CHAPTER ONE
Author makes no money from his work. Okay not to sue him.
"Wha'd'ya mean, we ain't goin' after'em?"
Trip's accent tended to worsen whenever he was agitated, T'pol had noticed. Archer had noticed it too, and he fidgeted slightly.
"It's been decided that Enterprise will remain on station, here in-system, for the foreseeable future," Archer said neutrally. He didn't like it either.
"We lose seven million people," Trip grated, "one of'em my sister, not to mention the others aboard who lost people, we know who did it, and we just. . .sit here?"
"I argued that Enterprise should at least be moved out-system, as a picket-post if nothing else. No dice." Archer sat back, rubbing his face.
"The fact is, people are terrified that another attack will be incoming," he explained. "As a result, they want us, and the Columbia, when she launches, to be here. As protection."
"The best protection," Trip almost hissed the word, "is to go out there, hunt these bastards down, and kill them all!"
"If I may, Commander," T'Pol interjected, "keeping ships in orbit or nearby for security is a logical move, consider. . . ."
"Was Vulcan attacked, Commander?" Trip's eyes looked like angry laser heads as they turned to bear on her. "Did you just lose seven million of your citizens to a sneak attack? No? And, in case it's slipped your logic, we don't have nearly as many ships as Vulcan."
"Trip," Archer's voice took on a warning timbre.
"What?" Trip almost snarled.
"I understand how you feel, Trip," Archer tried to keep his own voice reasonable. "But orders are ord. . . ."
"My home is in ashes, and my baby sister is dead," Trip said flatly. As if a switch had been flipped, Trip was suddenly far more calm. Jonathon Archer felt uneasy, almost wary. "Do you really wanna tell me how much you understand how I feel?" Jon nodded, acknowledging the point.
"Trip, I understand the need to hit back," he said with more force. "But our orders are firm. We're staying here, Commander." Using Trip's rank, Archer hoped to bring the discussion back to a more professional level.
"I'm not," Trip said suddenly, a strange look appearing in his eyes. "I'm done, Jon." He reached up to his shoulder, removing the pips of his rank, and tossed them onto Archer's desk.
"I quit."
Before Archer could frame a reply, Trip was gone.
STE
Trip was packing when his door chime sounded. He sighed, wondering who it was. Jon had already been there, trying to talk Trip out of resigning. Trip had simply showed him the letter he'd already sent to BuPers. Archer had looked crushed when he left, but Trip's anger refused to give an inch.
"Come," he called, finishing up. Starfleet was sending a shuttle for him. It was, in fact, already on it's way up, but Trip was ready to go.
The door slid open, revealing T'Pol.
"May I enter?" she asked calmly.
"Sure," he waved her in. "And I didn't mean to be so. . .well, I'm sorry," he looked her in the eye. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."
"Apology accepted," she nodded. "The Captain has informed me that you have already submitted your resignation."
"Yep," he nodded. "Shuttle's on the way to pick me up, matter o' fact."
"I will be. . .disappointed, to see you depart," T'Pol said evenly.
"Why?" Trip looked puzzled. "I mean, I give you more trouble'n anybody, T'Pol. Sure, it's mostly just good natured ribbin', but, I figured you'd be happy to be rid of me."
"You would be mistaken," T'Pol replied. "I will. . .miss you, Commander."
"Reckon I'll miss you too, T'Pol," Trip nodded. "You've made a real difference in how Enterprise has managed, these last two years. I ain't sure we'd o' did so well, you hadn't been with us." T'Pol merely nodded, for once accepting the human practice of compliments without comment. Knowing that he meant it probably influenced her decision to do so.
"You should reconsider," T'Pol told him. "Allow yourself time to process your anger. Make your decision when your anger is in abeyance."
"My anger won't be in abeyance until the Xindi are atoms," Trip told her darkly. "I aim to find a way to make them sorry they ever heard o' Earth."
"And how do you propose to do that?" T'Pol asked, her Eyebrow of Extreme Skepticism approaching her hair line.
"Ever hear the story of Daniel Webster?" Trip asked.
"I have not." Just then the com sounded.
"Commander, your shuttle has arrived," Hoshi called.
"Thanks, hon," he called back. "You be sure and keep ole Malcolm in line for me, now, hear?"
