*Belen09 had an interesting story line for Malcolm, and shared it in a review to my story, Severance. I loved it and Belen09 was gracious enough to give me a chance to run with it. If I fumbled the idea in the execution, that's all me. Please don't go to the Severance's reviews and read Belen's idea - it will ruin the surprise.
**This is a continuation of the Severance story line, but it can stand alone, as the first chapter pretty much covers the major plot points of Severance.
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—Chapter 01—
Trip held the dagger which the Andorian Emperor Talrood had given him along with the Guards signet ring, when inducting him into the Imperial Guards of Andoria, seemingly so long ago, though he was still a StarFleet officer, as well as an Imperial Guard. It was a thing of beauty, this dagger, thought Trip as he drew the blade from its sheath to look at it for the thousandth time. A ten inch, double edged blade, unbelievably tough and wickedly sharp, it had saved his life once, during the time which the Black Wind Fleet had spent in the Romulan sector on a self-imposed mission of retribution for the Romulan attack on Vulcan.
A dozen Reman boarding parties hit the Ares that day, peppering the ship's hull with breaching pods, and they, the shock troops of the Romulans poured out of those pods. They stormed his flagship, fully expecting to butcher the crew in hand to hand combat, but they received an unpleasant surprise, for the Imperial Guards of his crew were warriors, each and every one of them trained for hand-to-hand combat, and they joined in the clash with the Remans gladly, using dagger and axe, ushaan-tor and phaser. The Vulcans logically relied almost exclusively on phasers, though here and there, Vulcans trained in the traditional Vulcan martial arts engaged the Remans in hand-to-hand bouts of extreme savagery. The human contingent relied largely on phasers as well, though here and there a MACO could be seen using a Reman melee weapon, after having wrested it from their now dead opponent.
That day had been a nasty one, thought Trip. He remembered clearly the doors opening and fourteen of those bat faced Remans storming the Bridge. The four MACOs stationed on the Bridge had turned to fire on them quickly, though two of them were brought down almost immediately by a hail of small javelins and several thrown hand axes. The two MACOs still standing managed to take out six Remans with their rifles, before the rest closed the distance with the crew, and a nasty fight for survival commenced, up close and personal..
T'Pol stood out on that day, as she had before, and would do again many times after that day. When four of the remaining Remans charged towards Trip, correctly guessing that he was the ship's captain, T'Pol rushed to engage them.
—NO! BACK OFF!, sent Trip instinctively, his thought traversing through the Bond to reach T'Pol in a fraction of a second: he was terrified, certain that he'd see his love cut down by the Remans.
His stubborn Vulcan mate, however, had her own ideas, and they did not include watching her captain be murdered on the deck of his own ship. It was her duty to defend him, so it was only logical to disobey the captain's lawful orders in this case. She hit the Remans like a wave, in an intricate dance of arms and legs, her training in unarmed combat by the Vulcan Security Directorate's finest instructors her saving grace now.
Three of them she held up, but the fourth Reman slipped past her and got to Trip, tackled him to the ground. They'd grappled for a few moments, before Trip freed a hand, drew his Guard's dagger and drove it repeatedly into the Reman's torso, until that ugly motherfucker had stopped moving. He'd then gained his footing to determine the state of things, and much more importantly, the state of his mate.
T'Pol had disabled one of the Remans, killed another, suffering a nasty cut to the face, an ear ripped half off, a deep cut to her left thigh, two stab wounds to her right arm, two broken fingers and a black eye in the process, but the third Reman was very good and he was giving her trouble. Trip joined his mate, and working together they made short work of him, Trip driving his dagger through the Reman's temple and into the brain using an icepick grip on his dagger, after T'Pol had slammed him against a wall, stunning the creature for a brief moment.
Trip thought back to that day, and smiled, for after the attack was beaten off, T'Pol had noticed his look of concern and tried to make light of it.
"How do I look?" she'd said, looking as if she'd been hit by a truck.
"Gorgeous," he'd said, and smiled.
Her emotional control frayed, T'Pol had openly smiled back at him that day in front of the entire Bridge crew, and Trip had embraced her, then shamelessly kissed her cheek in public, laughing with relief, for he'd been certain that the Remans would kill his mate.
