...Touching and Touched

Disclaimer: Star Trek: Enterprise is the property of CBS/Paramount. All original material herein is the property of its author.

Chapter 4: Mood Swings

Following the official Starfleet memorial, several individual services were held that morning in various venues around the city. Per his final instructions, Starfleet honored Maxwell Forrest by throwing a party. Guests were encouraged to dress colorfully, eat hearty, laugh well, and tell plenty of stories. Forrest's wish was to be remembered with happiness.

When Archer pushed open the huge doors of Starfleet's Great Hall with Soval and T'Pol, though, the situation looked grim. The room was already packed with scores of people, but quiet as a tomb. Most of the guests had changed into colorful attire, though a phalanx of Starfleet admirals, standing in a knot near the buffet tables, had stubbornly remained in their dress uniforms. But it looked as if no one was conversing, not even softly.

Soval arched an eyebrow. "Apparently the finer points of the admiral's last request have escaped this assemblage."

"Too bad Trip isn't here yet," Archer remarked. "With his Southern charm, I'd bet he would be able to perk up this crowd."

"He and his parents are due to arrive in approximately thirty-four minutes," T'Pol offered.

Archer winced. "Too long..."

Behind them, the doors swung open again, and a happy tidal wave of E² crew members poured into the Great Hall, cheerfully talking a blue streak. As they beheld the pervasively bleak mood, they slowed to a stop, their pleasant chatter trailing off into silence.

Dr. Kelsey hmmphed. "You'd think somebody died." Her voice was soft, but unmistakably miffed. She gathered the rest of the crew around her. "There may still be time to salvage this pooper of a party. Go forth, now, and show these poor blind souls the true meaning of the phrase 'celebrating a life.' For the admiral."

"For the admiral," a hundred voices intoned in respectful reply. They spread into the hall, threading their way through the somber faces, as Archer, T'Pol, and Soval watched with curious interest from the sidelines.

Erin Yancy led her brood straight to the buffet tables. The girls had been angels throughout the long memorial service, and they were probably starving by now. "Anything you want, in moderation," she announced. With squeals of delight, Sibella and Bonnie scampered off to get plates, as Erin surveyed the food. When she saw the big container of macaroni, she laughed out loud.

A nearby pair of guests—more like mourners, Erin thought to herself—lobbed a warning frown her way. Erin shrugged apologetically. So sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt your morose mood. But as she took a proffered plate from Sibella and reached for the macaroni, she began chuckling again.

Another guest was watching, a young woman in a rainbow of color who seemed to be attempting the positive attitude requested by the admiral's last missive. She had a faint, hopeful smile on her face...the look of someone who was wrung out from grieving, and needed to find out how to move on. "Excuse me," she began, "but...you look like you're enjoying a nice memory."

"Yes," Erin replied with a smile. "Our first lunch with the admiral."

The young woman drew closer. Seeing her opportunity, Erin continued. "It was our first day here, and the admiral was treating us all to lunch in the cafeteria. There were a lot of us—families, about a dozen children. The kids, well, they'd been cooped up for a while, so they started a food fight."

The young woman broke into an astonished smile. "A food fight...here? At Starfleet?"

A few other people were listening now, Erin noticed. "Sure enough. Admiral Forrest stepped in to put a stop to it. As soon as he entered the battle zone, Sibella, my oldest, nailed him with a big glob of macaroni."

The woman gasped, but she couldn't suppress a little laugh. "I'll bet you were upset."

"Actually, my husband and I were pretty excited—Sibella'd been having trouble with her aim," Erin confessed. "We were trying to applaud her improved ability, without really supporting her choice of target."

"What did the admiral do?"

A crowd of about a dozen had gathered by now. Erin began acting out her story as she went on. "He kind of froze...macaroni sliiiiding down the front of that clean, sharp-looking uniform of his..." She heard a few soft chuckles from her audience. Finally, they were starting to loosen up. "We all froze, too—we'd only met the admiral the day before. We didn't know how he'd react. He turned his back on everybody without saying a word. We thought that was it, that we'd get tossed off the premises."

Erin paused for dramatic effect. She was pleased to see her listeners lean forward, waiting for her next word to fall. "Finally he turned back—and we saw that he was holding a big ol' serving spoon of pasta salad. Which he lobbed right at Sibella."

The crowd burst out laughing. "Did he get her?" someone asked.

