SEVEN

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Shipping forecast: like Fedex, people.

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Dax moved around the table, checking the read-outs on the relatively old-fashioned PADD as she did so. She glanced up at the Vulcan. "So," she said slyly, making sure her eyes were watching the read-outs refresh themselves. "What's the story between you and Commander Tucker?"

T'Pol did not look up from her work. "To which 'story' are you referring?" she asked mildly.

Dax grinned. "Oh come on. You aren't the first person to fall for someone of another species. I've done it - more than a few times. There's no shame in admitting it."

"What shame would there be?" T'Pol asked, apparently curious.

Dax rolled her eyes. "Come on - the Vulcan High Command? They'd skin you alive - if they could catch you. Of course, the fact that he's an engineer would come in handy. Imagine what that would be like - the two of you on the run from your superiors. You'd be like outlaws or something. 'Tucker and T'Pol - space fugitives'," she grinned.

T'Pol's eyebrow arched. "You seem familiar with the workings of the Vulcan High Command."

"I used to work there. Well, not there, inside the compound, obviously. I worked as an office clerk for one of the attachés - from Trill." She paused. "I met R'Don there. Now he was a lot of fun - for a Vulcan," she teased. "We had the best year… And then… Well. We went our separate ways. He wanted to return to Vulcan, and I was just a young man who wanted to be a chef."

"Quite a dilemma."

"Oh you wouldn't believe," Dax sighed.

They continued to work in silence, until eventually T'Pol paused in her work. She stood the edge of the PADD on the console to look at Dax. "It is… not a happy story, Commander."

Dax raised her eyebrows. "Then I have a bottle of Andorian whisky in my quarters that we should definitely open."

T'Pol let her eyebrows twitch up and down even as she swayed to lift the PADD. "That will not be necessary."

"Few things are - at least the fun ones. Anyway, I've seen the way he looks at you. And for a Vulcan, well… it's obvious you kinda like him," she said with an apologetic shrug.

"How is it obvious?"

Dax smiled. "That, right there, for one thing. And the fact that when I suggested you own up to being attracted to him because there's no shame in it, the first thing you asked for clarification on was the 'shame' part."

"That is hardly conclusive proof of feelings."

"I don't see what's holding you back, really," Dax went on. She pressed at the screen in her hand, running through lines of data. "I mean, he's funny, and he's pretty clever. For a human. And he's not bad looking at all."

Both of T'Pol's eyebrows raised. "He is a consummate engineer."

"And the 'holding you back' part?"

T'Pol paused for a long moment. "That is… complicated."

"Try me. I've had plenty of experience being married, divorced, chucked out of the house and being jilted. Not to mention the walking frown of a klingon partner I've picked up."

T'Pol studied her in surprise. "Would you care to clarify that statement?"

"Commander Worf? He and I are together. Sometimes he makes me want to punch him - and not in a foreplay kind of way." She shrugged. "Love is weird like that, I suppose."

"You mean to say that you do not harbour affectionate or even fond feelings for your mate at all times?" T'Pol asked.

Dax's mouth nearly fell open. "Absolutely not - no-one does," she scoffed. "And anyone who says different is lying." She tapped at her PADD for a moment, but then stopped short to look at the Vulcan. "Wait - are you telling me you didn't think you were attracted to him just because he causes you disagreeable bouts of conflict?"

T'Pol eyed her, letting her head tilt slowly to one side. "You did not accuse me of being angry with his behaviour."

"You're Vulcan," Dax said knowingly. "Look, sometimes he's going to cause problems - all partners do. It can't be perfect, twenty-five hours a day, seven days a week. But… when it's right? It's amazing."

T'Pol appeared to consider this. She looked at her PADD but her fingers didn't move. She appraised the Trill. "Speaking to you in this manner, about such a personal subject… it is unexpected."

"Maybe you needed a complete stranger to confide in. And once I'm gone, who's going to know?" Dax asked.

