First, the important stuff: Thanks so much to Samantha Quinn for taking
the time and effort to beta this chapter. You're the best ^-^.
A/N: Okay okay, I know it's been done. This is just to say that none of the material in this story is linked any other stories by any other author. This is strictly a product of my own depraved, romantic mind. With that said, let me explain why I chose to write this.
In the prequel to this story ('Of All the Times, Places, and People!'), I tried to show you what I think is the beginning of a much closer relationship between Trip and T'Pol. Through much self-reflection and stressful circumstances, these two wonderfully dynamic characters discovered that they have somehow overcome the immense boundary that once stood between them. However, they are unsure of how to progress. Trip is sure it's something special, while T'Pol (being the clinical, cautious, and skeptical woman that she is) decides not to pass judgment immediately. She decides to give this new closeness a chance and take it slow.
In this continuation, I hope to proceed in that fashion. Hopefully, T'Pol and Trip will continue to see each other in new ways and learn more about each other, while simultaneously uncovering more of themselves. This is definitely a 'ship' story, but I think it will be pretty mild. For now, it's a bourgeoning friendship taking place amidst at least one new character (I like adding my own characters, as it gives me practice in unfamiliar territory) and all the primaries. Enjoy!
It was becoming very well known among space-faring individuals that rarely does anything remain consistent. For instance, the humans aboard the NX-01 Enterprise had learned that adventures came in groups, or not at all. Either they spent days or week working on various problems, or they lazed about, dreaming of something exciting to shake their monotonous way of life.
The day following the Commander's and SubCommander's return to Enterprise proved that the second scenario was the current choice of Fate. Trip was just coming into the mess hall for breakfast, returning grins and 'good mornings' to the other people in the room. Even after two years, he still felt grateful for seeing every one of those faces. Especially after having successful gotten out of the trouble to which he was particularly prone. Grabbing himself a plate of poached eggs and a mug of strong black coffee, he searched the crowded room for a place to sit. His first two choices were already out: T'Pol was recovering and the captain was in a briefing with Admiral Forrest. The engineer shrugged his shoulders. 'Why not use the captain's mess if it's already empty?' he asked himself. And without further hesitation, he entered the larger room.
He hadn't even gone through half of his coffee when the comm sounded. Sighing, though not entirely unhappy, he twisted to answer it.
"Tucker here." He responded.
"Sorry to interrupt, Commander, but you're needed on the bridge."
Draining the mug and wolfing down the rest of the contents of his plate, Trip replied, "On ma way."
It was unusual for him to be summoned to the bridge. Usually, unless something was up, he proceeded directly to the engine room. Therefore, he concluded, something must be happening. He chuckled at his own use of greatly simplified logic. 'T'Pol would be proud.' He thought.
But once on the bridge, his light mood evaporated. The grim faces of the senior staff were clustered around the large, comprehensive consol in the situation room. Lit from below by the electric glow from the panels, they looked like ashen ghosts of their former selves. Having recently seen another person in such a state, Trip involuntarily shuddered.
"What's goin' on?" he asked, coming to stand between the helmsman and captain.
"Hoshi picked up a distress message on one of the emergency frequencies." His friend told him briefly. Archer's large hands gripped the edges of the consol as he leaned on it. Trip had learned that this pose was typical of the captain when in a difficult situation, usually one that he didn't fully understand. And having known Jonathon Archer for several years, Trip knew he didn't like to be in the dark.
Across from him, the petite language prodigy chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip, carefully shaped brows drawn together over her large eyes. Trip looked at her expectantly.
"It's weird sir," she began, eyes clouded with confusion, "It's not like any Vulcan distress message I've ever heard."
Trip's head snapped up, immediately intrigued by this new bit of information.
"It's Vulcan?"
"The language is," she explained slowly, apparently trying to work it out as she spoke, "but the way the message is composed is . . . not *Vulcan*." She looked around the room helplessly, having no clue of how to make them understand her.
"It's clearly Vulcan, but it's like a dialect. And it's almost a riddle; it's not succinct and to the point, like it should be."
"Where's it coming from?" Travis asked. Clearly, he was anticipating the order to lay in an intercept course. But Hoshi sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.
