Command
Author: Transwarp
Rating: T (PG-13)
Genre: Action/Drama
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek names, and related intellectual property.
Summary: War breaks out with the Romulan Empire, and T'Pol assumes command of a Starfleet frigate. This is the third story in a series (order of stories: 'Commissioning', then 'Liaison', then 'Command').
Note: The concept of Vulcan clans is lifted directly from Bluenblack's 'For Want of a Nail' series. ['For Want of A Nail', 'In the Cold of the Night', 'Father to the Man', and 'Purgatory'] In fact, they are a must-read if you want to know what life on Vulcan is like. Bluenblack makes Vulcan a real place, populated with real people. I shamelessly stole T'Pol's clan name from him, but I had no choice: After all, it's real.
SIX
Space Dock 12, 2 April 2156
After the subspace call with the High Council, T'Pol returned to the party alone. She stood quietly inside the door, absorbing the atmosphere of revelry, savoring the music, and delighting in the sounds of human laughter. It is interesting how much brighter everything seems now than it did just forty minutes ago, she thought.
Trip caught her mood and crossed the cargo bay to join her, a quizzical look on his face. "Good news?"
She nodded. "Yes. Ambassador Soval and I just spoke with the Vulcan High Council. They have voted to provide military support to the Coalition. Vulcan's fleet is being mobilized as we speak, and will be fully committed to the war effort."
Trip nearly dropped his beer. "You gotta be shitting me!"
"Vulcans do not shit," T'Pol said, primly. Trip's snort of derision caused her to review her remark. "Vulcans do not shit in the manner with which you just used the term," she amended.
"So,Vulcan is in the fight, now. That's great news," Trip said, with enthusiasm "The odds against us have gone from impossible to dismal. I'll take dismal any day."
"Dismal is indeed an improvement over impossible," T'Pol agreed.
"Say, where's Soval?" Trip asked, looking around, "I want to thank him."
"The Ambassador has much to do, now that Vulcan is entering the war. He went back to the Embassy to formally notify United Earth of Vulcan's support, and to begin the detailed coordination that will be required between our governments."
"Okay. Well, then, let's spread the news. I have a funny feeling this party is about to take off."
The party did take off. Word that Vulcan would be joining the fight spread through the room like wildfire, and what had started as a bittersweet farewell to comrades became an enthusiastic celebration.
The guests and dignitaries began to leave as midnight approached, and Hoshi circulated among the Enterprise crew, quietly informing them that the party would be moving to Enterprise's launch bays as soon as the last guest left. The junior crew members started slipping out much earlier, and if the party on the space dock was enthusiastic, it became positively boisterous after moving to Enterprise, away from the inhibiting influence of the admirals and elder statesmen.
It was after midnight before Trip, T'Pol, and Captain Archer made it back to Enterprise. They had been pulled into an impromptu strategy session with Admiral Gardner and Admiral Chu over the ramifications of Vulcan's entry into the war. T'Pol was pumped for every last detail she could recall from her meeting with the High Council. Archer and T'Pol were asked for their opinions on different deployment options. Trip refrained from scratching himself and tried to look important.
When they finally rejoined the party on Enterprise, they were greeted with hoots of welcome. Beers were thrust into the hands of Archer and Trip, while T'Pol was handed an overly-sweetened ice tea, which she subtly set aside on a folding table loaded with food brought back from the space dock.
"Are you going to drink that?"
T'Pol turned to find Phlox pointing at the glass of tea. "It is sweeter than I like, Doctor. You are welcome to it."
Smiling broadly, he scooped it up and took a sip. "It could use a little more sugar, but it's still quite refreshing."
"Judging by the taste, the solubility of that tea has reached the saturation point."
"I see no precipitate," Phlox replied, holding the glass up to the light, "I believe it could hold a few more grams."
T'Pol quirked an eyebrow, silently conceding his point.
"Commander, there is a name I need to give you," Phlox said. "Doctor Kesvan. He is a Denobulan physician specializing in reproductive genetics. Here is his contact information." Phlox handed her a small slip of paper.
T'Pol glanced at the paper. "Why are you giving me this?"
"I have sent him all my research on Vulcan and Human genomes. If anything happens to me, he has agreed to help you and Commander Tucker conceive a child."
"I see," she said. "Doctor, you are with the Interspecies Medical Exchange, not Starfleet. You do realize the IME does not require you to stay on Enterprise? Not in time of war."
"Yes, I realize that. However, I can't leave, not in good conscience. My services will be needed now more than ever. I'm surprised you even suggest it."
"You misunderstand me. I was not suggesting you would shirk your duty. You have nothing to prove to anyone; not after your service in the Expanse. However, I know you have family that you have not seen in many years, and I..." T'Pol was silent for several seconds before continuing. "Forgive me, Doctor, I mean no offense, but I do not think I could be separated from my husband as long as you have been from your wives."
"No offense taken," Phlox said, with a reassuring smile. "I am not sure I can explain in a manner you would understand. While I love them very much, I can only say my need for my wives is not as strong as your need for Commander Tucker." Phlox's smile faded as it occurred to him that his choice of words might not have been the best to use with a Vulcan, and he hastily backtracked, "Not that I am saying you have emotional needs, I was merely trying to say--"
"Doctor, do not apologize. You were correct. I do need Commander Tucker, as much as I need water or oxygen. To deny it would be illogical."
Phlox could not hide his astonishment at T'Pol's frank admission. "There was a time, not too long ago, when you did deny it, even though it was patently obvious to everyone else."
"It was not patently obvious to me. As a Vulcan, I had... difficulty... learning to understand and accept the needs of my heart. It is much easier for me now."