"This has been a most enlightening discussion."

"Has it ever," Dax grinned. "So that's it? That's all the sad story you have?"

"We had a daughter—" T'Pol halted, fighting feeling of shock at her own audacity.

Dax waited. And waited. "And… she's not here now?" she asked gently.

"She is not," T'Pol said. "She was created in a laboratory - a binary clone, comprised of my and Commander Tucker's DNA without our knowledge. The method their scientists used was… reckless and faulty. She died before she reached seven months old."

Dax's entire body had frozen. She was staring at T'Pol as if her eyes could hug the other woman better. Instead she nodded slowly, looking her in the eye. "I see."

"When I first… began to spend off-duty time with Commander Tucker, it was to perform neuropressure on him, and guide him to use it on me, to help relieve his insomnia. His sister had died on Earth and he was distraught." She paused. "I… had cause to…" She swayed slightly, unable to meet Dax's eyes. "I felt the need to explore a physical relationship with Commander Tucker. It was an experiment that lasted a single night."

Dax folded her arms. "You're a bad scientist," she said flatly.

"Excuse me?"

"Well every scientist knows that you have to perform the same experiment three times to make sure of your findings," she said, and then her face cracked into a cheeky grin.

T'Pol's head tilted to the left in sudden understanding. "Indeed. …Perhaps that was short-sighted of me."

"So what happened next?"

"We… have had a difficult time defining any kind of relationship between us. We seemed to settle into being simply shipmates and colleagues. And then six months ago, Commander Tucker and I stood and watched our daughter die, unable to help her. I… experienced his pain, and my own, magnified by a personal bond we share." She looked at her PADD.

Dax's demeanour lost all humour. "Are you doing your best to never feel that pain again?" she ventured. "Or are you afraid that you only feel pity for Tucker, that only grief brings you together, and without it you have nothing else?"

"It has been a dominant force in our relationship," T'Pol said.

Dax put down her PADD. Her hands went to her hips. "And yet you can't stay away, can you?"

"I have been unusually concerned for his personal safety."

"Since your daughter died?"

"Yes." She paused. "And I have noticed that he… seems considerate of my well-being, even when he is not in the same room as me."

Dax nodded. "I understand your reticence, really, I do. When Worf goes on missions, I worry I may never see him again. But whether I lose him or not, I can't pass up the chance to be in a position to have someone to worry about."

"I do not understand," T'Pol said quietly.

Dax studied her for a moment. "Is it agreeable to you that you both serve on the same ship?"

"Yes."

"And would it cause significant conflict if you didn't see him every day, in any capacity?"

"Undoubtedly."

"It is pleasing to work with him?"

"Of course."

"Do you volunteer to share your private time with him, even though you had planned to do something else originally?"

"Always."

"Can you imagine life on this ship - or any ship - without him?"

"No."

"How was the sex?"

"Excellent." T'Pol's eyes widened. "You deliberately led up to that question."

Dax grinned. "Maybe. You can't be more than… what, sixty?"

"Nearly ninety," T'pol replied coolly.

"Well Tucker might be a lot younger than you, but he'll live shorter, too. By the time he's a hundred you'll be a hundred and sixty. Which is a very good age gap, considering. If I were you, I'd take the opportunity to make something of this thing you two have. You never know when it'll be gone."

"That is precisely my concern," T'Pol argued.

"There was a man from Earth, called Tennyson, about five hundred years ago. He wrote a poem, and one of the most famous lines from it is ''tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all'."

T'Pol's eyebrow raised. "Cause for thought."

"Maybe that's all you need."

The door slid open and Tucker and Kira walked in. T'Pol picked up her PADD hastily, holding it higher than necessary to read the lines on the screen.

Tucker stopped by the desk. "Well Major Kira has an idea of what to do with this orb thing when we do find it - all we have to do is ready the transport case."

Kira nodded. "We're ready - just waiting on you science folk to give us a way to track it," she said with a polite smile.

