A/N: Okay, you thought we were scary apart . . . now we're together. Though this point is, of course, debatable, considering there is a high likelihood that we are actually the same person in two separate bodies. But you can be together with yourself, right?
Please don't confuse this with Gaia's story, Regrets. It was Cha's idea and her title, so Gaia takes not blame for redundancy.
Please review. Don't worry, it'll get to both of us. And make not one, but two people very happy.
Chapter 1: Melissa
"I Will Remember You" – Sarah McLachlan
"Down here." Trip followed his scanner deep into the cave, wondering – not for the first time – what the hell he was doing. Bad things happened to him in caves: like an overdose of violent paranoia or falling over a cliff face, or winding up imprisoned. You'd think I'd learn by now. But here he was – having survived pregnancy, hypothermia, heatstroke, near-drowning, concussion, brain-damage, and marauding Xindi – only to find himself back in a cave, chasing down an 'anomalous' (to use T'Pol's description) energy signature. And to think I couldn't wait to get back to the exploring gig again.
The scanner indicated a small opening to the right – he had to bend double to get through it. Then…
Holy shit. This looks just like home. He spun around, looking for the cave. Gone. Instead… He could hear the sound of cars up ahead, and made his way towards the call of civilisation. If there's cars, that's tech, and if there's tech, that's intelligent life. He pushed his way through a section of bushes, and emerged onto a strip of asphalt.
Holy shit. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he hadn't misread the sign by the side of the road. Interstate… Not to mention the state itself. Florida? And if he had it pegged right… no more than five clicks outside Panama City. What the hell?
"I am never going in to another goddamn cave for as long as I live," he vowed, looking up and down the stretch of highway. A small sub-division lurked up the way… he could get directions, possibly, or in the very least, information.
At least Starfleet has kept me in shape. He struck out for the houses, trying to piece things together. This can't be Florida – I was thousands of light-years away. There is no way this is Florida. Maybe I hit my head going through that opening… yeah, that's it… I'm in a coma and hallucinating. Still, it felt real: the slight give of overheated asphalt beneath his feet, the smell of citrus and tar, and the gusts every time a car raced past. The humid heat brought out sweat… he could feel his uniform getting soaked already. My dreams are detailed, but usually not this detailed.
As he drew closer, he could see that the houses weren't all in the best repair – and none of the yards were well maintained. Not a high-income neighbourhood. Still, he could hear kids yelling in back-yards… in one front yard a dirty, blond boy stared at him for a moment, then ran away screaming.
I look that bad? Aside from being a little damp, he couldn't imagine what the problem could be. Maybe he's just been taught to be careful of strangers. On the other hand… if the kid was home, there was a good chance a parent would be home too… and a parent might talk to me.
He made his way up the short driveway, noting that this house seemed in a little better condition than some of the others – obviously one of the inhabitants knew a little about repairs. Three steps led up to the front door. Dodging toys, he mounted them and knocked.
There was a pause and some yelling from inside before the door opened, revealing a tall blonde with a toddler on her hip – clearly not far away from trading it for an infant. Her hair hung around her tired face in bedraggled strands – the child had a lock of it in her mouth. She looked at him for a moment – saying nothing – then her oddly familiar face froze.
"Excuse…" Trip began.
"Trip!" The woman hollered, turning back into the house. "Get your ass out here."
What the hell? What were the chances that someone here would have the same odd nickname?
She was answered by a muted swearing, then: "One goddamn minute. You were the one who said this goddamn thing had to be fixed now. What's the problem?"
"The problem is you can't get off your lazy ass and fix anything before it becomes a goddamn crisis," she muttered. Turning back to Trip, "Look… if it's money, forget it. We haven't got any to spare as it is."
"Um…" Trip backed up, colliding with the narrow metal railing that bracketed the stoop. All I wanted was to know for sure where I was.
"Mary! Get off the back of the couch, and leave your brother alone. How many goddamn times…" The man's voice grew louder. Either he'd added more volume – unlikely, if not impossible – or he drew closer.