After that assault, Trip began wearing the katana with which he'd killed Koss, the day he'd claimed T'Pol as his own, and it went quite well with the black uniform of Andoria's Imperial Guards, which he'd taken to wearing during their time in the Romulan Sector, though that uniform sported a StarFleet patch on the right arm, to go along with the Emperor's sigil stitched on the left breast of his uniform. So he carried the sword after that day, fully expecting to be chided mercilessly for such a thing initially, but thirty-four ships of the Black Wind had also withstood the Reman boarding parties, and no one thought he was overreacting. For weeks after, the engineers of every ship were occupied cranking out a wide variety of melee weapons for the crew of the Black Wind to carry, if phasers should fail to stop the next Reman wave.
Trip had made T'Pol's weapons precisely to her specifications: a double edged short sword, razor sharp, with a sixteen inch blade, two and a half inches wide, with a Japanese style cord wrapped hilt, and it was paired with a long dagger, styled as the sword, but in smaller dimensions. T'Pol carried them both at her left hip and she'd been trained to use these weapons, separately or together, and although T'Pol was too logical to do so if a phaser was available, she handled them well, and Trip felt better knowing she had them available as an option.
Those days were something else, thought Trip. Of the one hundred ninety nine ships he'd taken into the Romulan sector, he'd lost twenty-three ships and some three thousand crewmen in that sector, although such losses were considered light, in view of a seven month campaign, the ferocity of the Romulans, and the severity of the spanking which the Black Wind had levied on the Romulans.
"What's Trip doing out there?" said Charlie, Trip's father, looking out the kitchen window at his son, sitting on the dock.
"Just thinking, I reckon," said Angela, Trip's mother, as she chopped vegetables. "It's good to have him back, Charlie, but he's changed. One minute he's my boy, the next a stranger."
"War will do that, Angela. I imagine he was hoping the Romulans would kill him, before he had to face you," said Charlie with a laugh, grabbing Angela and pulling her close for a kiss on the cheek.
"Stop it, you fool," said Angela, swatting half-heartedly at her husband. "But you're right about one thing, if I could have gotten my hands on him last year, I'd have killed him with my bare hands, for almost getting himself cut down by that Vulcan, Koss, over T'Pol. I can't believe he did that! What if he had gotten himself killed?!"
Charlie laughed, seeing Angela about to whip herself into a retroactive frenzy over Trip's decisions, and rushed over to soothe his wife.
"There, there," he said, rubbing Angela's shoulders. "It's ok, honey, that's over with…"
"Well, what about this damned war with the Romulans," said Angela, agitated now. "He was supposed to be an engineer of the exploration ship Enterprise, not serving on ship of war. And certainly not on that red ship of his that looks like a bull's eye to me!"
The footage from the Battle of Vulcan had made it to Earth's news service a few days later, and the Tuckers were glued to the television screens all the way up to the end, when that damned double Iron Circle warped in on the Romulan's rear and blasted them to hell and back, while the ships of the Red Line poured it on like crazy from the front, in a display of firepower never before seen by humans.
More shocking still, the military press officer named that fleet the Black Wind Fleet, commanded by Fleet Captain Charles Tucker from the Ares, and used his laser pointer to pick out the red Andorian battlecruiser in the center of the Iron Circle. No one knew Trip had made captain to begin with, and Angela just about had a stroke at the thought of her boy in the middle of that firefight. And she came even closer to a stroke a few days later, when news footage showed photos taken earlier of Trip standing next to a beautiful Vulcan on Andoria, and named her T'Pol, his Vulcan mate, and described the Vulcan ritual of kal-if-fee by which Trip had acquired T'Pol's hand. Though Charlie didn't know about the kal-if-fee, he knew about the marriage, and had kept it a secret, wishing to give his son the gift of surprising his family, but now with Trip's secrets unexpectedly outed, his wife's voice wound up to a higher and higher pitch, giving the town's air powered tornado siren a run for its money. And then, to top it all off, her boy had disappeared into Romulan space for seven months and all the footage StarFleet got back from the Black Wind was one horrible battle after another.
