ACT ONE
The telemetry revealed nothing new.
Expression set in a frown, Trip Tucker studied the newly installed holo-table with the focus that he normally reserved for engineering problems. It was exactly as the earlier battle plans had painted it, but, for some reason, the data crawling across his screen caused his skin to itch. Glancing up from the table, he met T'Pol's stoic expression with one of his own. She quirked an eyebrow before returning her eyes to the table. Without the bond, he realized, he would never have been able to tell how tired she was at this moment.
"As you can see from this information," Admiral Black's voice echoed out of the wall speakers, "Commander Lundmark's scan has verified our initial concerns about the construction facility."
"The Xindi ships are gone," Commodore Archer noted from the head of the holo-table. He was manipulating the controls with practiced ease, but Trip realized that wasn't very surprising. After all, this secure briefing room had been converted to a combat control facility. During the engagement it would be Archer's station, so the commodore had to be familiar with the table.
"There are also only two Warbirds," an Australian voice pointed out, and it took a moment for Tucker to recognize Commodore Burnside Clapp through the comm distortions.
"Will Stockholm be providing realtime telemetry?" another voice asked, and Trip mentally shrugged when he realized that he didn't recognize the woman speaking.
"That's the intent," Black said. "As long as Commander Lundmark can remain undetected, Stockholm will be sending data bursts with updated situation reports." For a moment, the conference call was silent as the various ship and fleet commanders digested the data before them. In that heartbeat, Trip found himself reflecting on Endeavour's status. With Lieutenant Hsiao still aboard the UES Hyperion, Tucker's principal flight operations officer was a newly minted ensign just out of STC. Several minor systems had been declared operational, but hadn't been sufficiently field tested for Tucker's tastes. None of the primary systems were a concern, though, so that was a relief.
A mental nudge brought him back to the present, and Trip glanced up to meet T'Pol's steady (albeit slightly amused) gaze. She still hadn't explained how a door had mysteriously appeared in the wall shared by their respective cabins. In that hazy moment of semi-consciousness when he had awakened to find her walking through the wall, he had been unaccountably reminded of seeing Daniels do that very thing. Despite his feelings for her, Trip found the thought of T'Pol being even remotely involved in that temporal nonsense chilling.
"Operation Pandora has a green light," Fleet Admiral Gardner's voice sounded. "Second and Sixth Fleets will deploy at zero nine hundred tomorrow as planned."
"Third and Fourth Fleets are to deploy at ten hundred hours, also as planned," Black picked up the instructions. Trip found himself nodding slightly. One of Commodore Archer's additions to the plan had been to send two fleets in diversionary maneuvers intended to make it appear as though they were planning to retake the Vigrid system. Even though the station had been destroyed, the system itself remained a strategic vantage point that the Romulans needed to hold to maintain their invasion. It was hoped that just the hints of an attempt to reclaim the system would force the Romulans to direct additional resources to hold the system.
"Orders are to remain sealed for the members of your crews outside of your command staff until you are underway," the Vice Chief of Naval Operations continued. "Operational security is absolutely essential for this mission to succeed." Trip fought the urge to roll his eyes: when was OPSEC not essential for a mission's success?
"Good luck," Admiral Gardner offered before the comm line went silent.
"Here we go," Archer muttered into the moment of silence that followed. He looked up from the table, smiling slightly at them. "Didn't mean to get the two of you out of bed," he smirked, innuendo dripping from his voice. Trip gave the commodore a dark look before adjusting the robe that he wore over his pajama bottoms. Both had been a gift from T'Pol on his last birthday; as he had learned, Triaxian silk made fantastic night clothes for men too.
Besides, it was better for morale if he actually showed up on the bridge wearing clothes during emergencies.
Still in her duty uniform, T'Pol gave the commodore a single upraised and unamused eyebrow before turning her focus to Trip. He already knew what she was going to say before she spoke.
"I will alert the department heads, Captain," she informed him in her normal monotone before turning toward the door.
"And get a status report from Dan," he instructed. As she exited the room, T'Pol gave him a backwards glance that he instantly recognized as her subtle way of telling him to shut up so she could do her job. Despite himself, he grinned for a moment before turning to Archer. "Any orders, Commodore?" he asked.
"Coffee," Archer replied with an exaggerated sigh. "Lots of coffee. And I'll need my team rousted out of bed." His expression suddenly changed to one of worry. He tried to hide it, but Trip had known him too long to not recognize it.
"Something wrong, sir?" Tucker asked, and the commodore gave him a glower for a moment. Finally, the older man sighed again and nodded, his fierce expression faltering. He gestured to the holo-table.
"This," he said. "I'm a pilot, Trip, not a soldier." The commodore's shoulders slumped slightly. "Yet here I am, about to command a fleet." He glanced at Tucker with worried eyes. "I don't think I'm ready for this."