"Will you goddamn well stop swearing at the kids?" She screamed back into the house then turned to Trip. "Stupid son-of-a-bitch is gonna have 'em talking like he does, then there's going to be no end of trouble with the school."
I'm going to avoid pointing out the hypocrisy inherent in that statement. Another thought followed hot on the first one's heels. I've been hanging out with Malcolm for too long. Two years ago he'd never have phrased something like that, especially not in his own head.
The door yanked open wider, and Trip's eyes widened farther than he thought possible.
"Who the hell are you?" The man staring back at him was clearly two steps past the point of pissed off – a state Trip had no difficulty recognising. Mostly because…
"Commander Charles Tucker the Third, Starfleet…" he found himself reciting his serial number without even thinking. Having a Klingon breathe in his face wasn't this disconcerting. Add ten years… and that's me.
"Look, pal, this ain't funny. Now get outta here before I call the cops." His doppelganger stepped forward, one hand clenched tightly into a fist.
I can take him. Thanks to Hayes and Malcolm… I can take this guy. He's got weight… but I've got condition. This Trip wore the extra weight poorly – a football player gone to hell. The same diet, one quarter the exercise. Still, he didn't want a fight if he could avoid it. He leaned a little farther back over the railing, which decided to give way.
"Ow." He landed on his ass on the lawn, barely missing a tricycle. Instinctively, he rolled, lessening the amount of momentum turned into impact. Still, it hurt, especially since the railing landed slightly before him.
"Jesus, Trip. I told you that thing was giving out over a month ago." The blonde stepped forward, and stared down. "Don't think about suing us… there's nothing to take. I don't care how well placed your friends are…"
Trip manoeuvred himself into a sitting position and stared at her. A twinge of sympathy ran through him, even though it was he who was in pain. "Don't worry. They'll probably testify I fell over my own feet anyway." Quickly he ran a mental diagnostic. "Nothing broken… just a bit bruised. I'm fine." He could tell she didn't look convinced. "Trust me. I once tripped over a twenty-yard line. That hurt worse than this." Admittedly the worst blow had been to his pride – just like now.
The man stared at him, as though seeing him for the first time. Trip followed the gaze down to a tiny scar on his hand.
"How did you get that?" The man spoke so quietly that Trip almost missed it.
"I cut it when I was a kid… I broke my Mom's vase and didn't want her to know, so I didn't tell her about the cut. It got infected… and they only found out when I came down with a fever. And it was so bad…"
"…the doctors had to cut away a portion of the flesh." Now the man stared down at his own hand, finishing the recitation.
"Yeah." Trip's jaw hung loose as his mind put it together. Holy shit…
"Come on into the garage. It's cooler in there." The other Trip descended the stairs and held out a hand. " 'Liss. Get us a couple of beers, will you?"
Beer sounded good, except… I am technically still on duty. "No thanks. To the beer, that is." He noticed a look of surprise on the other Trip's – Tucker's – face. "Regs."
"Right. Get me a beer, and get him a lemonade or somethin'." Tucker didn't even look at…
'Liss. This time it was Trip's turn to stare. No wonder the woman looked so familiar. "Melissa? Melissa Lyles?"
She gave him a look that told him that she still didn't trust him. "Melissa Tucker. We are married."
We are? He knew she meant Tucker, but still… "Sorry. It's just… forget it." Still… I've always regretted never asking you to dance. He felt a twinge of it now – though he could barely see her former beauty behind the tired mask.
He turned back to Tucker to find that the other man disappearing around the corner of the garage, not seeming to care that his wife hadn't even responded to his request.
"We're out of lemonade," Melissa announced.
"Whatever you've got will be fine," Trip found his gaze attracted to the toddler again. She looked so much like Elizabeth when she had been that age. A familiar pain struck him hard in the stomach. Just when I think I'm getting over it…
Melissa noticed his stare and turned away quickly. "He's in the garage. And tell him not to be too long, because we still need that damn dishwasher fixed."