"It's a wonder that I've got any hair left, Charlie, the way I was tugging on it those seven long months!"
"Come on, hon," said Charlie, kissing her neck, "it's all right. He's here, isn't he?"
"I guess," said Angela, her ruffled feathers being gently pressed down by Charlie's tender ministrations, "but I swear, that boy's got a death wish or something."
"Well," said Charlie, "if he has the nerve to get himself killed, I know he'll wait for you on the other side, shaking like a leaf, 'cause he'll know he's in for a hell of a whooping."
"Charlie, I swear, I will blow my brains out if that happens," said Angela, "just to get my hands on him sooner."
"That's my girl," said Charlie. "You'll show Trip, and I'll start dating Kimberly Burr once you're gone. She's got the hots for me and I'll date the hell out of her! Anyway, be nice to those kids, it's their last day here, before they head back to Vulcan."
"You most certainly will not 'date the hell' out of Kimberly Burr, Charlie!" said Angela. "I know she flirts with you, but you know damned well I don't like th—"
"Come on baby, don't be like that, it's not like I encouraged her, or anything. She just knows what she wants, and what she wants is me."
"Charlie Tucker, she is thirty years younger than you!" said Angela, unsure if Charlie was serious, or not. "On top of which she has a reputation."
"I know," said Charlie, with a perverted smile of imaginary anticipation. "She'll probably kill me in the sack, but what a way to go!"
"You're about to go now, you old fool!" said Angela, brandishing her knife.
"I hope I am not interrupting you," said T'Pol, walking into the kitchen from the back patio where she'd been meditating.
"No, hon," said Angela. "Come on in. You're going to be dealing with this kind of foolishness yourself now. The Tucker men go soft in the head as they age."
Charlie laughed at that, and said, "I bet you wish you'd never married into this family now, eh, T'Pol?"
"Quite the opposite is true, Charlie," said T'Pol, meaning it.
She'd met hundreds of Tuckers in her two months on Earth, where she and Trip had come in order that she be introduced to her mate's family, and it did not turn out as she'd expected. She had been secretly dreading the thought of meeting Trip's family, certain that they would reject her, as an alien and particularly as a Vulcan, but quite the opposite was true, helped by the fact that the Tuckers were on the whole, quite unconventional, and some of them quite brilliant. Best of all, compared to some of the eccentric characters in this clan she was comfortably average, so far as standing out. It was also gratifying that they truly treated her like family, and if they accidentally transgressed Vulcan mores, by pressing her with hug or kiss, they also apologized for it sincerely once they realized how uncomfortable T'Pol was with such physical contact. No, despite her predictions, T'Pol was quite pleased with the new half of her family.
"You look very cute, hon," said Angela, eyeing her new daughter-in-law.
Trip had bought T'Pol some beachwear on their first day in Florida, some Capris, some shorts, some cute tops, a big floppy hat and a few pairs of sandals, and T'Pol had on her favorite blue Capris, with a yellow halter top and some sandals, looking quite at ease, and a world away from the prim, proper and very nervous, though trying hard to hide it, Vulcan which Trip had brought home that first day.
"Thank you," said T'Pol. "Have you seen Trip?"
"Yeah, darling," said Charlie, "he's out on the dock, brooding, looks like. Go cheer him up."
T'Pol joined Trip on the dock, sitting next to him after running her hands through his hair, and kissing him on the cheek. She felt remarkably free with him here, away from the eyes of others, Vulcan and StarFleet both.
"I am going to miss this place just as much as you when we leave," said T'Pol, earnestly.
"We'll be back, T'Pol," said Trip. "We'll have a place on Vulcan and a place here as well. My parents have five acres, and dad's suggested I build us a house on my next leave. I think it's part of his plot to lure us here more often."
"You could do that? Build a house?"
"I'm an engineer, baby," said Trip. "I could build us a sweet beach house in a matter of weeks."
"That would be nice, Trip," said T'Pol. "I still can not believe you got me out there in that wild ocean."
