NX-01 Enterprise
Earth orbit
Granger glanced around the conference room. To all appearances, a casual glance. But she was seeking, identifying and processing the reactions of the crewmen so far. Pretty much as expected all around, she noted. The level of hostility directed her way had certainly spiked when it became obvious the pressure that Starfleet Intelligence was prepared to bring against Tucker and T'Pol. The pressure she was prepared to bring.
These were the two crewmen, senior staff both of them, who'd suffered the most recently. It was they that the crew assembled before her most strongly identified with at the moment.
The Helm Officer already had sufficient reason not to care for her much, after having insulted his erstwhile girlfriend. She'd have to buy Gannet a drink some time for that one. She'd played her part amazingly, especially considering she'd had practically no advanced warning. A subtle hand signal that could have easily been misinterpreted.
Reed, the Tactical Officer, was starting to get resentful…though he was straining mightily not to. Taking discipline and the chain of command very seriously, that one. She didn't expect any difficulty with the rest of the crew, though a couple of them were proving slow to respond. The Denobulan doctor was probably going to be the hold out here though, being much more amicable by nature than any of the Humans at the table. She'd get to him soon enough. All told…none of them liked her very much just then.
Good, she thought.
This is a good crew. Very unified, mutually supportive. Loyal to one another, to the exclusion of all else. Ready to stand together against the entire rest of universe if it came to that point. They just needed a threat to stand together against.
"Let me make clear exactly what we're dealing with here." She snapped, getting back on track. "Some of you seem to be missing the implications."
"An agency of some sort is at work behind the scenes, responsible for everything we've seen up until now." She said. "And quite a lot we haven't seen. An agency working from Vulcan, the home world of our closest ally. Able to effect a powerful and subtle form of mind control, against high-profile individuals like John Paxton. Fielding agents almost anywhere they like, including the Vulcan embassy on Earth. Able to reduce those agents to ash instantly, the moment they are compromised."
"For now we're working from the assumption that this must be a Vulcan cult of some sort." She advised, "Or some little known secret society perhaps. Something we've been unaware of until now. An organization with considerable influence and one that's been around long enough to have a lot of experience with covert infiltration."
She paused then, to emphasize the coming point.
"But that doesn't eliminate the possibility we're dealing with something even broader. An infiltration of both Vulcan and Earth by an outside agency. One able to recruit native assets from both worlds. Which suggests an enemy that's hardly comprehensible. Entirely unlike anything we've faced before. Something we had all better be hoping and praying is not the case."
"So I suggest you all develop some focus. Maintain a proper perspective. Remember that you are Starfleet officers and may be required to make some uncomfortable personal sacrifices in the interests of preserving the security of Earth and her allies. This was asked of you before, in response to the Xindi threat. And you responded admirably. This may well be required of you again here."
"If any of you feel you are unable to do that, then I invite you say so now." She said. "I'm perfectly prepared to respond to that."
She waited. She didn't expect anyone to say anything or speak up…but she had to give them time to decide not to. To submit to Starfleet's authority. And to hers, however antagonist she might appear at the moment.
So, yeah. She'd laid it on pretty thick. But she was a firm believer in being over prepared. Her instructors long ago had a name for it. Tactical paranoia. And it was a necessity in field work.
These folks needed some of that.
Seeing she'd sharpened everyone's senses reasonably, she nodded at last and sipped her coffee. Letting the fatigue seep back into her posture, letting her eyes droop. Frowning, irritable, bitchy. A thoroughly discomforting presence in the room. Someone who could be expected to snap at anything that displeased her.
"Good." She grumped. "So if we've got all the whining out of the way, let's get on with it."
She tapped the controls on the table again, replacing the pictures there with a delineated listing.
She said. "This is a rough timeline for the Enterprise." She said. "Going all the way back to her maiden voyage to Qo'noS. This is also what first prompted us to consider the Vulcan home world might not be the staging point for the covert activity we're dealing with, as you'll see."
