The Tracker

By: bluetiger

Rating: PG

Author's Note: This is a challenge story.

The scent of pine was strong in the air. Trip Tucker was running through the woods, trying to gain as much distance and leave as little evidence of his passing as possible.

He was aware that his trackers were relentless and very well trained. Trip had begun with a two hour head start, but after being on the run for two days he could sense his pursuer was very close now.

Hearing the gurgle of running water, Trip turned toward the sound. The engineer stepped into the stream and bent down to scoop up a handful of water, drinking greedily. Putting his hands on his hips, the exhausted man straightened and took several deep breaths.

Trip stayed in the water moving upstream with the hope that the water would confuse those following him. Spotting a likely place to exit the stream, he headed to a rocky out-crop and started to climb. Reaching the top, Trip squatted down to get his bearings. He had an excellent view of the surrounding valley and could see no one following him.

Trip stood, planning his next move and turned directly into the barrel of a gun. The impact of the shot knocked him to the ground.

"Ow, that really hurt," Trip huffed.

"Sorry Dad," Morgan said, spoiling his apology by grinning at his father.

"Those stupid paint guns sting at point blank range," Trip grumbled looking down at the large blue mess covering his chest.

Morgan Tucker could barely contain himself, "I finally won Dad, I found you before T'Resa did. She is going to be so mad and Mother will be so pleased. Are you okay Dad, I didn't mean to hurt you, just wanted to make sure Mother could see that I got to you first."

Trip had to laugh at the excitement of his nine-year-old son, "I understand buddy, out-tracking your sister for the first time has got to feel pretty good. Now let's find T'Resa and head back to camp."

At that moment Trip's sixteen-year-old daughter stepped out of the trees and saw the blue stain on her father's shirt. Lowering her gun loaded with red paint T'Resa huffed, "Crap!"

Sitting around the campfire, the entire Tucker family was content. Trip was glad to have had his first good meal in two days. T'Pol was pleased to listen as her children regaled her with the details of the hunt for their father. While Morgan was basking in his mother's approval of his tracking skills, T'Resa was secretly pleased for her little brother whom she dearly loved.

T'Pol was determined to teach her children the Vulcan survival and tracking methods that she had acquired after so many years with the Security Directorate. Hopefully they would never need these skills to survive but, like a good Vulcan mother, she intended for her children to have them. To this end, every year the family would take a camping vacation with her beloved mate acting as the prey for the annual hunt. Although every year Trip swore that it would be the last, T'Pol knew that he was equally proud of his children's abilities.

Trip stretched by the fire, happy with his little clan and life in general. Grabbing a marshmallow and poking it on a stick, he held it over the blaze.

All eyes swung to Trip as he announced, "Well I hope you all enjoyed this trip because it's the last one."

This annual proclamation earned him the same reaction every year. Three raised eyebrows with accompanying smirks.

The End

a/n: this story was referenced by an adult Morgan in 'Keep Your Enemies Closer'.