"We're nearly there," Dax said. "Why don't you and Commander Tucker begin work on the strongbox we'll need."

T'Pol turned and handed the PADD to Kira. "I shall aid him. Commander Dax no longer needs my input."

Kira took the proffered PADD and the two station officers watched as a clueless Tucker followed T'Pol out of the room. The door closed and Kira looked back at Dax. "Ok, what was that all about?" she asked.

"What was what all about?" Dax asked airily.

Kira frowned. "Dax—"

"Hey, I'm not starting anything that isn't already going on," she said. "How did you get on with Tucker?"

"He's good, I'll give him that," she said. "But then we got to talking about makeshift explosives and how to avoid them. Honestly - I don't know what Starfleet was teaching their engineers two hundred years ago, but apart from going off-book to make something called 'moonshine', he's pretty attached to his procedures."

Dax smiled. "Well he pretty much was the first chief engineer of a warp-capable starship. And he made good moonshine."

"And how would you know that?" Kira asked.

"A long time ago, in a former life, I worked with Captain Reed. Tobin and Malcolm got on like a house on fire."

"Was Tobin the engineer? The quiet one?"

Dax nodded. "Was he ever. He really needed someone to bring him out of his shell, and there was something about Malcolm that made that easier for him. The more Tobin was around, the more he and Malcolm went out, drank, told stories, had fun. And Malcolm talked about his friends - and about how Tucker was injured in some ship attack some years from this now, on the Enterprise. He recovered, but decided his life needed a new direction. So he took a teaching post instead."

"He went back to Earth? He doesn't seem the type," Kira said.

"I never said Earth," Dax smiled. "He settled into his new job, got married there, made a home. When Tobin last saw Malcolm, Tucker and his wife had a daughter, barely a year old."

Kira's face went dark. "You haven't told anyone on this ship, have you?"

"Of course not. Our past - their future - doesn't need me. Like I said, it'll happen anyway."

"It'd better. I don't want another visit from Temporal Investigations," Kira said. "Now where do we start here?"

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Dax stepped over the door ledge of Engineering, surveying the room to find T'Pol and Tucker by his desk. She strode over brandishing two tricorders in her hand, Kira coming into the room and hastening after her.

"Well here we are," she announced, offering two tricorders to T'Pol. "Kira and I think we have these set to follow our wayward orb."

T'Pol took the devices. Her eyes skimmed down the top one. "What do they key on?"

"Micro changes in air density," Dax said.

Tucker pursed his lips. "How do they do that exactly?"

"Just kidding," Dax smiled. "They're following a neutrino slipstream. They pool and eddy in certain pockets - and I've rigged four tricorders to track them. Hopefully, the orb is heading for any one of these large eddies at any one time."

"'Scuze me - you just 'rigged' four devices to do a track and analysis job?" Tucker said, his hand up in a plea for the universe to halt for a moment.

"Well… I might have used a bit of future tech.," Dax said apologetically. "So no, you can't keep these tricorders once we're done."

"What if one… went missing?" Tucker asked innocently.

Kira smiled, but gestured to a large, steel-effect shape on the desk behind him. "What's that?"

He stepped back and patted the box. "Well we rigged this here storage unit into a containment device. It's based on shielding tech. but it's got some stasis and neutrino-balancing thrown in there too."

"Impressive," Dax blinked, nodding appreciatively.

"I try," he said with a smile.

Kira lifted her own tricorder to make sure it was on. "Let's go find it then."

"You will need these," T'Pol said. She stretched out her hand to open it palm-up.

Dax and Kira came closer. "Communicators?" Dax asked.

"While yours appear to be inoperable, it would be prudent to ensure we can all keep in contact," the Vulcan said. Kira nodded and took one, standing back for Dax to do the same.

"So how do we divvy up the ship?" Tucker asked.

"In pairs. You and I shall start aft, staying on the centre deck where it has been recorded before," T'Pol said, glancing at him. "I suggest Commander Dax and Major Kira begin fore."

