Ineluctable
By Asso
Part One
Let me just say one thing, my friends, who, by being here, to read these lines, are evidently also quite willing to read this new story I wrote and am still writing.
This story has a culprit. Exactly. It is so. You must get angry with War Sage, because it was War Sage who put the bee in my bonnet. The impulse (maybe not exactly corresponding with the development that I gave it, but, well ...) comes from War Sage.
So, to all intents and purposes, the fault is of War Sage.
I'm just a performer.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
"Two words, if you don't mind."
Oh shit! The boss! Just behind him. He had caught him with his hand in the jar of jam!
He turned around, rising from his chair. Useless to try to hide the body of the crime. The boss had seen and whichever attempt to fool him would have only worsened the situation.
A little uncertain, a boeotian grin plastered on his mouth, he looked at his – ahem - highly esteemed Director. "Yes, Chief?
The Director raised an eyebrow and pointed to the open book resting on the work desk.
"That? It is a book, Chief." *Bravo, bravo, man! Nice way to do! But what the hell do you think you to combine in this way?*
The Director snorted impatiently. "I know that. What I do not know, is what that book is doing there, when I have said so many times that I do not like that those who are under my direction waste their time by engaging in personal readings during working hours."
*Slave-driver! Okay. Let's bite the bullet. Once more.* "I'm sorry, Chief, but I can assure you that I had already completed all my jobs."
"This does not mean that..."
"And that I was not at all wasting my time."
"No?"
"No, Chief."
"Would you like to be so kind as to explain?"
"I was merely relaxing a moment while just picking up my ideas to prioritize tasks not strictly attributable to my personal competence that I would have been potentially able to carry out without intruding into anyone else's work, obviously."
Mh no. It had not gone at all well. Indeed, definitely badly. The sarcasm and raillery were palpable. Damn, he would have just never learned!
"Very well, I'm very pleased in hearing this."
Oh well, thank goodness the boss was not exactly the most sharp-witted man on Earth, to the point that what he had wanted to mean, to him it was clear as mud, and, regarding his ability to catch the teasing... well, better let it fly. But how the hell had he done, that man, to become the Director of the Technical Office of the biggest production company of aero-naval components of the world? *Is his stupidity sticking to you, man? You know very well of whom he is the son, don't you?*
"However, even if I can understand how, sometimes, it can be difficult for some to find good ideas in their own brain, it is not in those meaningless and childish readings that you could have caught some good ideas about what could have been possible for you to do."
Hey! Not bad! A flash of irony on his part also! Could there be any hope for him, by chance? Who knows, maybe with time and with a little assistance on his part... However, also quite offensive, it had to be said, too. Anyway ... *Come on, man! Forget it. Try to be conciliatory, for once.*
Yeah. As if he had not already been conciliatory enough, with that man, his – pfft - brainy boss. Okay. Once more. For the sake of his little sister, who always urged him to be a little less hot-headed. "Come on, Chief. It can also be they may be readings a little naive, but..."
"More than naïve, they are unwholesome."
"Hey! My readings are not unwholesome!"
"You're right. In fact they are scrap paper, this is what they are. Not even useful to be used as toilet paper."
*Hey!*
Now the boss was really exaggerating. Okay, he was the boss, but this didn't mean he could insult him so. Now it was becoming difficult, very difficult, to suppress irritation.
*Come on, man, stay calm. Think about your sister. She would be so displeased if, because of your inability to hold your tongue, you could lose the job for the umpteenth time, after being already fired at least six times. Come on, come, on, a nice long breath.*
Certainly, it was really hard, damn it!
"Chief, I'm not the only one who reads them. They have a great success. There are a lot of fans, not to mention the resounding success achieved by the television series they are based on."
"I've heard of this television series. Star Trek, if I'm not mistaken."
"Exactly."
"Space flights, spacecraft, faster than the speed of light ..."
"Yeah."
"Fables. Dreams."
"What harm is there to dream a little, Chief? Dreams don't hurt anyone."
"The world is full of fools, and I am convinced that those books are able to make the fools even more foolish, which means that they are bad, very bad. No. More. They are dangerous."
"Dangerous?"
"Man will never fly in space at speeds that will circumvent the laws of physics. The laws of God."
"Eh? Well, okay, but…"
"Will never reach worlds that do not exist to meet forms of life that do not exist."
"Sure, sure, Chief. But…"
"Books that talk of such things are not only bad, not only dangerous. They are blasphemous. If something can be written, men - the fools - can be tricked into thinking that it can also be done, can hope that sooner or later someone can do it, in breach of the laws of God. Those books are an incitement to blasphemy."
Ah, so it was so. Damn fanatic idiot! *No, dear sister, I am very sorry, but I can not stay here to lose the rest of my life to hear this kind of nonsense.*
That man, his boss, was a reactionary brainless bigot. He was certainly not the only one, there were and had been many like him, whose beliefs and actions had weighed so many times in the past to produce extremely serious results, such as to negatively affect all humanity and even to bring to think that it would never have been possible to find a remedy. Very, very many, yesterday as today; today as tomorrow. People who thought that God could waste His time on trifles of such kind just to prevent man from… from…
He had to tell it him. Absolutely had to do it.
His boss was powerful, was not only the son of such a father, he also enjoyed consideration and strong protections. He would have made him pay the price.
But he had to speak.
*Forgive me, little sister.*
He took a step forward, with a resolute making. His eyes sparkled a little with unrepressed anger. A tiny voice inside him told him not to succumb to his fiery character, to stop before it was too late, but the flame of his damn nature was too intense to be turned off by the faint whiff of that voice. And then there was a limit for everything, damnit!
