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"The Logic of Emotion" by Lady Rainbow Rating: PG-13 Enterprise canon never established the origin of either Hayes or Kemper, so I made ‘em up. I made Hayes from Colorado and Kemper from New England (specifically from the Cape Cod area). This chapter also answers the question of how and where Hoshi Sato met Matt Hayes and how long they’ve known each other. Strange things are happening to Trip and Soval. What’s going on? Seven Travis blinked, then glanced at Hoshi, who had a shadowed look in her eyes. He noticed that Doctor Reed was also looking at her with an unreadable expression. Trip gazed at the captain steadily, but Hoshi’s features didn’t change. T’Pol’s eyebrow was up to her hairline. Vulcans weren’t supposed to show emotion, but this was as close to surprise as Trip had seen her so far. “Captain Hayes? He was the mole within that organization?” “Well, yeah, he wasn’t a captain then, T’Pol.” Trip sighed and shrugged. “Some of what he told me was the truth. At the time, he was a first officer, but of the Shenandoah, not some podunk support ship. He has some engineering background, but actually came up the ranks as an Armory officer. As for his temper, well—“ he coughed and gave Hoshi a look of apology. “Matt’s usually pretty controlled, but when he thinks there’s an injustice, he’s the first to get caught in the fray,” Hoshi said. “And the bit about the Andorians...it was only after this last mission to Vulcan that he settled some issues with them. If I remember right, he actually volunteered for that mission. We weren’t...together...then, but he and I had some arguments about his getting involved.” Malcolm’s mouth tightened, but he only asked, “‘Jeremiah’? I thought his name was Matthew.” Travis answered that question, for he’d been Matt Hayes’s science officer previous to his posting as Enterprise’s First Officer. “It is. Jeremiah is Captain Hayes’s first name, but he usually goes by his middle name. His grandfather’s name was Jeremiah and he and Matt didn’t get along very well.” Malcolm nodded and addressed Hoshi again. “How long have you known Captain Hayes?” “Eleven years. I was teaching at the United Earth Air Forces Academy, on leave from Starfleet. He’s from Colorado Springs and I met him on campus. He’d done a teaching stint at their Piloting School, trying to ‘instill some sense into those punk pilots’.” She chuckled at the memory. “Even then, he was pretty protective of the men and women under his command.” Trip grinned. “Yeah, sounds just like him. I thought maybe he was attached to Covert Ops or something. He certainly acted like it. Anyway, the day’s events weren’t over yet—“ March 17, 2145 Vulcan Consulate, San Francisco They were being followed. Trip knew it within two blocks of leaving the pub. He glanced at Nate Kemper; the MACO only nodded in agreement. Whoever it was had done it before; Trip wasn’t sure just what had tipped him off to the man’s presence, only that his senses were hypersensitive. It wasn’t Lee and it sure wasn’t Jeremiah, but how he could tell the difference, he couldn’t say. He just knew. By tacit agreement, he and Nate took a long, circuitous route back to the Consulate. They strolled along the Marina, sampled some seafood from a dockside restaurant and chatted about the various boats moored there. Trip, with his sailing and diving background, regaled Nate with some of his more hair-raising tales from off the Florida coast. Their shadow kept up with them every step of the way. “Ever miss Florida, Ensign?” Trip glanced at Nate, who sat at a nearby bench. “Yeah, I suppose so. San Fran is nice, but it ain’t the same. Weather’s a bit too cold for my liking and the fog...brrr. I prefer the warm water of the Gulf. Nothin’ quite like it, ya know.” “Yeah, I can relate. I’m from Cape Cod, and it sure isn’t the same.” Kemper closed his eyes and enjoyed the ocean breeze. “When we get some leave, I’m gonna take you to my sister’s place and I’m going to introduce you to Maine lobster and real New England clam chowder. Not the stuff that Starfleet thinks is clam chowder.” “I’d enjoy that, and maybe you can come down to Florida and experience my momma’s pan-fried catfish. Family recipe.” Trip watched the shadow out of the corner of his eye and judged the distance between them. Their “friend” made sure to keep out of his and Nate’s direct line-of-sight. Trip glanced at Kemper, whose right hand rested on his lap, his fingers around the grip of a tiny dart pistol. Trip spotted a three-masted ship in a nearby berth. Its name was on the bow in green scrolled letters: Le’matya. He frowned as he stared at the lettering, trying to remember where he’d heard the word before. Le’matya. That isn’t Standard English. Is it Vulcan? What’s a Vulcan doing with a boat? I thought they hated the water...their planet’s mostly desert... The clouds passed over the moon and blackness engulfed the wharf. Trip felt his mind wander as he tried to remember... It was dark night, like this one, and he stared out into the gloom, hardly breathing, but every nerve was strung tightly like a harp string. The environment was unforgiving; he knew it had claimed many young lives, and he was determined not to join their number. Unfortunately, the le’ matyas were numerous this season and were competing for the same prey. He picked his way across the rocky terrain and tried to control his fear, but he knew they were out there and they were looking for him. It was safer to travel by night, for the day was merciless, and many had made the mistake of sleeping at night. A