Episode 1: That Bitter Taste

Trip could feel the stiffness in his neck as consciousness flooded back. His shoulders were being held tight against the back of a chair by some sort of rope. The rope keeping him upright was also pinning his upper arms to the chair and his wrists were bound behind his back painfully. He rolled his head, stretching out the stiff muscles of his neck and grimaced at the shooting pain that titled from behind his left ear down to the tips of his fingers on his left hand. Definitely a pinched nerve in there somewhere. He thought grimly.

He cracked his eyes open hoping to figure out just where the hell he had been taken and by whom. The room he was in could have been anywhere. Grey wall, grey door, no window on the three walls he could see, a strip of fluorescent lights about his head, and the faint buzzing of energy filling the room. Seeing no answer to his questions he closed his eyes again and practiced the breathing techniques that T'Pol had taught him. If he could reach a meditative state he could communicate with her. Maybe she could even find him, at the least she would get Elizabeth to safety.

He was just beginning to slip from the waking world and into the familiar blank space he shared with his wife when he heard the door slide open. He exhaled slowly and blinked his eyes open. Before him stood the last person he expected. A Vulcan.

Why on Earth, or Vulcan for that matter, have I been abducted by a Vulcan? What does he want with me?

The Vulcan man simply stood a meter in front of Trip and stared at him. Eventually he raised a single eyebrow and moved forward only slightly. He finally spoke, a strong baritone voice, clipped and precise.

"Commander Tucker, there is no need for you to alert your mate. We will return you, unharmed, once we have had our discussion." He casually clasped his hands behind his back and waited for Trip to retort. Trip wasn't going to give him the satisfaction so he adopted his best "T'Pol face" and waited for the man to continue. Another raised eyebrow, this time in surprise at the human in front of him, and he nodded.

"Very well, you may not find our methods necessary but there was a certain need for… discretion. You are constantly under surveillance and we required you to arrive for this meeting unnoticed. I assure you that you will not be harmed and that your mate and your child are not in danger. I am going to remove your bindings, if you strike me or attempt to escape, you will be subdued. We do not wish you harm, but our mission is of the utmost importance. Do you understand?"

Trip simply raised an eyebrow at him, mentally aware of how much he probably looked like Lorian at the moment, and nodded curtly. He waited for the man to release his wrists and arms before speaking. He rubbed his wrists and stretched out his aching muscles. "Ya know, you coulda just asked me to come with you, no need to drug me."

"Indeed but by drugging you we do not have to worry about you knowing where we are. I must tell you now that if our conversation goes well you will not need to be drugged again." He left it unsaid that if their conversation didn't go well Trip would definitely be drugged again, possibly even have his memories erased.

"Okay. Fair enough. Now," He stretched out his legs in front of him. He brought them back, leaned forward and rested his palms on his knees. "So, what do you want to talk about?"

The Vulcan man clasped his hands behind his back again and stared directly at Trip. He may have been trying to make him uncomfortable but years of staring down T'Pol had hardened Trip to the unblinking glares of Vulcans.

"We, the Vulcan people, require your assistance." Trip didn't really know what to say to that. He just stared at the man before him, his words barely registering as he explained the situation. "Our government has, over the decades, become increasingly isolationist. Our disputes with the Andorians have been drawn on too long, and our misuse of Humanity an affront to IDIC. There are those in power on Vulcan who are sympathetic to the cause of reunification between our people and our long separated cousins. What I tell you now is not widely known and is not shared with off-worlders." He paused to let the weight of this confession sink in before continuing. "Long ago our race were violent and warlike. Logic brought peace to the Vulcan people but not all embraced this philosophy. There were those who chose violence and emotion. They left our world and sought out their own, Rihannsu, "The Declared". That is what we call those who stand beneath the Raptors Wing. You call them by a different name: Romulan."

With just one week of shore leave left before the memorial service Malcolm wasn't sure what to do. He should probably visit his parents, meet Hoshi's folks, see his sister, all of those obligatory things. The only problem was, Malcolm didn't want to do any of those things. He had already spent part of his vacation taking down a terrorist group and rescuing his best friends daughter. He had other things after vacation that he was supposed to do and had no way of getting out of those but he wanted to be master of the remainder of his free time. All he wanted, all he really looked forward to, was spending time alone with Hoshi, preferably locked in a room with no interruptions except from room service. If only Hoshi understood this.

Malcolm glanced over at his travel partner and shook his head. This woman doesn't know a thing about being inconspicuous. He took in her obvious tourist attire: trainers, cargo pants, tank top, light sweatshirt that was too large, and the most ridiculous hat he had ever seen. Hoshi was normally a very stylish dresser but the woman next to him looked like she only dressed in souvenir shop clothing. The "San Francisco" logo painted out over a relief of the Golden Gate Bridge on her sweater had begun to fade so he suspected that this was a favorite oversized sweater. Why on Earth is she wearing such ridiculous clothing? Malcolm couldn't understand it. When he travelled, which wasn't often, he dressed like a local. Better to blend in and go unnoticed than to stick out and get mugged. The fact that most of his traveling was for covert work didn't help his case any but the woman looked silly.

Malcolm squared his shoulders, mustered up as much courage as possible, and cleared his throat. "Hoshi, this may be indelicate of me, but why are you dressed like that?"

Hoshi turned away from the window and looked over at him. He was wearing nice shoes, dark wash jeans, and a black button up. All in all he looked very nice. She couldn't remember what she was wearing so she looked down at herself and smirked. Ah, my travel apparel. She looked back at him and smiled.

