went through the halls, making a visual inspection of his teams. Jeremiah was a silent shadow, not saying anything, but observing everything. There was a nervous stir as recognition dawned in some of the Security personnel’s faces. No one dared object to Jeremiah’s presence. Those who didn’t know who he was assumed that he was another Security officer, probably Admiral McGee’s man. And as Trip went through, he nodded at a particular sergeant standing guard duty at the conference room door. “Sergeant Harry Breen, one of the best sharpshooters and bomb guys on the Security detail.” “Sergeant,” Jeremiah said with a nod. “Sir,” Breen replied. “All ready for their arrival.” “Good.” Trip sighed and glanced at his wrist. “Damn, I left my chronometer in my office. Sergeant, you got the time?” “Sure, Ensign.” Breen pushed his sleeve up and showed Trip an old-fashioned watch. The hands showed six forty-five, with a blinking green light at the base of the watch face, and the sound of a steady “tick-tick” keeping time. “Thanks, Sergeant.” “You want to borrow my watch?” “Nah, you don’t have to—“ “I insist, sir. You need it more than I do.” Breen unsnapped the band and handed the whole thing to Trip. “I just ask that you take good care of it. It’s pretty important.” “I sure will,” Trip said as he affixed the watch to his own wrist. “Thanks again.” Trip entered the room and pretended to check the security cameras and the sensors. Lee Doumaides hadn’t been kidding at Breen’s expertise; the six explosives were inconspicuous and practically undetectable to the naked eye. Per Trip’s instructions, they had been strategically placed to minimize collateral damage, but were still potentially deadly in the small room. He tapped the wall comm. “Control room, report.” “Everything’s a go, Ensign,” came the reply. “We had a little bit of a sensor glitch earlier, but we fixed it. Diagnostics came back clean.” “Sensor glitch?” Trip asked, injecting a tone of worry in his voice. The sergeant heard it and stuck his head in the door. He gave Breen an inquiring look; the sergeant’s forehead wrinkled in genuine confusion. “The diagnostics came back clean, but we can run another one if you want, Ensign.” “Nah, we don’t have time before Admiral McGee, Ambassador Soval and Diplomat Archer arrive. Make sure none of the other protocols have been breached.” “Yes, sir. Control room, out.” Trip began to leave the room, but he stopped by Breen and said in a low, menacing voice, “If it doesn’t work, you’ll be answering to me, Sergeant. Got that?” Breen looked taken aback, but he modified what he was about to say as he saw Trip’s expression. “Yes, sir.” Trip stalked down the hall and turned the corner, with Jeremiah scrambling in his wake. He tried not to betray his trembling hands. Talk about close. I hope Soval’s engineering guys are as good as he says or we’re in a lot of trouble. It ain’t easy to defuse six bombs undetected and still leave the outer casings intact. He glanced at his borrowed watch. Six fifty. Ten more minutes. I hope Ramirez and T’Lydya’s people know what they’re doing. “Time to meet the diplomat,” Trip said aloud. Jon Archer sat at his desk, making final adjustments to his meeting agenda. Trip rapped on the doorframe and waited for Jon’s answer. The diplomat managed a smile. “Be right with you, Trip...Ah, this must be Jeremiah?” “Yes, sir,” Jeremiah said in a quiet tone as he accepted Jon’s handshake. “Diplomat Archer.” Jon held his gaze. “Starfleet Security?” “Formerly, sir.” “Good. Trip’s going to need as much help as he can get.” Jon met Trip’s gaze. “I trust this man with my life, so don’t piss him off.” A genuine smile flashed onto his face. “I don’t plan to, sir.” Then Jon got to his feet. “The Admiral’s waiting, gentlemen. Let’s go.” Archer’s penchant for wandering was well-known at the Consulate. He enjoyed stopping by his fellow diplomats’ offices and by some of the junior Vulcans’ cubicles. This was no exception. Personally, Trip thought it was a great idea to boost morale. As a security officer, it was annoying as hell. Major T’Lydya had hated this part of Archer’s routine. This time, Trip silently thanked Jon’s foresight. As Jon went through his usual routine, Trip watched as the members of the security detail stationed themselves nearby, but not in the way. The only ones who were always around Archer were Trip, Jeremiah and Lee, who had joined them midway through the circuit through the Consulate offices. Lee’s eyes widened at the sight of Jeremiah in a Starfleet uniform—and wearing lieutenant commander’s pips—but wisely said nothing. Trip glanced at the watch around his wrist. Six fifty four. Six more minutes. Soval should be at the room by now, with T’Lydya and her people... Trip, you must delay Jonathan for a moment or two longer. Soval’s mind-voice was as clear as a bell, as if the Vulcan was standing right next to him. How’m I gonna do that? Just as Trip thought the question, his communicator went off. “Damn,” he muttered. “Lee, gotta step out. Be right back.” “Sure, Boss,” Lee whispered back, with stress on the title. Trip stepped into the hall and hissed into his communicator, “Tucker. What is it?” “Ensign,” came Kemper’s low voice. “Admiral McGee’s chief of staff reports the admiral’s delayed five minutes. His security detail’s has rendezvoused with Ambassador Soval’s.” “Acknowledged,” Trip replied. Nate had just told him that Major T’Lydya and her people had quietly replaced the questionable guards in the conference room with supporters of Archer and Soval. Okay, timing is everything here. He went back to Jon’s side and whispered, “Diplomat, Admiral McGee’s been delayed five minutes." “Thanks, Ensign.” Jon finished chatting with T’Saiya’s temporary replacement at the front desk. Now he slowly made his way through the entrance of the western wing of the Consulate. Trip nodded at Lee, who checked the power level of his EM-33. Jeremiah did the same; he kept an eye on Lee’s every move. “Send word to the rest of the team,” Trip whispered. “Stay put until it’s time. Anyone who jumps early’s gonna be strung up.” “No problem, Boss,” Lee whispered back and relayed Trip’s orders to the other members of the detail. Trip knew that he could trust only one or two of them not to shoot Jon or Soval at the first opportunity. He prayed that none of the others would get any bright ideas. They finally reached the floor where the conference room was located. Sergeant Breen snapped to attention as the diplomatic party neared the door. Archer nodded at him and asked, “Is Ambassador Soval—?” “He and Major T’Lydya are waiting for you inside, sir,” Breen said. “Admiral McGee is on his way now." “Thank you, Sergeant.” Breen’s eyes suddenly widened in alarm as Trip‘s watch emitted a sharp screech. The green light at the base of the clock face turned from green to red. Trip realized it in an instant: Breen had implanted one of the bombs in the watch and had given it to him. Paxton had known—or had at least suspected—that he had been playing both sides. But judging from Breen’s expression, someone had triggered the bomb a moment too soon, which meant none of them would have time to escape before it went off. “Dammit!” Jeremiah ripped the watch from Trip’s wrist. “Get DOWN!” “What the hell are you doing?” Trip burst out, but Jeremiah had already disappeared down the hall with it. He’d never seen a man Jeremiah’s size move so fast. Trip made a split-second decision: he launched himself toward a startled Jon Archer, knocking him down and covering Jon with his own body. Then the bomb went off, shaking the Consulate to its foundations. |
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