Right. Grateful to escape, he headed to the small, unattached structure. Inside he found Tucker collapsed in an old, worn-out recliner. A smaller, less damaged chair sat nearby. "Sit down."
"Thanks." Trip lowered himself gingerly into the chair. It was musty and covered in grease and crumbs, but it held his weight. He would have wondered about Tucker's equanimity about Trip's identity, but he probably read the same sci-fi books I did. "So… Melissa Lyles."
"Yeah." Tucker's face twisted bitterly. "And to think I thought I'd won a prize. So… Starfleet huh? What happened? That hunk of metal actually get off the ground?"
It took Trip a second to realise what Tucker was talking about. "All the way to Warp Five. That's maxed out of course, and she doesn't like it too much…"
Tucker's jaw dropped this time. "You're actually out there. Son-of-a-bitch. So what do you do?"
"Ch…Engineer." He'd been about to reveal the whole truth before his brain kicked in. Telling this guy that you're chief engineer of the flagship of the fleet might not be the best thing for his psyche. Trip looked around at the crowded garage, and into his own tired face. "What year is it?"
"2154," Tucker answered, puzzled. "Why?"
"Just curious." He may look ten years older… but he's the same age as me. "How many kids have you got?"
A tired look settled in on Tucker's face. "Six. Charlie… he's seventeen, then Tysey, and Tommy – the twins – they're ten… then Mary, and Erin, and Lizzie…and another one on the way. How 'bout you?"
"Um…" How to explain Lorian? Did he exist… was he something in potentia, or had things gone past that point now, to where he never would be? "Possibly. I don't know. It's complicated."
Tucker raised an eyebrow.
"Temporal… I mean in one timeline…" Trip gave up. "Let's just say… no. Not right now."
"Ya want one?" Tucker kicked a foam football across the garage floor. "Go ahead, take your pick."
Trip smiled. "I think my captain would kill me. He's got enough trouble with one Tucker on board the ship."
Melissa came in and handed her husband a beer before passing a glass of something greyish-green to Trip. She gave each of them a glare, then stalked out.
Trip sipped the drink gingerly. He was hot and he was thirsty, but he wasn't sure that Melissa wasn't trying to poison him. "Interesting." It tasted like about four flavours of Kool-Aid and was a little light on the sugar.
"Christ. I'm sure she could'a found you something better than that." Tucker opened up his mouth to yell, but Trip held up a hand.
"It's fine. Really." He took a bigger swallow. "This takes me back." Actually, the only place it took him back to was a year spent living in a college dorm and eating nothing but macaroni and cheese and hotdogs. Mom would have died before serving us something like this. He looked around the place again. "So, how did you two get together?"
Tucker grimaced. "Bayshore Elementary. That damned dance. You know… hell, you do know."
"Yeah." All that time preparing, just to stand in a corner. I learned how to dance, just so I could keep my feet still. So was this…
"Childhood sweethearts…" The irony in Tucker's voice was heavy enough to weigh down a shuttlepod. "Hell. What a crock of shit that story is."
"Wow." Trip could think of nothing else to say. Then the math caught up with him. "You said Charlie's seventeen?"
Tucker smirked. "Yup. I wasn't makin' up my mind fast enough for 'Liss, so she made it up for me. Seventeen years old… and insteada headin' off to college, I'm packin' groceries to put diapers on a kid. Then her daddy got sick… then Mom and Dad got divorced and there was all the hassle over that…"
"Got what?" Trip nearly bolted out of his chair. "Mom and Dad. As in…"
Tucker nodded. "Yup. Not that we were speaking at the time… when Charlie showed up, the general attitude was 'tough shit.' You know Mom and Responsibility."
Trip nodded. It was why he always took precautions of his own. Well… except once… but how was he supposed to know that he'd end up carrying the child?
"But Lizzie ended up staying with us for a while… She's moved on up to Baltimore now… workin' for one of the news agencies…" For the first time, Tucker seemed almost happy, then it disappeared. "We don't hear from her much, anymore. I think she's kinda embarrassed."