"Chief."
The tone was anything but respectful. In fact, it sounded definitely irritated and even a little mocking. His colleagues turned their eyes anywhere else, pretending to be somewhere else. It seemed that the knots were going to come back to roost. Sooner or later it would have happened. To the boss, the colleague hired not much time before, had never gone to genius. Too instinctive, too brash, too averse to the rules (those that were stupid) and, well yes, above all, too hard to be kept on a leash and too, too damn smart and capable. And sympathetic, in the bargain. How could that pompous incompetent of the Director have some liking for that imaginative blondish (words of him, of the boss) who in a jiffy was able to solve the most difficult problems that that bastard of the boss (everybody's words) submitted to him all the time in the continuous attempt to catch him out?
"Chief…" A moment of hesitation. But just one moment. "Chief, what is there of blasphemous in thinking, in hoping, that the laws of nature we know now can be surpassed by other laws that we don't know yet and that could allow us to do tomorrow what we cannot do today?"
There! Done! No. Almost done.
What was done was done and there was no remedy, therefore... *Might as well finish the job. Go all the way, man. Empty all the accumulated gall, take advantage of the fact that your dear boss has remained speechless. If you have to go, go in the big way.*
"I also want to make clear that those books, my readings, not only are not blasphemous, they are not even insane or stupid, although..." - Would he understand? Well, maybe not, but definitely the bystanders yes, and they would have reported the news everywhere, which was in any case a great thing. Decidedly satisfactory. – "... not all are able to understand it. And I wish to add that there are a lot of things in them very useful for my work and in general. A lot suggestions and of ideas, Chief. Exactly that, ideas, good ideas, that I used more than once, and that I intend to use yet. Certainly, too much fantasy can be dangerous, but, you know, a little bit of imagination is not bad, considering the lack of propositional ideas, whether fanciful or not, coming, indeed not coming from the upper floors." - One last short hesitation, then, in the end, finally, the bang. - "Those where there's you."
And finally the Boss burst out. "You… you!"
Ah, what a satisfaction!
*Come on, one last tap. At this point, what remains to lose? Nothing, man. So then, go with the lunge.* "Anyway, it's not for you to judge my readings nor if it's right or not right that I am a fan of those books and of that TV series. To judge, one should be able to understand."
He stopped, at last, in front of a Director tongue-tied, stiffened and livid and amid the palpable silence of all, before finishing the sentence, a little scared, in the end, but also, at the end of the day, feeling liberated, someway. Sooner or later it would have happened and, at least, he had the satisfaction that, to bury him, it would not have been the Boss.
He had managed to reach such a result by himself, without any external help!
*I'm very sorry, little sister. I really think that from now on you will have no longer any reason to worry about me.*
"Time, T'Pol."
"Thirty-five minutes, forty-seven seconds, eight-tenths, proceeding at this speed, Sir."
"Okay, I think the time has come to put everything in the hands of the ship's magician."
"Very well, Sir."
T'Pol did not show the slightest change in her usual deadpan and concentrated expression, but the very fact that she had not even raised her eyebrow in hearing his verbal circumlocution together with some other very small signal spoke volumes.
The ship's magician. Alias Charles Antony Tucker the Third, called Trip.
Her personal wizard.
Archer chuckled in his sleeve. By now he knew T'Pol very well.
Who knows what trouble she had to do not to show up her pride.
Forgetting to raise her eyebrow and lowering a little too quickly and a little too downwards her face on her console.
"Okay. Let's see."
So, 12 tins of various kinds and nature, a head of lettuce, a frozen pizza, a bottle of red wine and...
That was all. Not much, to tell the truth. And not so appetizing. The salad, then ... better throw it away.
The bank account?
He looked distractedly at the account statement. Rather skimpy, in truth. On the other hand practically all his pennies had gone away with the rent for the first three months.
Three months ...
Just the time that had lasted his new employment. And with the salary of those three months he could at the most...
Well, better let it go. Life was so pricey.
Maybe it was better to begin to read up on the modus vivendi of the tramps.
It was not that there were many other prospects for him. Predictably his last boss, being the very influential man he was, had made sure that no one were willing to take in the slightest consideration a possible his new hiring, and he had been able to touch with hand that even the doors of welfare associations were not exactly open to him.
He sat disconsolately. His eye ran to the pile of volumes of Star Trek, accumulated in the corner.
Who knows how much could it have been be possible to draw from their sale? But, on the other hand, could there be anyone willing to buy them?
An unexpected sound startled him.
The doorbell. Who the hell...
He went to the door. He opened it.
The scowling face of his sister looked at him sternly.
One day or another she would have had to decide to give it up. Wasted effort attempting to hide her feelings, and, even less, that she had feelings, to her fellow travellers, by now too - let's see - streetwise? yes, streetwise, for letting themselves deceived. They knew her too well by now. She had realized very well that the surge of pride that she had felt in hearing the way the Captain had called Trip, her Trip, had not escaped anyone, neither the Captain nor Malcolm, nor - let alone! - Hoshi. And probably not even Travis. And, luckily, the doctor was not there, because he wouldn't have hesitated to brazenly watch her with that smile of his in cinemascope, to put it in the manner of her… personal wizard.
But, on the other hand, she had to stay at least a little bit adhering to her essence of Vulcan female. She had to do it... yes, had to do it for Trip, just for him, more than for herself. He was in love with the T'Pol she was, and would never have forgiven her for being different. Therefore, she couldn't nor wanted to be different.
