Sixteen-hundred hours and the small crew was assembled. In the room adjoining the launch bay, Trip donned his protective gear and hand rifles. T'Mir entered, tight hairstyle and almost frown catching the commander's eye, that and the markings that peaked out around her sleeve cuffs and neckline.

"What's that?" he asked, almost accusingly.

"It is nothing." she replied, reaching for the shields that had been assigned to her.

"You gonna be okay in this thing?" he asked, reaching to fasten the chest-piece securely around her. He checked out her hand-weapons and pushed them into their holsters. "Well, what is it?"

"Trip." She turned around to face him apologetically, then exited to the launch bay, phaser rifle in hand.

"T'Mir!" he shouted, "What did you do?"

The door slid shut behind her, leaving Trip yelling at a steel panel.

"I believe it was acathu-anasi." T'Pol said quietly behind him.

"T'Pol?" Trip whipped around.

"It is the paint of warriors in battle." she continued, large brown orbs conveying her sadness.

"What are you doing here?" He stepped forward and opened his arms around her.

"She expects to die, Trip." and she hugged him back, burying her face in his chest.

Suddenly, the gravity of the situation he was about to hurtle himself and his daughter into hit him, and he held her like he wished he had done always, not knowing if it would be the last time.

The comm. sounded. "Trip?" came the captain's gravelly voice.

"On my way." he shouted.

He pulled himself up, tensing his jaw stiffly to keep the tremors from showing through.

T'Pol reached up and brushed a single tear off his cheek. "Please, promise me you'll be careful." She paused a moment, staring up with her soulful brown eyes, "Promise you'll take care of her."

He kissed her, enough to make up for two lost years and a lifetime after.

The door hissed behind him, forcing them apart. There T'Mir stood, her lifeless blue eyes jumping quickly to the floor once Trip turned to face her. He exited in front of her without a word.

T'Mir turned again to look at her mother, joining them in an understanding stare, until she couldn't take any more and blinked, turning, like her father, into the launch bay without a word.

The door closed, echoing in the small locker room. T'Pol couldn't stop the gut wrenching sob that forced her onto the nearby bench.

x x x

The shuttle pod was dead quiet on the flight down. Even the alarming jolt that accompanied disengaging the docking arm didn't elicit any comments from the crew. Malcolm sat in the middle of the bench, his security team filling the aft compartment behind him. Captain Archer and Trip sat opposite him, and opposite T'Mir.

Shy, nervous glances crossed the shuttle from one officer to the next and down to the floor. The floor was ideal for melancholic contemplation, T'Mir realized. Looking around the shuttle, she knew it was because of her that all these men and women were putting their lives at so much risk. She stared at Trip for a long time, his mirrored blue eyes staring out the small hatch window. That was why she had undergone the anasi: it was her fault, this suicide mission, and she was damned if she was going to let it get anyone. At all costs, she confirmed, as the lines across her chest and arms tingling almost imperceptibly.

x x x

The shuttle docked, and even before they were through the airlock, blaring alarms reached their ears. Malcolm waved his team into formation, they crouched with weapons already aimed and fingers just hovering above their respective triggers. The Captain was tucked in the back beside Malcolm, but he held a grim look on his face as he squinted through the sight on his rifle.

T'Mir waved Trip to the rear of the shuttle, standing back to back, plasma rifles braced on their shoulders. "Ready?" she asked rhetorically as they separated into a beam of particles.

The doors opened in front of the security team. The Romulans got the first shot, taking down Inthara in the front. As the Captain dragged him back into the shuttle, checking his vitals, the security team neutralized the Romulan force.

"Captain." Malcolm hissed, "Let's get moving."

"Alright." the Captain came around the corner, a scanner in hand, "This way."