The entire ship shook under the assault of a Romulan drone ship. Travis was thrown from his chair and dislocated his shoulder, but he pressed on through the pain, helping the ship navigate to avoid further pounding from the enemy. Malcolm kept calibrating the weapons through each blast the ship took, adjusting to make each of their counter assaults against the drone more accurate. Hoshi monitored every report from the join chiefs, making sure they were aware of the status of all the other ships. Trip was in engineering, supervising any repairs that could be made during the battle. T'Pol sat at her station, monitoring all the data from the ship's systems.

Archer sat in the big chair, eyes on the viewscreen, barking orders.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of pounding, T'Pol spoke. "The shielding on the drone ship is no longer functioning," she said.

"Target the warp core," said Archer, "and fire when ready."

Malcolm complied without a word. The drone exploded.

"Good work, Mr. Reed," said Archer grimly.

"Sir," said Hoshi, "we've been ordered to hang back and make any repairs. A second wave of drones in on its way. We'll be joining the main defense line."

"Travis, take us back behind the planet, 1/3 impulse," said Archer, "Commander T'Pol, get down to Engineering and get a full report from Commander Tucker."

T'Pol headed down through the dark corridors, the sound of full tactical alert ringing in her sensitive ears. The crew members she saw appeared deadly serious, running to their stations with great purpose.

She reached engineering and was relieved to see what appeared to be only minor damage. Trip was examining a member of his team's wrist, which had a nasty plasma burn.

"Get to sickbay immediately," he ordered. The ensign dashed off, and Trip looked up and saw T'Pol standing there. For a split second, she felt his relief at seeing her uninjured. Then, he was all business.

"Report, Commander," she said.

"All major systems are functioning. Minor damage to some of the conduits. Deck 4, Section 8 has a section of the hull that appears ready to buckle. It's been evacuated and sealed off."

T'Pol nodded. The ship had come through better than she had expected. Of course, they were not at the center of the battle and had Earth's most experienced combat crew.

"The drone that attacked us has been destroyed," said T'Pol, "However, there is another wave of drones set to arrive within three hours."

"That's enough time to repair everything," said Trip.

"Good," she said, "Carry on, Commander."

Two days later, Enterprise still orbited the mining colony, which had been fully taken over by the Alliance. Assault teams, including one of MACOs from Enterprise, were on the surfacing — securing every location. Two waves of warbirds and drone ships had been fought off but at a price. Two Vulcan cruisers, one Andorian ship and several small Tellarite vessels had been destroyed. One small earth battle cruiser had also been destroyed, though about half the crew had made it to the escape pods. Enterprise had picked up those humans and most of them were still aboard.

Trip, T'Pol and Archer dined that night in his mess.

"I think even the joint chiefs of the Alliance were surprised at how well we did," said Archer, "but then again the Romulans were the ones caught off guard this time."

Archer turned to T'Pol. The Vulcan ship that had been assigned to take Enme to Vulcan had been destroyed. Another one would be sent, but it was likely weeks away.

"Malcolm wants to question your brother, see if he can glean any intelligence from him now that it looks like he'll be with us for awhile."

T'Pol sipped on her water, her face a mask. Trip didn't sense any conflicted feelings in her. He sensed no feelings at all. He knew his wife still carried guilt from her emotional collapse during the battle at Azati Prime, so during times like this, she put her Vulcan nature into overdrive.

"It would probably do no harm to attempt an interrogation," said T'Pol, "but I would caution Mr. Reed at having any expectations. Vulcans are taught to take their own lives before giving key information to the enemy. It would be my guess that Romulans have a similar policy."

Trip looked at her, and he realized he didn't want to know what precisely she had been taught to do. The thought made him a little sick to his stomach.

"Well," said Archer, "we've got the time to research it for the next few days at least. We're stationed here for the time being. The joint chiefs are going to try and make the best of our defensive position, for now, but holding this planet is key. The Alliance is also going to take possession of Hirku station."

"Hasn't that place been neutral for years?" asked Trip.

Archer shrugged.

"It seems to the joint chiefs that they've now got a choice to ally with us or the Romulans. We think its in their best interest to ally with us. A couple of Tellarite legions are going to board the station and make that clear to the them. Javon is currently handling negotiations to make the occupation goes smoothly."

Trip shook his head. Occupation. He never thought he'd be on a side that would occupy anything, but then again The Romulans sounded like they would be way worse occupiers than the Alliance would be. Hopefully, the residents of the station would agree.

Far away in Romulan space, The ProConsul looked down at his screen and saw good news and bad news. There was an intelligence report that indicated no Starfleet officers had died in the explosion at the mines prior to the battle. If it was accurate, that meant his daughter still lived. The other piece of news wasn't so good. The Empire had suffered a defeat when trying to retake the mining colony from this new Alliance.