For the love of her Trip for her. And for her love for him.
But she would have never given up to feel the pride that gave her his love, the awareness, that is, of the fact that he was in love with her, besides the awareness of his love in and for itself. In comparison, the pride that she had felt in hearing the Captain call him "Ship's magician", a completely justifiable pride, because that epithet denoting a great admiration was directed to her Trip, was nothing. She would have never again renounced to feel that pride as well as any feeling or emotions. Feelings and emotions frightened her not anymore. Never, they would have destroyed her; indeed, they made her feel better, obviously because all her feelings, all her emotions, were inspired and provoked by Trip. They had in him their beginning and in him had their end.
And he would have always been there with her, to protect her, to make her feel safe. To allow her to enjoy those feelings and emotions without being overwhelmed.
Nothing could harm her, if her Trip was with her.
It had been necessary to understand that, as he was the tumultuous and roaring source of the water of those feelings and those emotions, so he was also the tranquil and cool pond that that water went to form in its flowing, impetuous at first, and then gradually quieter, gentler, softer, up to become a peaceful stream debouching into that placid mirror, under a clear sky, where she could dive, and plunge, and swim, and freshen up; where she could rest, floating serenely, with safety and tranquillity, at peace, with world and with herself, after having quenched her thirst at its turbulent spring.
It had not been an easy path, far from it. But in the end she had understood.
This was the equation, the simple logical equation whose solution had always been there, in plain view, at hand, and that she had never wanted to see, that she had finally decided to make her own, after so much, so unnecessary suffering.
She had no need to give up being herself, the Vulcan T'Pol, or, even less, the new T'Pol, the one born from the love between the two of them, her and Trip.
She could afford the luxury of being a perfect, cold, rational and logical Vulcan and, at the same time, the most sentimental and passionate of human females.
Thanks to him.
It was an immense richness, a treasure, that she could never even imagine to have, that no one would ever even thought could be the fate that was in store for her, the day she had crossed the threshold of Enterprise.
So was it not sufficiently justified, even in the eyes of any Vulcan, the pride she had felt when the Captain had called Trip "Ship's Magician"? He - to hell with logic - was a magician. Had bewitched her. And the spell he had cast upon her would have never had end.
Very little Vulcan, but, in Malcolm's words... Bloody hell! Damn true!
*All right. So, my dear spellcaster wizard. Show us the might of your magic art. To you, as you would say, the ball.* "Engine room, here T'Pol."
"Here the engine room.
"Commander Tucker..."
"Hess, check the audio channel. There must be something that doesn't work."
This time T'Pol's eyebrow went up. What was going on? Why Trip, instead of answering, had addressed to Anna Hess, making that strange request?
She raised her head, casting a quick perplexed glance at the captain. He saw that he was looking at her with the same puzzled look.
She turned back to the Intercom. "Commander Tucker."
"Hess, check that blessed audio channel, damn it! I can not move, I have to stay here waiting for communications from the bridge."
T'Pol began to get unquiet. "Commander Tucker. Commander!"
"Again! Anna, do something!"
Again? Again what? "Commander! Commander Tucker! What's wrong?"
The Captain had stood up from his command chair and was now standing beside her. His forehead was scowling significantly. He did as to speak in turn in the Intercom, but did not have time.
Again Trip's voice. "There must be something wrong, Anna, unquestionably. We cannot afford such noise interference. Hoping it is not something worse. Dangerous. Dangerous!"
*Noise interference? Dangerous? What's dangerous?* T'Pol couldn't prevent from letting leak out in her voice the anxiety she now felt. "Commander! Commander Tucker! What's dangerous? Which noise interference?"
The Captain's head was now practically next to hers, his ears pricked, like hers, to listen to the Intercom, in unquiet wait for something, anything able to clarify, coming out from there, coming from the engine room.
But what came out didn't clarify anything. Indeed! "It can not come from the bridge. It must be a false voice, a vocal counterfeit."
*What?*
"My darling T'Pol wouldn't call ever me so, Commander Tucker. She would call me ..."
"Trip!"
"Exactly." The unmistakable laugh of that scoundrel of her T'hai'la rang in the Intercom. "My darling T'Pol would call me just like that."
The Captain's chuckle sounded in her ear.
Damn rascal of a Human! Another of his usual tricks! That ... that term of endearment, that 'darling', had resounded everywhere, and she had failed not to blurt out with that 'Trip' of reproach. And all had heard that she had addressed him calling him thus. He had made sure that everyone could hear that for her ... he was Trip. Okay, everybody knew it, but he should not have done so that everyone could hear that she called him that way. And he shouldn't have called her in public as he called her in private!
Okay being changed. Okay. But... eh, but there was some limit! For Vulcans the private was private, behold! And he could not put her such in a quandary! No. He could not. Even if he was dying by the desire to be called so in public. Even if everyone knew very well that he called her 'darling'. And not only so. Even if everyone knew very well that she called him 'Trip'. And... and not only so!
One thing was when this happened extemporaneously. A little bit of embarrassment and nothing more. Another thing was to pronounce those… terms… in public on purpose. Voluntarily.
It seemed to her that her voice resonated sufficiently controlled. "Trip, I'm not your ... " But what the hell was she saying?
"My darling?"
"No! Namely, yes. NO! I mean..."
"What do you mean, my darling?"
"Trip! Stop it!"
This time, that of the Captain was no longer a simple chuckle. It was a frank laugh. And even the others laughed. All of them. Even... she heard him clearly... even Malcolm Reed!