"Oh." Trip dropped his gaze, feeling that fist slam into his gut again. Oh, God, baby sister, why'd it have to be you? Why couldn't I have done something? Something like grab hold of Daniels and threaten to beat the guy's head in if he didn't let Trip go back and save her. He took a few deep breaths like T'Pol had taught him, focussing on dampening the pain.
"Are you okay?" Tucker leaned forward, concern in his eyes. "You looked like you were gonna pass out there, for a second."
"I'm fine." No he wasn't, and he doubted he ever truly would be. "The Xindi never attacked here, did they?"
"The who?" Tucker shook his head.
No, of course they didn't. If the NX program never flew, then there would be no 'Federation'… and no need for the Xindi to attack. I wonder if there's an Expanse here. And how long 'till it reaches Earth? He took another couple of deep breaths. "'Cause they did for me. Lizzie died in the attacks."
"Shit." Tucker closed his eyes for a moment. "And here I thought you had it good."
Trip smiled weakly. "Not so good. I'm learning to deal, but it isn't easy." If time heals all wounds, how come I still hurt so goddamn much?
Tucker nodded. "I bet not." Silence stretched between them for a moment. "So how'd the damned thing get goin'? 'Round here they're still promisin' 'sometime, next year,' for makin' Warp Two. An' you said you're at what? Five?"
"Yeah. We…" Trip debated how much to tell him. "I helped a couple of pilots steal the last of the prototypes before the brass could scrap it. We worked out the problem and broke Two just in time. The guards had their hands on my arms when Archer broke through with the announcement."
"Ya know, I was gonna' do Starfleet. But with Charlie and all… hell. And look at you. How old are you? Commander?"
Trip didn't answer, but Tucker guessed it anyway. "Friggin' Commander, huh? I bet you're the son-of-a-bitch in charge over there, too, not just some 'engineer.'" He held up his fingers to form quote marks around the last word.
"No. Not even second in command." In charge of Engineering, maybe… but Archer still had command of the ship.
Tucker gave him a look that said he didn't believe it.
"I swear." Trip held up two fingers in the traditional boy-scout salute. "On my honour as an officer and a gentleman, I am not the man in charge. I may be friends with the man in charge…"
Now Tucker burst out laughing. "Yeah, I could'a guessed that. Hell, just listen to you. You sound like a college professor or somethin'."
I do? Funny, everybody gave him a hard time about how non-intellectual he sounded. He remembered Malcolm mocking him when they were still in space-dock. As for T'Pol and Hoshi… hell, they make me sound like I can't even speak English. And when you considered that English was a second (or maybe fifth) language for T'Pol… "I'm sure I can find a few people who would disagree with you." Yet now that he listened… he did have a more formal tone than Tucker. Like with the last sentence… Tucker probably would have said 'fight' or 'argue' as opposed to 'disagree.' I have been hanging around with Malcolm too much. Except it wasn't just Malcolm, it was all of them. Malcolm, Hoshi, T'Pol… they all spoke so precisely and perfectly that he'd started to pick up on it. Archer, too. I guess I didn't want to sound like an idiot… so I learned the language. He hadn't lost the accent… just changed his syntax a little.
"Shit." Tucker drained the last of his beer.
"Noc'tal," Trip agreed.
"What the hell was that? You chokin' on something?"
Trip laughed. "No, it's Arkonian. One of the few words I picked up. It means 'bad.' At least I think that's what it means. It's a basic meaning, anyway."
"Shit. And now you're speakin' alien languages." Tucker stared down at his beer can morosely.
"Hey. I almost died picking up that word. Between the shuttlepod crash, the heat, and the fact that Zho'Kaan was trying to kill me… it ain't all fun and games out there, you know." Inwardly, Trip smiled, thinking about it. They'd made more diplomatic progress with the Arkonians in twenty-four hours than the Vulcans had managed in decades. And all because I beat and threatened to shoot the son-of-a-bitch. Well, more likely because he hadn't shot the son-of-a-bitch, and had risked his own life until Zho'Kaan made it out okay.