The ProConsul shook his head. The general who had ordered the attack would need to be dealt with. His impatience and overconfidence had led to this. If only his son Enme had been leading the charge…

The ProConsul swallowed his grief. Enme was gone, and there was no bringing him back. He needed to focus on the living members of the family, including the miserable little bastard that he now needed.

"Ston," he shouted.

Ston appeared in his dress clothes, the dapper look of them ruined by the green bruises around both eyes and his swollen lip. The boy had said nothing as the Remans had beaten him under his father's orders. He knew better.

"It's time to meet your bride. Let's hope she's not disgusted at the sight of you the way I am," said The ProConsul, "Come with me."

Ston followed his father into the next room.

"You wanted to see me Lieutenant Commander Reed?" asked Hoshi, who had been officially summoned to the armory.

"Yes, Lieutenant Sato," said Malcolm formally, "I will be interrogating the Romulan prisoner. I believe it would be helpful for you to be present, as a speaker of Romulan. The UT shouldn't be trusted under such circumstances. However, the interrogation won't be a pleasant process. You know we don't torture prisoners, but I have permission to drug him and apply considerable emotional pressure. Are you comfortable with that?"

Hoshi swallowed. This was a man who had saved her life, and she knew exactly what he would be feeling. She had experienced it herself. On the other hand, they were at war, and there had already been hundreds of Alliance casualties.

Malcolm seemed to recognize the direction of her thoughts.

"We're not the Xindi," said Malcolm, "We won't harm him the way your were harmed. As I said, it won't be a pleasant process, but we don't torture. I promise."

At that moment, Hoshi realized that he was speaking as her boyfriend as much as a ranking officer. Strangely, she found herself immensely grateful for their personal relationship. She trusted him.

"I'll be there, sir," she said.

"Good," he said, "Dismissed, Lieutenant."

Hoshi and Malcolm locked eyes, and she turned and left the armory.

That night, Trip and T'Pol were seated on the floor of their quarters, meditating. Trip wasn't yet as advanced as she was, but she continued to be impressed by his progress. His concentration level was higher than she thought could be achieved by most humans, especially one as passionate as her husband.

It's all you, sweetie.

What is?

The control. I borrow it from you.

Don't underestimate yourself.

They were interrupted by a ring on the comm.

"Someone wants to talk to one of us through subspace," said Trip, as he pulled himself up off the floor and dashed over to the monitor on the desk. He sat down.

"Perhaps it is Soval," said T'Pol.

"Nope," said Trip, "It's from Mississippi, North America. It's either my Mom or Dad, I bet."

He tapped the controls a few times, and his father's face appeared on the screen.

"Trip," said Charlie Tucker, "How are you? We heard there was quite a skirmish a few days ago."

Trip cricked his neck.

"It was more than that, Dad," said Trip, "It was a full scale battle. Has United Earth started calling it a war yet? It's tough to get news way out here."

T'Pol stood up but kept herself a safe distance, so the imager on the monitor would not show her presence.

"Both houses of the General Assembly are having an emergency session today. They're expected to declare war."

Trip inhaled. The General Assembly had never even formally declared war on the Xindi. This was the first time in United Earth's history that this had happened.

"How's the mood?"

"After all the attacks on ships and colonies in the last few months, people are almost grateful it's finally started. The waiting was worse somehow, especially since during the Xindi situation all we could do was wait. It feels like now we've got allies and we're ready to defend ourselves. Don't get me wrong, people are scared. . .but they support the Alliance."

Trip felt relief surge through his body. Perhaps the days of Terra Prime-style xenophobia were behind them, now that everyone in the Alpha Quadrant had a common enemy.

"How's the wife?" asked Charlie.

"Why don't you ask her yourself?" replied Trip, who stood up and beckoned T'Pol to be seated.

She calmly did as he asked. She stared the the grey-haired man on the monitor, who resembled Trip.

"Hello, Mr. Tucker," she said, "It is a pleasure to finally speak with you."

Charlie Tucker's eyes widened. "It's a pleasure to talk to you T'Pol. I'm sorry we haven't been able to meet you in person."

She nodded.

"No slight was ever meant against you or your wife, but it is unacceptable," she said, "We shall endeavor to correct the insult as soon as we return to Earth."

"That's okay, sweetie," said Charlie, surprising himself, "We just want to meet the lady that stole our son's heart and welcome her to the family. Now that I see how pretty you are, I can't say I blame Trip."

T'Pol blinked at the flattery, and she clearly didn't quite know what to make of it. For his part, Trip had been certain his parents wouldn't approve of her.

"Elaine, honey," shouted Charlie Tucker to someone else who was in the room, "Come meet your daughter-in-law over this subspace connection. It was nice to meet you, T'Pol."

