Tucker Engineering Company Headquarters
Torus City, Alpha Centauri
Charles Tucker was beginning to get a headache.
There really wasn't a lot he could do about that. These meetings always gave him a headache. And raised his blood pressure a good bit. And generally pissed him off. But he always somehow managed to survive them anyway. One day though, probably not too much longer from now, he intended to keel over dead, right across the table with his tongue hanging out, and give these stuffy old bastards something to raise an eyebrow about.
With a quiet sigh he tuned back into the current discussion to find Savel still droning on about exports.
"…as well as increased production of the Explorer line. The additional features currently available have resulted in greater public interest and an agreeable increase in sales as a result. If you will consult tables 12a to 12d, you will see a breakdown over the last 18 months, compared to other models of the same line. I would therefore recommend proceeding with Stevet's research concerning the interactive computer console models in order to capitalize on this trend."
Oh, God. Better pipe up before he gets to the buffer foils. Or we'll never get out of here.
"Right." Said Tucker. "The computer thing. And what about Valren's report on the proposed new safety standards the Elder Council are considering? Has anyone bothered to look at that?"
Tucker looked around at the stoic faces seated at the table, hoping someone else would answer.
Savel responded promptly, trying to keep Tucker's attention on his proposal. "Currently our safety record is well within the top twenty aircar production companies. I do not anticipate any difficulties. In fact the interactive models will somewhat increase…"
"Yes, except we used to be in the top ten. And Consumer Watch used to rank us number four overall."
Savel paused before replying. "A regrettable consequence of improved design technology among our Andorian rivals. However…"
"Which is a regrettable reflection on this clan. Or have we forgotten this is a clan company? Folks, why am I not hearing anything about the magnetic braking feature that T'Vel's been politely bitching about for the last two months?"
Silence. Trip sighed.
"This is a Vulcan…" Tucker slapped the table lightly, correcting himself. "Excuse me. A predominantly Vulcan clan. And while it's nice to be known for a variety of successful companies and whatnot, it'd be even nicer if we were known for giving a damn about our customer's safety again. So…maybe we can work a little on that? What do you say?"
Tavid spoke up at last, as Savel seemed to be having trouble coming up with a response. "I think you are correct, sir. Clearly the company has been lacking in that regard. Perhaps we should reassess funding T'Vel's research before proceeding."
"Really." Tucker continued, turning his glare to Tavid for a moment. "From what I'm reading here she's got a working prototype. Funding isn't the issue. The only thing holding her back is, I suspect, a certain someone's efforts to keep a certain Precursor manufacturing center attractive to certain government agencies and their contracts."
Back to Savel again with the glaring. Savel had the decency to look briefly disconcerted, at least. "Mr. Tucker, I admit that I would prefer to leave that option open, if that is possible. Considering our unique position to compete effectively…"
"Absolutely not, Savel."
"The contract is quite lucrative…"
"Absolutely not. Earth can go piss up a rope. They're not getting the Precursor. Not at any cost."
"Sir…" Now Seth was pitching in. Trip immediately dug in his heels.
Can't give these boys an inch or I might as well just retire right now. Not that the idea was all that unappealing.
"Gentlemen, we have had this conversation before. Many times. And until both governments reverse their decision and issue a formal apology, it's not even open for discussion. And we all know it just ain't ever gonna happen. Even if it did, I'd probably keep on being good and pissed off just for the hell of it."
After glancing around the table, he returned to glaring directly at Savel.
"Now, unless you're planning to assassinate T'Pol and install your wife in her place, then I'm still in charge around here and there's no logic in holding up retooling that manufacturing center, is there Savel?"
Savel sighed almost imperceptibly. "That would be considerably more effort than I am prepared to expend in the interests of pursuing the contract, sir."
Down the table Tucker noted Donna Sims, director of marketing, interestingly enough, hiding a grin behind one hand. Before he could speculate over her apparent enjoyment of Savel's discomfort he suddenly sensed his mate signaling the end of her working day back home.
Well, that's enough of this for one damned day then.
"Very well, then I guess that's settled to everyone's satisfaction. By that I mean settled to my satisfaction. So let's wrap this up. I've got a hot woman and a cold beer waiting for me across town. And I'm gonna take it real personal if I'm delayed any more than necessary from enjoying either."
**********
Arriving back at home Trip entered the den to find T'Pol already waiting for him. With a beer.
"Damn, woman. You heard that all the way across town?" Trip grinned.
"I had just begun meditating at that point. The bond is always more receptive then." She replied. "Which can be unfortunate, as that is usually when you are most aggravated. And prone to speak inappropriately concerning matters of intimacy."
"Aww, I'm getting old. Those guys get on my nerves more and more every day." He said, accepting the bottle she offered, gratefully. "Few more years I'll be whacking people with a walking cane."
T'Pol began leading him toward the couch. Sitting with him there, she replied. "I think you have two or three years yet until we reach that unfortunate day."
Sipping his beer, with a pause to properly enjoy the moment, he turned his eyes back to T'Pol. He could tell she'd enjoyed the experience vicariously through their bond. Which was the only way she ever would. She hated the stuff.
"And what about you? I think I picked up on a little something here and there. What was that all about?"
"An interesting situation with T'Man's daughter T'Son…and there is nothing unusual about those names."
Trip expressed his internal humor with a broad grin. "Are you kidding? They're hilarious! I still can't believe you won't admit it!" He slapped his knee, chuckling.
"If you insist." T'Pol said, holding out her hand almost unconsciously, her first two fingers extended. They put the concerns of the day out of mind for a few moments, luxuriating in the comfort of their bond.