"That dangerous?"
Trip nodded soberly. "Hell, I've nearly died more times than I can count." He tapped his head. "These aren't all mine in here. I mean genetically they're mine…" Every now and then though… Ghost flickers. He didn't tell anybody about them – especially not Phlox. Just… once in a while it felt like he was seeing things through someone else's eyes, or remembering fragments of a conversation he'd never had. They say Sim had all my memories… so why shouldn't I have his? For example… who's initial attraction to T'Pol was it? According to Hess it was his… but only because she saw those early fights between him and the Sub-Commander as an 'alpha-male' form of flirting. Still, he couldn't help but wonder if it was his feelings he'd acted on, or somebody else's. Not that I'm complaining… hell, they were more than his own feelings now…
"Single then?" Tucker looked almost jealous at the thought. Then again, given what Trip had seen of Tucker's marriage, it was understandable.
"Yeah. But there's someone… maybe… you know… same ol', same ol'. I'm not always sure if I'm thinking above or below the waist when it comes to her… she drives me around the bend sometimes…and I have no idea how she feels about me… if she feels about me. And even if she does…" Trip sighed. Even if T'Pol truly did have feelings of her own in his direction… She's a Vulcan. Who's to say she won't decide to lock them away and it'll never be? Do I have a right to demand that she doesn't?
"Uh, oh." Tucker shook his beer can and then chucked it at the garbage. "I know that look. That's the one right before the chains go on and you start thinkin' it's the best thing in the universe. 'Till you wake up with the mortgage overdue and a kid screamin' in your ear 'cause it needs its diaper changed an' another one who's tellin' you he's droppin' outta school 'cause it's 'stupid' and doesn't get you anywhere… Trust me, buddy: walk away. Especially if she's good lookin'. 'Cause first she'll be want, want, want… an' then the looks are gonna go an' then…"
"I'll probably be long dead by then." Trip was slowly coming to the conclusion that Tucker wasn't on his first beer of the day. "She's a Vulcan. They live to about three hundred." And T'Pol was barely sixty… though… Didn't she say that was 'intimate' knowledge? Okay, so you had her on the defensive, but still… and she was certainly no Melissa Lyles – now that he remembered, Melissa had always been a little full of herself.
"You're dating a Vulcan? What the hell kinda move is that? I didn't know they had feelings." Tucker did a full double-take, pulling back in his chair.
Trip felt anger rising and forced himself to quell it. "Actually, they do. They're just better at controlling their emotions than we are." He stared at his double, not quite believing what he was hearing. Was I ever this prejudiced?
Tucker spread his hands in a gesture of conciliation. "Hey. Sorry. Aside from Mr. Velik back at school… I've never talked to one."
The door banged open and Trip jumped. A tall boy stared at him, head shaved bald and tattoos on his forearms. Black leather comprised his entire outfit from vest down to his cheap Engineering boots, with the sole exception of a black tee-shirt and – Trip assumed – his underwear and socks. Reflexively, Trip glanced at his own boots… custom made to fit and better able to stand the rigors of the engineer's trade than the imitations on the kid's feet.
"You got manners? I got company here. I thought I said if you weren't going to be going to school…" Tucker picked a piece of stuffing out of his chair and threw it at the kid.
"Who the fuck're you?" The boy stared at Trip with all the hostility a perpetually angry teen could muster.
Trip stared back, holding the gaze until the teen's eyes began to water. You ain't got nothin' I can't handle, boy. Your daddy wants you learnin' manners, I gotta few people who could teach 'em to ya. Starting with Malcolm and Hess, and moving right on up through Archer, Jeffries and Forrest. And I don't even want to think of what Hoshi would do to you. If one thing on that ship truly intimidated him… it was Hoshi Sato extremely pissed off. And having seen her in the training sessions…
"You didn't fuckin' answer my question, man." The boy tried to rally.
Slowly Trip stood up. They were about equal in height and there was no question who was in better condition here. "Charlie, I presume?" Charlie outweighed Trip by about ten pounds of muscle… and seventeen years of wear and tear.