"I will, Trip," Hoshi said. On the bridge, tears filled her eyes.
"Good girl." He released the button. The door chime sounded, and Trip opened it to reveal two ratings.
"Thanks, fellas," he said politely as they took his things.
"Welcome, Commander," one said as they departed. Trip turned back to T'Pol.
"Reckon this is where we part ways, T'Pol," he smiled slightly, but the gesture never reached his eyes. "Since luck is illogical, I will simply say "Dif-tor heh smusma, T'Pol t'Ti'Valka'ain," Trip said, his hand raised in the ta'al. T'Pol's eyes widened in surprise, but she returned the gesture.
"Sochya eh dif, Charles of Earth" she intoned solemnly. "I will inquire of this. . .Webster," she promised. Trip smiled sadly.
"You do that, Darlin'."
STE
"I signed less paperwork than this when I joined," Trip muttered to himself. At least they were finally releasing him. He'd been held hostage for two days while Jeffries, Gardner, and finally, Forrest himself had tried to convince him to stay.
"Dammit, Tucker, it's ridiculous that you're leaving, when we need men like you more than ever!" Forrest had lost his temper in their final confrontation.
"Why?" Trip had asked.
"We need people who can get ships out of the docks and into space!" Forrest had almost yelled.
"Why? So they can waste away in orbit?" Trip had shot back acidly. "If you were building ships to go out, hunt down the Xindi, and destroy them, then I'd work my fingers to nubs to get it done."
"But you ain't."
And that, as they say, had been that. He'd been officially released the next morning. He was just now finishing up three hours of out processing.
He had shipped most of his belongings into storage, keeping only what he needed to get by. He had a lot of pay coming, more than he'd realized. That was good, he decided, since he had a lot to do.
Starting with a shuttle ride.
STE
Trip exited the main building of the Miami Shuttle Port, and walked to a waiting taxi.
"Downtown," he ordered. The driver looked at him in the mirror, question in his eyes.
"Just downtown, for now," Trip repeated. "I need to have a look around."
"Yes, sir," the driver nodded. Trip looked without really seeing anything, noticing absently that the Xindi attack hadn't damaged anything nearby. He pulled out a PADD, working until the cab driver coughed lightly. Trip looked up.
"Anywhere in particular now, sir?" the driver asked. Trip looked around, and smiled suddenly.
"This is good, in fact," he replied. He handed the man his credit voucher.
"Add twenty to it, for you," he ordered.
"Thank you, sir," the driver nodded. "I appreciate it." Trip stepped out of the hover cab, walking up on the sidewalk, where he examined the light pole in front of him.
OLD BOOKS, the small sign proclaimed. There was an address, but no phone number. Trip smiled slightly.
"Some things don't change," he said more to himself than aloud, and started walking. The address wasn't far, and ten minutes of walking found him standing in front of a truly ancient building. Taking a deep, calming breath, Trip entered the store.
The small bell above the door alerted the clerk to his presence. He waited patiently, examining the books available for sale, until. . . .
"May I help you?"
Trip turned toward the voice, to find himself looking at one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. And that included T'Pol.
Tall, muscular but still very feminine, dark hair framing a tanned face, she stood waiting. Trip mentally shook himself.
Not what you're here for, Tucker, he told himself.
"I'd like to see him," Trip told her softly.
"Him?" she asked, looking puzzled. "I'm afraid I don't. . . ."
"If you don't, then I'm in the wrong place," Trip said, disappointment tinging his voice. "I'm sorry for bothering you, ma'am." He turned to go.
"Wait," he heard a male voice behind him. Trip froze. He hadn't heard that voice in a long time. Slowly he turned back.
"Hello, young Charles," the man smiled. "I am, somehow, not surprised."
"Hello, L. . .sir," he amended.
"Please, come in," the man waved. "Neera, please see to it that we are not disturbed."
"Yes, m'Lord," the woman inclined her head, eyeing Trip with renewed interest.
"Pleasure meetin' ya, ma'am," Trip gave her his best smile.
"Likewise, I am certain," Neera replied, reminding him of T'Pol.
"Come along, young Tucker," the man behind the counter ordered, amused. "Your charm will be lost upon Neera."
