Author's notes:

Obligatory copyright notice: I don't own these characters or any Star Trek related anything. I do not make any profit from Star Trek fan fiction.

I have to thank WaxingMoonDesign for their excellent schematics of the NX-01. If I describe a part of the ship know that I used them as a reference. Also have to thank the Vulcan Language Dictionary as an excellent reference for Vulcan words.

I originally started this Enterprise fan fiction as a writing exercise back in 2010 and let it sit on a USB till I recently rediscovered it. Like many of you, I actually enjoyed Enterprise. Season 3 was...well...it had some great moments. I think E² was one of the best episodes of the entire series and as you continue to read this work you'll probably guess I was a fan of what happened during Harbinger as well. I thought Season 4 was getting the show back on the right track, but unfortunately, the rot had already set in.

Then These Are the Voyages happened.

Well not in my story! We pick up the story right after Terra Prime. I probably have about 7 or 8 chapters already written.

Please, if you read it, please comment on it, good or bad. Critique is how we improve.

Thanks for taking a look and I hope you enjoy my story.

He had awakened her with his sudden movements. Once she was out of her own sleep induced confusion she could sense his troubled mind through their bond. She knew it was not a good idea to wake someone in a nightmare, but she loved him too much to let him feel the hurt and confusion that permeated their mental link.

Deanna Troi Riker gently placed her hand on Captain William T. Riker's chest and whispered simultaneously to his ear and mind "Wake up Will."

With that Captain Will Riker shot upright in bed, startling his still sleepy wife with his sudden movement. She sat up behind him and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and chest while gently kissing his neck and shoulder.

"What is it Imzadi? What has troubled you so?" she asked in concern.

The USS Titan had been the Federation's main liaison with the Romulan Star Empire during the progression of the latest civil war. Will and the Titan had been at the forefront of the Federation's efforts to broker a resolution between the warring factions, but as usual, the Romulans were as implacable as ever, both sides. The frustration her Captain and husband felt was shared with him by the entire crew. Even the venerable and implacable Ambassador Spock was showing signs of fatigue.

"No wonder Will was having nightmares."

Finally awake and fully aware of his surroundings he brought his hand up to clasp her locked arms over his chest.

"I'm sorry Imzadi, I didn't mean to wake you," he said in a low voice.

"Not at all darling" she replied "tell me about what has you this upset, to have such nightmares. The Romulans?"

They had left the viewports of their quarters open when they had fallen asleep earlier. Now they both looked out at the beautiful world of Nelvanna III spinning below them. Also in view was Admiral Donatra's flagship, the green hulled Voldore; and beyond that the ivory hull of its Praetorian Guard sister ship, the D'era.

"How ironic that we're orbiting a Neutral Zone world trying to stop a Romulan civil war where the more 'Federation friendly' side's flagship is named for an Admiral that fought Jon Archer during the Earth-Romulan War."

He had thought this somewhat absentmindedly to himself but his beautiful and loving wife shared the thoughts with him.

"So it is the Romulan situation that keeps you from sleeping well by my side."

A ping of guilt hit him as he realized his mental bond with her also caused her to share some of his more intense nightmares. Feeling his distress over causing her distress she kissed his neck again and tightened her grip around him to reassure him that she did not mind it.

He replied, "perhaps our present situation provided the mental state needed for me to have nightmares, but this one seemed to have little to do with this mission."

They both laid back down and she presented her posterior towards him so that he could pull her into him with his strong arms.

"You should tell your ship's counselor all about it," she said with a seductive smile as he gently began exploring the crook of her elegant neck with his lips. She brushed a hand against his smooth cheek, enjoying her latest personal victory over him as much as the sensation of his once again hairless face against her skin.

Laying his face down in her long brown hair and breathing in her stimulating fragrance he relaxed and began his explanation.

"You remember back on the Enterprise-D when the Pegasus Issue came up?"

She nodded slowly as he stroked her hip and thigh with his free hand.

"Well it was back during that time in the dream, but everything was wrong. Not like it had really happened."

"I'm not surprised" she said "that too was a stressful time for you. It's not unusual that you would think of another trying time for you during this present situation."

As she said this to him she was rythmatically rubbing her backside into his lap. They both smiled at the sensation as he continued. "In fact Captain, the one bright spot of that whole incident was that you and the Enterprise's ship's counselor got to spend a lot of quality time together."

She could feel his facial muscles stretch his mouth into a smile behind her head.

"Well like I said" he continued "it was different than what really happened. See, in the dream, you told me to use the Holodeck to recreate an historic event in which someone I admired from the past faced a similar difficult decision. That way I could learn from and be inspired by their example to make the right choice about what I should do."

Deanna grinned in a satisfied manner "see even the Deanna in your imagination is wise!"

He laughed gently at her mock pride and continued

"Well, that's when things became strange. I decided to examine the events surrounding the founding of the Federation and the part that the NX-01 Enterprise played in them. You know about Jon Archer and the NX-01 Enterprise?" he asked rather absentmindedly.

She stopped her gentle and pleasant body movements to turn her head and stare at him with an indignant expression. "No Will, please tell me the history of the Federation! After all, it's not like Betazed hasn't been a Federation member for over one hundred years now. You know us poor Betazoids don't even have history books or anything like that!"

He pouted a bit and apologized "I'm sorry, I just didn't think you were that interested in Starfleet history."

She laid her head back down with a huff.

