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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. Lots of action in this...and you find out what happens to “Jeremiah”. Trip and Soval discover that they make an interesting team. Thirteen “I remember that,” Jon said. “I remember Jeremiah snatching the watch away from you, then disappearing with it. I didn’t know what was going on until you tackled me to the floor, just before the bomb went off.” Hoshi went pale at the thought of Matt Hayes with a live bomb. “That’s where he got those burns from...” “Burns?” Malcolm repeated. “Matt’s got some pretty bad scars on his body, under the uniform,” Travis said in a hushed voice. “I remember when we were on the Montana and we ran into the Tandarans. They’d tortured him, and their armsman said something about it ‘being a shame having to destroy the artwork’ on his skin.” Jon whistled softly. “Christ.” “Yeah.” Travis said, looking down at his hands. “It was that bad. But I never asked Matt what had happened to give him those scars; it was none of my business, anyway.” Trip’s eyes were sorrowful. “Like I said, when I met Matt Hayes later, when Hoshi and I were on the Madagascar...I didn’t make the connection until much later that he and Jeremiah were one and the same...because this was when Jeremiah made his grand exit.” “He disappeared?” Phlox asked. “Um...something a little more permanent.” “He died?” Phlox said, his eyes widening. “But Captain Hayes is still alive—“ “Matt pulled a convincing act, with help from our dear Vulcan ambassador.” Trip shrugged at Jon and added, “And I wasn’t done savin’ your butt yet, Jon.” “You weren’t?” Jon asked with humor in his voice, trying to lighten the mood again. “Now that part I don’t remember.” “That’s because you were takin’ a little nap at the time,” Trip retorted. “Jon? Jon? Dammit!” Trip tried to wake up Archer, but the diplomat had been knocked out cold. The air around them was filled with dust and debris and a cloying smell tickled Trip’s nose. Some kind of leak somewhere...we’ve got to evacuate the building. “Ensign Tucker!” Major T’Lydya dropped to her knees next to him. “The diplomat—“ “He’s unconscious, but he’s alive. I need help getting him out of here. Where’s Soval?” “He is assisting the evacuation of the Consulate. There are multiple coolant and gas leaks; we must get everyone out.” Trip scowled. “Soval needs to get outta here too. He ain’t expendable. Wish I could tell him—“ We are at the east courtyard, Trip. Do not worry about my welfare; get Jonathan and the others to safety. Soval’s brief mind-voice was like a tap on the back of Trip’s head. It reminded him briefly of when his sister Alexandra had smacked him when he’d said something stupid. The sharp rebuke stopped Trip in mid-rant. I heard ya. Thanks for lettin’ me know. He wondered if this thought-sharing business was permanent, and whether or not it meant anything more than an accidental mind-link. Me and Soval. Yeah, right. If he picks up Alex’s habit, I’m gonna have a permanent concussion. He snorted at the thought, then said aloud, “All right, Major. Can you help me with Diplomat Archer?” She nodded and took up one side of Archer’s prone body, while Trip took up the other side. Together, they half-carried, half dragged Jon down two flights of stairs and out into the Consulate’s courtyard. Medical transports were already pulling up to the gates, and Third Officer Somek was organizing the rescue effort. “Take care of him,” Trip snapped to a medic as he and T’Lydya hauled Jon onto a waiting stretcher. The man in field greens nodded distractedly, then ordered his team to attend the new patient. A part of Trip’s mind noted the man’s clipped accent and the no-nonsense attitude, but he promptly forgot whom he saw, as he assisted others out into the courtyard. Time blurred as he forced himself to stay on his feet. Most of the Consulate regular workers had already left for the evening, but the evening shift still numbered about eighty. Tears ran down his cheeks as he saw good men and women of his security detachment injured and unconscious in the wake of the attack. Some of them had been in cahoots with Lee Doumaides and Sergeant Breen; others were as loyal to Archer and Soval. Unfortunately, the sheer number of the former outweighed the latter. That fact both saddened and enraged him. “En-ensign?” A medic knelt beside a prone body, with Soval on the other side of the fallen man. A lump rose in Trip’s throat as he recognized the person, and he