"Here." She said, indicating the last line of the list. "This is where we stand now. With a child cloned by Terra Prime. One which your Doctor Phlox estimated to be six to seven months old."
"Which, by the way, Doctor…" She said, speaking to Phlox. "Who's watching that child now? I understand you haven't requested support staff since Ensign Cutler's death."
Phlox looked a little surprised but answered smoothly enough. "Lieutenant Reed has assigned a pair of security officers to Sickbay in my absence. Crewman Rossi has volunteered her help with…"
"Crewman Rossi?" Sally asked, frowning. "Does the crewman possess any medical training at all, Doctor?"
Phlox shifted uncomfortably. "Well…basic medical training. The standard medical…"
"And you feel that is sufficient?" Sally pressed. "Any reason you haven't requested a replacement for Ensign Cutler before now? Cross-training someone, perhaps?"
The Denobulan was finally becoming uncomfortable, she noticed. But the Captain stepped in before she could push him any further.
"Is there something you're suggesting, Commander?" He asked. Rather defensively, she noted.
She frowned. "Not yet." She said. "I do find it odd that Doctor Phlox represents your entire medical staff, Captain. But we'll get to that in a moment."
She returned her attention to the screen. "We've confirmed through medical logs seized from Paxton's facility that the child is exactly six months and twelve days old, born here…July, 2154. At that time Enterprise was responding to the bombing of the Earth embassy on Vulcan. Your own investigation erroneously concludes the genetic material Terra Prime utilized was likely passed to them by Ensign Masaro at that time."
She gave Lieutenant Reed a frowning, disappointed glare before continuing.
"We've confirmed someone aboard the Enterprise was responsible for that from Paxton's own security footage, where he admits as much to Commander Tucker. But that doesn't take into account the time required by the cloning process itself, nor gestation and in utero development..."
"Excuse me, Commander." Reed interrupted. "We were hardly aware of processes involved. We were working entirely on…"
"Well, you should have made yourself aware, Lieutenant." She snapped. "Even with a surrogate involved rather than the artificial womb you assumed in your report, this puts your estimate off considerably. I find it curious that you didn't consult with Doctor Phlox on that point."
Malcolm was insulted at that but conceded his estimate had been wrong without further argument. He shrugged and nodded acknowledgement, like a good soldier…even if he was bitterly offended.
Granger could tell hostility had spiked again in the room as well. She'd nearly pushed everyone to the breaking point already. Ensign Sato especially hadn't liked that. Her frown was deepening but she was too busy reading the Tactical Officer, empathizing with him, to come to his defense herself.
"Taking that into account, this pushes the date of conception back at least to September of '53." Granger continued. "When the Enterprise was deep in the Expanse."
Malcolm spoke up again. "Which would push back the hand off itself quite a bit before that."
So he was still on board, ready to work with the abrasive Intel Officer who'd swooped in to snap at everyone. As long as it got the job done, that was still his first concern.
"Exactly." She nodded. "No later than July of '53, when Enterprise was at Earth in response to the Xindi attack. I find it highly unlikely that genetic material from the ship's medical freezer was passed to Terra Prime after that point. They received it on or before August of '53, began cloning procedures to effect a large enough sample to work with immediately and had an embryo viable for implantation within the month."
"Assuming that's when the transfer was made, of course." She said. "And everything going so smoothly, which I find difficult to believe. A ten month gestation period, due to her hybrid nature, an easy birth and a further six months steady growth while Enterprise made her way home for the Coalition conference. All according to some very sketchy record keeping by Doctor Mercer, of course."
"Wait a minute." Commander Tucker chimed in, "Back then T'Pol and I weren't even…well, I mean…we were barely friends then. Why'd they pick us for this?"
He was thoroughly confused, Sally noticed. Focused entirely on the perceived affront to him personally. And so, completely missing the very powerful look Commander T'Pol was blasting across the table at him…
Interesting. This was a point of contention between the two. T'Pol wasn't merely trying to shut him up, to keep him from tossing their romance on the table for discussion. Rather, she seemed to have scored a point somewhere in there that she wanted him to acknowledge.