"Do not be so certain, m'Lord," Neera replied, still looking at Trip. "He is. . .unusual."
"You have no idea, my dear," the man laughed. He led Trip through the doorway, and up a flight of stairs. Near the back of the second floor, the store owner ushered Trip into a finely appointed room, where he pointed to a chair.
"Bourbon, if I recall?" the man said.
"Yes, sir," Trip nodded, taking the seat. The man poured them both a healthy drink, and returned. Settling into his seat, the host looked closely at the man before, comparing him to the boy he remembered.
"I'm flattered you remember me, sir," Trip said honestly.
"You are quite unforgettable, Charles," the man sipped at his drink. "What is it that brings you in search of me after so long?" he asked.
"I need your help, Lord Janos." Trip's voice was calm, even cold. Janos nodded.
"I suspect you do, at that," he agreed, taking another sip of his drink. "A rare year, Charles," he held the glass up, allowing light to pass through the amber liquid. "The year before the War. Last bottling for. . .a very long time," he said wistfully. He looked sharply at Trip.
"What is it you require?"
"I intend to hunt the Xindi," Trip said simply.
"To what purpose?" Janos asked, leaning back into his chair.
"Isn't that obvious?" Trip replied, waving his hand in the general direction of the trench west of where they sat.
"You would go, alone, to fight against the race that has attacked the earth?"
"I would go into the fires of hell, if it meant I took the Xindi with me," Trip's voice took on an edge.
"I see," Janos nodded. "Vengeance is often one's undoing, Charles," he cautioned.
"My sister was killed in the attack," Trip told him bitterly. "She never harmed a soul, Janos. A sweet soul, kind to everyone she met. And I swore to protect her."
"And you failed." There was no judgement.
"And I failed," Trip nodded. "There's nothing left but revenge. To build a pyre to the heavens with the bodies of the Xindi."
"I like what I hear from you, Charles," Janos admitted after a moment. "It makes my heart sing to hear a young warrior planning to destroy his enemies. But," he added, "I find myself, puzzled, I suppose. Wondering what has become of the boy who would not kill."
"He grew up," Trip shrugged. "I've learned better, Janos. I almost hate myself for sayin' it, but. . .sometimes, there just ain't no other way."
"That is true, sadly," Janos agreed. "What do you require of me?"
"I need a ship," Trip said simply. "One that can go toe-to-toe with anything out there. And survive."
"And you assume I have one."
"I assume you can get me one," Trip countered. "Whether you will, or not, that's the question."
Janos regarded Trip with a neutral expression for some time. Trip forced himself to be patient, hard though it was. You didn't rush, or pressure, this man. Not if you wanted to remain healthy.
"Three of my own people we killed by these. . .Xindi." He made the name sound like a curse.
"What?" Trip was shocked. He didn't think that. . . .
"You thought it impossible, yes?" Janos smiled, bitterly. "Difficult, but not impossible, child. One of them was. . .special, to me." For a moment, a look of pain crossed his features, but it was locked away just a quickly. He looked at Trip again, eyes hard.
"You know what I will require of you." A statement, not a question.
"I do," Trip nodded. He's expected this.
"It is not so bad, Charles," Janos told him. "You will, in fact, find it beneficial, in the long run. Especially if you pursue this course."
"The sadness I see in you does not agree with you, Janos," Trip replied. "But there's only once course for me, now. And I'll pay the price."
"I can use someone like you in my family, Charles," Janos admitted. "You know that I do what I can to limit mankind's determination to destroy itself. Does that not sound worthwhile to you?"
"I'd prefer to concentrate on making sure that mankind can never again be attacked in this way," Trip countered. "Reckon that ain't equally worthwhile?"
"Well spoken," Janos smiled, a genuine smile. "I think we can agree to that. Are you certain you want to pay this price, Charles? There's no going back, you know."
"I remember," Trip nodded. "I will spend the gift wisely, m'Lord," he promised.
"Of that I have no doubt." Looking over Trip's shoulder, he nodded. Trip turned, and saw Neera standing behind him. He'd neither seen, nor heard, her enter.
Before he could speak, Neera grabbed him by the shoulders, her grip unbelievably strong. Trip saw a flash of white, felt a tremendous force slam into his shoulder, and then he knew nothing else.