"Goodness Will, every school child in the Federation knows the story of the foundation and the Earth-Romulan War."

"I'm sorry dear" he said as she settled back into his embrace. He was delighted that she picked up right where they had just left off in response to his touch though.

"Well anyway, I chose the NX-01 in April of 2161, for some reason that eludes me, right before the foundation; but it wasn't right. Jon Archer was still the Captain, not an Admiral, and Trip Tucker was still the Chief Engineer. They were on their way to retire the NX-01 from service for some reason, and take Archer to the foundation ceremony on Earth. Then General Shran, who was not a general anymore but some sort of black marketer, asked Archer to help him find his kidnapped daughter. On the rescue mission Trip Tucker almost dies but then, while heading back towards Earth the pirates that had kidnapped Shran's daughter somehow catch the Enterprise in a warp three ship, board Enterprise and threaten to kill Archer if he won't take them to find Shran. Then Tucker convinced them that he would help them find Shran and led them into an engineering access closet where he overloaded an EPS conduit killing the pirates and himself in the process. Then everyone talked about how him sacrificing his life for Archer's helped save the Federation and somehow this 'story' convinced me to tell Jean-Luc about the Phased Cloaking Device aboard Pegasus and how Admiral Pressman was trying to recover it to cover-up Starfleet's violation of the Treaty of Algernon. Now is that not the strangest dream you've heard for some time?"

To his surprise, his wife said it was a pretty common dream type and most likely was a representation of his feelings of frustration and confusion over the distorted situation that their current mission represented.

"In fact, if it were my dream instead of yours, I would feel that Tucker's self-sacrifice so that Archer could achieve his life's work and for the good of the Federation, was an encouragement of Admiral Pressman's position. A junior officer sacrifices himself, Tucker's life, your career; so that his superior can fulfill his destiny, Archer the Federation, Pressman the Phased Cloaking Device."

Will pondered that "well I guess it's good I still made the right decision in my dream as in real life. Despite the crazy Holodeck fiction."

He could feel sadness well up in his Imzadi. "What's wrong love?"

She looked at him "poor Ambassador T'Pol, losing her Imzadi like that. What did she do? I assume she was in the dream too?"

Will nodded his affirmation "well that's another funny thing; they apparently had chosen to end their romance years before. When he died she was a little sad but not like she had lost her bonded mate."

Deanna was shocked and crinkled her nose in disgust "one of the greatest true-life love stories in history and it just….DIDN'T HAPPEN?"

Will was surprised how disturbed his wife had become at this notion.

She continued "when the Admiral died in real life T'Pol of Vulcan spent thirty years at the monastery on P'Jem trying to recover. She dedicated its rebuilding in his honor and reopened it as a center of cross-cultural spirituality and understanding. I went there as a child with my mother and met her, it was one of the greatest honors of my life. To this day she refuses to leave Vulcan for any other reason except to visit P'Jem on the anniversary of his death and the Starfleet Memorial Cemetery at the Academy on Earth on the anniversary of the death of their daughter to visit their graves. T'Pol of Vulcan, even today at three hundred and four years of age, would NEVER abandon her Imzadi."

Will blinked in surprise at his Imzadi as she brushed angry tears from her eyes. "I…didn't mean to upset you love. It's just a stupid nightmare."

She turned to him with concern "you don't think that I would ever abandon you like that do you?"

Will was shocked by the question "NO!...I know you wouldn't Imzadi! Why would you even think I thought that?"

She stared off at the planet spinning beyond their viewport

"I can tell you identified with Tucker, he was a childhood role model for you?"

Will nodded.

"Then perhaps this warped version of T'Pol and he was a representation of your concerns about us, about me?"

Will smiled in sympathetic amusement. His emotions really could affect her's when he wasn't careful, especially when a Betazoid woman was pregnant.

He spoke to allay her fears.

"My Imzadi, I trust you like no other person. It was me and not you who originally abandoned our relationship in pursuit of career objectives. If anyone should doubt anyone here it's you doubting me."

She smiled sheepishly back at him as her subsiding concern was replaced in their bond by desire.

"Well, that's true" she chided him "but the older, wiser, clean-shaven Will Riker has my complete trust as well."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and expressed her desires with her warm, moist lips.

"I'm sorry for getting emotional Will," she said between kisses. "I just really identify with the Ambassador. She was not only a childhood role model of mine but if not for her bravery at defying her own cultural traditions, to fall in love with a Human male; perhaps my own parents would not have felt safe enough to embrace their own love for one another."

Will smiled ironically at the notion of Lwaxana Troi not pursuing a relationship she desired. Deanna smirked at his thoughts.

"You know what I mean Will! Mother was not as bold when she was younger."

Will's grin increased "but I bet she was still quite bold then too!"

To show her he did indeed understand he took his beautiful half Human, half Betazoid wife into his full embrace. She wanted him and he wanted her as their mutual desire would soon lead to physical gratification. He heard her thoughts as they kissed.

"Perhaps I should write Ambassador T'Pol a letter thanking her for the example she set? We should thank her for showing everyone how to follow their hearts."

Will Riker could not have agreed with his Imzadi more.

The Captain asked, "what do you mean it just, disappeared?"