The two of them had apparently wandered dangerously far away from anything resembling discretion. And everyone else in the room were taking pains, out of habit, to avoid recognizing the fact. Those two had become the unspoken. The thing everyone knows and no one talks about.
"According to what intel we've managed to gather you were never intended to be involved, Commander." She said. "All indications point to Captain Archer being the original target here. It seems whoever grabbed those bio-samples made a little mistake."
That prompted a bit of rabble from the crew sitting around the table. Captain Archer not the least.
"Me?" He asked, incredulously. "Why me?"
She frowned harshly then. "That should be obvious, Captain. As Commander Tucker unintentionally pointed out, rumors concerning the two of them wouldn't begin circulating anywhere beyond this ship for some months yet. It wouldn't become prevalent enough to make it's way into any intel files I've seen until well into '54. You were the obvious choice for this at the time, considering what a child between the two of you would imply. This was partly an attack on the character of this vessel and her crew, or have you not realized that yet?"
"Well, I suppose I granted Terra Prime more credit than they deserved." Archer replied, stiffly.
"You did. They were very fortunate in a lot of areas, where anything and everything could have gone wrong. Not that it really matters in this case." She pointed out. "Commander T'Pol was the primary target here. The father was incidental. Any senior officer aboard this ship would have served their purposes."
That caught Commander T'Pol's attention. With, interestingly enough, a very obvious look of surprised realization from her. One strong enough that she'd completely missed the clear admission that Starfleet Command was well aware of the relationship between the two Commanders.
That should have been what the Vulcan First Officer found most troubling…if she were thinking like a Vulcan at the moment. Instead she seemed more focused on the fact that her relationship with Tucker hadn't anything to do with her being targeted by Terra Prime.
From what she'd seen already, Granger had to concede intel on her mental state wasn't far off the mark. The woman was practically an open book. Emotional controls shot to hell. It was a wonder she hadn't murdered anyone yet, especially considering what she'd been through recently.
Sally decided she'd pushed enough and had what she needed. Time to wrap this up. And she really was bone tired, after all.
"All of which is immaterial to the point, however." She continued. "That being Ensign Cutler's death in September of '53. Leaving Doctor Phlox the only medical officer authorized to access bio-samples in Sickbay…immediately after the latest point at which those sample must have been taken."
She turned her attention to Phlox then. Accusingly.
"Which, to my mind, warrants further investigation into the manner of Cutler's death." She said.
That was the last straw for all involved. The room devolved into outrage almost immediately, with several officers speaking at once, talking over one another in the attempt to come to the doctor's defense.
Which was a relief to Sally. She'd run out of ways to subtly piss everyone off.
Captain Archer shut the hatch to the conference room, after seeing the last of his senior officers out. He turned to Sally Granger then. Outraged…and bewildered.
"Would you mind explaining to me, Commander, what you hoped to accomplish with that?" He demanded.
Sally couldn't help but smirk a little. "That's an interesting crew you have there, Captain." She observed.
"That doesn't answer my question." Archer snapped.
Sally leaned back against the refreshment station, grabbing up the fresh cup of coffee she'd poured herself while the Captain had herded the irate crew out the door.
"Your Tactical Officer is more or less as his psych profile suggests." She said. "A consummate professional. I'd be surprised he didn't pursue a military career but aquaphobia precludes the only option available to him there, the Royal Navy. Hence his service with Starfleet, as a compromise to the expectations of a traditionally military family. I find his concession on the minor point I hammered him on pretty telling. Anyone else would have defended themselves more vigorously. I presented myself as a superior authority and it wasn't worth arguing with a superior officer over...so he didn't."
"In point of fact, he never defended himself at all." She pointed out. "He said 'we were hardly aware…', not 'I was hardly aware.' He was defending the Enterprise."
Archer's eyes narrowed at that…but more was forthcoming, so he waited.