T'Pol sighed. Yeah. She took just a sigh, and not so short.
And okay. All right. She composed himself. *Might as well say things clearly.* After all, all knew and, in any case ... - T'Pol could not help but feel desire to smile - ... her… Trip… had made it, and if she had to be honest, she had to admit that she was not so sorry.
Another of his little magics.
Certainly, it was difficult if not impossible to understand how it could be possible that everything he had of irritating, to her eyes, it was also something she could not do without, indeed, that she loved.
If it was not magic, that!
Magic? But the magic, had to be all his own? Could it not have remained attached also to her? In fact, to tell the truth, he always said that she was his… witch enchantress, who had bewitched his heart, and, in truth, his words didn't displease her at all, even though her reaction was obviously that of raising her eyebrow in the most classic of the meanings that this act, distinctive of her, could have, above all and almost always with him, i.e. but what the hell are you saying?
But she knew what he wanted to mean, she knew it perfectly. So then? Why… why not repaying him with a little of his magic? That is, to be more precise, with his own coin?
By means of her own magic.
Sure. Why not? Why limit yourself to grin and bear it, as would have said her pestiferous Adun? It could have been pretty... agreeable - funny, so he would have expressed himself - if she had made it so to surprise him. Him and all the others, who at that time were having a ball at her expense, still to put it in his own way.
Now her… frequentation of that filibuster of her human husband had made her very knowledgeable not only in human idioms, but also in the human sense of humour.
But yes, but yes. Really, why not? So then ...
T'Pol straightened up well in the chair and spoke aloud and sure. She had to be certain that her words were well heard both by bystanders and by whoever was listening. "Commander Tucker, your question is futile. But if I have to really give a logical answer to your illogical question, to wit about what I wanted to mean, then I can't answer if not in the way logic requires. So, perk up your ears, to put it in your way, because I will not repeat myself. Due to the peculiar situation in which the two of us, you and I, find ourselves, there can be no doubt whatsoever. It is absolutely logical that, just as you are to me my most beloved Trip, the same way I am for you your most precious treasure, namely, as you would say, your 'darling'. And if anyone dared to question this logical assertion, should contend not only with logic, but also – and above all - with me."
T'Pol didn't say more. She stopped talking, perfectly deadpan, but with a big satisfied smile within herself. She could clearly perceive the stunned astonishment which vibrated in the sudden silence which had taken over the hushed giggles that had continued to resonate around her after the cessation of the laughs. And the silence of the Intercom told her that at that time her T'hai'la could not speak because his mouth was wide open in amazement. There was no need of the Bond to view it.
Good, good.
Indeed, there was really to be feeling satisfied. She had succeeded in her intent, and, furthermore ... well, yes, well ... she was not at all sorry to have said out loud and clear to everyone what she and Trip were the one for the other. And... also to have put very in clear that no one could or should have ventured to question this, with whichever purpose. Jealousy? Well, a little, yes. Her acquired human propensity, and, after all, it would not have been the first time. But also, and especially, possession. And this was her nature of Vulcan woman. But perhaps it was even human; actually she had come to understand that undeniably even Humans have a feeling of possession towards those they are in love with. Damn! She had turned really into a ... into a big mess of a woman! But, well, yes, let's face it. Not that she'd not been... rather bustling with Trip. He, too, had become a big mess of a man, because of her. With the aggravating circumstance that he was already so at the start. Well, maybe even her.
Oh well, enough. In any case, a great result. Now, just the last small blow to complete the work. After the fun, the serious things. She had to make it very clear which it were the behavioural module that her riotous K'diwa should have had to follow. Without gimmicks or magic.
"Very well. Now, having established this incontrovertible truth, moreover already known to all and, therefore, not requiring such a theatrical and blatant public exposure, I think that, considering we have already spent 3 minutes, 25 seconds and 2 tenths of the time at our disposal, the moment has come to proceed without further delay with what we have to do. Do you agree…" - She strongly and deliberately stressed the word – "…Commander?"
Silence from the Intercom.
Then...
"Agree, my darling."
"Trip!"
"Oh ... err ... Good to see you, sis."
"Not for me."
*Ah. When it rains, it pours.* How true that for the worst there was no limit. "Come in, little sister."
He stepped aside and she entered.
"Close the door, my dear big brother."
He obeyed. Then he turned and leaned against the closed door with his back.
He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at his sister.
Without speaking.
He knew why she was there and knew that whatever he had said would have been wrong.
"Have you nothing to say, my dear, great, intelligent, brother?"
He continued to look at her without speaking.
She lowered her eyes a moment, then looked up at him. Her face so beautiful and so loved softened. "Why?"
He sighed. Moved away from the door and walked to the window.
Outside, the night was advancing on the city's rooftops.
He did not look at her. It would have been difficult to look at her in her face. "Little sister, maybe this world is not made for me."
For a moment she was silent. Then, behind him, her voice rose. It was a little uncertain.
"After the death of our parents, you have been much more than my brother. You have been father and mother to me. And you were the image of intelligence, ability. You were my idol. I admired you. I... adored you."
Her voice failed her.
He still did not turn. "Not any more?"
Very low, her voice rose again. "None of the places where you went, none of the works that you have undertaken, has ever done for you. Even the latter, the one that my husband had managed to procure to you upon my pressing insistence. There has always been something that you could not tolerate, something in front of which you couldn't accept to lower your head."
Her husband! That popinjay full of himself and without brain who was going ahead only by dint of licking the ass of the mighty! Whom he just did not understand how her sister had accepted to have as her husband. Or ... maybe, he understood, but did not want to know.