Fritz had been watching the intermittent sensor shadow for the better part of a day now, but since its initial detection, he had been unable to get more from it than the fact that it was there, somewhere, sometimes. Now his "ghost chasing" had the superstitious crew of the Earth Commerce Ship New Hope on edge. Most Boomers who qualified for a berth on a Warp four T-Class cargo carrier were top notch folks, but most also were veterans in the ECA or 'born-in-space' Boomers who had heard all the old stories about ghost ships and space monsters. Now, as far as they were concerned, Fritz had found a ghost of their own following them and they wanted nothing to do with it.

Fritz and the Captain also both wanted nothing to do with it, but they didn't have that luxury. Chief Sensors Officer Friedrich Elkhart had to keep track of this and his Captain, Victor Stevens, clearly thought that this ghost needed watching.

"I'm sorry Sir; it comes in and out of sensor range. Then it fluctuates here again, gone again within sensor range. There's no pattern to it."

Fritz couldn't help but feel frustration. He didn't believe in space "ghosts", but he did very much believe in cloaking technology. Naussican pirates or Orion Syndicate raiders were the bane of existence for all space fairing commerce vessels, but to his knowledge, they didn't have cloaking technology. According to the data from Starfleet sent out the year before it could be the Suliban, but they, like the Naussicans and Orion Syndicate, had yet to make it out as far as the Bassen Rift.

"Well, I don't want this to be a first time for any of them coming out this far." Fritz thought to himself.

"Calloway" the Captain said to the helmsman "I want you to slowly increase our speed up to warp four over the next half hour."

"What are you thinking Vic?" Fritz asked him.

Rubbing his scruffy bread with his left hand, Stevens cut his eyes from the main viewer display toward his sensor officer.

"If nothing changes when we increase speed then we know it's a sensor shadow and I'll have you tear the sensors apart to find out the problem. If something does change I want to be moving as fast as possible toward the nearest inhabited world."

"So you think it's a cloaked ship?" Calloway asked over her shoulder.

"I hope it's a sensor ghost and that Fritz has a long week ahead of him" he replied as his sensor chief cringed at the thought of tearing apart the sensor network piece by piece.

"But, if it's not and it is a cloaked vessel, I hope it is just a raider or pirate."

That caught Fritz and Calloway both off guard. The Captain smiled indulgently back at their concerned expressions.

"Pirates only want your cargo" he explained, "ECA Central has been warning Bassen Rift Run ships that things along the spinward side of the Rift might be getting warm soon, a little too warm."

That proclamation seemed to confuse Calloway so Fritz gently explained it to her "The Romulans".

"Oh" she replied, then she replied again with an even more pronounced "OH!" as the news hit her mind with full force.

"And that's why…" the Captain was interrupted by the indicator alarm on Fritz's station.

"What now?" Stevens asked him.

Shock spread across Fritz's features before he could explain the reason for it. Three more blips had joined the first and they were all now on approach vectors.

The Captain had worked with Fritz long enough to not need an explanation as to why his subordinate began issuing orders without permission.

"POLARIZING HULL PLATING! ISSUING DISTRESS BECON AND FIRING OFF DATA BURST!"

The Captain slammed his fist down on the ship wide comm channel.

"ALL HANDS, BRACE FOR…."

Fritz, Calloway and their Captain were the only souls aboard the ECS New Hope who had the privilege to know how they died. Four ivory skinned and long winged warships, with birds of prey painted against the dorsal and ventral sides of their hulls, had just seconds before slide out of the shadows their cloaking devices placed around them. All four Romulan Birds of Prey released simultaneous bursts of concentrated disruptor fire against the tug portion of the New Hope. The forward compartments erupted in an explosion as the antimatter pods were breached. If anyone had survived it was because they had been in the cargo pods toward the rear, now tumbling away from the source of the explosive displacement that pushed them away in different, random vectors. Two of the dead craft now moved away and disappeared behind the shimmer of their cloaks as the other two banked back to finish the leftovers. After their disruptors had breached each pod in turn they too shimmered away back into the darkness of space. All that was left in their ion wakes were the stars and debris that had once been home and livelihood to thirty-eight living souls.

Captain's Log: March 4th, 2155

Enterprise has spent the last month travelling in an area of space around a spatial distortion region known as the Bassen Rift. After the events of the past two years, it's refreshing to get back to exploration and first contact missions. This region of space lies toward the galactic coreward direction of the former Delphic Expanse and the civilized space faring worlds in the area are not exactly strangers to Humans. Since the introduction of warp four capable cargo vessels ten years ago, virtually all of them have been used exclusively on the trade route known as the Bassen Rift Run. The Earth Commerce Authority has lead the way in introducing Humanity to this particular neighborhood of stars, but now that Earth has a warp five capable Starfleet vessel, and it finally has some "free time" on its hands, so to speak, it is time for Earth to finally pay an official visit to the region. There have also been several fascinating spatial phenomenon related to the Rift itself to learn more about as well. The crew has responded well, in general, to returning to the Enterprise's original mission profile, and I am looking forward to several more successful, if belated, "official" first contacts over the next two months before returning to Earth for much needed R&R and a major overhaul and refit for the Enterprise.