"Hell, yes!" Erin declared. "Dead center. The admiral also had very good aim." Another laugh. Erin smiled back at them all. They looked as if they hadn't laughed for weeks. "Of course, that set off an out-and-out war. All of us grown-ups jumped out of the way, but Admiral Forrest stayed smack in the middle of it, playing referee—and also Really Big Convenient Target."

Many of the people gathered around her were laughing continuously now. "From that moment on, the kids thought Admiral Forrest was the coolest old guy they'd ever met," Erin grinned. "Whenever they saw him, they'd follow him around like puppies." Erin's smile softened with a touch of sadness. "The little ones still ask about him." She held out her hand to the young woman. "I'm Erin."

"Natasha." The two women shook hands. "Thank you for the story. It is a wonderful memory."

"So how did you know the admiral?" Erin asked.

"I work in the outer offices at HQ." Natasha smiled at her own memory. "One day they sent me over to temp for him..."

Within minutes, E²'s people had lightened the room's heavy mood, simply by offering smiles, sharing laughter, and telling anecdotes. Now the other guests were contributing their own stories, filling the room with cheerful remembrance.

"Remarkable," Soval murmured.

"I believe these people missed their calling as morale officers," Archer agreed.

"They are a product of a century in the Expanse," T'Pol observed. "A generational ship confined to a war zone."

"Indeed." Lorian and Karyn joined the trio. "Under those circumstances," he continued, "our crew could become pessimistic, or positive. We opted for the latter."

"We all learned at a young age to celebrate life rather than dwell on loss," Karyn smiled.

Archer noticed that the pair was still wearing their Starfleet uniforms. "You didn't get a chance to change?"

"We haven't stopped long enough—there are so many people to visit," Karyn enthused. "The McCormacks had a million pictures to show around—they've been sightseeing for months. And Maggie and Tom Hayes went to a big family gathering. Lieutenant Sato arranged the whole thing. Lots of hugging and crying. Major Hayes' mom practically adopted them."

That made Archer smile. "Hopefully it's a comfort to her, knowing that a part of her son lives on in them."

Lorian turned to Soval. "Ambassador, may we have a few minutes of your time?"

Soval nodded. "Of course."

"If you'll excuse us, Mother, Captain..." Lorian and Karyn moved away with the ambassador.

Archer watched them curiously. "What's that all about?"

T'Pol arched an eyebrow at him. "Captain. Desist."

"I'm just wondering," Archer said innocently. T'Pol's eyebrow climbed even higher. Archer threw up his hands in defeat. "Okay, okay." He escaped to the buffet tables.

Soval led Lorian and Karyn to a quiet corner of the Great Hall. "How may I assist you?"

"Trip and T'Pol told us yesterday about their bond," Karyn began.

Lorian continued. "They explained that a mating bond may be established through a mind-meld."

Soval nodded. "My wife and I bonded in this manner when we married."

Lorian exchanged a warm glance with his fiancée. "Karyn and I wish to become bonded as well. We request your assistance."

The commander's request was hardly surprising, given the pair's obvious affection for one another. Soval even sensed something deeper, though he could not determine precisely what it was. He found it curious that he had not picked up on it before. It was not a nascent bond, exactly, but something...else.

"I would be honored to perform the bonding meld," he replied. "If it is possible. A bond between a Vulcan and a human is unusual enough, but you are half-Vulcan. The bonding requires sufficient telepathic ability to create and maintain the psychic link." He paused. "In fact, I assumed you had no such ability. There is no mention of it in either the command or medical logs from your Enterprise."

Lorian hesitated. "I did not, previously. My telepathy began to manifest itself only recently."

Soval was intrigued. "Indeed? Explain."

Lorian looked slightly uncomfortable. "Karyn is able to sense my emotions. In times of stress."

Soval turned to the lieutenant in surprise. "She alone? Have you determined the reason?"

"We believe so." Lorian shifted self-consciously. "It has to do with...with my hybrid physiological makeup."

"Specify."

Lorian paused again. Soval noted that the commander was avoiding eye contact. He appeared...embarrassed. The lieutenant, taking note of her fiancé's difficulty, spoke for him. "I triggered his telepathy."

Soval raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"Actually, we think the pon farr triggered it," Karyn corrected herself. Beside her, Lorian proceeded to blush a deep green-bronze. "But I triggered the pon farr, so I guess I'm just splitting hairs," Karyn concluded.

Soval regarded her with confusion. "You...triggered...Lorian's last pon farr?"

"First," Karyn amended.

Soval stared at Lorian. "You entered pon farr for the first time at your age?"