howl chilled his blood. That one sounded close, too close. He quickened his steps; perhaps if he got out of its range, it would lose interest. Or if he reached one of the stone mesas, it wouldn’t follow him. His heartbeat sped up, sweat dotted his brow, but his hands and feet were steady. The scrape of claws against stone was his only warning. Then the hunter leaped at him... “Ensign! Behind you!” Kemper’s shout broke Trip out of his daze. Another body slammed into him and knocked him backwards. He heard the sharp whine of Kemper’s dart pistol, felt the man stiffen and become a dead weight. Unfortunately, they were already moving on pure momentum and Trip’s feet felt nothing but air. He took a deep breath and twisted his body so he entered the water feet-first. The shock of the cold water nearly drove the air from his lungs. Damn, I didn’t realize the Pacific could be so cold! His sense of self-preservation kicked in and he began to struggle to the surface. Something made him glance below him and there, falling fast, was his attacker. Trip reversed course, diving until he reached the man and grabbed him by the collar. Although Trip was well-versed in lifesaving techniques, he realized that there was no way he’d make it to the surface with the added weight. Then, miraculously, he felt someone else take up the slack. Trip kicked his way until his head broke the surface. He coughed, spit out water and gulped great lungfuls of air. He saw Kemper on the dock, along with some bystanders. To his great shock, one of those bystanders gazed down at him with a look of mixed chagrin and disapproval. What the hell is Soval doing here? Trip glanced at his rescuer and found another shock. Brown hair, green eyes, and an expression that could shatter titanium. “You get yourself into the worst situations, don’t you, Ensign?” said Jonathan Archer. “I tell ya, Jon, I’m fine! Can you call the Healer off?” “Trip, sit down and shut up.” Jonathan’s voice was brusque. “Doctor Ayakamura insisted on examining you, too. What the hell were you doing out at the marina? And how’d you end up in the water? You could catch pneumonia or something!” He glared at Trip and stopped Trip’s complaint cold. “This is the second time in less than a week that you’ve ended up needing care. I swear, you attract trouble like a magnet. You’re supposed to protect me and I’m the one who saves your ass.” “Hey, it wasn’t my fault this time, just like the first time wasn’t my fault,” Trip shot back, irritated at the condescending attitude. “For your information, I actually enjoy bein’ near the water, and Kemper and I were talkin’ about the differences between Florida and Cape Cod, nothing earth-shattering, then this bozo comes rushin’ up and tackles me and I end up in the water. He’s damn lucky I decided to save his sorry hide instead of lettin’ him drown!” “And you nearly drowned trying to save him. Trip, I understand you want to save the world—“ “Dammit, the guy’s a potential suspect, Jon. He tried to assault me; I didn’t do anythin’ to him.” Trip realized he and Jon were shouting at each other at the top of their lungs. The fact hit Jon at the same time, and a chagrined smile came across the diplomat’s face. “‘Sides, what were you and Soval doin’ at the marina? Vulcans don’t hang around the water...or so I was led to believe.” “We were on our way back to the Consulate from a dinner at the Rofarions’ Consulate. For some reason, Soval told the driver to take the long way around. I didn’t understand why, and he didn’t tell me. Then we hear an alert from the marina guard and since we were close by, we decided to see if we could help. I got there just in time to see you fall over the edge of the dock and I dove in after you.” Jon chuckled to himself. “Thank God I still play in San Fran’s water polo league. Anyway, I saw you were in trouble and...the rest you know.” Trip blinked. “Wait a minute. Soval made the diversion?” “Yeah. It thought it was out of character for him, but he must’ve sensed something was wrong and came charging to the rescue. At least, as much as a Vulcan would, anyway. It was fortunate that he did; we could have lost you.” Trip shook his head and replayed the incident in his mind. There was something nagging at him, like a sore tooth, something that happened just before the attack. Something had warned him, made him aware of his surroundings, more than his usual sharp senses could convey. What had it been? It was like a memory, just floating out of reach... Memory. He sat up bolt upright. That’s it. Some kind of memory, but...he frowned as he realized, Wait a minute...it can’t be my memory. I’ve walked in the Australian Outback before at night, but not like that. And what I felt and saw and heard...it’s all wrong. If it ain’t mine, then whose is it? “Trip?” Jonathan turned from furious to concerned in a blink of an eye. “What is it? What’s wrong?” He clasped his hands together to keep them from shaking. “Jon, where’s Soval? I’ve gotta talk to him. It’s kinda urgent—“ A calm voice made both of them look at the doorway. “Ensign Tucker,” said Ambassador Soval. Although the Vulcan’s face was calm, there was strain in his eyes. Strain and something else that Trip had never seen before in a Vulcan. Fear. What’s he scared of? He can’t be scared of me, can he? And a ghost of a smile flittered across Soval’s lips, as if Soval had heard his thoughts. “Ensign Tucker—Trip—I must speak with you. I believe I have something here—“ he tapped his temple with a slender finger, “—that may belong to you.” |
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