Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental multi-fandom project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. For more details, see the relevent section in my profile. This is The 365 Project, 18 June.

In the immortal words of Samuel L. Clemens... "Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot. BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR."

Sometimes, you just have to keep doing it until you get it right.

Disclaimer: Star Trek Enterprise and all associated characters and situations are the property of CBS studios, and are used by myself for entertainment purposes without permission or intent to profit.

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"From The Top"
'Security Prompt'
By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'

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Apartment of Commander Charles Tucker III,
San Francisco, California,
United States, planet Earth, Sol system.
Three months to launch of NX-01 Enterprise.

Trip looked at the empty tumbler in his hand and reached for the half-full bottle sitting on his coffee table. Despite what some people said, it wasn't the anticipation that was the problem, it really was the arrival. He'd known, he'd known that he'd end up seeing his friends again sooner or later and they wouldn't remember any of the things they'd all gone through together, but knowing it didn't help when he'd run into Soval and his entourage leaving Starfleet Command - the Ambassador himself, Diplomatic Attache Tos... and Security Attache T'Pol.

It had been a double-whammy for Trip to face; Vulcan longitivity meant they didn't age much even in ten years, so the Secuity Attache looked just like the Starfleet Commander he'd seen last only hours before he'd died and this whole crazy mess started... only none of the history, good and bad, was there between them. That was the other blow, the last time he'd seen T'Pol look at him with that mixture of cold distance and aloof disdain had been shortly after Elisabeth's death, baby Elisabeth's death, when she had retreated so far into Vulcan logic and emotional supression to escape the pain that things between them never recovered, even until the day he'd died.

For the last few months, ever since he had woke up here instead of dead, he'd focused on the work; readying Enterprise for launch, planning with Forrest and Soval how to keep some of the worst things from happening again, trying to convince Lizzie to move away from Florida - just in case; keeping himself distracted from thinking about his past, the future he was trying to change, focusing on just being an engineer with a problem instead of being Marty McFly in a new Back To The Future remake... as if anyone could ever beat the 2018 version with Tom Welling... Trip snorted as he poured more whisky into his tumbler, he'd probably had too much, he always started making jokes like that when he did, but at the moment he just couldn't care.

"You shouldn't drink so much," A voice observed from the shadows of Trip's apartment, "Alcoholism is a disqualifying offense to serving on a ship."

Trip threw the tumbler at the sound of the voice and barely missed hitting one of the people he'd much rather have never had to seen in this life, the glass smashing against the wall and staining it with the former contents.

"Good evening, Commander Tucker," the voice continued as the speaker stepped out where Trip could see them, "My name is Harris and I have a proposition for you."

"Not interested," Trip answered, taking a drink straight from the whisky bottle now that he had lost his glass.

"I'm surprised at you, Commander," Harris walked over and took the whisky bottle from Trip, "According to your record, you have a reputation for looking out for Earth's best interests without concerning yourself with things like inter-species diplomacy and Starfleet regulations. You did assist then-Commanders Archer and Robinson in their theft of the NX-Beta prototype, did you not?"

"If you're thinking I did it because I didn't want the Vulcans telling Earth what to do, you're only half-right," Trip stood up and looked Harris in the eyes, "An' half-right means half-wrong, too. I helped Jon and A.G. 'cause I knew I was right about the engine and the intermix ratios, not for some damn human supremacy kick."

"You misunderstand, Commander," Harris sat the whisky bottle back down on Trip's coffee table, "It's not a matter of human supremacy. The organization I represent couldn't honestly care less about the affairs and state of any other species as long as they don't conflict with the well-being of Earth. What we do, we do to keep Earth safe."

"'Those who give up freedom for safety shall have neither'," Trip retorted, "It's a quote, look it up."

Harris looked at Trip with a mixture of amusement and disagreement, "Infringing on freedom is not one of my organizations' intents, Commander."

"Sure it is," Trip snorted, "You're so busy protecting everyone and everything, you're infringing on their freedom to fail, fall... that."

"You're drunk, Commander," Harris observed.

"And you're a... you're something," Trip shot back, "But tomorrow, I'll be sober."

Harris wasn't prepared for it when Trip suddenly grabbed and smashed the whisky bottle and swung the broken bottle up to his neck.

"Excessive force, could be," Trip hissed, "Then again, if World War III did any good, it's that it brought back the Castle Defense. The second you entered my apartment without permission, I could use lethal force to defend myself... hell, I don't even have to call the cops. I can just take you home and dump you in some Florida swamp for the gators to deal with the body.

Harris tried not to show that he was concerned by the closeness of the broken bottle, "If you do that, my organization will come looking for me."

Trip laughed coldly, "You overestimate your worth to them. You can always be replaced by some young gun ensign fresh out of the Academy with their head still ringing with words like 'duty' and 'honor', willing to do whatever it takes for the good of Earth. Some idealistic fool you can flatter into doing what you want..."

With the hand not holding the broken bottle, Trip shoved Harris backwards, causing the other man to stumble to maintain his footing, "Get outta my house, Harris."

Harris looked at Trip in disappointment and a hint of anger as he pressed a button on what at first glance appeared to be a wristwatch, "This isn't over, Commander Tucker."

The shimmering light that enveloped Harris told Trip that he was being beamed away by his 'organization' and the Southerner waited until he was gone before making a comment.

"No, no, it ain't... yet, anyways..."

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Author's Note: THAT, ladies and gentlebeings, is how you drop a TNG: "Pegasus" reference into ENT. Appropriate, considering that non-canonically, Pressman and the 'Pegasus Incident' were supposedly connected to Thirty-One. Certainly far better than that farce we got for a 'finale'...

Oh, and if Tom Welling (best known as Clark Kent on "Smallville") does star in a Back To The Future remake in 2018... I swear, I was just randoming picking out a year and an actor...