Captain's Personal Log:

Despite the overall improved mood of the crew and admittedly their Captain too, I do have several misgivings about the "first contact" portions of this mission. In assigning me this mission Admiral M'benga made it clear that it was important to solidify the relationships began by the ECA with CONCRETE trade treaties and even the establishment of official embassies. The odd thing about the situation is that Starfleet and EarthGov hadn't felt the need to do so before now. The ECA has been doing fine on their own this far out from home. There's also the fact that outside of Enterprise, Columbia and the soon to be commissioned Challenger, such embassies would be virtually dependent on the ECA for any support they required this far out from Earth territory. The only reason for Enterprise's belated official first contact missions to the Bassen Rift would be to make sure that they were on Earth's side should something "bad" occur. Considering the events that happened last year in the nearby former Delphic Expanse, that's a prudent consideration. Yet the sudden urgency for such a mission disturbs me greatly. Starfleet is pushing hard to turn these loose trade agreements into official alliances. The question in my mind is, why the rush? My friends in Starfleet Intelligence claim to know nothing, but I can tell they are holding back on me. The Orions and Klingons are a too little distant from the Rift, so there is only one other possibility that comes to mind, and I don't like that thought one bit.

I also have major concerns about two members of my crew who, unfortunately, are not nearly as well adjusted in our new mission as the rest. They have no reason to be, considering the tough time they in particular have had this last year or two. Their latest tragedy might have been one too many, for both of them. I just wish I knew how to help them with their grief.

The door chime in Jon Archer's quarters sounded. He rolled from the bed where he was watching the latest downloaded Water Polo match between Stanford and Oregon, for the third time. After pushing the hatchway open button he was surprised to see a visitor who, despite having been a crew member since commissioning, and someone he was quite familiar with, had never graced his hatchway before now. Lieutenant Anna Hess, Assistant Chief Engineer, stood in the corridor. Despite the smears on her brand new uniform, she was as beautiful as ever. Jon realized, not for the first time, that despite himself, he was once again finding it increasingly hard not to notice the female crewmembers.

"An idol mind does tend to wander" he thought to himself.

As he was the senior officer for everyone on the ship, that realization disturbed him on many levels. He momentarily allowed himself to drop his eyes down her graceful neck. Quickly returning his focus to her piercingly dark eyes. He instantly realized from her facial expression that she had come with a problem, one that seemed to concern her greatly.

"A pleasant surprise to see you Lieutenant, what can I do for you?"

She looked down at the deck and gently bit her lower lip, then looked toward the far bulkhead momentarily, trying to find the right words she wished to say.

She was obviously nervous. He sympathetically felt the need to help ease her tension.

"Please Lieutenant, sit down; you look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders."

She sighed gently as she sat down at the desk chair.

Porthos came to her leg for attention and she stroked him behind the ears for a second before responding.

"In a way Sir, I do."

Jon already had a pretty good idea what her problem was related too; most of the crew had tried to look the other way for the entire month, but personal problems on a small ship rarely go unnoticed for long.

"Sir.…. we….. I mean, the engineering crew… we have all the respect in the world for Commander Tucker. We …we respect and care about him very much. We'd follow him anywhere, and I personally would like to assure you that I don't come here, to talk about this…issue….lightly."

Jon suddenly felt guilty. He felt responsible for Trip's problem, having let it go for so long without comment. He also felt guilty for her too. After all, Trip was hiding in Engineering where few outside of "his" people could see him; but she sat just two meters from him on a daily basis. She hid it better, being a Vulcan and all, but no one on the Bridge who had worked with and struggled beside Commander T'Pol for the last four and a half years could be confused about the great difficulty she and Trip where both going through. No parent, no matter the circumstances surrounding becoming parents, should ever have to suffer the death of their child.

Jon also felt guilty that his inaction had forced Trip's subordinate to have to come to him and remind him of his duty as the Commanders' commanding officer and mutual friend. Jon had put her in the position of feeling like she was betraying a man she obviously respected greatly. He felt a wave of regret come over him then. He finally began accepting the fact that they weren't going to fix this themselves and that he had to fix this problem for them or it would only get worse.

"I assume Lieutenant that you are referring to the Commander's recent odd behavior?"

"Sir…If the Commander has eaten, or slept in the past three days I would be very surprised. I actually have little proof that he has done either in the last two weeks except that he's still alive. Sir, these new uniforms aside, he clearly has lost a considerable amount of weight. We.….the engineering crew I mean…..we understand he's going through a lot of pain. Most of us have been with Enterprise since the beginning. He…..went through a rough patch in the Expanse, his sister and all, but this seems to be even worse. Sir, he's not only driving himself harder than usual, he's pushing the crew hard too and considering our current mission isn't of an urgent nature, there is no need to be pushing that hard. Sir.….like I said, I didn't bring this to you, directly, without considerable consideration of what I was about to say and its consequences for my career."

Jon could read through the lines of what she was trying to say without her actually trying to say it. As Executive Officer T'Pol had the normal duty to handle everyday personnel issues aboard ship, but when the personnel issue involved her, the duty to rectify it fell to the Captain. Clearly, Hess didn't think T'Pol was up to handling this particular personnel issue. If he had any doubt left of it, she dispelled that quickly enough with her next words.

"Sir, may I speak frankly?"

Her lips tightening and her eyes narrowing as she contemplated what to say next and his potential reactions to that. Jon had to agree to her request, anything that could make the normally jovial Lieutenant's face contort in that manner could not be kept from the light of day.

"Of course Lieutenant."

"Sir….under normal circumstances I would have taken this to the XO first, but to be honest I think she's part of the problem…Sir."

Her frustration was simmering just below the surface now. She and Trip had worked close, been close for several years. Trip had brought her aboard Enterprise with him from the NX Project staff and had her promoted to Lieutenant in the process. It's not surprising that she would develop an admiration for Trip that might transcend the work environment.