"That's also part of the mystery," Malcolm Reed explained. "It seems like whoever sent it was using a triangulating transmitter, which means we can't find it unless we know the exact frequency that was used."
"Well, shouldn't the SubCommander know about this?" Travis asked again.
The captain shook his head regretfully. Much as he wanted to know what was going on, T'Pol was on a strict medical leave, having strict orders to refrain from any and all work. He knew that asking her to help with this new development wouldn't sit too well with their resident Denobulan.
To his staff, he said "She's on med leave. We can't ask her to be up here in her condition."
Trip, recently having become more acquainted with T'Pol and her values, spoke up. "She's bound to find out sometime, Cap'n. And when she does, she won't let anybody keep her from helpin' her own people."
"The Commander's right." Hoshi added. Archer looked at her in surprise. He was still getting used to this newer, more assertive and outspoken Hoshi. Even more unusual was Trip's uncharacteristic insight into the mind of their beautiful resident Vulcan. For a long time, Archer had believed his companionship to be the closest thing T'Pol had to a friendship. Finding out the truth of the matter was difficult. But he put that aside for a less pressing moment.
"She's the only person onboard who can figure this thing out." She finished.
Looking around at their faces, Jon wasn't happy with the state of events. But what was the point of having a senior staff if you didn't listen to their advice? Deciding to brave the inevitable chidings from Phlox, he turned to the comm. and said,
"Archer to T'Pol."
Immediately, she answered. All within the vicinity were secretly pleased with how well she sounded. Trip was especially grateful for the return of her usual, pleasantly calm and unemotional tone.
"Yes, Captain." She said.
"You know I hate to cut your leave short, but we need you on the bridge." The Captain told her shortly.
"Understood." She responded evenly. If there was one thing Archer appreciated about the Vulcans, it was their work ethic.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Privately, T'Pol was less than happy to be returning to the bridge so soon. Under the doctor's orders, she was to remain off duty for several more days. But obviously, something had happened which required her knowledge and expertise. Though she didn't mind having a problem to solve, the lingering remains of her severe cough was troublesome, and she was still rather tired. Upon returning to the bridge, she was grateful at least one thing. With Commander Tucker there, she would be sure that she wouldn't have an opportunity to exhaust herself too much. With her hands clasped professionally behind her back and her back perfectly postured, she announced her presence.
"Reporting for duty."
The Captain gave her an apologetic grin as Trip smiled reassuringly at her. They proceeded to explain the problem to her as best they could. After taking it all in without so much as twitching a muscle, she turned to the other woman member of the senior crew.
"May I listen to the message?"
Obligingly, Ensign Sato played the recorded message. At first, the SubCommander couldn't believe what she was hearing. Never before had she been faced with this particular situation. She listened to it again, to be absolutely certain. And then she was silent, thinking.
Her crewmates watched her like hawks, wondering why she was taking so long to explain the situation to them. Finally, she walked briskly over to her science station. Archer was close to reaching his patience limit for the day.
"What are you doing?" he asked in bewilderment.
"Isolating the location from where the message was transmitted."
"I tried half a dozen times; it's impossible!" Hoshi protested.
"Not if you know the frequency." T'Pol responded, never once looking up from her consol. Her fingertips flew across the keyboard in a speed born of urgency.
"And let me guess," Archer directed towards her, "it's a frequency only known to Vulcans."
"It's an emergency frequency." She offered, careful not to dispel too much information. It was imperative that certain secrets be kept within Vulcan society, and T'Pol had mastered the art of preserving such information while simultaneously offering enough to appease her suspicious crewmates. Having isolated the coordinates to within a tenth of a degree, she sent into Ensign Sato's consol. Hoshi stared at her in awe.
T'Pol turned towards her Captain. "I need to transmit a message; audio only. May I use the Ready Room?"
Archer swept his broad hand towards the tiny room, making a small effort to conceal his irritation. Once inside, T'Pol recalled the words from her earliest memories; the second part of an exchange taught to all Vulcans as a cultural secret; a call and response for help that any Vulcan would know in an instant.
"In the face of emotion, logic reigns supreme." She said into the computer. She sent the message, and returned to the open area of the bridge, where she was met with annoyed and confused stares.
"What the hell does all this mean?" Trip asked in utter confusion. It was the first time he'd spoken to T'Pol since she had come onto the bridge.