"Doctor Phlox was close to Ensign Cutler." She observed. "That's why he hasn't requested a replacement. He doesn't want one. And you're aware of that, so you haven't pushed it. And, of course, there didn't seem to be any need, considering how very capable he is. He's also adopted the crew as his family, which is no small thing for a Denobulan. And since any suspicion that he was involved in transferring those bio-samples off this ship is absurd, that also explains how Ensign Masaro gained access to them."
"I think we'll find when we look further into that, Doctor Phlox will suddenly recall the Ensign volunteering for duty in Sickbay at some point a couple of years ago. Something which the Doctor has so far failed to realize the significance of, due to simply thinking too highly of you people. He hasn't quite internalized the fact that Masaro was a traitor. Denobulans more or less have to think that way, assuming the best of their family members. The complex demands of their society kind of require that."
Archer was catching up, she noticed. And he wasn't at all happy about it. Certainly not the implication that she already understood his crew as well as he did. Better, possibly.
"Hoshi Sato." She continued. "Didn't say a thing during the whole meeting. She's a linguist. She was quiet because there was so much powerful body language and subtle interaction going on that it occupied all of her attention. Spoken language being only one form of communication, after all. I suspect she knows a lot more about what goes on in people's heads around here than anyone realizes. There's more to say there but I'd be compromising her to expound on that. I like her, though."
"Ensign Mayweather was just enjoying watching me anger everyone." She shrugged. "He'll never admit it, of course. But I managed to earn his displeasure before I even got here. He doesn't involve himself much because he prefers staying out of the spotlight unless he has something to contribute directly, which he's eager to do when he feels that he does. Consequently, you don't take advantage of his experience nearly as much as you should. It doesn't occur to you to."
Now Archer was getting angry. Taking it personally. Which was fine. He'd gotten the point…but he wasn't prepared to concede the point yet.
"Tucker's an interesting one." She said. "Can't decide whether I like him or not. He's charming, handsome and southern. Also a hell of a lot smarter than everyone assumes. And not because he embraces the power of being underestimated. Rather because he's charming, handsome and southern. He's not in the habit of using his brains because he's never really had to. He gets smart just long enough to deal with a problem he's expected to be smart about…then goes back to being charming, handsome and southern. That's also why he misses a lot that should otherwise be perfectly obvious to him. Right now, most of that involves Commander T'Pol."
"And there's a lot to be said there, Captain." She said, frowning now. "Have you realized yet your top two officers are bonded? And that Commander T'Pol's close to a nervous breakdown because of it?"
She could see right away that he hadn't, although she knew that much already. But he wasn't about let her know that either. So he sailed right on past it, trying not to betray the complete shock that had caused him.
"If you're trying to make a point, Commander, then I'm afraid I've missed it somewhere." Archer said. "The fact of the matter is that you've just alienated the entire bridge crew of this ship. And you're going to..."
"That's not my problem." She interrupted. "That's your problem. They work for you, not for me. You work for me. And they'll do what I require because you require it of them. I'm not here to join your crew, Captain. I'm not here to take command either. I'm nobody. I'm an outsider. And that's what I need to be here."
"You'll need their cooperation for this mission of yours, whatever it is." Archer argued. "And don't think I've missed the fact that you haven't explained that yet."
"I don't need their cooperation at all. You do." Granger shrugged. "An outsider comes in, jabs at all the weak spots, everyone rallies together…and they develop a little awareness of all those weak spots. Every place an enemy, like me, can start jabbing. Like an old, Greek phalanx formation. Spears out, shields over the person standing next to you. That's what I need here."
Archer stared at her for a while.
He got it but he didn't like it. Didn't agree with it but couldn't do anything about it. So he offered the only complaint he really could.
"I don't appreciate your playing games with my crewman, Commander." He said. "And you can count on me expressing as much to your superiors."
Sally nodded. "Knock yourself out, Captain. In the meantime, you can escort me to guest quarters. I'm going to sleep for about sixteen hours…wasn't kidding about that part…it's going to take us a while to get to Vulcan, so you'll have plenty of time to patch up all the chinks in their armor. Before the people we're going after can get at them."