T'Pol and Trip's…off-duty association….was the worst kept secret on Enterprise. It didn't surprise Jon one bit that the "other" woman in Trip's daily life, besides his engine of course, might be a bit resentful of his personal time preference for the XO's company.

Jon sighed heavily.

"I understand why you would think that Lieutenant, but…."

To his surprise, the junior officer interrupted him.

"I'm afraid, if you'll excuse me for interrupting Sir, that I do understand. She, the XO I mean, well quite frankly Sir her….interactions….with the Commander aren't what they should be, Sir."

"What exactly do you mean Lieutenant?" Jon asked with curiosity, wondering exactly to what extent Trip's subordinate knew about her superiors' personal relationship with each other.

"I'm loath to go further into the topic Sir, as it clearly isn't any of my business; but Trip, …..I mean, the Commander….needs her….her support in this…difficult time; and clearly she has NO interest in providing that support."

Jon sympathized with the Lieutenant, greatly. He had no doubt in his mind now that the Lieutenant once harbored the hope of having more than a working relationship with her superior officer. Now, not knowing Commander T'Pol as well as the members of the Bridge crew, she watched as a woman that she clearly felt didn't deserve the amorous attentions of the Chief Engineer, apparently to her, was treating him rather poorly, at least by Human standards. She was both resentful and concerned simultaneously, a hard emotional combination to deal with.

"Lieutenant, I do understand your concerns and I appreciate you bringing this issue to my attention. It's a problem that I have ignored too long and I want to apologize to you."

The confusion on her face would have been, under less serious circumstances, very amusing.

"Sir?"

"I shouldn't have put the Commander's subordinate in the position to have to remind me about my responsibility to my crew, or to him directly as my subordinate."

The alarm across her face was clear.

"Sir, I would never…"

"Relax Lieutenant, I appreciate it. I should have handled this myself, but I had hoped they would have solved this on their own by now."

Hess began to visibly relax.

"Sir, I don't want you to think that I don't respect the XO, she's one of the most consistent and conscientious officers I've ever served under. She's proven to the whole crew many times over that our assumptions about Vulcans were often off base. Perhaps she's just…..too close to this one."

Jon smiled at her wording. What she had just said about T'Pol and Vulcans in general were exactly the very reason why Starfleet was a positive force for good in Humanity's journey to the stars.

"T'Pol is Vulcan Lieutenant, she handles grief differently then we Humans do. I'm sure she thinks that she is doing what's best for Trip, in her unique Vulcan way."

The Lieutenant seemed to accept that concept, but with what appeared to Jon to be a healthy dose of skepticism.

"I'm sure you're right Sir."

She stood to go, having delivered the difficult message to her Commanding Officer.

"If it's possible Sir, I would appreciate it if the Commander didn't know I was the one that brought this to your attention. What he thinks of me is….important to me Sir."

Jon gently grasped her shoulder and looked her straight in the eyes.

"Don't worry about that Lieutenant. I'll take it from here. Rest assured that I will handle this, discretely; and I really do appreciate you bringing this to me. I'm sure if we were going to tell Trip, he would be grateful too…..eventually."

She returned his smile. She was really beautiful, through all the various engineering related stains and smears on her uniform, and not only on the outside. Trip was a lucky man to have friends like Anna Hess. As she left the room it was as if the weight of the world no longer held her down. Jon knew why, she had handed that weight to him to heft now. It had always really been his burden to bear, and he had no intention of carrying it any longer then he had too, despite the difficulty placing that burden down would bring with it.

C Deck was the home of several physical science labs on Enterprise. The one that Commander T'Pol now occupied had the added benefit of being on a hallway that wrapped around one of the ship's two cargo transfer shafts. It was one of two labs that were at the end of that hallway at the end of yet another hallway. It was sufficiently secluded enough for her needs. No one else would use the lab till day shift. She could be alone here without concern of being disturbed or being discovered in an undignified condition should her ever increasingly fragile mental control fail her once again.

It had been fourteen days since she had last successfully meditated. The flickering light of her meditation candle only served to remind her of her failure to concentrate, to move past the pain that threatened daily to overwhelm her. The logical being within her knew that wasn't healthy and may need to have this condition addressed by Phlox, sooner than later. The private side of her rebuffed that thought immediately.

Then there was the other problem. The burning sensation welling up from within that threatened to meet the despair she felt halfway, at a place she feared would be her final breaking point.

She is Vulcan. Grief and Lust, like all emotions, are to be suppressed, conquered and controlled. She would move past this, like a Vulcan should.

Yet even reflecting on Surak's Litany of Loss from the newly rediscovered Kir'Shara had brought no solace to the tempest that raged within her. Guilt, shame, grief, loneliness, sadness, love, loss; all threatened her previously delicate balance of control. She had never been as strong as other Vulcan's in dealing with her emotions. Panar Syndrome and Trellium-D addiction had only compounded an existing condition. She, like her father before her, had always been…. emotional.

"Sa-mekh."

The memories of her father, lost to her and her ko-mekh too soon.

Grief! Again! And the dreaded Loss!

She thought of these emotions the same as a Human might think of their mythological Satan. As demons that stalked her, unless she buried them under the seas of work she created for herself.

Sa-mekh too had struggled with these same demons that appeared behind closed eyelids. He was the one who taught her first how to visualize suppressing them.

"Be the shaft of a great piston, pressing the emotions away from you as you stretch your Katra out from your mind, to engulf your doubts in pure logic."