"Yeah, so? Who the fuck're you?"
"Charlie! Shut the hell up. This is…"
Trip held up a hand to silence Tucker. "It's okay." I learned a little trick from Jeffries, and it's a good one. He put a friendly arm around Charlie's shoulder and led the boy away from his father.
"Look, you little shit." He leaned close and spoke softly in Charlie's ear. "I am older than you, and wiser than you and I will have some respect from you, do you understand?" He didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "Because if you don't provide me with that respect I am going to knot your knees behind your neck. And that is before I throw you out on your ass so hard that you bounce. Are we clear, sunshine?" Charlie moved to pull away, and Trip dug a thumb into one of the pressure points on the kid's arm – one of the ones T'Pol taught him about. Charlie stiffened and stood absolutely still.
"That's a good boy, sunshine. I do believe we're beginning to communicate. Now… your dad was saying something about you quitting school?" While Tucker hadn't named names, it was obvious who the only one old enough was.
Charlie nodded. "It's stupid and it sucks."
"Ah." Trip twisted his head around so he could look up into Charlie's face. "So, you're going to be the big bad wolf instead, huh?" He prodded one of Charlie's boots with his own. "Take 'em off, kid."
"What the fuck?" Charlie twisted, but couldn't break free.
"I said take 'em off. Pieces of shit that they are, those are still engineer's boots, and if you aren't going to school, you sure as hell ain't gonna be an engineer. And we real ones? We get real touchy about things like that." Hess wouldn't even warn a punk like this before kicking his ass up around his ears. As far as she was concerned, the boots were sacred… he never saw her without them – no matter what else she was wearing. "Furthermore… I really don't like the level of respect you're showing your father." What was it Lorian had said about him being 'tough?' "I don't care how he hasn't lived up to your expectations of perfection… you owe him a hell of a lot more than you're giving him. You have no fucking idea what he sacrificed for you…"
"Yeah, I know, his fucking dream of Starfleet…" Charlie sneered, speaking loud enough for Tucker to hear.
"Yeah. And you know what, sunshine? With this attitude of yours, you don't deserve it. If my kid ever pulled this shit…" Okay, so Trip's kid shot him… but the circumstances had been a little different.
"Any time, pal." Charlie threw out the challenge, overconfident in his toughness.
Trip dug his thumb in a little harder. "I don't think you get it, sunshine. No matter how strong, or smart you are… no matter how much of a badass you think you are… there is always going to be someone stronger and smarter and ten-times more the badass than you'll ever be. Today that person is me… tomorrow… you don't know. Now there are two ways this can go. The easy way is you apologise to your father, and to me… and say it like you mean it, and you keep your ass in school and you graduate, and you gain yourself a chance outta here."
"And the hard way?"
Trip grinned, a grin that explained who the big bad wolf around here really was. "You don't want to know about the hard way, kid."
"You can't do this. I've got friends." Charlie was clearly running out of bravado. Trip could see it in the way the kid's eyes darted back and forth, and how he constantly licked his lips.
"Good. So do I. And twenty says my friends are bigger than your friends. And I'll bet I've got more of them too, because I'm such a sweet, friendly guy. The interesting thing is, I know mine'll back me up in the crunch. You so sure about yours?" The look in Charlie's eyes said it all – he wasn't.
"Well then," Trip let Charlie go and patted him on the head. "Why don't we go with the easy way then."
"I'm sorry," Charlie mumbled.
"No, I think your dad is over there." Trip spun Charlie around and pointed him in the direction of his father.
Amazingly, the kid cooperated. "I'm sorry, Dad. I shouldn't have said that."
Tucker looked like he was about to say something sarcastic, and Trip shook his head, then mouthed 'Say thank-you,' over Charlie's head.
Tucker glowered for a moment, then did. Charlie looked over at Trip, who nodded, then Charlie ran for the door.
"Nice kid." Trip sat down again, and looked at Tucker.