"Yeah," said Trip, laughing to himself, for since that day T'Pol had indulged in flights of fancy, in which she compared herself to a seasoned sailor, a veritable seadog, and a pirate princess.
Trip had spent a great deal of time on the water, fishing, surfing, swimming, scuba diving, sailing, all while T'Pol remained securely on shore, for the vastness of the ocean was intimidating to the daughter of a desert planet, but finally, she'd allowed Trip to lead her out in four feet of water, where he taught her how to swim, and then allowed Trip to take her out in the deep aboard a Sea-Doo personal watercraft, which was like riding a motorcyle on the ocean. She'd felt so brave that day, and Trip had rewarded her courage with a lengthy make out session under the shade of some palm trees. She truly would miss this place, the very minute they left. Even the summertime temperatures which had Humans panting like dogs, felt like perfection to a Vulcan.
"It's been too long," said Rear Admiral Archer, looking at Trip and T'Pol, a smile on his face. "I can't believe you're leaving tomorrow. It's too soon."
"Doctor Phlox will miss you also," said Lieutenant Mayweather, punching Trip on the arm. "You're his star patient: what, thirty-four visits to Sick Bay in some state of serious medical distress?"
"Don't tease him about that, Travis," said Hoshi sternly, her Lieutenant's bars shining brightly.
The entire crew of the Enterprise had been bumped up in rank on their return from the Delphic Expanse, and put on a fast track for further promotions in view of the hardships they suffered in the Expanse, and their dedication to the completion of what was widely viewed as a suicide mission. To his delight, Archer had managed to avoid a prestigious desk job back at HQ, and retain command of the Enterprise, as his flagship.
"Yeah," said Trip, eyeing the waitress and signalling for a refill on everyone's drink order, "we've been gone for a while. By the time we return we'll be serving under Admiral Sato and Grand Admiral Mayweather, the way you guys are getting promoted."
"You're not wrong," said Archer, with a smile. "Treaties have been signed and the navies of the Federation will grow noticeably in size in the next few years, although we'll all be adopting the StarFleet designation, regardless of planet of origin. The Tellarites are petitioning to be accepted to the Federation, the Risans and Denobulans are considering it, as are the Xyrillians, and there will be more, in time."
"What about Malcolm?" said Trip, for Malcolm had made Lt-Commander for his service to Talrood, a crucial ally to Earth and Vulcan, not for his service aboard the Enterprise against the Xindi.
"He makes Commander when he's assigned to a ship. He's kind of floating in limbo right now, with him just taking his leisure on Andoria. Speaking of which, that's a snazzy uniform," said Archer, noting Trip's black Guards uniform. "Not regulation though."
"So let the Admiralty fire me if they don't like it," said Trip. "Frankly, I'd welcome that decision. It would give me a chance to slip a couple of buns in the oven."
The humans laughed at that, but T'Pol was confused.
"I do not understand the reference," said T'Pol, looking around the table for an explanation.
"Just as well," said Trip. "It refers to a mysterious concept, far beyond Vulcan comprehension."
"If you say so, Captain," said T'Pol, making a mental note to investigate the meaning of the Captain's words at the earliest opportunity.
Reaching into his vest pocket, Archer drew out a PADD and slid it towards T'Pol, with a smile.
"Now, speaking of promotions," said Archer. "Congratulations T'Pol. You've just made captain, and you command the Ares."
"What about Fleet Captain Tucker?" said T'Pol, without picking up the PADD. "The Ares is his ship."
"He already got his promotions, first to Captain, then to Fleet Captain, due to Talrood's influence," said Archer.
"Thanks a lot," said Trip, shooting Jon a dark look.
"I don't mean it like that, Trip," said Jon, reaching out to tousle Trip's hair. "It's just that the Emperor was the first to see in you the kind of command potential you've displayed, and he was 100% right. The rest of us were blinded by seeing you as an engineer, but to be fair, it's not often one goes from Chief Engineer to Fleet Captain in a matter of months."
"All right," said Trip, "you're forgiven."