dropped heavily to his knees next to the medic. “Hey, Jeremiah–“ “Did everyone make it out?” Jeremiah’s voice was weak, but Trip heard it all the same. One side of his face was bloody, and his hands were already shiny with burn ointment. Trip didn't want to imagine the kind of internal injuries he must have suffered. “Yeah,” Trip whispered back. He gripped Jeremiah’s shoulder. “Relax, buddy. Ya saved my life. I owe ya one.” “You would’ve done the same for me...Trip,” His eyes closed wearily; the medic and Soval exchanged unreadable looks. “Keep talking to him, Ensign,” said the medic as he brought out a hypospray and emptied the contents into Jeremiah’s neck. He redialed the medication dispenser and then injected it into Jeremiah’s arm. “Don’t you go out on me,” Trip said with feeling. He couldn't believe Jeremiah was just giving up. “I’m gonna kick your butt if you do.” Jeremiah tried to laugh but it came out as a cough. “You’d only get to try it once—“ “Ambassador—“ the medic interrupted, with a warning in his voice. “I’m losing him.” Soval’s expression was grave as he brought his hand up to brush Jeremiah’s temple, then his long fingers found the psi points on the man’s face. “Do not struggle against me, Lieutenant Commander. I am here to help you.” Trip and the medic glanced at each other, but the medic only shrugged and glanced down at his medical scanner. Several tense minutes passed, then Soval’s mouth moved in a silent question. Jeremiah inhaled a deep breath, his answer a sigh. “Yes.” Then his body was still. Soval opened his eyes and dropped his hand from Jeremiah’s face. A moment later, the medic’s scanner emitted a low beep. Trip hardly heard it; he couldn’t believe the man was dead, not after all he had done-- “I’m sorry, Ensign. He’s gone.” The medic snapped his scanner closed with a finality that Trip found heartless. Trip stifled the urge to throttle the medic for his lack of bedside manner, and turned to Soval instead. “Soval? You okay?” “Yes, Trip, I am fine.” But when Soval opened his eyes, Trip saw a haunted look deep within them. “Jeremiah has ceased to exist. Take care of him, Mister Diaz.” The medic nodded and replied, “Yes, sir.” As Soval led Trip away, Trip thought, Ceased to exist? I suppose that’s the nice Vulcan way of sayin’ the man who saved your life is dead. He only had time to finish the thought before someone else called out for help, and he and Soval were off again, helping the rescue. Trip shoved the grief into a corner of his mind, knowing he’d have to deal with it later. Right now, he had a job to do. Hours later, he and Nate Kemper were assisting the last of the victims into the medvacs. Trip tried to control his sorrow and his anger, but he found it difficult to do so. There was so many losses: Jeremiah, good Security men and women...all because Paxton wanted to destroy the Vulcans and anyone else who wasn’t Human. If Paxton had been around, Trip would have given him more than just a piece of his mind... “Tucker!” Trip’s head snapped up in time to see a blur slam directly into him, knocking the wind from his lungs. Two strong hands clamped around his neck, and a heavy weight knelt directly on his chest, preventing Trip from gaining any leverage. Pain raced down Trip’s spine and paralyzed him. “Traitor!” hissed Lee’s voice. “Those Vulcans have brainwashed you, made you weak. This will be quick, Tucker, one quick snap—“ There was a sharp crack and Trip waited for the rush of death in his ears. Then the vise around his neck eased abruptly and Lee’s body went limp, the dark blue eyes glazed over. His body fell sideways off Trip’s chest. Trip blinked to see Major T’Lydya calmly getting up from her kneeling position behind Lee. It had happened so fast that Nate Kemper hadn’t had time to shoot his EM-33. Nate crouched over Lee and checked his pulse with his left hand. “Damn,” Nate said in a low voice. “One second more, Major—“ “Tal-shaya,” she murmured, her voice regretful and sad. “Are you all right, Ensign?” “Yeah...fine,” Trip rasped. “Is everyone out?” “Everyone has been evacuated,” came Soval’s voice on Trip’s other side. He felt the ambassador’s steady hand on his shoulder and to his surprise and relief, a warm wave of warm comfort. “Please relax, Trip. Everything will be all right.” “But—“ The soothing warmth made him tired and he let himself drift. Just before he lost consciousness, he thought he heard Soval say in his mind, I understand the darkness now, Trip. |
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