"What the hell did you do to him? I don't think that kid's said sorry for anythin' in his life. Let alone to me." Tucker looked at Trip as though Trip had just turned water into bourbon and was serving free drinks.
"Just a little trick a c/o once taught me. Works wonders on smart-mouthed, know-it-all brats."
Tucker laughed. "Used it on you, huh?"
Trip dropped his head and nodded. "Uh-huh. Only took once for the lesson to stick, too. Of course he was a lot bigger and more intimidating than me… but I've learned a few other things to make up for it." Like neuropressure points, and an attitude of friendly menace. Like several years of command. Amazing how a simple expectation of obedience often created it. A line from officer's school echoed in his head. You get what you ask for. Tucker probably expected trouble from Charlie by now… no wonder the kid was so happy to oblige. You get frustrated and you snap at him. And, being a Tucker, he does the same thing back… and you call it disrespect. Until he doesn't respect you, because you've got a serious double standard. Tucker's reluctance to accept his son's apology said it all. You don't want to forgive him… he's hurt you too much. But you can't heal if you can't forgive… that's something else I learned the hard way.
"You know, you weren't perfect at seventeen, either." Before Trip could stop himself, the words came out. "Don't you think he knows that? You said Mom and Dad don't speak to you… that Elizabeth doesn't speak to you… do you want to do the same thing to him?"
"Look he's…"
"No." Trip cut off Tucker's protest. "He is responsible for himself, but you are responsible for you. Look at you. Your kid says sorry to you for the first time in his life, and you're too goddamn pissed off and bitter to accept it. I'm telling you, right now, I've got more sympathy for him. Why should he try, if he's going to get the same shit from you, either way?"
"Christ, you sound like Mom…"
"Yeah? Well maybe she had a point. You want to know the biggest thing I've learned in Starfleet? If you want to get respect, you've got to give it first. I've got people who would – who have – followed me into Hell, and it's 'cause I give them enough credit in the first place. They know: push comes to shove, I'm right there with them, right there for them."
"Look, I've got five other kids. If I'm supposed to abandon them…"
"I've got thirty people under my command… and that's directly under my command in Engineering. And don't tell me you've also got a job, because I've got one too. And I work the double and triple shifts… I don't make anyone else do it for me. Just because I'm the son-of-a-bitch in charge doesn't mean I get to take a holiday." He cut himself off, irritated at having lost his temper. It was just… I hate feeling sorry for myself. And there I am – or what I might have been – doing nothing but. "You know you had other options."
"Such as?" Temper boiled up in Tucker too – his face flushed red.
"Correspondence. It would have meant extra work… but do you think I made it all the way to Commander at the bright young age of thirty by bitching and complaining about how unlucky I was? I worked my ass off on fifty, sixty hour weeks, I put in extra study time, took extra courses… I finished a four year degree in two… not because I'm some sort of fucking genius… but because I knuckled down and busted my ass to get it done. But the one thing I did not do was give up." Because I… suddenly it dawned on him. I didn't ask Melissa to dance. I've always regretted that, and said I'd never let my fear and doubt stop me again. Ever since that moment, I've always taken the risk. Sometimes he succeeded, sometimes he failed… but look what it's got me. Friends who cared about him like family, well enough to kill for him… the most amazing job in the universe, and maybe even a relationship with a shot at not only lasting, but being great. Maybe not perfect, but then again, few things ever were.
He stood up again. "Well, it was good to meet you… believe me, it's been an education." He shook Tucker's hand. "But I've got a life to get back to. And tell your kid… Warp Five's just around the corner, and if he gets his ass in gear, he might be able to catch it." He turned to go, just as Melissa entered the garage again.
"It was good to meet you again, Melissa." Trip leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I used to regret… I don't think I do, anymore." He turned away from her startled, angry glare and began to retrace his steps back out to the highway. Somewhere out there was home, with eighty-four friends and a dog. I always wanted a big family. He glanced back once, at the sorry world he could have inhabited. Maybe you really do get what you ask for.