"It isn't indelicate Malcolm, it's just well… when I was younger my mom always made us dress like this when traveling from our provence to other parts of the country, I guess the habit just stuck with me. Besides, the last time I traveled here I was wearing nice clothing and I had an entire crate filled with eggs drop on me. Not something I would like to repeat. Not to mention we're just going to go and see my family, I don't have to impress them, you do."

Malcolm gave her a stern look. "Yes, thank you for that." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Hoshi reached over and laced their fingers together. Somehow the feeling of her warm palm against his and the steady thrum of her heart beat at her wrist calmed him.

"Malcolm, my parents are going to like you. I promise to change out of this." She gestured to her whole body. "Just relax and enjoy Japan. Have you ever been here before?"

Malcolm took a deep breath. "Once, but I'm not permitted to give you details."

Hoshi nodded. "Sometimes I forget I'm dating James Bond." She giggled. "Don't tell my dad you were a spy or anything like that, but it might make my mom like you if she knew."

Malcolm looked at her curiously. "So you and your mom are a lot alike?" He asked cheekily. She swatted his arm.

"Shut up." He chuckled. This may not be how he wanted to spend his vacation but it could prove interesting. Maybe a trip to Malaysia was in order? Don't be ridiculous, there is no way you are going to Malaysia.

"Malcolm, are you going to introduce me to your parents?"

Damn.

Trip stretched out his sore body as he walked through the corridors with his new best friend Soral. The man could weave a pretty tale but Trip wanted proof that the Romulans were what he claimed them to be and that they were in fact trying to take over Vulcan. They were on their way to the Medical Bay of the Vulcan ship S'tranto view an autopsy report and to speak with Soral's superior. Trip had to admit that it was a little crazy to think that Romulus would want to invade Vulcan even if they were distant cousins. Maybe there was more to it?

The doors to the Medical Bay slide open silently revealing a room that resembled the sickbay on Enterprise. Two Vulcan men with grey hair stood with their backs to the door. Trip stopped dead when he realized he knew one of them.

He walked slowly up to them. "Soval?" He wasn't entirely sure he should trust his eyes.

The grey haired ambassador turned to him and nodded in recognition. His companion stared at Trip, assessing him, judging him. "You must be Commander Tucker of the Clan of Surak." Trip nodded at the stranger. Maybe this was the doctor. "I am Syrran. Vessel to Surak and leader of the Syrranites." Trip frowned. Vessel to Surak? What the hell does that mean? "You are unfamiliar with myself and with the concept of housing katras." Oh, that.

"I am not unfamiliar with the concept of housing katras. Though the way in which I am familiar with it is unusual it is not beyond my understanding. I am curious though," he tried his best to speak properly and keep as much emotion out of his voice as possible. The last thing he wanted was to be seen as an overly emotional Human. "Why would you, Syrran, require my assistance?"

Syrran moved away from Soval and approached Trip. Suddenly he was aware that Soral was not next to him but speaking quietly to Soval. No one to defend me. "You ask wise questions Charles. The reasons we require your assistance are simple to explain. The mother of your mate, T'Les, is a Syrranite. We are a pacifist group seeking out the true teachings of Surak, the Kirshara. The corruption within Vulcan is still beyond our control and we are unsure who we can truly trust. You are Human but you are also Vulcan through your marriage. We trust you as a citizen and as an off-worlder. It is our understanding that you have been assigned to a Star Base designated Deep Space One. We want you to relay any information your station acquires on the Romulans to Soval. If the Romulans are moving against us and our allies we want to be prepared. Vulcan is on the brink of civil war, we need you to help us find peace once again."

The idea of being instrumental to the peaceful outcome of a civil war on Vulcan was a big pill to swallow. Trip contemplated what that would look like for himself and his family. "Can I tell T'Pol? She will be better equipped to assist you than myself. We work better together and as co-commanders of the star base she will know what I am doing eventually, it is logical to simply tell her now and utilize her skill."

Syrran nodded. "You may tell T'Pol. There may come a time when one or both of you are required to journey to Vulcan. Events may unfold in such a way that your presence will be required. I thank you on behalf of Vulcan. You honor us with your service."

Trip exhaled slowly and looked over to Soval who was watching them. "Would now be a good time to get those scans done on my head? Whatever skills I may have I want to use them to help. I need to know what's happening to my brain."

Soval gestured to the biobed next to him. "I do not see a reason why the scans cannot commence. Soral, retrieve Doctor Yuris from his office."

Trip sat on the edge of the bed. He rolled his tongue around his cheek and could taste the bitterness of sedative. His throat was dry and now the overwhelming taste of unconsciousness was making him crave water. "Soval, is there any way I could have a glass of water?"

"Of course." He walked over to a wall panel and pressed a series of buttons. A glass of water appeared out of thin air, just like on that traveling repair station. "Once the doctor has concluded his tests we will return you to the beach house on the Embassy's island. T'Pol is still visiting with her mother and will not have realized you were taken. Once you arrive home I would suggest you tell her of our arrangement in private and as discretely as possible."

Doctor Yuris walked into the room and approached Trip. "Commander Tucker, I understand you wish to have test run to map out your brain. You have been examined by Osu Soval, correct?" Trip nodded. "Empathic abilities are uncommon among Vulcans but I am to understand that they are unheard of in Humans."

"Well, psychic and telepathic abilities have been claimed by people forever. Most people, myself included until recently, believed that it was impossible for a Human to read another's thoughts. Some religions in Earth's history however professed such abilities. I think that the whole area of the brain and ability in Humans has been unstudied because it is considered mystical and non-science."

"Very well, we shall see if Humanity is not in fact capable of such things."