Trip was stomping down the corridor. She could feel the reverberations in the soles of her feet, feel the waves of anger and frustration he was projecting. And he was nearing Sickbay, approaching the door. Nearing the point where Elizabeth would soon be inundated by his aggression.
She rushed to catch up. Finding herself irritated that he'd suddenly become a threat to her daughter that she was forced to pursue and interdict. That she was relegated once again to handling this man. It was an aspect of their bond that she was beginning to develop significant resentment about.
She reached out anyway. No choice, other than allowing her daughter to suffer for her convenience. Still unsure if it would work, attempting desperately to send some measure of solace his way before he breached the perimeter, if only to minimize…
But he stopped. Abruptly coming to a halt at the hatch to Sickbay. Steeling himself suddenly, tamping his emotions down into a cold, compact resolve. With surprising ease, in fact. A firm, focused intent to…protect?…their daughter, she had to assume. Protect aggressively.
And even that pushed further down, just beyond her awareness. To where he'd obviously somehow sensed it was no longer a threat to Elizabeth.
He entered Sickbay ahead of her then, lacking any concern that she could perceive. Visually or psychically.
Leaving her stunned in the corridor behind him.
That he'd been able to do that at all. She'd rarely seen him exercise such control and couldn't recall ever having experienced it firsthand in that fashion. And his apparent ability to hide anything from their bond, or Elizabeth's, in the first place…
She realized then why she'd been unable to read him before, during their last conversation. He had blocked her out. Something she would have…had, actually…assumed impossible for him. He was Human, with no experience or training involving psychic contact of any sort.
Moving cautiously now, suddenly unsure of herself, she followed.
He was there, ahead of her. Elizabeth in his arms already, safe and secure with him. Calm and content. Despite everything he'd been feeling only a moment before. Despite any intervention on her part.
She was angry at that, she recognized. Angry that all the times she'd intervened before, to stave off his emotional outbursts...that it had been unnecessary. Angry that she'd been led to a place where she felt it her duty to do so. He'd been capable of that himself.
Of course. He was Human, after all. Far more capable than she, in his way.
And she was angry that she wasn't necessary. That her intervention wasn't required. That her mate and her daughter could be at peace together. There, across the room. Without her.
He noticed her then. And she struggled at first to control herself. To hide the sense of betrayal and resentment she must be expressing…
But, no.
No. Enough of this. She suddenly wanted him to know what she was...feeling.
She approached then, controlling her emotions enough that they did not disturb Elizabeth unnecessarily. But she glared at him as she came closer. And he frowned at her as she did so.
"What?" He said, finally.
"You are blocking me." She accused. "Preventing your stronger emotions from projecting through our bond."
Trip frowned more deeply then. "I thought that's what you wanted."
"You are blocking them from Elizabeth as well." She said.
He repeated himself then, emphasizing. "I thought that's what you wanted."
As if she were stupid. Unable to follow the conversation.
"It is." She acknowledged. "But you are more capable than you've let on."
He sighed, frustrated with her already. "I'm Human. We're not completely incapable of controlling ourselves, T'Pol."
"Something you rarely exercise." She said. "And I am well aware that you are Human."
He leapt at that. "And what's that supposed to mean? That's the second time you've said that."
T'Pol started to answer…but reconsidered.
It didn't quite apply as she'd originally intended, it would seem.
"It was supposed to imply that you fail consistently at controlling your behavior." She admitted. "Which you do. But I am beginning to recognize that is not a Human trait, specifically."
His eyes narrowed at that. "Meaning it's a trait of mine, then."
"Yes." She said. "And one you will have to start exercising control over more diligently."
His anger flared then. Obviously resentful that the situation had yet again required some concession from him.
Elizabeth stirred then, whimpering. Objecting to the disturbance.
She glanced at the child in his arms, raising an eyebrow at him then. Case in point.
Trip closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath. Expelling his frustration with her, with the situation…with everything. She was tempted to try again to send soothing through the bond…she still wanted to know if she could…but she resisted, waiting to see what he would do instead.