"Logically, if we split into four we'll have twice the chance of coming across it than if we were in two pairs," he said stubbornly.

T'Pol turned and pinned him with a serious stare. He just raised his eyebrows. She swayed to look back at Dax. "The Commander has an unerring ability to injure either himself or his tools whilst on his own. We shall stay as a team. You are of course free to decide between you."

"I think we'll stick together," Kira said, trying to keep a straight face. "Dax is more than capable of going off on a tangent. The first team to find it yells for help. If it's us, we'll call for the containment unit."

"Agreed," T'Pol nodded. "Good hunting."

"And you," Dax smiled, winking at Tucker. Then she turned and gestured for Kira to head for the door.

"What was that for?" he wondered.

The two women were at the large exit and stepping through as T'Pol turned to Tucker. "What was what for?" she asked.

"Never mind. I suppose I'm carting this thing around, am I?" He grabbed the handles on the sides of the unit, hefting it off the surface.

"I shall carry your device. We shall take turns," she said. She lifted her tricorder to read it. "Let's go."

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Dax paced down the corridor, ignoring the Enterprise crew members who stopped and stared at the sight of two strangely-uniformed women stalking so industriously through their home.

"Dax," Kira said suddenly. She stopped dead, then spun to her right. She lifted the tricorder a little higher. "Uh… Think I've got something."

Dax came back, peering over her shoulder at the screen. "Could be." Her head came back up and she looked at the door in front of them. "In there?"

"Try it," Kira nodded.

Dax stepped around her and went to the door. She put her ear to it. Then she pressed at the door release.

The door hissed open.

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"Far be it for me to try to put a wrinkle in one of your plans," Tucker grumbled as he followed T'Pol along the corridor, "but when we do find this thing, how do we get it into the box?"

The Vulcan didn't break stride. "I hold it open and you chase it in, rather like an ancient Earth 'sheep' 'dog'."

Tucker stopped, his face a picture of annoyance. "Not funny, T'Pol." He huffed and began to follow again. "Although it does prove one thing."

"What is that, Commander?"

"That you do have a sense of humour. I mean, you were joking, right?" he said. She looked over her shoulder at him as she walked. Then her eyes went back to her tricorder. He frowned. "Right?" he pressed.

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Reed opened the door to his quarters with a lethargic hand. Traipsing across the neat carpet, he unzipped his uniform a little and plonked himself down in his chair. He allowed himself to slip down in the seat, and his head to dangle over the top of the backrest. His eyes closed for a moment.

His hand whipped out and snatched up a phase pistol from the desk. He spun so fast he nearly came off the seat - but the weapon was aimed steady and true on a person in the gloom.

Their back to him, their hands up as if protecting their nose from injury, they floundered until they realised they were literally in a corner.

"You're the doctor, if I remember rightly," Reed said. He let the weapon down.

Bashir spun on the balls of his feet to see there was an entire room behind him. "Oh! Hello again," he smiled. "Um…" He looked around hurriedly. "This would be the Enterprise, would it?"

Reed got up and dropped the weapon to the desk. "Sorry. Yes."

"Ah. Right. I literally stepped out of the Infirmary to report to Ops and… well. Your wall nearly took my nose off."

"This is frightfully inconvenient, isn't it?" Reed said.

"Oh I don't know," Bashir smiled. "I mean, I've always wanted to see an antique ship."

"Antique?"

"Oh don't get me wrong," Bashir said hastily. "I mean… comparatively older. Classic, you might say."

"I might," Reed nodded. Then he smiled. "Well then. Let's get you back to your station, shall we, Doctor?"

"Sounds good," he nodded.

"If you'll follow me, sir."

"Of course."

Reed zipped up his uniform, located his communicator from his thigh pocket, and waved Bashir toward the exit.

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Kira stepped into the room carefully, watching the bright green, crystalline entity shine and revolve on the spot. She flipped open the communicator in her left hand. "Kira to T'Pol. It's right here."