"Tal-kam sa-mekh, how I need yours and ko-mekh's strength now to push away the dreads of emotions; she was so little and helpless, she needed me and I was even more helpless, and useless, more useless than an infant, my infant, my child!"

She was being overwhelmed again; quickly she had to focus, QUICKLY!

"I am the shaft of the piston; I shall push these emotions away from me!"

The great effort yielded its reward finally after so long. She had entered a state of meditation, but not her usual white space of tranquility. She WAS the shaft of the great piston. As she turned she saw the long lost visage of her sa-mekh helping to push down the demon-like emotions below them.

"My pi'yel, whom always shinned so bright at her sa-mekh whenever I would arrive home, have you forgotten the lessons my life should have taught you?"

Her father's childhood nickname for her, Little Star, reminded her just how emotional they had been with each other, when her ko-mehk wasn't watching too closely, or when she willing let them have their "relaxed" time together.

"The Universe has sent you the same strength it sent to me. It was T'Les that was MY strength, who held me upright in her willpower and logic. She was my solace from the storm of my own emotions. You have the same to help you my Little Star, if you would only recognize and accept the strength you could draw from that source."

His words reminded her of those spoken to her by the older version of herself she had met in the Expanse. It also reminded her of who those words were spoken about.

She closed her eyes, knowing this could not be her father, just her mind losing its grip on reality, yet his words reverberated within her. The weight of the emotions pushing up from below her was increasing to unbearable levels. Mental tears streaked from her eyes as she pushed pointlessly with all her might against the coming collapse.

Then as sudden as they began their onslaught on her fragile control, her powerful emotions subsides. Her mind was now a sea of tranquil serenity. The memory of little Elizabeth's eyes came to her with grief AND joy, somehow they were at balance in her mind. She was at a loss to explain it all. It was most illogical.

"Let me heft this burden for you from now on dar'lin" said the voice that always weakened her stoic resolve with a so-called "southern twang".

She opened the tear stained eyes of her mind. She was no longer the one holding the piston of emotions down. The great burden was as nothing to him as he smiled widely at her. She was transfixed by the blueness of his eyes and the calm she felt from his presence.

"T'hy'la?"

It was all she could say to him. He had something more to say to her though.

"We can help each other sweetheart, but you have to trust me to be strong, for both of us, at times."

Then the conflicted moment of brief serenity was gone. As she opened her real eyes onto the darkness of a very real physical sciences lab, where the only illumination was from the displays, consoles and her meditation candle. She realized that somehow she had obtained a brief respite from the emotions that had tried to tear her apart for the last few weeks since she and….her T'hy'la…. had laid their unexpected child into the burial ground near his parent's new home.

She could feel the real tears that she had hoped were only in her mind. She was grateful to have given such an unworthy display only to the empty room.

She felt the illogical need to reach out through the bond she shared with him. The one she logically suppressed as much as possible. She had to protect him from the wild emotions she could barely control herself. He was in pain as well, she would not add to that pain to help quell her own.

She dismissed her errant vision as the yearning of her subconscious mind for her bond mate. A desire that could only cause this man she was always concerned for more pain. How much pain and loss could one Human endure? His sister, his childhood home and now his child?

She would not add to his pain by sharing her own selfishly with him. No, she would ignore her greed for him and keep her emotional wall high, to protect her…T'hy'la…from more pain.

She sat down at the console with the intention to get back to her work, but as there had not been much work to begin with, she knew the exercise would not provide her with the distraction she would need. Slowly the seas of emotion that constantly surrounded her began to build in intensity once again.

As she braced for the returning storm in her mind she dwelt on her subconscious "father's" words and thinking of those blue eyes that she had tried to avoid for over a month now. She wished that she could stare into them constantly, losing herself forever in them. Her shoulders lowered slightly with fatigue. Even if she could finally allow herself to give in to her desires to be one with her bond mate in this time of grief for them both; the coming storm of the approaching Pon Farr would turn a relatively small emotional release into a full blown tempest of uncontrollable lust.

"No" she resolved.

"I must protect my T'hy'la…even if it is me I must protect him from."

No matter how many times he looked in the mirror, Jon Archer still could not get used to the new Starfleet regulation service uniform.

Before they shipped out on the Bassen Rift assignment several containers came aboard on the last shipment of cargo from Jupiter Station. Inside were four new style uniforms for each crew member, in their size and current branch of service color. All the senior officers and bridge crew received an addition white dress uniform as well, for ceremonial occasions. The same cargo platform that brought those had taken all the old jumpsuits back aboard Jupiter Station.

"The end of an era" he thought wistfully.

It was one of many compromises between Starfleet and Military Assault Command Operations following EarthGov's decision to merge the two services under the Starfleet banner.

Admittedly Starfleet got the better end of the deal. After all, Starfleet still officially existed.

The MACO's didn't leave autonomy completely empty handed and Starfleet, having the upper-hand, had been rather eager to satisfy their new members' mostly ceremonial requests, to help heal any hurt feelings as quickly as possible.

Saluting officers while on normal duty was no longer required, but all other MACO military decorum regulations were to be maintained. This fell in line with existing Starfleet regulations, though Starfleet had only lightly enforced such honors before now.

Former MACO officers and NCO's would retain their "army" style ranks until and after retirement; however, all new officers, NCO's and enlisted crew would be officially Starfleet personnel from the beginning and as such would receive "naval" ranks and titles from this point forward.

Finally, there was the issue of the new joint service uniform.