"I cannot tell you."
"You better tell us something." Archer informed her. "Cryptic messages and secrecy all are clear indications of trouble. What exactly are we getting into, here?"
T'Pol considered his disposition and mood, and then glanced towards the Chief Engineer. She had promised to answer most of his questions, but this topic was definitely not open for discussion with off-worlders, no matter how trustworthy they were. Turning towards Lt. Reed, who had remained characteristically silent, she said
"It's possible we will encounter at least one unfriendly vessel. I suggest you take appropriate precautions."
With a quick glance of confirmation at Archer, who nodded tightly, Reed promptly put the ship on tactical alert. Still looking hard at his silent science officer, he called out the Travis,
"Lay in a new course, ensign. Take us to those coordinates at warp 4.7"
Travis acted accordingly while Archer looked from Trip to T'Pol. He trusted these two more than any other people on his ship, but he didn't like T'Pol's silence on the matter. But apparently, Trip was just as clueless as he.
"I trust you'll tell us what this is all about sometime soon?" He asked quietly. Unwittingly, he'd added a slightly menacing tone to his inquiry, which made Trip stiffen and want to stand between them. It took both his training and the knowledge that Archer and T'Pol were mostly on good terms to keep him from acting on his instinct.
"It is a matter of utmost urgency." She told them. The way her eyes had opened wider then usual was enough to tell Trip she was telling the truth, and also that this was a source of concern for her.
"Urgent in what kind of way?" Archer asked.
"A life is at stake." She admitted, gazing up at him in earnestness that could only belong to a plea of great importance.
"A child's life."
TBC
A/N Continued: There, now you know, it's another one of those Enterprise- finds-a-kid stories. Hopefully the muse will inspire a new twist or two. Please leave a review, even if you hate it. What can I do to improve this? Should I work on anything in particular? Let me know, like a responsible reviewer.
Also, on a more personal and serious note, this story is dedicated to Carolyn, a young woman who just graduated from my school. Carolyn (Carrie) was not a particularly close friend of mine, but we were pretty close during my freshman year. At that time, she was a sophomore. We shared only one class, but it was so much fun and really made my first year of high school easier. We've all heard tales of seniors, juniors, and sophomores persecuting the lowly freshmen. Let me start off by stating that on my first day, I was completely lost. The first bell had just rung, and I had no idea where to go. I stopped a tall, slender blonde and asked her to tell me where the Honors Biology room was. She smiled, and told me she had the same class. And once we had arrived, she even explained my tardiness to our teacher. She then took a seat next to me (there were several other available seats in the room) and introduced herself, following with "Welcome to the best days of your life".
Carrie was more than kind. She was also extremely intelligent, athletic, and quite outgoing. Everybody seemed to be friends with her. They loved her compassion and her quirky sense of humor. But most of all, we loved how nothing made her bitter or cynical.
In her junior year, Carolyn was diagnosed with Leukemia. I don't know what specific kind, but it was a shock nonetheless. But instead of leaving school entirely, she decided to attend as long as possible. Long after her hair had fallen out, she was still seen in the halls, books in her arms and a smile on her face. And when she was too weak to come to class, she still managed to complete every assignment from home. We were baffled with her unwavering sense of cheerfulness, and were elated when she announced her remission.
Her senior year went well. She was back in school full time, and her hair had grown out into a cute bob. Then, one day in the March just before seventh period, she announced her relapse. We cried and shouted our anger, but Carrie didn't. She sighed and said she wasn't afraid to go through it all again. She was being brave for us. She went back into chemo, and I only saw her once again. She was bald and in a wheelchair, coming to take a final exam. She graduated on May 31, and received a standing ovation. Though I wasn't there, others have told me that she glowed with joy and pride.
Carrie passed away on July 6, 2003 in the peace of her own home, leaving us to reach a new plane; the ultimate spiritual plane. Personally, I believe that every person has a mission in life. Some take longer to realize and complete than others, and in Carolyn's case, I know she found hers early. I know that to face death with such grace, composure, and contentment can only be achieved from leading a fulfilled life. Though she was only 18, I know she did what she was put on this earth to do. We love you Carrie, and we know you loved us back. Such love transcends the boundaries between the spirit and the flesh, and we know you'll always be with us. Amen
A/N: Okay okay, I know it's been done. This is just to say that none of the material in this story is linked any other stories by any other author. This is strictly a product of my own depraved, romantic mind. With that said, let me explain why I chose to write this.