Lorian wished fervently that the floor would open up and swallow him, but no such merciful rescue from this latest mortification was forthcoming. And Soval was waiting for an explanation. "Apparently in my case," he said in a rush, "the Vulcan mating drive lay dormant until it was awakened by various human-based external physical stimuli, in addition to a strong emotional attachment, all of which converged under unique conditions, in the form of..."

"Me," finished Karyn, with a sheepish little smile.

Soval was fascinated. "It would appear then, that you have formed an empathic link as a result of your...unique union."

The two of them stole a shy glance at one another as they nodded. "We were hoping that it might be enough to enable us to bond," Karyn said.

The old Vulcan considered it. "It is difficult for me to say with certainty, not having encountered these circumstances before." The connection he sensed between them was unmistakable, but required closer study. "If I may be permitted a brief mind-touch, I would be able to examine the link further."

Another glance passed between the young couple, followed by another mutual nod. Soval wondered if they realized how attuned they were to one another already. "By all means, Ambassador," Lorian said.

Soval led the pair into an empty banquet room off the Great Hall, where they could be afforded a modicum of privacy. "I need not establish a full meld," he explained. "You will feel a subtle presence, no more."

He touched his fingers lightly to Lorian's face, automatically finding the katra points. He was struck immediately by the complex amalgam of Vulcan and human elements intertwining seamlessly within the younger man's mind to form a balanced whole. "My mind to your mind," he intoned softly. "My thoughts to your thoughts..."

In spite of his unwavering trust of Soval, Lorian felt a trace of apprehension. Almost as soon as he was aware of his unease, he felt Karyn taking his hand, holding it reassuringly. He relaxed...and then he felt a wisp of another consciousness in his mind, feather-light, like a butterfly floating through a meadow.

Soval found the link he had sensed. He marveled at its construction...a singularly complex web of Vulcan and human, instinct and determination, fear and desire...and binding it all together, steadfast, selfless love. Even now, he could feel Karyn's essence through it. She was indeed the catalytic force behind it. Remarkable. It was not a bond, but it could easily be rendered so.

Soval withdrew his hand, breaking the mind-touch. Lorian felt the faint other-presence fade away. The process had taken only moments. He and Karyn looked questioningly at the ambassador.

"The link is as unique as the circumstances of its creation," Soval told them. "It is quiet, but steady and strong. I see no impediment to a successful bonding. We can perform the ceremony tonight, if you wish."

Their faces brightened in tandem. "Yes," they said, almost at the same moment. Then Karyn ducked her head shyly as Lorian blushed again.

They were indeed an agreeable match. "Tonight, then," Soval nodded.

Archer stood off to one side, his food forgotten, as he watched Lorian and Karyn deep in conversation with Soval. What were they up to...? He wished he could read lips. When the three disappeared into a side banquet room, his curiosity was piqued even further.

The big doors of the Great Hall swung open and Admiral Gardner entered, scanning the room. When he spotted Archer, he headed over. "Nice party," Archer smiled.

Gardner surveyed the crowd, noticing Lorian's people cradling the other guests along. "I hear I have the E² bunch to thank for that."

"If you could stick their attitude in a bottle and sell it, you'd be a millionaire."

Gardner turned his attention to Archer. "Jon...about the mission back to the Expanse..."

Archer could tell from the hesitation in Gardner's voice that something was wrong. "What?"

"We're giving it to Columbia," Gardner said. "Word came down from HQ half an hour ago."

Archer was stunned. He'd campaigned for months to return to the Skagaran world, and find the Illyrians he'd stranded when he stole their warp coil. "Why?"

"Emory Erickson contacted Starfleet. He's working on a new long-distance transporter beam—sub-quantum teleportation, he calls it. He needs passage out to the Barrens, and a lot of power to conduct his experiments. He needs a starship. He asked for you specifically. HQ is salivating for a working prototype of this new transporter, and naturally they want to keep him happy. So Columbia gets the Expanse, and Enterprise gets Emory."

Archer felt as though he'd been kicked in the gut. "I don't understand. Enterprise made first contact with the Skagarans. We're responsible...I'm responsible...for wronging the Illyrians. It's our duty to go back—to make amends. To finish what we started."

"I know, Jon," Gardner said, with genuine sympathy. "And you'll get your chance. But not this time."

Archer turned away in frustration. "Think about it," Gardner went on. "You're the last person the Illyrians will want to see. Not to mention the least effective choice to open up a diplomatic dialogue with their people. It's better for Hernandez to go first and smooth things over. Then, when you follow, they might actually listen to your apology, rather than simply toss you the hell off their planet."