There was a pause. "Can you give me your location, Major?"

Dax shuffled up next to her. "The door says Non-Sensitive Storage."

"We shall be there… in approximately four minutes. T'Pol out."

Kira flipped the communicator closed. "Now all we have to do is not make it nervous." She stepped back, Dax going with her.

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Reed went to the transporter controls, looking them over. "Well. Good luck, sir," he said pleasantly.

"And you, Mister Reed. Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm hoping we won't meet again."

"Me too," Reed smiled. He nodded formally, and Bashir nodded back. Reed paid attention to his hands, setting the controls and then triggering the device. He looked up to see Bashir phase out of sight. He let his hands drop, shook his head somewhat sadly, and turned to leave the transporter room.

Bashir opened his eyes and found the Ops area of Deep Space Nine directly in front of him. He pulled his hands from behind his back and grasped the rail, coming across the top walkway toward Sisko's office. The doors opened just as he got there.

"Sir," he said with an excited smile. "I've just been dispossessed! But Mister Reed brought me back."

"So I hear," Sisko said as he rounded the door jamb. "Nurse Tamkara said you just disappeared from the doorway to the Infirmary."

"That I did, sir," Bashir said. "But luckily I turned up in Mister Reed's quarters."

Sisko looked down the steps toward the crisis table, and the klingon currently working around it. "Mister Worf - any idea how many that is, now?"

"Morn has been returned to the bar, and two other Bajoran engineers have been brought back to the station," Worf said. "Three Enterprise crew members have been returned too."

"How long will it be before someone is relocated outside the ship or station?" Sisko frowned. He went down the steps. "Where are our inspectors?"

"In their quarters at our request, Captain," Worf said. "Dax reports they have found the orb and are about to cage it in the strongbox Commanders Tucker and T'Pol have constructed."

"Let's hope they do it soon," Sisko said under his breath.

"I second that."

Worf and Sisko turned - to find Captain Archer stood behind them.

"Well," Archer said, trying not to look as annoyed as he felt. "This is awkward."

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Dax watched the green orb spin sedately on its axis. "Where are they?" she hissed from the side of her mouth.

Kira backed up to the door and looked out. "I'm sure they're hurrying."

"Wait—!" Dax cried.

Kira turned. The room was empty. She sighed, flipped open her communicator, and stepped out of the room. As she spoke into it, Dax followed her into the corridor. She adjusted settings on her tricorder and began to scan all over again.

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"Kira to T'Pol. We lost it," came the voice from the Vulcan's communicator. "It just… vanished."

Tucker stopped behind her. T'Pol raised her communicator higher. "Acknowledged. We will commence scanning." She closed her communicator and looked instead at her tricorder. "It would seem there is a large concentration of neutrinos just three hundred metres away."

"Great. Try that first," Tucker grumbled.

T'Pol was already walking away. He shifted the box in his hands and followed. They came to a wall, before T'Pol attached the communicator to her uniform and rested the tricorder on top of the strongbox. She turned back to the wall and lifted off a panel, climbing through and walking away.

Tucker rolled his eyes but clambered through to find they were standing in what looked like a firewall space between bulkheads.

"Sisko to Commander T'Pol," came another voice.

She lifted her communicator again. "T'Pol here. Can we be of assistance, Captain?"

"Do not box up the orb just yet. We have Captain Archer here on the station - we're about to get him back to the ship."

"Understood, Captain."

"We'll let you know when he's safe. Sisko out."

T'Pol went to Tucker and took the tricorder from atop the containment box. "The cloud should be twenty metres ahead of us."

"We're not supposed to be poking the bear," he said.

"'The bear'?" she prompted.

"Sisko told us to wait. We don't want to box this thing and find out we left the Captain on some alien station two hundred years in the future."

"We are simply getting into position. We do not even know if the entity is with the particular cloud."