He spoke in a voice if possible lower than hers. "Sis, I've tried, believe me. In all ways, but..."
"Enough. No longer."
He looked at the night through the glass of the window. How quickly the dark was advancing.
"Turn around! Look at me!"
He turned.
Her eyes were moist. "I came here to tell you that the two of us won't see each other anymore, my… great brother."
"Little sister..."
"I will give heed to my husband."
"What ..."
"Me too, I've tried in every way, but now I can not do it anymore. I always silenced my husband when he told me that it was not true that you were the genius that I argued you were. But perhaps he was right. Maybe he is right."
"Little sister..."
"Intelligence and goodness are not enough."
"Little sister, listen..."
"You should also know indulge in some compromise, as..." - Something, as a weeping, stirred in her voice - "... as I did, when I agreed to marry my husband."
He did not try to talk again. What ever could he have said to her, now?
She recovered. Looked at him hard. "Farewell, my brother. I'm leaving tomorrow, with my husband. We'll go away. You and I… we'll never see again."
Her voice raised an octave. "I do not want to see you ever again!"
She turned and walked toward the door. She opened it and stepped over the threshold. She stopped. She turned toward him. "Do not look for me."
He took a step toward her.
Her eyes flared up. "Do not look for me!"
The blaze in her eyes went out. They wandered around the room for a moment, rested on pile of books in the corner.
They stared sad on his.
"It is true, brother. This world is not for you. You belong to another world."
Her gaze hardened. "But this other world does not exist."
She turned to leave. She stopped again. She turned a moment longer towards him. "Farewell forever, my brother."
The door closed with a dull thud behind her.
The time of the play was over. Now, instead of his playful magician, there was her serious and efficient magician.
It was something that she had difficulty to understand, something that irritated her and at the same time aroused in her admiration.
As much she had got closer to Humans, in particular to a certain Human, and as much she now was able to understand and grasp with greater capacity the essence, in a sense, of their thought processes, of their mental configuration, she still remained, obviously, a Vulcan; richer, more complete - this yes - than the other Vulcans; undeniably with, inside, a little, indeed, a lot, of Human. Yes, it was so. But still a Vulcan, by the well-ordered mind, not made, constitutionally, to be able to house within itself at the same time so conflicting behavioural patterns. Although ... well, yes, even though she could not deny that, in some way, though not in large measure, something like that actually had started to happen to her, now. And, frankly, she could not say she was sorry for such a fact. It was a further richness, in a sense, another gift of her Trip.
It could be disconcerting, but not perturbing. Anyway, it was beautiful, because it made her feel even closer to him, just as he said he felt towards her when it happened to him - and he said it was something that happened to him not rarely - to deal with things in the way she would have done. And this, he said, was a marvellous gift that she had done to him.
They two were really one.
Certainly in him this ability to be contemporaneously serious and humorous, attentive and distracted, intent and absent-minded, sweet and rude, even sad and cheerful, even strong and weak ... it was present as in no other.
He was ... baffling. Wonderfully puzzling.
This inherent trait of him, this attitude, this… flair, was another of the many things that made him so different, totally far apart from any Vulcan male. And also absolutely distant from any other human male.
Absolutely unique.
Another one of his spells, many of those that had made her fall in love with him.
With her unique Trip.
Or could it be, perhaps, that she found him so unique because she was in love with him?
Oh, maybe it was so, but it made no difference.
T'Pol shook herself. Fortunately, her Vulcan mind and her long and thorough training allowed her brain to be able to be always focused and efficient. Well, sufficiently focused and efficient. It was not easy to do so, when it was in the game her Ashayam. And... love was decidedly beautiful, but also difficult, very difficult to keep under control. Although ... for Surak's sake! How the game was worth the candle!
But now, she had absolutely not to get distracted. It was nothing dangerous, what they were doing, even if, in space, you could never know. But that did not mean it did not deserve close attention. Far from it. Indeed, considering that it was something that came directly from an idea of her Trip, who said that the idea had come to his mind because he faced a problem that had arisen by tackling it exactly the way she would have done, it was needed being even more alert. It would have been... regrettable that something could go wrong just because of her. Well, 'regrettable' was a term very Vulcan, but not really suitable, to tell the truth. Better to use a human term. It would have been a crap!
Her T'hai'la had really put himself in the game, had convinced everyone, including the Captain, who had given him his support, also at the 'upper floors', as he said, and had worked hard, along with her, to plan everything.
Failure would not have been a tragedy, although it would have been a shame, because Trip's idea was really good, full of a great potential applications and its success would have brought space exploration to make a huge leap forward, not to mention everything else. However, the failures must be put into account, they are part of life. You have to be ready for failures. Trip, however, was not one willing to give up so easily, to renounce when things didn't go the right way at the first blow, to surrender in the face of a setback, and this made him even more precious to her eyes and in her heart. He would have fought, he would have picked up the pieces and would have started all over again.
And she would have been at his side.
It would have been difficult to convince the upper echelons to give him another chance, but not impossible.
And she would have been at his side.
This, however, was the imponderable that the iron logic of the case sets on your path. But a failure due to a not prudent behaviour on her part ... well, that yes, it would have been a tragedy!
However, this never would have happened. In love with a Human, okay. In love with that Human, okay. But she was still T'Pol! T'Pol of Vulcan, by the beard of Surak, still assuming that he had had a beard!
Anyway ...*Watch out, T'Pol. Remember what he told you. You are his eyes and his ears, you are his…* - The corners of T'Pol's lips curved upwards imperceptibly as she recalled the statement he had made to her, so clearly allusive. ["You, darling, will be my senses."]