Archer sighed. "Good cop, bad cop. Is that it?"

"Something like that."

Archer stewed in silence. Gardner continued, his voice reasonable. "And you know there'll be a lot of trips back and forth to the Skagaran world. It's going to take a lot of planning and a lot of travel time to get six thousand displaced humans back home, if they all want to come."

Archer knew Gardner was making sense, but it didn't make him feel any better. He'd been counting on the return to the Expanse—hoping to find the peace that still eluded him, and to set right one of the terrible wrongs he had been forced to commit last year in the name of saving the universe. "I don't suppose there's any use in my appealing this."

"No. The decision's final." Gardner put a hand on Archer's shoulder. "I know this stinks, Jon. I'm sorry."

The admiral moved off. Archer stayed where he was, giving himself a moment to tuck away his crushing disappointment. There was no place for it here; it would wait until later, when he was alone. He tried to focus on Emory, and how good it would be to see him and Danica again.

"It wasn't my idea."

He looked up. Erika Hernandez was standing a couple of meters away, looking faintly apologetic. "The Expanse," she continued. "Honestly, I was expecting a local assignment. Patrolling around the system or something. I'm sorry."

Jon managed a wry smile. "No, you're not."

She had the grace to look guilty, at least. "No, I'm not. I mean, I am, for Enterprise. But for my ship, my people..." She broke into a smile. "I'm thrilled."

"Good." Jon thought Erika looked particularly attractive at this moment...resplendent in her uniform, her eyes shining, her normal laid-back calm replaced by an undercurrent of excitement that gave her a striking inner glow.

At the same time, though, he sensed something different between them. Or rather, the absence of something between them. Erika was uncharacteristically keeping her distance, both physically and emotionally. She was talking to him, but she wasn't with him. Her focus was somewhere else.

"What are you doing over the next couple of days?" she asked. "Because I really need to spend a lot of time with you."

He blinked. Okay, maybe my instincts are off. It had been an emotional morning. He pushed his uncertainty aside. "How can I turn down a request like that?" Playfully, he added, "What'd you have in mind?"

"The Expanse, of course!" she declared. "I want to pick your brain."

His heart sank. But he didn't let the ache reach his face. "Of course."

"I'll go over all your logs and reports again, but I'm sure you have information you didn't put in a report," Erika continued. "Something that might help me when I get out there. Especially with the Illyrians and the Skagarans."

"Sure," he replied, keeping his voice light. "It's important that you make a good first impression. Or—second impression."

She laughed, completely at ease with the conversation, while Jon couldn't feel more awkward if he tried. He suddenly realized what it reminded him of. He was like the ex-boyfriend, being relegated to the "just friends" role by the lady who had found love somewhere else.

Erika was already backing away, ready to move on. "I'll call you later. We'll set up a time."

"You're leaving?" This was all happening too quickly. It was all he could do to keep the tone of his voice casual.

She shrugged, no longer looking the least bit apologetic. "I have too much to do. We're going to the Expanse!" Her smile was radiant. She was fulfilled—more now than Jon had ever seen her before. She'd found the love of her life.

He returned her smile, genuinely happy for her. "You're shameless."

"That I am, Captain." And off she went, with a spring to her step.

He stood rooted to the spot, watching the doors swing shut behind her. Why was he so surprised? More importantly, why was he so upset?

Starship captains were married to their ships. Everyone knew that. Any other relationship was transitory, or purely physical. A dalliance, compared with the deep commitment of captain to vessel and crew.

And yet...ever since Karyn had gotten engaged to Lorian, Jon had been thinking about Esilia. A starship captain's wife, in another place, another life, one that he would never live.

During the trip home from Vulcan, he had pulled up Esilia's picture from the alternate Enterprise's database. He had gazed at her beautiful, exotic face, wondering why marriage had been possible, and successful, for the other Jonathan Archer. Was it the unique situation—a generational ship, with no brass to answer to? Had his duties as captain been so different that he could love and marry without risk to his ship or crew? Or was it simply that what everyone knew...wasn't actually true?

What was it like for that Jon, to have a wife, love, marriage...a soulmate?

What was it like not to be alone?

Jon had realized then how much he wanted a chance at what his counterpart had. He had begun to think Erika was his opportunity. But now, with Columbia ready to take wing at last, Erika had given her heart to her vessel. If he'd ever had a chance—if—it was lost now. She was already married...to Columbia.

Jon was too late.

-tbc-