"Likewise, Mr. Tucker."

Elaine Tucker then appeared on the screen.

"Hello, Mrs. Tucker," said T'Pol.

"Hello, T'Pol," she drawled, "It's…it's nice to finally get to talk to you. How's Trip?"

T'Pol looked over at her husband, as though she was confused by the question.

"He has come through the recent battle physically unscathed. He performed his duties well."

Trip watched her, almost amused. After all this time, she still didn't quite get humans or what they really meant when they asked questions.

"Although he is not happy at the recent turn of events, he is handling the situation well."

Or maybe she is starting to get it, he thought.

"Well, that's good to hear my dear. Would you mind if I spoke with him?"

"Not at all. It was agreeable to speak with you, Mrs. Tucker."

"You too, my dear." said Elaine tentatively, "Take good care of him, all right?'

T'Pol nodded before allowing Trip to take her place in front of the monitor.

"Hi Mom," said Trip.

T'Pol disappeared into the next room while Trip chatted with his mother.

Bala and Ston had made their way to the kitchen of his father's estate. Normally, servants brought them their food, but Bala retrieved a iced gel pack from the freezer and placed it on Ston's lips. She was tiny, even for a Romulan, only standing to Ston's shoulder. She had delicate hands, with silver-painted nails and long jet black hair that drifted down her shoulders.

"I can't believe that they did not allow you to ice your wound," she said.

"The point was for me to suffer," said Ston.

"Don't talk," whispered Bala, "Let me care for you."

Ston smiled at the girl. "The gods were smiling on me when they killed my brother."

Bala herself smiled at that. Everything she had learned about Enme had terrified her. He seemed like he would not be willing to listen to her or do anything she said. No doubt, he would have deposited her in a house somewhere and made her raise babies. But Ston, he was an entirely different matter.

She had heard what he had done, all in the name of a sister that he had never met. That was loyalty. That was love. Now, she only needed to get him to love her the same way, and he would do anything for her.

She led him back up the stairs.

"Tell me about your sister," she asked, with as much innocence as she could effect in her voice.

Ston told the whole long story, in great detail. Bala listened, knowing that she would definitely be of use to Ston. He was incredibly stupid, but he was persistent, loyal and willing to do anything for his loved ones. That made him nearly perfect in her eyes. Now, she just had to win his heart.

"I know you're sister can be won to our side," said Bala, "Once we win this war, we'll bring her here, and I know she'll never want to leave you again. How could she?"

Ston's eye's widened, and he seemed very, very pleased.

That night, as Trip and T'Pol snuggled in bed, he spoke. Both were grateful that the battle was over and all was again quiet.

"I think they are warming to the idea of you," said Trip, "We'll definitely have to go and see them if we get back to Earth anytime soon."

T'Pol lifted her head up.

"Would they change their position regarding our marriage so suddenly?"

Trip brushed her face with his palm.

"Humans aren't as stubborn as Vulcans, for the most part," he said, "and if they want to see their son or any future grandchildren, they are going to have to accept you. They know it."

T'Pol relaxed back down next to him, and he put his arms around her.

"You miss not having a child," said T'Pol.

"I miss baby Elizabeth," he said, "but I know now is not the time. But promise me when this war is over, you'll consider us having another baby?"

She entwined her fingers into his.

"I have considered it. When the war is over, I promise we shall attempt to have another child."

"Then we have something to look forward to," said Trip.

There was chime at Malcolm's door.

"Come in," he said.

Hoshi strode through the door.

"I missed you at dinner tonight," she said.

"I had chef bring food to the armory," he said, "I've been busy."

Hoshi approached him.

"It must be hard, having two jobs. Armory officer and Section 31 Operative."

Malcolm stood up, but he suppressed the denial on his lips. She was too smart for that, and he owed her the truth.

"Are you sure you're okay, being part of the interrogation tomorrow?"

Hoshi looked away.

"It's complicated. He saved my life, and I like him. And he was very good to us when didn't have to be…and now we're going to subject him to…"

Her voice shook.

Malcolm took her into his arms.

"It won't be like what happened to you," he reiterated, "but war is an unfair and ugly business. We're doing this to save lives, remember. End this war quickly. That will be better for everyone, including him. Once the war is over, he can go home. . .now, are you sure you want to do this?"

Hoshi stepped back from him.

"Yes," she said forcefully, "It's my job, and I can do it."

Malcolm placed his hands on her small shoulders.

"I know you can," he said, "Now, can we talk about something else?"

Hoshi felt very drawn to Malcolm, despite the reservations she had. He wasn't just the funny, kind man she had hooked up with on the station. He was an agent of Section 31, and it was his job to help end this war quickly. Something about that made her heart thump faster.

"Maybe we should just forgo the talking," she suggested.