He huffed, then put down the box. "So we wait." He turned and promptly sat on it to wipe his face with both hands. T'Pol remained silent. He paused, made his hands drop, and then squinted up at her. "What now?" he asked.

"Pardon me?"

"Why are you staring at me?"

"I am not staring at you, Commander. I am… waiting."

"Well look somewhere else while you're waiting."

She lifted her chin and turned away deliberately, her hands behind her back. "I… apologise if I disrupt your work patterns."

"My…?" He sagged, shaking his head. "Is this because I asked you to choose something for movie night next week?"

"This what?"

He rested his elbows on his knees. "You think that because I asked you to choose a movie to watch, that I want you to come to movie night - as my date. You're worried what everyone will think."

"That assumes that one, I am correct in my assessment of your motives, and two, I consider other people's opinions important to me."

He waved his hands out. "Sure looks that way to me. For your information, I was just askin'. I asked Malcolm a few weeks back, and McKenzie before that. It's no big deal."

"I understand."

"Don't do that voice on me, T'Pol."

"What voice?"

"That 'yeah yeah - whatever' voice," he said testily.

"Then do not reply to any valid question of import with 'it is no big deal'."

He huffed. "Ok - fine. You want to clear the air? Let's clear the damn air: you think everything I do is me somehow trying to - to - I don't know - start something between us. Well you've made it very clear there is nothing between us. So relax - it's just a movie night."

"You constantly cause me disagreeable bouts of conflict," she stated, her voice loud.

His face darkened and he got to his feet. "Excuse me?"

"But that does not mean there is 'nothing between us'. In point of fact, it rather highlights that you are one of very, very few people who are able to cause me disagreeable bouts of conflict - and the only one to do it in such a manner."

"Wha—?"

"And now that I have realised this, it becomes difficult to ignore other - much more agreeable - episodes you cause me."

He bit his tongue. Physically. Then it swam up inside his cheek and stayed there, loathe to let him open his mouth and interrupt the situation.

She advanced on him, stopping so close she could read his eyes perfectly. "Were I to choose a movie for the evening, Commander, it would be 'Bonnie and Clyde'," she said, with absolutely no trace of emotion. "And I would not object to going with you. However, I would not be going as your date. You would be going as mine."

His face erupted in a maelstrom of confusion. He opened his mouth to retaliate.

She stepped closer. Her hand went up to his face and she kissed him just by the mouth.

Rooted to the spot, unable to process what was happening, Tucker simply went with it. She made her hand drop. He cleared his throat. "Uh… ok," he managed lamely.

"If it is acceptable to you, we shall attend movie night together," she said, not stepping back. "We will arrive together and ensure that no-one sits between us. We may need to confer about the plot."

He gave what he hoped was a nonchalant-looking shrug. "If you want."

"Then I shall endeavour to find a copy of this movie from the archives. It is something called Warner Brothers, not your Universal or Hammer House."

"Wait - did you just sneak in a movie you think I wouldn't like?" he accused. She considered his discordant face, but said nothing. "You did that on purpose!" he said, pointing at her.

"Am I causing you a disagreeable bout of conflict?" she asked with a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"Are you causin'—? You—!" He stopped short and huffed in realisation. "Aw hell," he heaved, reaching for her cheek. He kissed her. She grabbed the front of his uniform to steady herself.

Until the communicator in his pocket beeped. And then again.

She pushed herself away. His hand was already at the zip over his thigh, opening it up and fishing inside. He raised the opened device, his face still managing to register his disbelief at the day's events. "Tucker."

"Commander, Captain Archer is back on the Enterprise," Dax said from the tiny speaker. "We're good to go."

"Acknowledged," he grumped. "Let us know if you corner the damn thing."

"Will do."

He snapped it shut and put it back in his pocket. He turned without a word and picked up the box.

T'Pol stepped back to give him room, then put all her attention to the tricorder in her hand. "Twenty metres in front of us - behind the next wall," she said.

"Lead on," he said quietly.

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