"Anyway, Command just wanted to make sure you could handle a fleet before making it official, and you guys proved yourselves in spades, so it's official now. The Black Wind even made it into our instructional manuals at StarFleet Academy due to your Romulan Sector Campaign."
"His ship, Admiral?" said T'Pol, bringing the conversation back to Trip's command. "If my mate is being transferred to another fleet—"
"No, T'Pol," said Archer. "Nothing changes there. Trip may continue to make the Ares his flagship, but you are its captain now."
"Yeah," said Trip, "I'm going to take advantage of this opportunity to mix things up a bit."
"Your fleet, your call," said Archer. "What do you have in mind, Trip?"
"Yes," said T'Pol, turning her head to look at Trip. "Tell us, Fleet Captain Tucker, what DO you have in mind? I trust that you are not looking to abandon my ship, just yet, for I would take that as a personal affront."
"Actually, I was thinking of filling a ship with Vulcan, Andorian and Human beauties," said Trip, and Hoshi, Travis and Archer laughed, knowing that T'Pol's jealousy was a very real thing, despite the fact that it was never acknowledged, "and going to a clothes optional dress code. It would be a bold new step in the integration of our forces. Naturally, I would make that ship my flagship, in order to show my support for creating an even more amicable atmosphere between our respective species."
Trip took a drink, his eyes twinkling as he watched T'Pol over the rim of his glass, but the Vulcan refused to rise to the bait, merely looking back at Trip, a composed look on her face.
—I would rethink that plan, if I were you, sent T'Pol through the Bond. I do not think it would end well for you, Fleet Captain Tucker.
—You're probably right, sent Trip, along with a feeling of amusement at the implied threat in T'Pol's words, and then a feeling of pride in his mate. The Ares is a hell of a ship, T'Pol. I want you out there on the hull, sponge in hand, washing her down every Sunday. Congratulations, Captain!
—Thank you, Trip. I would like to say that I could not have done it without you, but I was actually on a stellar trajectory in my career, before I was led astray by you.
"Anyway," said Archer, "you deserve recognition for your loyalty, T'Pol. Command meant to offer you a higher ranking and more prestigious position in StarFleet's bureaucracy back on Earth, but I told them you wouldn't take it unless Trip was also posted to Earth, and he's needed aboard a ship for now. If I was mistaken about that, I can still set things right."
"You were not mistaken, Admiral," said T'Pol, looking at Jon, and pocketing the PADD Archer had given her earlier, reassured that she and her mate would remain together, "and I thank you for looking out for my interests."
Archer nodded, pleased that he knew T'Pol well enough to predict the things which meant most to her. They'd come a long way since he'd fantasized fervently of shoving her out of an air lock.
"They've already converted one of the conference rooms aboard the Ares into a Fleet Captain's Ready Room, at the Jupiter Yards," said Archer. "I've heard it's huge, Trip, your Ready Room that is, and now I'm officially jealous of you. I'm also jealous of Captain T'Pol - her Ready Room on the Ares is twice the size of mine, which feels like a broom closet now."
"In that case, the wife and I will pick up the tab on tonight's drinking binge," said Trip, and a roar of approval rose from Hoshi, Travis and Admiral Archer. "With the fat raise she'll be getting as captain, I can put my feet up and relax. I've made it!"
"Doctor!" said Hoshi, catching sight of the Denobulan, and waving him over to the table.
Trip, already buzzed, rose to give the Denobulan a hug, instead of a handshake. The Doctor was surprised at the greeting, but pleased.
"Your greeting is much appreciated, Fleet Captain Tucker," said Phlox with a sincere smile, "but I suspect you should eat something about now."
T'Pol nodded to the Denobulan, and said, "Forgive him, Doctor. Captain Tucker gets emotional when he drinks. However, it is good to see you again."
"Same here, SubCommander," said Phlox.
"She already knows, Doctor," said Archer.
"Ah," said Phlox, "then I should have said, same here, Captain. Congratulations on a well deserved promotion, T'Pol!"
"Thank you, Doctor," said T'Pol.
"Now," said Travis, "let's get sauced! Our adventuring duo is footing the bill."
"Excellent," said Dr. Phlox, eager to wet his whistle.