In the prequel to this story ('Of All the Times, Places, and People!'), I tried to show you what I think is the beginning of a much closer relationship between Trip and T'Pol. Through much self-reflection and stressful circumstances, these two wonderfully dynamic characters discovered that they have somehow overcome the immense boundary that once stood between them. However, they are unsure of how to progress. Trip is sure it's something special, while T'Pol (being the clinical, cautious, and skeptical woman that she is) decides not to pass judgment immediately. She decides to give this new closeness a chance and take it slow.
In this continuation, I hope to proceed in that fashion. Hopefully, T'Pol and Trip will continue to see each other in new ways and learn more about each other, while simultaneously uncovering more of themselves. This is definitely a 'ship' story, but I think it will be pretty mild. For now, it's a bourgeoning friendship taking place amidst at least one new character (I like adding my own characters, as it gives me practice in unfamiliar territory) and all the primaries. Enjoy!
It was becoming very well known among space-faring individuals that rarely does anything remain consistent. For instance, the humans aboard the NX-01 Enterprise had learned that adventures came in groups, or not at all. Either they spent days or week working on various problems, or they lazed about, dreaming of something exciting to shake their monotonous way of life.
The day following the Commander's and SubCommander's return to Enterprise proved that the second scenario was the current choice of Fate. Trip was just coming into the mess hall for breakfast, returning grins and 'good mornings' to the other people in the room. Even after two years, he still felt grateful for seeing every one of those faces. Especially after having successful gotten out of the trouble to which he was particularly prone. Grabbing himself a plate of poached eggs and a mug of strong black coffee, he searched the crowded room for a place to sit. His first two choices were already out: T'Pol was recovering and the captain was in a briefing with Admiral Forrest. The engineer shrugged his shoulders. 'Why not use the captain's mess if it's already empty?' he asked himself. And without further hesitation, he entered the larger room.
He hadn't even gone through half of his coffee when the comm sounded. Sighing, though not entirely unhappy, he twisted to answer it.
"Tucker here." He responded.
"Sorry to interrupt, Commander, but you're needed on the bridge."
Draining the mug and wolfing down the rest of the contents of his plate, Trip replied, "On ma way."
It was unusual for him to be summoned to the bridge. Usually, unless something was up, he proceeded directly to the engine room. Therefore, he concluded, something must be happening. He chuckled at his own use of greatly simplified logic. 'T'Pol would be proud.' He thought.
But once on the bridge, his light mood evaporated. The grim faces of the senior staff were clustered around the large, comprehensive consol in the situation room. Lit from below by the electric glow from the panels, they looked like ashen ghosts of their former selves. Having recently seen another person in such a state, Trip involuntarily shuddered.
"What's goin' on?" he asked, coming to stand between the helmsman and captain.
"Hoshi picked up a distress message on one of the emergency frequencies." His friend told him briefly. Archer's large hands gripped the edges of the consol as he leaned on it. Trip had learned that this pose was typical of the captain when in a difficult situation, usually one that he didn't fully understand. And having known Jonathon Archer for several years, Trip knew he didn't like to be in the dark.
Across from him, the petite language prodigy chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip, carefully shaped brows drawn together over her large eyes. Trip looked at her expectantly.
"It's weird sir," she began, eyes clouded with confusion, "It's not like any Vulcan distress message I've ever heard."
Trip's head snapped up, immediately intrigued by this new bit of information.
"It's Vulcan?"
"The language is," she explained slowly, apparently trying to work it out as she spoke, "but the way the message is composed is . . . not *Vulcan*." She looked around the room helplessly, having no clue of how to make them understand her.
"It's clearly Vulcan, but it's like a dialect. And it's almost a riddle; it's not succinct and to the point, like it should be."
"Where's it coming from?" Travis asked. Clearly, he was anticipating the order to lay in an intercept course. But Hoshi sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.
"That's also part of the mystery," Malcolm Reed explained. "It seems like whoever sent it was using a triangulating transmitter, which means we can't find it unless we know the exact frequency that was used."