The MACO's had come into existence and originally formed from the ranks of the world's nation states' ground forces, where Starfleet can trace its "military" roots to the world's air forces and navies.

In exchange for trading in the old jumpsuits the former MACO's agreed to the new, more military, versions; and Starfleet Tactical, where most of the MACO's would be making their new home, would adopt the MACO's camouflage uniforms for tactical missions.

It wasn't that Jon didn't like the new uniforms. They fit just as well if not better than the old ones had, with the added benefit that you didn't have to remove the top to use the facilities. The female crewmembers had to appreciate that even more than their male counterparts.

It was just so….militant.

The switch to the almost black color of Navy Blue combined with the more prominent lines of the cut and reduction on pocket numbers, made it feel more "regimented". Starfleet tried to balance that martial look with increasing the branch of service color prominence. Cutting the same general path across the shoulders that they had on the old uniforms, except that it was connected between the back of the collar and the bottom of the trim colors, now the entire shoulder and top of the uniform back was in branch color material.

Combined with the addition of the UESPA logo patch on the right shoulder, service branch colored armpit to boot length stripe, and the metallic name plate and commendation ribbons that the MACO's insisted be included on the right and left chest respectively; Jon Archer felt he looked like a real life old school naval captain.

As if to add the finishing touch to the naval look, two solid yellow strips bracketing a broken version of the same in the middle, graced each lower sleeve of his jacket. It looked more like the rank of an old naval Lieutenant Commander than that of a Starship Captain, but he could live with it if he had to. At least his four silver pip bars of rank still graced his right chest, just now on a solid yellow background.

It really wasn't the uniform that was causing him consternation this evening anyway. It was the purpose for having to put it back on after an already long day that was really bothering him.

He turned toward his most honest critic, besides perhaps his First Officer.

"How do I look Porthos?"

Honest as ever, the beagle cocked its head to one side without even sitting up on the bed and merely gave an inquisitive whimper.

"You're really no help when it comes to fashion" he said in mock exasperation as he gently rubbed his little friend behind the ears.

He took one last look at himself in the mirror before striding purposefully out the hatchway and toward the Medical Bay.

Phlox had been in the Captain's quarters less than two hours before and had left a while beforehand to prepare for tonight's important "mission". He had been quite enthusiastic when he learned that Jon had finally decided that there was a serious issue that needed to be addressed immediately. He apparently had been rebuffed repeatedly by both subjects in question in his own attempts at solving the issue in a less invasive manner, but now that the Captain was on his side he had clearly began looking forward to finally solving this problem, once and for all.

His mood had quickly changed to apprehension and doubt as the Captain laid out the options for solving the problem.

Phlox had then revealed that he may have a solution that would negate the most negative possible outcomes; but that he could not and would not implement them without both party's mutual consent. He clearly had been very apprehensive about revealing this option and even more so about applying it. After telling Jon the details his Captain understood why the Doctor had his worries and doubts.

The Captain smiled as he walked toward his destination, remembering the look on his Chief Medical Officer's face when he outlined his plan to obtain their subjects' consent to treatment without revealing the exact nature of Dr. Phlox's "cure" until after it had been administered.

To say Phlox was skeptical about the fine ethical line of doctor/patient confidentiality he was being asked to walk, not to mention the reaction of the subjects when they fully comprehended this treatment's side-effects, would have been a monumental understatement. However, he had agreed with Jon that it had the best long term chances of success on all levels. Jon hoped he was right.

As he strode into the Medical Bay Phlox turned to look at him, still with a pensive expression on his face that seemed so out of place on the jovial Denobulan, but behind that expression was clearly a determination to succeed in this task. Two friends' lives and careers were on the line.

"Is everything ready Doctor?"

"Yes, Captain" Phlox returned as he held up a hypospray for Jon's examination.

"The treatment." Phlox said.

Jon nodded thoughtfully and said, "let's do this before we get cold feet."

She was briefly startled to hear the Captain's voice at zero one thirty five hours come over the comm channel to her private sanctuary deep in the science lab.

She tapped the comm link button on the console in front of her.

"Commander T'Pol here Captain."

She briefly asked herself what possibly could have gone wrong in mid-transit on this routine mission in a relatively well explored and constantly travelled region of space to have the Captain awake during his normal sleep cycle?

"I should have been on the bridge and not whimpering like a small child in the dark" she chided herself.

This was one of the first thoughts to cross her racked and tortured mind. The next was the realization that she might have something truly important to focus her mind on now, to bring it some distraction.

["Commander, we have a crew member in serious medical condition that requires immediate attention. However, he may not be receptive to receiving treatment. If I am forced to order this crewman to take the treatment I will have to put it in his official service record and in the ship's log. As First Officer and thus head of ship's personnel issues, I will need you to witness."]

It was rare that both her eyebrows rose in unison at a revelation, but she had a despondent feeling she knew exactly who this crewman was.

Since returning to Enterprise for the Bassen Rift assignment, since returning from burying their Elizabeth, she and Trip had tried not to set eyes on each other except at the weekly Senior Staff Meetings. Even there she took great pains to avoid having to address him directly or to be anywhere near making physical contact. Her reasons for doing so were sound. The mental link they shared could transmit all her intense emotions onto her bond mate, who would already be dealing with his own intense grief. Physical contact only intensified the bond to an irresistible level. She would cause her T'hy'la more harm than good if she gave in to her own desire to share their grief.