"Who is?" Trip asked softly. "I know I sure as hell wasn't ready for my job when you pinned the extra pip on my uniform." Archer smiled at that, and Tucker took a moment to bask in the memory. It had been difficult, with Jon barely able to move from the emergency surgery that had been required to save his life. T'Pol had been looking on from a nearby biobed, eyes gleaming with pride, as Hoshi read the orders and Phlox smiled broadly. Trip knew it was a memory that he would cherish until his body was returned to the stars.
"Go get dressed, Trip," Archer ordered with another smile. "You don't look very captainly in your silk jammies."
"T'Pol thinks I cut a dashing figure in these things," Tucker retorted as he rounded the table and headed for the door. He grinned. "She told me that I was very aesthetically appealing in blue."
"Now that's a compliment for the ages," the commodore snickered before returning his full attention to the holo-table. "Don't forget the coffee," he reminded Trip.
An hour later, Tucker was in the Endeavour briefing room, studying the expressions of his command staff. Sipping from the cup that contained the herbal Vulcan tea that T'Pol insisted he drink, he winced briefly at the taste. To his dismay (but not surprise), Senior Chief Killick had flatly refused to provide him with coffee, claiming that the first officer had already threatened dire consequences if he did so.
Apparently, the chef was more afraid of T'Pol than of his commanding officer.
Lieutenant Commander Eisler was glowering at the data flashing on the screen and, to Trip's dismay, he appeared as sharp-eyed and coherent as ever. Knowing that the tactical officer had spent most if not all of the night studying the battle plan, Trip found himself wondering how the German managed to not look tired. Maybe he's a robot under that flesh, Trip mused, recalling a recent entry into Endeavour's movie night. T'Pol had not been amused by the time travel aspect of the classic film.
Seated alongside the tactical officer as usual, Lieutenant Commander Hess appeared as tired as Trip felt, and was downing coffee by the liter. Her uniform was rumpled, as if she had slept in it, and there were grease stains on her left hand. She looked exactly like someone who had spent the last twenty hours purging EPS manifolds.
Trip tried not to envy her too much.
"Communication systems will be hardcoded to my authorization codes," Tucker continued his briefing. Lieutenant Devereux glanced up from the PADD in front of her, a flicker of hurt crossing her face. "This comes directly from Starfleet Command," Trip continued. He understood the lieutenant's sense of betrayal; this was tantamount to saying that she wasn't trusted. "And is a fleet-wide order. I have to approve any communication going out."
"Lieutenant Hsiao is still on the Hyperion," Devereux pointed out, and Trip nodded before glancing to T'Pol.
"Commander Rivers has indicated that the fault in Hyperion's flight computer has not yet been isolated," the Vulcan revealed. "He is confident that the problem will be repaired before departure time."
"And if it isn't?" Hess asked. As she had since he first met her, Anna ignored the protocols that their respective ranks called for. It was one of the things that Trip liked the most about her. "Seems pretty stupid to launch without our chief helmsman on board."
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Trip replied. He turned to Eisler, an expectant look on his face.
"Weapon systems are fully checked out, sir," the lieutenant commander growled, clearly recognizing his cue. "All phase cannons have been zeroed and are prepared for action."
"Any complaints about the new ordnance?" Tucker asked. The tactical officer's expression darkened.
"With all due respect to Starfleet Command," Eisler said angrily, "whoever decided to fund these mark sixes should be lined up against a wall and shot." Trip gave him a startled look; Rick was rarely so open about any disagreements he had with Starfleet Command. Clearly, Hess had been a bad influence on the tactical officer. "I don't care if we can shoot more of them, sir," Eisler continued. "If what we do shoot doesn't penetrate, then it's a waste of time."
"Like shooting BBs against a concrete wall," Master Chief Mackenzie agreed sourly.
"I'll pass that on," Trip replied. "New hull polarizers checking out?" he asked, and the master chief replied even before the TAC.
"We're reading a twenty percent increase in efficiency," Mackenzie confirmed almost proudly. Understandably so: the master chief had headed the team that reverse-engineered the Orion hull polarizers. Hess gave the COB a sidelong glance, amusement written on her face.
"Twenty-three percent, actually," she corrected. Trip nodded, then glanced at Phlox. The Denobulan gave him a weak smile, reminding Tucker once more how much he missed the doctor's cheerful optimism. Silently, he cursed this damned war for what it had taken from everyone.
"Sickbay is fully operational," the doctor declared, "and ready for casualty collection." Phlox grimaced slightly at his words. "Lieutenant Reyes is settling in nicely, as are the new medical technicians."
"Good." Trip rose to his feet. Without hesitation, his command staff followed suit. "Brief your departments," he instructed. "We deploy in three hours."