"What do they say, my senses?"
Trip's voice, quiet and serious and yet in some way still slightly playful, came out from the Intercom. T'Pol managed to make it that the shadow of the smile on her mouth didn't become a little more evident. She did not know if it was the Bond between them, but certainly the question of Trip was terribly well-timed.
Obviously she didn't take up Trip's joke. Mh… but… the others? Had they noticed anything? Had caught some allusion?
T'Pol shot a quick look all around. Apparently, all quiet. Although ... well, although ... a little disturbing that gaze at the ceiling on the part of the Captain. And... and also the intensity with which Malcolm and Hoshi ... and also Travis ... were watching their consoles.
Oh, hell! No one spoke? Okay. No one had figured it out. Or, if he had understood, he pretended he had not understood.
So ... *Quiet voice and professional. Come on, T'Pol.*
However ... mh, however, why not play a little bit along with his game? Damn Human! But what on earth had he done, to her?
"Commander Tucker, your senses, namely me, as I seem to understand, since at this juncture I'm working for you in this… sense, as determined and planned, do not capture anything in particular. Neither by sight, nor by hearing. Neither by… taste, smell or… touch."
A soft chuckle from the intercom. "Very well, my darl ..."
"Tr... Commander. You can be sure that I have everything under control."
"I do not doubt, Commander T'Pol."
He was enjoying himself. It was just so. How much he had emphasized that 'Commander T'Pol'!
Now just. It was time to put him in line. "Commander Tucker ..."
She did not have time.
"Commander T'Pol, being things as you say, in accordance with the operational plan, I take the direction of operations. With your permission, Captain."
Trip's voice had resounded anything but frolicsome. He had suddenly turned into the efficient and irreproachable Commander Charles Antony Tucker the Third.
"Permission granted, Commander Tucker."
"Thank you, Captain. Commander T'Pol?"
"Commander Tucker?"
"Follow my instructions."
"Very well, Commander Tucker."
"At my command, turn off all sources of energy. Keep only vital supports. As established."
"Yes, Commander."
"Ensign Mayweather?"
"Sir?"
"Set course and speed as by Plan A."
"Yes, sir. One moment… Done, sir."
"Good. Stop any manual intervention on the controls of flight attitude. From now on, inertial flight. "
"Aye-aye, Sir."
"Anna?"
"Yes, Chief?"
"Stop engines. Activate only on my command. I will establish from time to time the power."
"At your command, Chief. Done."
"Very well. Commander T'Pol?"
"Commander Tucker?"
"Let me know immediately of any changes in the trim of the inertial flight. I will provide to correct it by the action of the engines by communicating my orders to Hess."
"Yes, Commander."
"Hess?"
"Chief?"
"Start the energy accumulation. Accumulation speed 1."
"Yes, Chief. Started."
"Very well. Commander T'Pol?"
"Commander Tucker?"
"I'm moving. Within exactly two minutes I will be in the transporter room perfectly on schedule in the established road map. Wait for my orders."
T'Pol felt within a powerful tide of pride.
Her Trip! She knew his ability to command. All Enterprise's crew and many Vulcan and Andorian crews knew it. They had experienced it personally and, indirectly, the Starfleet High Command and the whole Vulcan and Andorian populations knew about it. And she as well. Soval, admired, - just so - had told her what her Trip had been capable of doing. But now, she was able to have a direct experience of his talent, another of the many he had.
And her enamoured heart rejoiced in that.
"At your orders, my Asha... Commander Tucker."
He could not disapprove her. Really.
Of course, she did not know all he had had to do to provide for her. She was unaware of all the compromises to which he had had to bend, for her sake. He had never told her.
But then she had grown up. And he had thought that she could understand.
He... could not bow to the senseless laws of world. He could not go along its absurd road. He simply could not.
And he had begun to fight, to make a stand, to try, in his own small way, to change something. Risking, too, and a lot.
Thinking that she could understand.
But she... had not understood.
Perhaps he had protected her too much.
But ... all in all, how could he blame her?
The world was what it was and he... was nothing more than a foolish, a small and petty Don Quixote, who struggled in vain against the windmills.
And now the blades of those mills were getting striking down on him.
And he had no hope.
And in his fall he wouldn't have had at his side anyone.
*Good luck, little sister. I wish you all the best. May you live happily ever after... away from me.*
How it was dark outside the window.
"I am on the spot, Commander T'Pol."
"Your orders, Commander Tucker?"
"The energy?"
"Regularly decreasing on the whole ship, exactly as expected."
"Hess?"
"Chief?"
"The energy accumulation?"
"It proceeds regularly."
"Increase to point 2."
"At your orders, Chief."
"Mayweather?"
"Sir?"
"Resist any temptation, boy. I'm going to direct course and speed only with the help of the engines. The energy control has to be exclusively in my hands."
"A... aye-aye, sir."
"Commander T'Pol, these are my orders. Transfer all the energy to the engines. Time, in four minutes. At the end, it will have to subsist only the life support. Planning for life support duration... Current energy level, Commander T'Pol?
"One-sixth of a degree above the expected."
"For 9 minutes and two-tenths of a second."
"Programmed."
"Good. Hess."
"Chief?"
"Start procedure addressing energy to the transporter. One degree per second."
"I run, Chief. Procedure started."
"Commander T'Pol."
"Commander Tucker?
"Notify me every ten seconds about course and speed status and ship's energy level."
"As you command, Capt... Commander Tucker."