There was also the fact that Vulcan females who lose a child tend to experience an especially intense Pon Farr several weeks after the initial grieving period. Having her bond mate in close proximity increased the likelihood of the Pon Farr occurring. With fifty days having expired since Elizabeth T'Mir's demise, and the fact that Trip was Human and not Vulcan; T'Pol embarked on the Bassen Rift mission in the certainty that the threat of Pon Farr had passed her. Its sudden arrival nearly four additional weeks into the mission had been a particularly unpleasant surprise.

Now was not the time. Unrequited Pon Farr for Vulcan females, unlike the males, rarely resulted in a fatality. Still, this one had all the indicators to be a particularly difficult Pon Farr, and being her first natural one, she had her doubts she could control it; but she had no other realistic choice but to try.

Now was indeed, not the appropriate time for it.

Why her T'hy'la had chosen to also withdraw from her presence remained a minor mystery, but one she found convenient towards her goal of protecting his fragile emotional state. Now doubt began to creepinto her original assumption that Trip was better off dealing with his grief alone as well.

She had to protect her T'hy'la from her wild grief and sorrow. He was already dealing with the full force of his own grief. To selfishly compound his emotions with her own would be too much to ask of a Vulcan male, much less a Human one.

Compounding the situation with the demands of the Pon Farr was unthinkable on a Human starship.

She admitted to herself that she was concerned to see how much weight he had lost at the last Staff Meeting. If it was her T'hy'la the Captain spoke of, and logic now dictated that it had to be him, she now had to intervene to protect him from himself. Perhaps THIS assignment would allow her to focus her attention on solving T'hy'la's semi-intentional sleep and sustenance deprivation. She had to be careful to maintain her physical and emotional distance from him so as not to harm him further or to trigger an uncontrollable emotional reaction on her part. It would be an extremely difficult task, but she had to assist her T'hy'la through this difficulty.

Having known about their bond for some time now, Trip had, to her reasoning, also decided to block the bond during this difficult time. Perhaps he felt that he would have unduly burdened her with his emotions?

A wave a loneliness, love and admiration for her young Human T'hy'la washed over her. She remembered what his likeness had said to her in meditation just moments before. She struggled to regain control and to respond to her Commanding Officer's request.

"I am on my way now Captain."

She checked her uniform and cleared the areas around her eyes with a gentle massage from her finger tips. Then she strode off to the nearest turbo lift for E Deck.

Her T'hy'la needed her.

As Commander T'Pol broke the comm link with him, Jon turned and faced Phlox with a crooked but subdued smile.

"One down."

The Doctor returned his smile with a reflexive yet equally subdued one of his own. "One to go."

He pressed the comm button on the bulkhead.

"Phlox to Engineering, is Commander Tucker still there? I require his assistance."

"Thank God, something real to do, finally."

Had things kept on this way, with nothing to do, nothing to take his mind off of his little…

"Stay focused son, stick to the work."

A thousand deaths for Paxton and all he sick Terra Primers would never have been enough to satisfy the need for vengeance Trip Tucker felt burning in the pit of his gut.

Poor Lizzy had been killed in a misinformed and ill-conceived preemptive strike. She, like all of the other seven million victims of the Xindi prototype weapon had been…collateral damage. That thought, those words sickened his empty stomach.

Elizabeth though, named for her slaughtered aunt, had been intentionally created to die! Those sick Fu….!

"Get control of yourself son. You have a job to do!"

When had the voice in his head started quoting and sounding like Preston Tucker?

He allowed himself to lean his forehead against the turbolift wall as the door closed behind him.

Had it really been three days since he last slept? Even then her tiny blue eyes haunted his nightmares.

"I'm so sorry Little Star, if I were a better man perhaps I could have done something…more."

He had no idea where he had come up with that nickname for her but it had seemed right on day one. He knew there was nothing he could have done to save her; she was doomed from the start. That didn't make it easier to deal with. Trip was an Engineer, he solved problems. Trip was also a Tucker, self-blame was second nature.

As his daddy always said to his momma after a fight, "Well if it weren't my fault, how 'em I supposed to fix it?"

The door slide open, it was a short ride from D to E Deck. He straightened up to leave the turbolift.

"And of course she blames me, she has too. Why else would she treat me this way? Why else would she cut off the link between us when I need her most? I must be the representative of all that's bad in Humanity to her now. Just another weak Human…a weak man…a weak father."

Then there it was.

He felt it in his mind like one would hear the drip of a leaky faucet. SHE was here, nearby, and without revealing anything else, she wanted him to know!

As he rounded the circular hallway that led from the rear turbolift to the entrance to sick bay the unique psychic radar he shared with her had turned on, just the tiniest amount; but enough for him to know that she was at his destination, and she was not alone.

He paused at the doors that led inside. He didn't know what was coming but it was causing her great apprehension. So great she could not block it from him, or she did not want to block it from him.

What really terrified him was that it wasn't whatever lay on the other side of that door that worried him so much. It was having to look at the woman he loved with every fiber of his being, and to see nothing but shame and disappointment in her beautiful eyes.

Then he was reminded that their link worked two ways and it was she that ran the show.

The alarm she felt at his thoughts was so great that he could taste her shock! Whatever was awaiting him on the other side of this door was sure to keep him awake for a little while longer.

He braced himself and walked in, toolkit in his hand. Trip Tucker was, after all, a problem solver, an Engineer. He would face this new issue head on, bulldozer style.