"Well, shouldn't the SubCommander know about this?" Travis asked again.
The captain shook his head regretfully. Much as he wanted to know what was going on, T'Pol was on a strict medical leave, having strict orders to refrain from any and all work. He knew that asking her to help with this new development wouldn't sit too well with their resident Denobulan.
To his staff, he said "She's on med leave. We can't ask her to be up here in her condition."
Trip, recently having become more acquainted with T'Pol and her values, spoke up. "She's bound to find out sometime, Cap'n. And when she does, she won't let anybody keep her from helpin' her own people."
"The Commander's right." Hoshi added. Archer looked at her in surprise. He was still getting used to this newer, more assertive and outspoken Hoshi. Even more unusual was Trip's uncharacteristic insight into the mind of their beautiful resident Vulcan. For a long time, Archer had believed his companionship to be the closest thing T'Pol had to a friendship. Finding out the truth of the matter was difficult. But he put that aside for a less pressing moment.
"She's the only person onboard who can figure this thing out." She finished.
Looking around at their faces, Jon wasn't happy with the state of events. But what was the point of having a senior staff if you didn't listen to their advice? Deciding to brave the inevitable chidings from Phlox, he turned to the comm. and said,
"Archer to T'Pol."
Immediately, she answered. All within the vicinity were secretly pleased with how well she sounded. Trip was especially grateful for the return of her usual, pleasantly calm and unemotional tone.
"Yes, Captain." She said.
"You know I hate to cut your leave short, but we need you on the bridge." The Captain told her shortly.
"Understood." She responded evenly. If there was one thing Archer appreciated about the Vulcans, it was their work ethic.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Privately, T'Pol was less than happy to be returning to the bridge so soon. Under the doctor's orders, she was to remain off duty for several more days. But obviously, something had happened which required her knowledge and expertise. Though she didn't mind having a problem to solve, the lingering remains of her severe cough was troublesome, and she was still rather tired. Upon returning to the bridge, she was grateful at least one thing. With Commander Tucker there, she would be sure that she wouldn't have an opportunity to exhaust herself too much. With her hands clasped professionally behind her back and her back perfectly postured, she announced her presence.
"Reporting for duty."
The Captain gave her an apologetic grin as Trip smiled reassuringly at her. They proceeded to explain the problem to her as best they could. After taking it all in without so much as twitching a muscle, she turned to the other woman member of the senior crew.
"May I listen to the message?"
Obligingly, Ensign Sato played the recorded message. At first, the SubCommander couldn't believe what she was hearing. Never before had she been faced with this particular situation. She listened to it again, to be absolutely certain. And then she was silent, thinking.
Her crewmates watched her like hawks, wondering why she was taking so long to explain the situation to them. Finally, she walked briskly over to her science station. Archer was close to reaching his patience limit for the day.
"What are you doing?" he asked in bewilderment.
"Isolating the location from where the message was transmitted."
"I tried half a dozen times; it's impossible!" Hoshi protested.
"Not if you know the frequency." T'Pol responded, never once looking up from her consol. Her fingertips flew across the keyboard in a speed born of urgency.
"And let me guess," Archer directed towards her, "it's a frequency only known to Vulcans."
"It's an emergency frequency." She offered, careful not to dispel too much information. It was imperative that certain secrets be kept within Vulcan society, and T'Pol had mastered the art of preserving such information while simultaneously offering enough to appease her suspicious crewmates. Having isolated the coordinates to within a tenth of a degree, she sent into Ensign Sato's consol. Hoshi stared at her in awe.
T'Pol turned towards her Captain. "I need to transmit a message; audio only. May I use the Ready Room?"
Archer swept his broad hand towards the tiny room, making a small effort to conceal his irritation. Once inside, T'Pol recalled the words from her earliest memories; the second part of an exchange taught to all Vulcans as a cultural secret; a call and response for help that any Vulcan would know in an instant.
"In the face of emotion, logic reigns supreme." She said into the computer. She sent the message, and returned to the open area of the bridge, where she was met with annoyed and confused stares.
"What the hell does all this mean?" Trip asked in utter confusion. It was the first time he'd spoken to T'Pol since she had come onto the bridge.