Captain Archer raised his eyebrow.
There would never be a light for him?
A light... for his world?
His gaze ran motu proprio to the pile of books in the corner. Then his eyes fell back on the dark, outside.
The night had no lights.
Couldn't be seen a single star.
"Hess?"
"Chief?"
"Accumulated energy level?"
"Maximum capacity, Chief."
"Status of the transfer to the Transporter?"
"Regular."
"Commander T'Pol."
"Commander Tucker?"
"Exactly in a minute, I will proceed. All the energy accumulated and not yet stored in the Tele-transporter's reserved generator will be channeled into it at the precise moment in which I will give the order to Hess. Anna, duration time of the channelling, exactly one second and three tenths. Schedule."
"Immediately, Chief."
"Commander T'Pol, I'll activate the transporter exactly at the end of the energy channelling. I've already done all the procedures pointing. The target's position has been defined. It only needs to be hooked. Nothing to report?"
"Nothing, Commander."
"Very well."
There was a moment of silence.
"Captain?"
"Trip?"
"I do not envy you."
Archer smiled. "But I envy you."
"Within 45 seconds we'll see if you're right, Captain. Commander T'Pol?"
"Commander?
"You will give me the time, Commander, as planned."
"I will."
"And I'm sure you won't go wrong, T'Pol."
"I will not, Trip."
But then… why ever should the stars have been seen? Why would they have had to show off?
They were up above. And they were unattainable.
The unattainable hope of a different world.
Yes, he really envied his chief engineer.
Captain Archer stood quietly in his command chair, ready for any eventuality, but he knew that his two commanders had everything under control.
His eyes met those of Malcolm and Hoshi, even they, like him, 'without job', at that moment. He saw very well in their eyes exactly what they had certainly read in his.
He made himself well comfortable on the chair, looking back at T'Pol.
It was as if nothing else existed for her except what she was doing.
Anything extraordinary, wasn't it? She was always attentive, alert and focused. Terribly efficient.
Sure. Nothing out of the ordinary.
But, on that occasion, T'Pol was being careful and alert and focused and efficient as never before. She was going all out. It could be felt, could be seen with all blatancy.
Archer smiled, a little amused, a little pensive.
No, she would not have made any mistakes. Trip could count on her. Trip could have always counted on her.
On her efficiency, her capacity, her competence.
On her unconditional help.
On her love.
Wasn't he to be envied?
Star Trek was not of this world.
He had given up understanding. Too complicated.
However, Trip and T'Pol were absolutely sure, and if the "ship's magician" and "miss logic" agreed... well, then it meant that it could work.
And he had striven hard, to do so that Trip might have a chance.
He deserved it. And even T'Pol.
Trip had told him that it was an idea that had sprung in his mind by studying some of the changes that Anna Hess had done to the Tele Transporter according to the instructions of the Bannerda Technicians. (^) She, to tell the truth, said she hadn't been able to be much more than a mere performer, and Tucker said that he could understand her. But he had pulled out from those changes something nicely fit with some of his own ideas. He had spoken with T'Pol of that and so...
Damn! Those two together were really a helluva team!
But think! Being able to multiply enormously the transporter's operation field! And with the greatest exactitude, in the bargain. To the point of thinking - of trying, as they were doing now - to pick up a small object, a replica of Enterprise, from Earth, with extreme precision, and take it on the real Enterprise, which currently was far from Earth much beyond the maximum action range of a common transporter. Just there, in Enterprise transporter room.
By thinking about that, one felt goose bumps.
The leap forward that would have resulted would have been immense!
The star ships could have collected samples, things, objects, people on the planets and wherever it were considered to do so, from huge distances and working safely. And if, as both Trip and T'Pol claimed, the process could have been made bidirectional, there would have been no limits, both for spatial exploration and for myriads of other applications.
Sure. Right now, it was something extremely complicated. In practice it was necessary to make sure that, in one fell swoop, or almost, all the available energy - and only God could figure out how the hell those two intended to do – could be diverted to the transporter, specially reconfigured. But the engines, too, had been reconfigured, and a bunch of other stuff. And then it was involved route, and speed, and inertial flight, and accurate positioning and God, again only He, knew how many other things.
Oh, not that he did not understand just anything, however... well, it was not even that he understood just everything.
But, all in all, he was only the Captain, he was not the 'Engineer Sorcerer', or Lady 'Vulcan Science Well'.
Anyway it was, at the present state of things, it was important to show that it could work. Then, if had been so, both Trip and T'Pol said they would have worked hard to simplify the process, so that all those complications could have been avoided. Well, there was just to hope that everything would have gone the right way, not only for the progress that would have resulted, but also ... well, yes, also for Trip. And for T'Pol.
And even for him himself. He had gone to bat for them. He had exposed himself personally. As if it were not enough yet, all he had had to do, and also Soval, so that, unknown to the world, especially hidden to those damn Terraprimers, on his ship, on Enterprise, there could be a married couple, a human man and a vulcan woman bound together by the bond of marriage. And with double rite, too! Human and Vulcan.
And all this in spite of his jealousy!
But... but, yes. That was fine.
"Anna, proceed!"
The voice, tense and acute, of Trip startled him.
*Here we go.* Archer found himself thinking about the huge amount of energy, which at that time was transiting to the Transporter in a very short time and accurately calculated.
"Trip! Now!"
Now it was the voice of T'Pol, very acute, even more than that of Trip. And, obviously, he was Trip and just Trip, for her. Commander Tucker my ass! He was her Trip!
The action was starting at that precise moment.