"Hmm." Trip mumbled eventually. "So what's what with old Sonny? I've heard there's some kind of rumor going around but I'm guessing it's something the men folk don't talk about."
"Her time has come and gone. She is now six months overdue. Doctors confirm a rare condition rendering her exempt."
That got Trip's attention. "You're kidding. I didn't think that was possible."
"It seems it is, though it is extremely rare. This is the first occurrence that I've ever been aware of personally."
"So wait a minute. What's T'Man expect you to do about it?"
"It is treatable. But with T'Son's promised mate deceased before they could bond she shows no interest in pursuing treatment. Or bonding, for that matter. Probably as a result of her condition." T'Pol hesitated. "T'Man requests that I order her to accept treatment. The prospect of her only daughter failing to reproduce is extremely disagreeable to her."
Trip laughed again. The whole thing struck him as ridiculous…at first. Until he began considering all the ramifications. Eventually he became quite serious.
"My God. That's…terrible. I can't imagine being in that situation."
"I agree. Although I would spare our daughters if I could, I would not wish to do so at the expense of either reproduction or bonding. Certainly not both. However, I believe the decision would be theirs and not mine."
"So you're not going to? Make Sonny do it, I mean?"
"I have already spoken to her. She will agree to accept treatment if I insist but she clearly prefers not to."
"So what are you going to do?"
"I am still considering the matter. Although I don't think I can justify using my authority to coerce T'Son into any decision she is not agreeable to. Hopefully something else will present itself. If not, I think I will only offer my advice. To accept the treatment for the sake of the clan."
Trip frowned. "I don't know, darlin'. I don't think I'd want our daughters to go get cured if they had whatever that is. Pon'Farr is a freakin' nightmare the first couple of times."
"It is…extremely traumatic at first, yes. But the condition comes with a price. A significant likelihood of developing uncontrollable emotionality following the third or fourth cycle, for approximately 44.2 percent of those effected."
Trip grunted unhappily and covered his eyes. "Jeez, you guys just can't around it, can you?"
"Several thousand years of research have failed to discover an acceptable alternative."
"Well, as much as I hate to admit it I guess it's better our kids don't have it then. If only 'cause…hey." Trip suddenly looked at his wife with suspicion. "Why the heck are you talking to me about this? This is clan stuff. Female clan stuff."
"So that you will be obligated to discuss the 'male stuff' I was made privy to during your meeting today."
Trip's eyes danced back and forth for a moment before he suddenly realized what she meant.
"Oh, no. Come on, T'Pol. Darling, I do not want to have this argument again."
"Your position is unreasonable. The contract is extremely lucrative and would open up many job opportunities for the younger members of our clan."
"Yes. Off planet. On Earth."
"Of course."
"T'Pol…we came out here in the first place because there was nowhere else to go. Vulcan flew into a tizzy when we refused to sever our bond. And Earth capitulated on principle by refusing to recognize our marriage!"
"Times have changed, ashayam. The same environment of irrational hostility no longer exists. In fact, of the three worlds the one now afflicted with a significant xenophobic element is Alpha Centauri."
"And yet both still refuse to admit they were wrong. Even with inter-species couples popping up all over the damned place on both worlds today! They're perfectly acceptable! Hell, there's a reality show on the net right now about a Human/Andorian couple in Los Angeles! It's entertainment! But our bond is still not on the books at the Vulcan High Command!"
"We need only appeal there in person to correct that oversight."
Trip had enough. He leapt to his feet. "I'll be damned if I go begging to the High Command! To hell with them and to hell with Earth!"
"Ashayam, calm yourself."
"To hell with being calm, too! This is my decision, T'Pol, and I've made it. No company in this clan will have any dealings with either government so long as I live! And that's final! I swore right to Gardner's face and I by God damned well meant it!"
T'Pol's eyes narrowed. "And you still do not recognize that sentiment is as hatefully irrational as Terra Prime's ever were. A sentiment that has driven your daughter..."
As Trip stared in shock T'Pol closed her eyes and stifled herself. Though he was only able to detect a fleeting afterimage of the emotions she was suppressing, her meaning was still clear.
"Are you…are you saying that's somehow my damned fault, T'Pol?"
"I do not mean her decision to join Starfleet." She muttered.
"Me either. I know exactly what you're talking about. You mean it's my fault she's gone Vulcan."
"An insulting turn of phrase, Trip. But, no. The deciding incident there was her assault on Steven Aikers."
"So what the hell exactly are you suggesting here?"
T'Pol rose in appeal. "Ashayam, forgive my outburst. My emotional control continues…"
"And don't try to change the damned subject, T'Pol!"
T'Pol took a deep breath. Fine, then.
"Very well. If you insist on becoming irrational, then so be it. Your continued preoccupation with the past, specifically your anger at both home worlds and your hatred for a now defunct terrorist organization, have instilled in T'Pril a distrust of her humanity over the years. These were the only examples of them she had until her early teens, except only for you. The incident with Steven Aikers merely brought the matter to crisis."
Trip was abruptly hurt, his anger evaporating instantly on the pain she had inflicted. But she carried on. It was long overdue.
"Yet at the same time you refused to recognize what her desperate grasping at Vulcan discipline represented. Instead you insisted she embrace her humanity, the very thing she feared, rather than encouraging her to let go her fear."
T'Pol spoke more softly now, aware through their bond that he was dangerously close to behaving irrationally.
"She was afraid, adun. And you were unable to help her because you refused to validate it. Because you are still angry with me for doing exactly the opposite and causing the damage that prompted our bond."
Trip left the room without another word, his shields slamming into place so harshly it seemed almost audible.