And he was calm again. Just that easily.
Still frustrated. Still resentful. But suppressing it. Examining its roots and reassessing whether any of it was actually useful to the situation. Contemplating his emotional reactions…rationally.
She took advantage of the moment.
"I realize our bond…with one another and with Elizabeth…requires significant adjustment." She said, carefully. "And I realize you blame me for this. But our bond would not have formed without the strong desire from both of us evoking it. We are both responsible. Continuing to blame me…your resentment…is not helpful, Trip."
From his soft sigh, she could see he understood that much. Which was a start, at least.
"I am trying…I will try…to help you." She said. "It is unfortunate you cannot do the same. I am also finding this adjustment very difficult. I am beginning to see many aspects of our relationship that are not healthy…"
"What do you need from me?" He asked.
Throwing her completely off balance.
"What?" She asked, confused.
"You said I wasn't helping you." He pointed out. "So, okay. What do you need?"
"I…" She began. But…
…she had no idea.
"I…do not know." She admitted, frowning.
Then closed her eyes, shaking her head slightly.
"You are…changing too quickly." She said. "I don't know what you are thinking…"
He'd gone from bitter and resentful to conciliatory and concerned. Instantly. She couldn't keep up.
"Okay, slow down." He said, soothingly. To her immediate frustration.
Her slow down?
"You are the one who is chaotic…" She accused.
"Yeah, okay." He interrupted. "So let's slow down here."
She sighed sharply then. Her controls were not up to this task at all.
Her mate was infuriating.
"Look." He said. "I'm Human. I can change direction easy enough when I need to…"
"And that is confusing." She said, bitterly. "And it is something you do not utilize properly. Where it would be most beneficial."
"Like where?" He asked.
"Like…" she said.
Like he had at the doorway, before he entered the room. Like he could have, should have done when he'd overreacted and threatened Phlox. Like many times other times before, when his emotionality had interfered with their relationship…
"Like any instance where a rational reaction would be more beneficial than an emotional one." She insisted.
"Well, that's vague." He frowned. "And I don't even know if I can 'react rationally'. Maybe that's a Vulcan thing but Humans don't 'react' rationally, T'Pol. Maybe act but not react."
"You did." She insisted. "When you entered Sickbay. You realized you were emotional, to the point that it would disturb Elizabeth. And you suppressed your emotion."
"That wasn't a rational reaction, T'Pol." He argued. "That was rational decision…"
"An irrelevant point!" She snapped.
And Elizabeth stirred again, whimpering.
T'Pol closed her eyes again, grief and despair washing over her.
This was impossible. She could not communicate with him. She couldn't even articulate what she required of him…and even if she could, he was not capable of comprehending it.
And even all of this, only regarding this one small concern. This one simple thing. Never mind all the complex issues and obstacles that stood between them…
Why was she even bothering? There was no hope for them. Romeo and Juliet…he had no idea how apt that analogy had been…
Relief seeped into her awareness…
Carefully, subtly…running cool across her katra…drawing at the very edges of her despair…
Something, somewhere…some part of her taking the opportunity to suggest not all was lost…there was still some hope…if not for their bond ever being healthy and productive, then at least…
Maybe…maybe it wasn't entirely impossible...maybe they could still…
But…no…
That was not her.
Her eyes snapped open. Snapped wide.
It was him.
"Damn." Trip mused. "That worked?"
She gaped openly then, completely astounded.
"Huh." He grinned. "I thought that was you before. Didn't think I could do it. That's really somethin'."
She felt…woozy, she realized. Vaguely realized, somewhere out on the periphery of her consciousness.
The majority of her awareness was wholly swept up with trying to make sense of what he'd just done…what Trip had just done…
He'd touched her. Comforted her. Through their bond...as her mate...
But her blood pressure had dropped alarmingly. Her vision had grown faint, ethereal. She felt weak…dizzy…
"Whoa." Trip said, concerned. "You okay?"
"I think I am going to faint." She observed, curiously. "I have never fainted befo…"
Fade to black.