Archer had a strange, sudden thought. What would have happened if the energy now available to the Tele Transporter had been higher than that calculated as necessary?
If it had not been enough, quite simply the test would have failed.
But if it had been more?
Stupid thought. It was not possible. All the energy available to the entire vessel, except that required to the vital support, was being used at that time.
From where on earth could ever it come, additional energy?
*Stop it, man. You have sufficiently wept into your beer. Needless to die ahead of time.*
He turned. *To bed, come on.*
The darkness of the starless sky beyond the glass of the window drew him one last time.
Standing, he glared at it sideways.
It seemed to him, absurdly, that that darkness, up there, was calling him.
"What…?"
Malcolm's yelled question vanished in the din.
Archer barely had time to see the look of horror in the dilated eyes of T'Pol. He was hurled out of his command chair and rolled on the ground, but he managed to recover, swiftly. He jumped up in the middle of the bedlam that had suddenly become the bridge. However, no one had been blown away from his place; apparently this had happened to him alone.
Malcolm was already at work. "We have been hit. An extremely powerful burst of energy."
Archer barked. "T'Pol! Restore the energy levels! Immediately! Malcolm! Shields up! Immediately! Hess! The engines! Up and running! Immediately! Travis! Fast distancing manoeuvre. Immediately! Warp jump! Immediately! Maximum warp!"
He looked at T'Pol. She was motionless. "T'Pol! T'Pol! What the hell!"
She shook herself. Acted. In a moment, the power came back on the ship.
An instant and Enterprise was away from the unknown vessel, suddenly appeared seemingly from nowhere, that now was possible to see on the screen. An instant yet, then a mighty wince swept the ship. The distorted view of warp enveloped them.
Several seconds went by.
Malcolm's voice was heard. "No one seems to follow us."
Archer looked around with a frown. "Exit from warp speed."
The normal space wrapped them again.
"No one, Captain. It seems that we were able to surprise them. Whoever they were, they have not had time to hit us again. The rush of energy that struck us was damn powerful; maybe it was not possible for them to use the remaining energy to follow us. And, despite our operating conditions, we have been very fast."
Archer nodded to Malcolm. He could not help but feel anger. How could this have happened? He could not even think to check first of all the possible damages to the ship and crewmen. "Nobody saw anything?" he snarled. He turned acrimonious towards T'Pol. "T'Pol. You were watching everything, did not you notice...?
Archer stopped suddenly.
T'Pol's face had assumed a gray colour. If she had been human she would have been waxen.
"T'Pol, what's up?"
Her voice sounded hesitant. To Archer seemed it was slightly shaking.
"Captain, I detected the onset of the rush of energy, even though I could not detect the source. But it was not possible to do anything. I have not even been able to say it, there hasn't been the time. And ..."
It was not an impression. She really teetered.
"T'Pol?"
"Captain..."
Now the Captain he was sure. There was a tremor in T'Pol's voice.
"At the time when we were hit, all the energy of the ship was being conveyed to the Tele Transporter. Captain, at that moment the ship was working as a giant conductor of energy. It absorbed an enormous amount of the energy of the discharge, which was diverted for the most part, practically in full, towards the transporter." - Her voice trembled patently. – "Towards Trip."
Archer understood. The eyes, widened in terror, of her, appeared vivid in his mind. Yes, he had understood. He had also understood her incomprehensible, unheard of for her, inaction.
He turned to Hoshi. "Damages?" His voice was harsh.
Hoshi looked at her instruments a second. She had already made a quick check. "Not many, Captain, apparently. Preliminary reports from the various sections speak of scarce and limited damages to objects and people. The discharge of energy seems to have left practically effects only on the bridge, against which it was directed, fortunately without anyone being seriously injured."
She glanced at the Captain, ignoring his grazes. "But..." - Also her voice trembled. – …the reports of the neighbouring sections say that the access corridor to the transporter room is totally impassable and it's impossible to access the room."
Hoshi stopped. But she had not yet said all. It was clear as the light of the sun.
"Then? Spit it out, Ensign!"
Hoshi swallowed. "The reports say that the door has been unhinged and propelled into the middle of the hallway and that, from the doorway, flames and dense smoke are visible inside, and... and also that, irregularly, it can be heard noise of explosions."
It was possible to hear it clearly. A stifled groan, from behind the Captain, from where there was T'Pol.
"The rescue team in charge is already at work." Quickly. And loudly and strongly. So Hoshi hastened to speak again. And as she said it, her look was not addressed to the Captain.
"Trip!"
Archer turned around. T'Pol was on her feet, in front of the wall where there was the intercom, her face practically attached to it.
"Trip! TRIP! TRIP!"
There was no breath in answer.
"Trip! Commander! Commander Tucker!"
There was even something as an imperious prayer in her tone.
Archer walked over to her. He put his hand on her shoulder. She turned and looked up at him. Archer was able to see well. Something wet gleamed in her eyes. "Captain... the Bond is silent."
Archer spoke softly. "Come on, T'Pol. Let's go to see ... how's Trip."
He turned to Malcolm. "The bridge is yours, Mr. Reed. Tell the doctor to go hot-foot towards the transporter room."
He did not stay to wait for Malcolm's response. He rushed quickly behind T'Pol who had already leapt away like a bat out of hell.
End of Part One.
TBC in part Two
oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Ineluctable? Ineluctable ... what?
(^)Have you by chance read what I've written so far of "In the Hall of the Mountain King"? No? Well, then do it, please, otherwise how do you figure out who hell the Bannerdas are? And then ... well, believe me, that story is not bad at all.