Phlox's smile returned, and he congratulated himself once again on the small role he had played in getting the two commanders together. Despite a rocky start, it had turned out to be one of his greatest matchmaking successes.
Trip chose that moment to arrive bearing a mug of hot chamomile tea in one hand. In the other was a freshly refilled beer. "Here, T'Pol. This might be more to your liking," he said, offering the mug of tea.
"Thank you." She took it from his hand, then sent a non-verbal message, *Trip, that is your fifth beer. You do not want to become inebriated. We are due aboard Chosin at 0700 this morning.*
*It's okay. I know Chosin's Captain. Besides,* he added, looking around the launch bay, *I can out-place anyone in the drink.*
*That's a joke,* he continued, at T'Pol's blank look.
*I do not 'get' it.*
*Well, it's not funny if I have to explain it.*
She gave him her 'Vulcan eyes'. *Then perhaps it is not funny?*
He chuckled. *perhaps not.*
The music changed from something with heavy, thumping bass to a melodic waltz. Trip looked around to find the occupants of the bay had formed a large, rough semicircle, with Trip and T'Pol at the perimeter. All eyes were on the couple.
*Uh-oh,* Trip sent.
Captain Archer caught Trip's eye, and motioned towards the open area. "Go ahead, dance," he invited.
Smiling and nodding enthusiastically, other crew members picked up the call until it had become a rhythmic chant: "Dance! Dance! Dance!"
"I think they want us to dance," Trip remarked, as if T'Pol might have trouble deciphering their intent.
"Then we must not disappoint them," she replied, setting her tea aside.
Trip did likewise, then held an arm out to T'Pol. "Commander, may I have this dance?"
"It would be my honor." She placed a hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her to the center of the launch bay.
That is not just an idle phrase to her, Trip realized. She truly means it. He wondered, once again, what he had done to earn such devotion.
They danced, lost in each other's gaze, oblivious to the rough deck of the launch bay and the fond smiles and well-wishes of their shipmates.
#####
Trip sat on the bed, his forearms resting on his knees, and watched T'Pol as she finished packing. It was 0530 and the party had only recently broken up. There had been a reluctance on everyone's part to leave, as if they all knew it was the end of something special, something they might never see again.
"Tonight was magic," Trip said. "There are some dark days ahead of us, but tonight was the kind of night that can sustain a guy for a long time. Thank you, T'Pol."
"If, as you say, tonight was 'magic', I am not certain I had anything to do with it."
Trip had to smile at that. "Then who, exactly, was I dancing with?"
T'Pol tilted her head as she considered that. "You are saying that I endowed the evening with magical qualities simply by dancing with you?"
Trip nodded. "That's exactly what I'm saying. And it wasn't just me; everyone there got a boost from it."
"The Vulcan contingent received no 'boost' from it," T'Pol pointed out.
"Well, of course they wouldn't. But the rest of us did."
"From you and me dancing?"
"Sure. When we danced, it was something good, something right, something which seemed impossible--or at least unlikely--before it happened. But it did happen." Trip looked down at his hands for a moment, then back at T'Pol. "I don't think you understand how much our relationship means to the rest of the crew. We're the happily-ever-after fairy tale. The long shot that pays off. The underdogs that win. Humans love a story like that."
"I did not realize we were regarded in such a manner. It explains much." T'Pol closed the last bag and set it on the floor, then stood back and regarded her handiwork. "I must make arrangements to have our excess bags placed in storage. There is insufficient room for everything in our quarters on Chosin."
"Relax, I've taken care of it." Trip said. He reached into his pocket, and tossed a bundle of tags at T'Pol. "Transporter tags. The blue ones are for bags going to Chosin, the green ones for bags going to the Starfleet warehouse in Sacramento. I've already coordinated with Chief Buettner. All you have to do is fill them out and put them on the right bags."
T'Pol looked at one of the tags. On the front were blank lines for last name, first name, and service number. "I do not have a last name," T'Pol noted. "Or maybe I do not have a first name. I am uncertain."
"Huh. I always thought of T'Pol as your first name, because that's what I call you. But then everyone else calls you Commander T'Pol, as if it were your last name. I don't know. Don't you have a clan name you can use?"
"My clan name would not fit on this tag."
"Write small."
"I am of clan Sh'hiran'lin'iijyliunh'rei'iy'iukn'hy'wen'lhia'ehrm'n"
Trip blinked. "Uh, write really small."
"I have a better idea." T'Pol grabbed a pen and wrote TUCKER, T'POL, 5643321 in neat block letters.
"Problem solved," Trip said, grinning. "Besides, T'Pol Tucker sounds a lot better than T'Pol of clan Sh'rumanumanumanumanuma'whatever."
After the bags were tagged, Trip punched the comm unit and informed Chief Buettner. Less than a minute later, a faint hum filled the room, and the bags dissolved in a coruscating display of transporter activity.
"There are certain advantages to being Chief Engineer," Trip said, smugly. "Let's go, then. We have a shuttle to catch."
He started for the door, but T'Pol made no move to join him.
"T'Pol?"
She turned and looked at him. *Most Peculiar,* she sent. *Now that it is time, I am suddenly reluctant to leave.*
Trip put a comforting hand on her back. *I know how you feel, darling. I have fond memories of this room. I was happy here. The happiest I've ever been.*
T'Pol took a last look around, then stepped through the door. *Trip, I will require your assistance meditating tonight. The emotions of this moment are... very strong.*
They certainly are, Trip thought. They certainly are.
Continued in Chapter 7.