"I cannot tell you."
"You better tell us something." Archer informed her. "Cryptic messages and secrecy all are clear indications of trouble. What exactly are we getting into, here?"
T'Pol considered his disposition and mood, and then glanced towards the Chief Engineer. She had promised to answer most of his questions, but this topic was definitely not open for discussion with off-worlders, no matter how trustworthy they were. Turning towards Lt. Reed, who had remained characteristically silent, she said
"It's possible we will encounter at least one unfriendly vessel. I suggest you take appropriate precautions."
With a quick glance of confirmation at Archer, who nodded tightly, Reed promptly put the ship on tactical alert. Still looking hard at his silent science officer, he called out the Travis,
"Lay in a new course, ensign. Take us to those coordinates at warp 4.7"
Travis acted accordingly while Archer looked from Trip to T'Pol. He trusted these two more than any other people on his ship, but he didn't like T'Pol's silence on the matter. But apparently, Trip was just as clueless as he.
"I trust you'll tell us what this is all about sometime soon?" He asked quietly. Unwittingly, he'd added a slightly menacing tone to his inquiry, which made Trip stiffen and want to stand between them. It took both his training and the knowledge that Archer and T'Pol were mostly on good terms to keep him from acting on his instinct.
"It is a matter of utmost urgency." She told them. The way her eyes had opened wider then usual was enough to tell Trip she was telling the truth, and also that this was a source of concern for her.
"Urgent in what kind of way?" Archer asked.
"A life is at stake." She admitted, gazing up at him in earnestness that could only belong to a plea of great importance.
"A child's life."
TBC
A/N Continued: There, now you know, it's another one of those Enterprise- finds-a-kid stories. Hopefully the muse will inspire a new twist or two. Please leave a review, even if you hate it. What can I do to improve this? Should I work on anything in particular? Let me know, like a responsible reviewer.
Also, on a more personal and serious note, this story is dedicated to Carolyn, a young woman who just graduated from my school. Carolyn (Carrie) was not a particularly close friend of mine, but we were pretty close during my freshman year. At that time, she was a sophomore. We shared only one class, but it was so much fun and really made my first year of high school easier. We've all heard tales of seniors, juniors, and sophomores persecuting the lowly freshmen. Let me start off by stating that on my first day, I was completely lost. The first bell had just rung, and I had no idea where to go. I stopped a tall, slender blonde and asked her to tell me where the Honors Biology room was. She smiled, and told me she had the same class. And once we had arrived, she even explained my tardiness to our teacher. She then took a seat next to me (there were several other available seats in the room) and introduced herself, following with "Welcome to the best days of your life".
Carrie was more than kind. She was also extremely intelligent, athletic, and quite outgoing. Everybody seemed to be friends with her. They loved her compassion and her quirky sense of humor. But most of all, we loved how nothing made her bitter or cynical.
In her junior year, Carolyn was diagnosed with Leukemia. I don't know what specific kind, but it was a shock nonetheless. But instead of leaving school entirely, she decided to attend as long as possible. Long after her hair had fallen out, she was still seen in the halls, books in her arms and a smile on her face. And when she was too weak to come to class, she still managed to complete every assignment from home. We were baffled with her unwavering sense of cheerfulness, and were elated when she announced her remission.
Her senior year went well. She was back in school full time, and her hair had grown out into a cute bob. Then, one day in the March just before seventh period, she announced her relapse. We cried and shouted our anger, but Carrie didn't. She sighed and said she wasn't afraid to go through it all again. She was being brave for us. She went back into chemo, and I only saw her once again. She was bald and in a wheelchair, coming to take a final exam. She graduated on May 31, and received a standing ovation. Though I wasn't there, others have told me that she glowed with joy and pride.
Carrie passed away on July 6, 2003 in the peace of her own home, leaving us to reach a new plane; the ultimate spiritual plane. Personally, I believe that every person has a mission in life. Some take longer to realize and complete than others, and in Carolyn's case, I know she found hers early. I know that to face death with such grace, composure, and contentment can only be achieved from leading a fulfilled life. Though she was only 18, I know she did what she was put on this earth to do. We love you Carrie, and we know you loved us back. Such love transcends the boundaries between the spirit and the flesh, and we know you'll always be with us. Amen